Pearl Quest

A wild storm tore through the night, a battle of light and sounds louder than an army at war. Finally, the lighting and thunder paused, the rain stopped falling, and a quiet peace fell over the jungle until the sound of birds singing woke the early morning light.

Mindy Pearl lay silent on her cot, listening to the music of nature as she did every morning. Soon, her brothers would be shouting greetings to the other boys of the village as they looked over their animal herds. Soon, Mindy’s mother would call, telling her to get up, and the day would continue as if nothing had changed.

But everything had changed. This was Mindy Pearl’s Day of Choosing. Today, she would leave her home and family and travel to NightHawk Outpost, at the very edge of the area protected by their Sanctuary. Today, she would begin her training to become an adult. Today, Mindy was thirteen years old.

Mindy smiled as the voice of her mom called through the window. “Mindy, time to start the cooking fire!” Rising quickly, Mindy slipped into her clothes and ran out of her room and into the common room of her family’s tree home. All the houses in the village were built in the trees, high enough to give protection from wild animals and from floods during storm season when the river flooded with water so high that Quano, the tallest man in the village, could not touch the ground with his feet while swimming in it. Each house had four rooms, sometimes five if a family was large enough or could pay to make their house larger. One room for the parents, two rooms for the children -one for boys, one for girls- and one room in the middle where the family kept their belongings and spent their evenings. During the day, except for Storm season when it would rain for many weeks, the families would spend all of their time outside.

Picking up a handful of twigs from the wood pile, Mindy built a small fire in the cooking pit at the center of the common room. Careful to watch for sparks flying onto the wooden floor or into the grass roof, she added three bigger logs on top of the twigs, blowing gently on the flames to heat the dry wood faster. Pouring a few drops of coconut oil onto a flat metal sheet, she walked away from the fire to do her other chores.

Mindy walked around a low table and the sitting carpets lying around it, past the shelves that held books, food and other important belongings, and to the chicken pens built into the far wall. Reaching her hand into a bag of grain, she poured a small pile of the bird food into each cage, then reached in to collect the eggs she found there. Later, her brothers would lower the cages to the ground with ropes to allow the birds some time to feed on grass and other insects. For now, they were content with noisily pecking at the handful of seeds Mindy provided them in exchange for her family’s breakfast.

A sound behind Mindy caused her to turn. The bald head of her father, Alexander Pearl, rose from the ladder used to enter the house from the ground below. His face was dark from the sun, with a tired, hard look from years spent hunting, farming, and defending their land during the final days of the Wars of Survival. His amethyst hair -her brothers had dared to call it purple only once- twisted around his head and into a flowing beard and mustache that hid his eternal frown. Alexander seldom smiled; an amazing accomplishment for a man with a mild temper and a wicked sense of humor. Each morning, Alexander Pearl awoke in the darkness, even before the birds, and Mindy almost never saw him until Second Meal, when most of the day’s work had been done and the sun was preparing its journey into the night. Seeing her father, Mindy was reminded again that this day would be different and special.

Dark eyes gleamed beneath the scowl of Alexander’s bushy eyebrows. His voice sounded as deep as a well and as hard as the ground, “Good morning, little Pearl.”

“Good morning, father.”

“I see you are completing your chores, as you should.” He took his place on the largest carpet seat. “Come here, child.” Mindy walked to her father, stopping first to set the eggs in a small grass basket and quickly washed her hands with water drawn from a clay jar. Kneeling in front of him, she looked deep into his eyes.

Without looking away, Alexander untied the leather cord around his neck. Lifting the cord, and the shining metal medallion hanging from it, he gently brushed her hair aside and retied the knot so that the medallion, cold and a little heavy, now lay dangling from her neck. The medallion was a silver color and had a heart shape. Thin lines etched into the front showed a blacksmith’s anvil, with the flames of a forge blazing behind it. Mindy had rarely seen the medallion, since her father often kept it hidden, but she knew that he always kept it with him, and never took it off. Now, the medallion was hers.

Alexander held Mindy’s head in his large hands. Father and daughter sat in silence for several moments before Alexander spoke.

“Little Pearl, you must know that your mother and I expect much from you. You have done well, but our future is dark and full of trouble. You and I travel to Outpost today, where you begin your training, as the Laws require. Our Sanctuary depends on the strength of its people, both old and young. You will need to make some hard decisions. Some will be good, but some will not. Do not be afraid of mistakes. Everyone makes them at some time in their lives, and a mistake is only a failure if you choose not to learn from it.”

“This medallion was a gift from my parents, given to me when I was your age. When you put this on, when you hold it, remember everything your mother and I have taught you, everything you have learned here in our village. Remember to be strong, even when everything you try to accomplish goes wrong. Remember to work hard at everything you do.” Removing his hands, he lightly tapped her nose with a finger. “So. Your mother and brothers will have to prepare their own First Meal today. Cook only what you need for yourself. Then, gather your things and we will begin our journey. We must reach Outpost before the sun reaches its highest point.”

With a nod, Mindy stood. Cooking her meal and gathering her things took little time. Most of what she owned had been packed into a small bag the night before. Mindy took one last look around her home, then followed her father down the ladder. Stopping in the garden to give a hug to her mom and wave goodbye to her brothers, Mindy shouldered her bag and followed her father down the path leading out of the village and towards NightHawk Outpost.

A new life was waiting for her.

Because this was Mindy’s Day of Choosing, her father had volunteered to serve as one of the day’s messengers. Alexander Pearl was not the village Elder, yet his strength and years of wisdom, learned from experiences outside of the village, made him too valuable to risk traveling to Outpost often.

Traveling in the jungle with a group was safer than traveling alone. Mindy and her father were joined by two other travelers where the village clearing met the trees and underbrush of the jungle. Tall Quano Farstride, the village Head Messenger, gave a short nod at their arrival, then turned and started down the foot path. Quano’s son, sharp-sighted Dorran, let them pass, then quietly followed behind. Children grew up quickly in the jungle, but none except Dorran had ever taken the trip to Outpost before their Day of Choosing. This would be his sixth visit to Nighthawk Outpost.

Messengers always traveled in groups of three. Most were volunteers, people from the village who put aside their chores for the two-day trip to Nighthawk Outpost. It took one day to reach Outpost and deliver reports or important messages, and a second day to return to the village with supplies and other necessities requested by the villagers. Returning messengers would take on extra chores from the next person chosen to be a messenger. Only Quano traveled the path every day.

The path was narrow and worn from daily use by the Messengers. Nothing grew from the hard-packed dirt, yet the villagers were soon surrounded by the plant and trees that grew up next to it. At times, they pushed through thick grass taller than any human. They brushed past tree branches that seemed reluctant to allow anyone to pass, under vines wet from the constant rains and covered in moss.

After an hour of quietly observing the jungle, Mindy turned to her father. “Tell me again; what is life like outside of our village?”

Quano glanced from over his shoulder at the pair. “I can imagine the stories Alexander has told you. All lies -especially the story about our adventure with the Flowren soup.”

Alexander quirked an eyebrow. “My fleet-footed friend is embarrassed that he was once beaten by a turtle.”

“It never happened.”

“I believe the word our Guide used that day was ‘befuddled,’ was it not? Quano lives in a state of complete and total befuddlement.”

“Since, after all these years, you continue to ignore reason, I have chosen not to listen to you. Your daughter and any other persons of consequence would be well advised to do the same.”

Mindy giggled. “How can I not listen to my own father?” She changed her voice to its most formal tone. “Very well. Messenger Quano, perhaps you would choose to tell me about life outside of Village?”

The tall man shrugged. “There is not much to tell. Nighthawk Outpost is at the center of seven villages. We all meet there to sell food and goods, and buy the same from other villages. We sell a lot of meat and cloth from our goat herds. Other villages bring in fruits and herbs gathered deep in the jungle, fish from the river -except in Flood season when we can catch our own, wood or grass crafts, and other things that help us all survive. Merchants sit in their markets and trade these goods. Soldiers walk around making sure the there is no trouble in the markets or simply stare off into the jungle for hours at a time. There is a Healer, an Explorer, a Map-maker, and several others. They have seven Elders, and these Elders elect someone to oversee everything that happens within Outpost. Most people live in tree houses, like we do, only much larger. You will live in one of these houses, learning a task just as every member of Village has since the Laws were agreed on. When you are skilled enough, you will return to Village and another child will take your place.”

Alexander interrupted them with a snort. “Mostly true. You speak all the facts but skip the important details.” Alexander reached over, stopping Mindy with his arm. There are three outposts safely hidden in this jungle. Nighthawk Outpost is ours. Each Outpost is a Sanctuary, protecting its people from the dangers that live in the world, just outside of our boundaries. Once, long ago, the outposts were connected -as our villages are connected- by paths leading to a city, a real city that was in its turn connected to the other great cities of our world. Over the years, the borders of our Sanctuary have grown smaller -yes, Quano, many people deny it, but I’ve visited the borders myself. Our Sanctuaries grow smaller, and the paths to our city have been lost. Nowadays, most people say the city never existed in the first place; that the only things existing in this world are the jungle, Nighthawk Outpost, and the seven villages.”

“Most people are sensible.” Quano muttered. “Only a few crazy dreamers like you still think there is more to the world out there to find. Or, if it is out there, that it is worth finding again. Our people are content with what they have now.”

Alexander gave a mock bow, masking his sarcasm by gesturing for Mindy to continue down the path. They continued their journey in silence.

Mindy was confused. If the city was real, why would people want to hide the fact that it was lost instead of trying to find it again? But, if it was not true, why had her father told all those stories to her and her brothers? Why would he defend them so strongly? Absently stepping over an army of fire ants crossing the trail, she decided to ask one last question. “Father, what does our Sanctuary protect us from?”

Alexander’s eyes turned sad as he thought how to answer her question.

“Our Sanctuaries protect us from a world gone wrong. When our people built the Sanctuaries, they were running from a war worse than any inflicted on this planet. They saw entire cities and countries of people fighting against each other, and even Nature itself seemed to join in the conflict. Finally, humans became so strong and arrogant that they destroyed the world. We tore it apart, then Nature took over and destroyed the rest. The wars ended, but only because there was nothing left to fight over. Some of the survivors escaped into the jungle. The cities had been destroyed, so they fled to the Wild Lands, building villages to hide in. Eventually, the survivors chose to rebuild the cities, but the trails had been lost long before anyone had the courage to return. Now, it is said that there is nothing left in the world. Nothing except us.”

“Our leaders have forbidden us from leaving the jungle. They fear that, just as we survive, others also survive. These others, we are told, would bring their wars and destruction against us again. We are safe, for now, even thought our City is gone. Perhaps there are other cities, but most people obey our Law of Departure; that no one is to leave our Sanctuary or to provide the world with even a hint that we are still here.

Alexander nodded towards their lanky leader. “After all these years, Quano is still jealous that I have traveled further than his long legs have taken him.”

Mindy’s eyes lit in surprise. “So you really have seen a City!”

“The stories I have told you and your brothers are true. Remember them well, but do not share them. The time is not yet right, and you will make more enemies than friends as a reward for the telling. Instead, let them guide you as you learn your trade. Let my stories remind you that there is more to this life we live; that the world is a much larger place than anyone in our Sanctuary could ever imagine.”

“Hush now.”

The travelers walked on in silence. Alexander and Quano plodded on, scanning their jungle surroundings with the familiarity of hundreds of journeys down the same road. Mindy followed in silence, absently thinking about her father’s words, little knowing how his words would benefit her in the months ahead. She knew they would prove to be very important for, even in her young mind, one thing was certain: Alexander never spoke without a purpose.

Behind them, all but forgotten by the others, the fourth member of their group also walked. His expression was thoughtful, even troubled. Like Mindy, Dorran had eagerly listened to Alexander’s every word.