Upon reaching the meadow, they dropped their packs and collapsed on the ground, weary from the climb. After catching her breath, Flora noticed that it was getting chilly at the increased elevation. They would need to find a way to stay warm tonight. Garland got back on his feet and began scouting the area. Crick immediately followed suit, though Flora suspected he had no idea what he was looking for.
Waypoint Meadows was a flat patch of ground dotted with grass and weeds that stretched 20 meters in one direction and 30 meters in the other. They had approached from the south side. A small creek trickled from the northern mountains and passed along the east side. Pine trees grew along the east and west sides. The path continue up the north side into the rocky mountainside. A sign that read “Restricted Access: No passage” was staked into the ground next to the path.
Garland walked over to a hideous looking plant on the east side of the meadow. The two-meter tall plant had a bulbous green stem in the center with a ruffled purple and green frill around it. But Garland wasn’t looking at the plant. He was looking up at the branches from the nearby trees that stretched overhead. “Someone rolled up some canvas with twine and tied them to the branches of the tree,” he announced. “It looks like we can unfurl these and make ourselves a nice big tent here.” He looked around to make sure people were listening. “Plus, it feels warmer here.”
Suddenly Bunsen was next to him examining the hideous plant. He certainly moved much faster than Flora would have thought given his size. “Wow. I think this is a plant of the Arum variety,” he said reverently. “I’ve only read about these. It’s a thermogenesis plant.” No one responded. “It makes heat,” he explained. He sniffed the leaves, like a mouse sniffing cheese. “But this one’s been modified. The arum generates heat to help make its scent stronger and attract pollinators. Good thing for us, this one doesn’t have the rotten smell normally associated with the arum.” He chuckled. “Otherwise we’d have a very arum-atic night.” Mendel was the only one who seemed to register what he said, but he just nodded instead of laughing. Bunsen looked disappointingly back at his potted plant.
“Oh, that’s good,” Garland said, oblivious to the attempted joke. “This is definitely our spot then. Come on guys, help me get these canvas rolls down. It’ll help keep it nice and warm so that we can rest well tonight.”
************
After they set up the tent and refilled their water jugs, they devoured their packaged dinners quickly and silently. The sun had set, and it was now almost freezing outside, so they huddled inside the tent where the arum plant kept them warm. Kava had found some light-stems growing in the nearby woods and laid them out in the tent, giving the inside of the tent a diffuse, eerie glow.
“Well, what do we do now?” asked Stalk. “Aren’t we supposed to get more instructions?”
“We know which way to go,” stated Garland confidently. “We’ll follow the path to the Institute first thing in the morning. We can deal with whatever trials we run into when we run into them.”
“Yeah cousin,” Crick added. “Just stick with me, and we’ll be okay.”
No one seemed to want to comment, so they sat in silence.
“Hey, maybe we should play a game,” Aster suggested.
“Did any of you pack any games?” Crick asked. “I didn’t think so.”
“Well we could tell stories,” added Aster.
“I love stories,” Bunsen chimed in. “How about a good ghost story?”
“I’m a little old for ghost stories,” Crick said. “But you kids go right ahead.”
Everyone else seemed interested, but no one knew any stories.
“Well, my family used to play this game where we all make up a story together,” Flora said. “I’ll start by saying one or two lines. Then someone else continues with just one or two more lines. We just keep going around in a circle until the story ends.”
“Sounds fun,” Garland said. “Flora, why don’t you start us off.”
“It was a dark, cold night in the meadow,” she began. “And seven teenagers were sleeping peacefully in a tent.”
“Suddenly they woke to the sound of a wailing scream,” Aster continued, speaking with chipper excitement. “They ran outside to find...“ She prodded Mendel.
“They ran outside to find...a tree,” Mendel said, shrugging. “It was a ghost tree, and it was wailing.”
Kava bit her lip, then glanced at her sister, making a few gestures. Aster laughed, “She said, the teenagers were frightened by the huge, deadly, man-eating ghost tree and ran blindly into the dark forest.” Flora wondered how Aster could have possibly read that from the three little hand motions Kava had made. It didn’t even look like sign language.
Garland jumped in. “But then they realized that trees can’t run, so they bravely walked back towards their tent, keeping their distance from the tree.”
“But the tree surprised them,” Bunsen said, the light stems casting dark shadows across his face. “It grew its branches incredibly fast and grabbed them, dangling them upside down, all while constantly wailing.”
“Your turn, Crick,” Aster said.
“I pass,” he responded.
“You can’t pass,” chided Flora. “Just say something.”
“Something,” he replied.
“Hey, you got to be a team player,” Garland said. “We’re gonna be doing everything together from now on.”
Crick looked around, but no one came to his aid. “Well, then I delegate this task to Stalk. He can speak for me.”
Stalk nodded. “Okay then,” he said. “Uh, let’s see, the tree was wailing and dangling the kids. And then the tree spoke. He said.... He said....”
“Oh yeah, it’s me,” said Flora. “Um, he said, ‘Why are you running away? Don’t you like my singing?”
“Why is it that everyone who hears me sing runs away?” continued Aster. “I even have this great dance move where I wave my branches around in a threatening manner.” She chuckled.
“Yes, I powdered myself with this gray and white chalk to make my bark look smoother, explaining my ghost-like appearance” continued Mendel.
“I won the singing contest in my forest with this song. I wrote it myself,” Aster added for Kava. “It’s called ‘WAIIIEEEEEEOOOU’.”
“Yeah, I was so good in the contest, the other trees put me out here in the meadow, far away from the forest so that I could greet visitors with my song,” Garland continued, breaking into a giant smile. Flora was glad to see that he wasn’t serious all the time.
Bunsen had to stop laughing before he continued the story. “Well, the teenagers didn’t want to hurt the tree’s feelings, so they told him that he was truly the best singer they had ever heard.”
“And that’s the end?” Stalk suggested.
“No, the kids tell the tree that they went into the forest to find him some backup singers because he would sound better with a whole band,” Flora continued.
“So the tree went back into the forest to search for a band,” Aster said.
“Leaving the kids some peace and quiet to rest for their big day tomorrow,” added Mendel.
Kava nodded. “The End!” Aster concluded for her sister.
“Wait, but he’s a tree,” protested Crick, suddenly paying attention. “How does he get back into the forest? Garland did point out that trees can’t walk.”
“No, Garland said trees can’t run.” corrected Flora. “This one can walk.”
“Thanks Flora,” Garland said. “That was fun. Let’s all get some rest now, okay?”
************
Flora was awakened the next morning by a wailing sound. She rolled out of bed and stumbled out of the tent, half expecting to see a ghost tree. Instead, she saw a giant black horse with a rider shrouded in a hooded white cloak coming slowly down the path from the mountains. The horse whinnied again, and soon the others joined her outside the tent. The rider was silhouetted by the morning sun, creating an impressive display.
“There’s our guide,” Garland said proudly.
As the rider drew near, he pulled back his hood and revealed... “He’s a kid!” whispered Aster urgently. And indeed he was. Their guide was a freckled kid with mousy brown hair and big ears that stuck out of his head like leaves. As he dismounted from the horse, Flora could see that the horse was just a pony, and the kid couldn’t have been more than ten years old.
“Greetings Institute hopefuls,” he said in a high pitched whine. “My name is Chase, and I will be your guide on your journey to the Institute.”
“But you’re like, eight years old,” Crick said undiplomatically. “How can you be an Institute scholar?”
“Actually I’m nine years old,” Chase responded, offended by the comment. “I know this area better than anyone. If you want to go from being an Institute hopeful to an actual apprentice, you better follow me. Now pack up. We leave in ten minutes.”
Garland looked confused, but he complied and started pulling up the stakes and then rolled the tent walls back up. The rest of them followed suit, gathering their stuff and eating what breakfast they could. When their preparations were completed, they gathered around Chase at the head of the trail. Flora was shivering from the cold morning air.
“You valley-folk are never prepared for the mountain air,” commented Chase. “That’s why I brought you something to keep you warm.” He reached behind him and pulled out a white robe, throwing it to Flora. He then proceeded to throw robes to all the others.
“Institute robes!” cried Garland. “Blooming awesome.”
“Yes I am,” Chase replied. “Now which of you is the leader of the cohort?”
Garland only hesitated for a brief moment before raising his hand. “I suppose I am,” he said. It didn’t take even a moment for Crick to object.
“Now, wait a minute,” he said. “I say that I’m the leader.”
“Yeah,” Stalk added. He stepped next to Crick, pulling Bunsen with him. “We’re with Crick.”
Flora immediately stepped next to Garland, pulling Mendel along with her. “Not a chance,” she said. “I’m not following Crick anywhere.”
Aster and Kava were left in the middle, but Garland and Crick seemed to be looking right through them. Flora could feel the beams of hatred that shot along their glares. “Hey, aren’t we supposed to be in this together?” Aster implored.
“Shorty’s right,” Chase said, even though Aster was at least a head taller than he was. “There’s only room for one leader, so here’s how it’s going to work.” He pointed to Aster. “You go over with Team Hunk there, and Giganta over there can join Team Freakshow.” Despite Chase’s insults, Flora couldn’t help smiling at the fact that Crick had been called a freak, not her.
“On the final path to the Institute, there are five gardens that represent each of the five disciplines of the Institute,” Chase continued. “They are: the Garden of Tools, the Garden of Agriculture, the Garden of Mathematics, the Garden of Governance, and the Garden of Faith.” Chase counted each of them off on his fingers. “Each of these gardens will provide a challenge which you must surpass in order to move on. The team that passes the most trials first, gets to pick the leader. Sound simple?”
“And what if we don’t pass one of the challenges?” Stalk asked.
Chase smiled innocently, “Well, then obviously you can’t move on. Good thing you’re not going to be the leader.”
Just before Stalk could reach out and strangle him, Chase turned his horse around and started up the path.”Let’s go,” he said. “We have a lot of ground to cover. Oh yeah, and if you don’t reach the Institute by nightfall, well, you’ll never reach the Institute.”
************
The sun was still low in the morning sky when they reached the first garden. It was strikingly beautiful, an oasis of luscious green plants nestled amongst the stark rocks they had journeyed through to get here. The path wound through the verdant landscape and ended at the far end where a giant wooden gate, easily three times the height of Stalk, blocked their path. A large wooden bar lay horizontally across the two doors, holding them shut. The gate was the only way to the path, which was surrounded by high mountains on either side. Flora skipped forward in excitement. They had reached their first trial.
“Welcome to the Garden of Tools,” declared Chase. “I think it’s obvious what your challenge here is. I’ll just wait over here until you’re done.” He walked his horse over to the stream that trickled through the gardens, laid down on the ground, and appeared to go to sleep.
Crick immediately ran up to the tall wooden gate and began looking for handholds. “Don’t just stand there,” Crick called out to Stalk, “get over here and give me a boost.”
Aster, meanwhile, began examining a strange looking contraption on the left side of the gate. Garland walked up to the gate and tried to lift the bar off of the doors, but it wouldn’t budge. He gave up when Aster pointed out that metal pins on either side of the bar held it down tightly. The one on the right was fixed, but the metal pin on the left slid into the wooden box that Aster was now running her hands over.
Initially worried about Crick, Flora now saw that even on Stalk’s shoulders, he was far from reaching the top of the gate. Her mind now at ease, Flora walked forward to where Mendel, Aster, and now Garland had gathered to get a closer look at the box. It was about two hands wide and three hands deep. The pin slid in from the back of the box and exited from the front, near the bottom. The pin then bent downward ninety degrees, creating a nice handle. Aster gave the pin a good tug, but it didn’t move. Above the pin, a cylindrical section of wood about four inches in diameter jutted out of the box by a few inches.
Aster grasped the cylinder and tried turning it in both directions to no avail. In the center of the cylinder there was a rectangular hole about the size of a large thumb. Aster peered into the hole as she continued to twist the cylinder. Next, Aster examined the five cylindrical blocks that came out the top of the box. They were arranged in a row in line with the rectangular hole in the front of the box.
“What is it?” Mendel asked as he dodged away from Crick who had just fallen from Stalk’s shoulders as Stalk tried unsuccessfully to climb on top of Bunsen.
“It’s a lock,” Aster concluded. “My dad made something similar for the Mayor’s vault. If we insert the key, it’ll release the pin. Then we can remove the bar and open the door.”
“That sounds easy,” Flora said. “We just have to go find the key”
“Yep, we’re looking for something about as long as this box,” answered Aster. “It would need to slide into this rectangular hole. And it should have five bumps of different heights on one side.”
“Let’s go,” Crick called out, overhearing their conversation. “That key is ours.” Crick and Stalk ran off into the garden, leaving Bunsen behind. For a moment, it looked like Bunsen was going to stay with them, but then he ran off as well. Kava, however, refused to leave her sister despite her supposed team affiliation.
“We better go as well,” Garland said. “Let’s split up the search area. I’ll take the north side.”
Ten minutes later, they returned to the gate, empty-handed. “Well, that would have been a bit easy,” Mendel commented. “We can’t expect them to lock a door and then leave the key right next to it.”
“Maybe we need to pick the lock,” Aster suggested.
“See those five cylinders on top of the lock?” Aster asked. “Those house the pins that keep the lock from turning. If we had some strong, thin, curved tools, we could reach inside the lock and push those pins into position. Of course, without the key, we don’t know how far we should push each pin. If we push it too far it’ll lock again.” Aster thought for a moment. “But if we do each pin individually, we can probably feel when the pin locks into place. But I don’t have any of those tools.”
“In surveying this location, I noted some epox plants on the south side of the garden,” Mendel said. “They can be used to
form the necessary tools.”
Kava shrugged. “Yeah, exactly what are epox plants?” Aster asked.
Mendel explained, “The roots of the epox plants secrete a special substance we call epox. When the roots are removed from the ground and dried in the sun, they harden into a very stiff material. If we pull the plants up, we can form the soft roots into any shape we want and then dry them into the tools we need.”
They immediately went to work harvesting the roots of the epox plants. Mendel fashioned one root into a helix, showing them how the root would stiffen and hold its shape less than a minute after it was exposed to the air. Aster had each of them make what she called a “pick.” It was essentially a straight stick the length of an arm. But at the end, it would curve upwards to a right angle. Flora went to work but found that her pick ended up being bent incorrectly. Aster threw hers away as she was examining their work. When Aster was satisfied, they lay their picks in the sun and took some time to eat a full breakfast while they hardened.
It also gave them an opportunity to watch as Crick directed Bunsen and Stalk to build a tower out of what brush they could scavenge from the garden. Without tools, the tower was turning into more of a large hill but still, it was getting them closer to their goal, and they would reach it eventually.
Garland must have been thinking the same thing, for he immediately called an end to their break. They gathered back in front of the gate. Aster had Garland put his hand on the cylinder and apply a constant twisting force while she put her ear against the box. “Okay, now each of you take a pick, stick it into the hole and try to push one of the pins up slowly,” she said. “Kava, why don’t you start with the one in the back? Line it up so that the point of your pick is in line with that cylinder in the back.”
Kava stuck one of the picks carefully into the block.
“Good, good,” Aster continued. “Now push slowly. Garland, make sure you’re turning that cylinder. I should be able to hear it click in place. Okay. Stop. Right there. Perfect. Hold it there. Now someone else, do the next pin.”