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Crossroads

Chapter 12

The rickety bridge proved much more stable than they had initially guessed; and though the raging water underneath intimidated them, watching the heavy-footed Balaam scamper across, gave them the confidence to do it. The children held hands, with Esther at the front holding Balaam’s tail, and Marian at the rear behind Herbert; she felt it her duty to make sure her youngest sibling made it across safely. The river looked dangerous, but they had conquered it; bringing them the first great sense of victory. But it would prove to be premature, for the hardest parts of their journey were still ahead. 

On the far end of the bridge, the children welcomed the sight of a simple path cutting south-southeast into the forest on a slight grade. The slope was easy-going, far less taxing than the first mountain pass, that they hadn’t realized how high they soon were; videlicet when the underbrush cleared and they veered around a natural shoulder in the mountain, it surprised them to see an enclave several hundred feet below, two miles wide, full of endless, crammed trees, underbrush, ivy, and wildlife. 

A raven soared by their heads—a blurry flash of black—landed in a white oak, and cawed at their presence. It stared so harshly at them that the group wondered if it knew something they did not. 

Presently, and methodically, the children individually became aware of a quiet, surreptitious voice on the wind. A sweet song carried over the forest canopy; so frail, they could have mistaken it for the wind.

“Uwe la na tsiku; su sa sai.” 

Just as dimly as it had come, it faded away, and with it, the raven dove from the oak tree and disappeared into the enclave below. Marian smiled at the song, but noticed Balaam’s quickened pace and hunched shoulders, indicating what she assumed was fear.

Without warning, thunder clapped its heavy hands above the mountain and a torrent of blistering, icy rain fell on the group; fierce winds and petulant raindrops—tiny needles, flying horizontal, stung their faces and soaked their clothing in seconds. The children perked their shoulders up around their ears and dug their chins into their chests, suddenly miserable from the rain and cold.

Balaam stepped off the mountain shelf, onto the steep slope, standing acrobatically at an awkward angle as if he had done it a thousand times before. He waited while Aaron passed to saddle up next to Herbert and Esther, between them and the brim of the cliff. His hooves melted into the mud and leaves as they leaned against his thick barrel. “Stay by my side for now, children,” Balaam whispered to the two.

The group struggled along; their pace dropped to a mere crawl, sloshing over roots, rocks, and leaves, while keeping one hand on the earthen wall next to them to steady themselves. 

“Boy, it’s rainin’ pitchforks and bull yearlings!” Aaron shouted through the deep thundering booms and violent twisting branches. 

Heaven split; a bolt of lightning streaked down the mountainside; a tree at the bottom of the enclave exploded into flame. With each rushing wind, a sickening feeling grew that an impending doom was racing upon them, and for whatever God-forsaken reason, they could not determine when it would come or from where. Danger lie everywhere; but the children pressed on. There was no time to fear, doubt, or second-guess their adventure; the path ahead was the only way out of it. 

And then, the inevitable happened. A mudslide erupted underneath Aaron; he leaped away and grabbed hold of the roots jutting from the wall next to him. But Herbert, shocked and unaware, lost his footing in the mud. His feet sunk; he fell with the falling shelf; his body slid on the mudslide; he was gone. Esther screamed. Marian lost her breath in horror; how could she lead her brother to such a dangerous place? 

But Balaam’s bite was too quick for the him to be lost for good. He had snapped Herbert’s collar and the boy dangled over the cliff from his shirt, all bunched up inside of Balaam’s teeth and wrapped around his shoulders; he didn’t even know what had happened before Balaam tossed him back to the shelf where Aaron caught him. 

Esther jumped the gaping hole, grabbed her brother, and burst into tears. But Marian was in too much shock to move. She stumbled to the ground on the far side of the hole and held her chest, fighting to catch her breath. 

Herbert stared, dumbfounded, while Aaron laughed, arms clasped around him, in disbelief. The rain kept dumping on them while Balaam corrected his footing and galloped up the mountain slope back to the trail, just ahead of the children; he whinnied and shook the rain, mud and leaves from his mane. 

Composing and forcing herself to continue, Marian crawled across the collapsed shelf and bundled up next to the others, thoroughly ashamed that she had brought her siblings on this journey. The children cried, blubbered, and gasped, but kept their frightful thoughts to themselves for now. 

In a way, keeping silent in fear often spurs a group beyond its limits; silence, therefore, is the greatest factor in facing them. In their sheepish quiet, they assumed the next of them was less afraid than the last until they picked themselves up again and prepared to move on. 

Balaam stamped his feet. “Better time than never to get started going nowhere,” said he.

Presently, the rain would die down, and the children descended the long and precarious mountain side. After a few minutes, they found themselves within a valley in a brief gap of sunshine where they collapsed into a pile on the ground and caught their breath before turning into slop and crying and laughing hysterically. 

Weakened and shaken, the children let out a few tears and shouts. Marian was doubting their abilities and sound judgment; should they have come at all? She had trusted the Ghost and his reason why; but at most, had expected a few hours of walking through the woods to a fountain, and discovering some obvious way to close the gate. But the notion of climbing multiple mountains, crossing raging rivers, and stumbling through sudden downpours never crossed her mind. Yet she did not know how to express her doubt with the others.

So on they went, and the path meandered around a shallow brook that eventually led to the mouth of a deep cave. Here, the path diverged into three directions; one path traveled northwest into a hollow; another northeast directly into the cave; and the third aimed southeast, up a steep, muddy incline on the mountain pass again.

“What are we looking for?” Balaam asked.

“Atagahi,” said Esther. “The Fountain of Youth.”

“What’s the matter, Balaam?” Herbert asked him, as he saw the Donkey looking disturbed and hesitant. 

“I’m just collecting myself, Herbert,” said the Donkey. “Thank you for asking.” 

“That’s not the problem, Herbert Dolor,” a deep, treacherous voice declared, and the children were surprised to see the Top-Hat Man in their presence. He leaned against his cane just off the path, while dusting mud from the bottom of his crocodile and snake-skinned boots. “He doesn’t know which way to go,” he continued. 

The children were confused by the Top-Hat Man’s sudden appearance, yet much more baffled by the indictment he gave that Balaam may be lost.

“Balaam, is this true?” Esther asked. 

“Who are you?” Marian interjected.

Balaam’s long face looked into Esther’s eyes; a shred of doubt was hidden behind them.

“Well, fry me brown,” answered Aaron. “It’s that there cankered old acorn-cracker Herbie and me seen in the quarry. How’d you gettup ‘ere?” 

“I’ve been here all along,” replied Mr. Dauer, lifting his cane into the air. “Right, Esther?”

“I suppose you had to be,” Esther replied, scowling at him. 

“Excuse me!” Marian stomped forward between Mr. Dauer and her siblings. “Just who are you?”

“We haven’t been properly introduced yet, Marian.” Mr. Dauer took his top-hat off to bow, and revealed his bald and jaundiced scalp; he placed the hat back on it and smirked at Marian. “I am Mr. Dauer.”

“He’s the Top-Hat Man I was telling you about,” Esther whispered in her ear. 

Mr. Dauer’s neck twitched, and he made eye-contact with her. “Still catching everyone up, Esther? That’s why you are the best leader, really.” 

Esther blushed, and Marian noticed.

“Well, Mr. Tower,” said Marian. “Maybe you know how to get to the Fountain of Youth.” 

“Oh, the Fountain of Youth—Atagahi.” Mr. Dauer straightened his back, and it sounded as though it were wound by rubber bands. “I suppose there is only one way, and that is on through the cave. I thought Esther told you all about this. She’s always keeping things to herself.” 

“What?” Esther exclaimed, and Marian stared at her. 

“A-right, you weaked coot,” Aaron said. “I says aready oncet afore, and I says it agin—yer stirrin’ up hell with a long spoon. Get yer agley butt aways from us or ye’ns gonna regret it.”

Mr. Dauer smiled. “Ah yes,” he said. “Aaron, the delinquent wants to fight just like his father, but doesn’t know enough to keep up with the likes of the clever Dolors. How many nature books did you read last night to appear intelligent today?” 

Aaron’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. He looked angry and ready to fight, but, inside, embarrassment germinated.

“Maybe we should just get going,” Herbert added. 

“Ah, Herbert has joined the conversation!” Mr. Dauer turned his attention to him. “Still holding on to that cougar figurine you ruined everything with, are you?” 

Herbert’s eyes widened. He looked at his sisters and Aaron; they were staring back. His heart-rate quickened; he dropped his head between his shoulders conspicuously.

“We should go over the mountain,” Balaam insisted. 

“Why?” Marian challenged, feeling an overwhelming sense of frustration from the whole conversation.

“Are you sure, Balaam?” Esther asked. 

Balaam nodded.

“Of course, not!” Dauer interrupted. “He hadn’t a clue where he is. But I do.” Lightning flashed in the south, and a roll of thunder followed. The kids glanced up the valley to see a thunderhead creeping over the mountain toward the southeastern path. “If you want to reach Atagahi, you must enter the cave,” Dauer continued. 

“Bread wagon on the wind; rain’s a-comin agin,” Aaron whispered to Marian. 

“Very good, Aaron,” Dauer mocked. “Now perhaps, you would all follow me through the cave.” 

“Balaam says that we should go over the mountain,” Esther pleaded. “And I don’t trust the Top-Hat Man.” 

“But I won’t take our brother over that mountain in the rain again,” Marian thought aloud. She addressed Mr. Dauer. “What assurances do I have that you can get us through the cave?” 

Mr. Dauer smiled and tapped his cane on the ground; magically, a dim but apparent beam of light shone from its tip. “I can lead you through it,” said he.

“The path eastward doesn’t lead over the mountain,” interjected Balaam. “It cuts through the mountains in a narrow pass. You must trust me, Marian, it is not as dangerous as you think.”

Mr. Dauer stared deep into Marian’s eyes; her head hurt from the look he gave her. “Perhaps, we should just listen to Esther instead,” he whispered. 

“Marian!” Esther, who hadn’t heard what he whispered, yelled. “We need to follow Balaam through the pass.” 

Overcome by jealousy, fear, and confusion, Marian shouted at the Top-Hat Man and everyone else to hear, “I don’t know who you are—but we are going through the cave!” She looked at Esther and Balaam. “And that’s final.” 

She stomped toward the mouth of the cave, but Balaam stood in her way. 

“Move, you dumb Donkey!” she yelled. 

Balaam remained still and didn’t say a word. 

“I said move, idiot!” She hollered again. 

She didn’t think Balaam was an idiot, nor was she mad at him. But something about how the Top-Hat Man talked about her sister leading the group made her blood boil. It wasn’t only this, you see, because the Top-Hat Man’s presence had a dark magical effect on all the children that made all of them want to run away, or fight, or argue, or throw something. It was the sort of feeling you get when you think someone is hiding in the closet and your hair stands up on end—or, more precisely, when you feel grumpy and tired and end up stubbing your toe on the leg of a dining-chair because of it, and you get real angry but have no one to blame but yourself, yet you end up taking it out on the closest person next to you, anyway. 

Marian felt like that. And with every passing second, she grew more agitated that her options were limited and seemed futile, and what’s more, that no one was listening to the decision she had already made. She raised her hand and smacked Balaam’s rear as hard as she could. 

Balaam stood still. “I don’t think it’s the right way,” he whispered. “Why must you hit me for it?” 

“I don’t care what you think,” Marian retorted. “I’m not taking my brother through that mountain pass in the rain again! We almost died up there and you led us into it. This is the way I’m going, and it’s the way we are going.”

“But—”

The tense back-and-forth had fed Aaron up. Ever since the Top-Hat Man addressed how little he knew compared to the Dolors, his insecurity had grown insurmountable; but now, after seeing Marian struggle to lead them out of the crossroads, he grew angry and violent. He stomped his feet on the ground, like he used to do when he was a little boy, and bent down to pick up the largest stick he could muster. It was old, rotten, and covered in mud, but would work. It swung through the air as hard as he could fling it and struck Balaam on the back. The stick broke into many pieces against the talking beast, and didn’t hurt Balaam’s back near as much as it hurt his feelings. 

“Move!” He screamed.

“Haw-Hee!” Balaam bellowed in sadness. 

Aaron dropped his fists to his sides, red in the face; Esther whimpered at the sight; Herbert looked at Marian for help, but she was just as mad as Aaron. Mr. Dauer’s lips curled slightly.

“Marian says where a-goin’!” Aaron hollered at Balaam. “So get movin’, you stoopid an’mal!”

“Why must you strike me for standing my ground?” He whimpered.

“Because you are in our way!” Marian hollered and pushed Balaam, though he was too heavy for her to budge. “We are going through the cave, with or without you.”

Balaam lowered his head and sighed. His shoulders trembled, and his back legs shifted in the mud. He turned slowly and met Esther’s eyes; she watched two great, big Donkey tears roll down his long face and splatter in the mud. She looked down, feeling awful. His head swung round and faced Aaron; the boy sighed heavily. Seeing the animal’s tears made him at war with himself; he wanted to be angry, because all the words that the Top-Hat Man said convinced him he had a reason to be angry. But looking at the sweet Donkey’s sad face made him realize he was wrong. He was proud of what shamed him, ashamed of his pride, and too prideful to admit any of it. In the end, he couldn’t make left or right of his feelings and looked away, clenching his jaw over and over. 

Balaam took a step back, and the forest was silent except for the mud squishing under his hooves. He ascended the climb back up the mountain the children had just desperately fought their way down. 

“Hay!” Aaron yelled after him. “Where’re you a-goin’, ye’n stoopid Donkey? David Crockett gave ya ta us! Get aback chere!” 

Balaam didn’t reply; the children watched him fade behind an elm, around a maple, and out of view without a word. 

“This is all your fault,” Esther shouted, and pointed her finger at Mr. Dauer.

“My fault?” Mr. Dauer responded, his spindly hand on his chest. “I’ve done nothing but help you?”

“Help us?” Herbert mocked. “What on earth have you done to help us?”

“Well, I gave you confidence at the bridge, didn’t I, Esther?” he asked rhetorically. “And you found the way, just as I knew you would. And Aaron, who do you think threw the camera down for you when you foolishly left it behind on top of that mountain of rock and sand? Girls, do you really think a unicorn just magically showed up at your home? Why, I led it there for you to see. It’s not my fault Marian bungled the camera. And in fact, David Crockett had me get that stupid Donkey for you. I tried to tell him Balaam wasn’t the correct choice, but he was adamant that the griping buffoon was perfect for your journey. Seems about right he would abandon you at the moment you need him most.” 

Marian’s eyes shifted back and forth in confusion. She was trying to make sense of what the Top-Hat Man had said and thought, Why was he meeting with my brother and sister and not me? Why did they seem to know so much, but I didn’t? What else were they keeping from me? How did he know about the camera? Did Esther tell him about me? Is she making fun of me? Yes, I’m afraid that everyone’s been making fun of me from the beginning. “I—don’t understand,” she said weakly. “Herbert, is it all true? Did you see this man with Aaron?”

“Well, yes,” Herbert replied. “But—”

“—But nuthin’,” Aaron interrupted. He shook his head at the ground and dug the sole of his sneaker into it.

Mr. Dauer smiled menacingly. “Well, it seems I’ve only ever told the truth and helped. And now you are without a guide. Would you care for me to lead the way?” 

“No!” Esther jumped in. “I don’t like him. He’s scary. He has dust in his pockets and a cork in his ear. He looks at us weird.” 

“Ess, those aren’t really the best reasons to not believe him,” Marian said. 

“And you sound like Mom and Dad now!” Esther shouted. 

Deep down, Marian didn’t like the way the Top-Hat Man made her feel either, but she didn’t like the way Esther made her feel right then even more. “Aaron, can he help us?” 

“I reckon I dun’t lak any a-grown-ups,” Aaron growled. “But I spose what-all hem says is true. Herbie’d knowed loss more abouten hem than me. Theys was up on the hill longer.” 

“Herbert?” Marian asked.

Herbert shook his lowered head, too ashamed to talk about it, and thinking only about the broken cougar figurine hidden in his bedroom.

“No—” Esther interrupted. “I don’t care. It’s something in the pit of my stomach. I don’t like him.” 

“Esther,” Mr. Dauer encouraged. “When have I ever not been proud of you? You’re such a great leader.” 

“Enough!” Marian shouted, and Mr. Dauer grinned. 

“We shouldn’t follow him!” Esther yelled at Marian. “We’ve lost Balaam because of you! Just like we lost Aaron! It’s all your fault—just like usual—you get so mad at people and then they leave us. Now you want to follow the Top-Hat Man?! I won’t do it. I won’t allow it!”

“Oh! So now you are leader, then?” Marian struck back. “Been talking behind my back and wanting to run ahead this whole time!”

“I never said I was the leader,” Esther retorted. “But maybe I should be if you can’t make an obvious decision like not trusting someone as creepy as the Top-Hat Man.”

“Maybe we should go home,” Herbert suggested quietly. He hated seeing his sisters fight, but more than that wanted to get away from any chance of the Top-Hat Man mentioning his secret again.

“Shet up, Herbie,” Aaron said. “We-all knows ye’ns lion bout summen.” Herbert looked down. “‘sides, it ain’t lak we-all’d finds ourn away back through them there hills anyways. Face it—we lost out hyar. And this here old canker might be right. Ain’t no other choice anyways.”

Marian and Esther stared at one another ferociously, but Aaron’s logic won the bout. Marian glanced down at the ground and shook her head in frustration. “I just don’t see another way.”

Esther felt the wind knock out of her at the words. “No,” she pleaded.

“Mr. Tower,” Marian relented, “lead the way.”

“With pleasure, children,” he replied. 

“There—” Marian turned to Esther. “I made a decision.”

Mr. Dauer dug his cane into the wet earth and turned on his heels. He led the four along the northeast path to the cavern mouth. As they passed into it, Marian had a terrible gut feeling that she’d made a horrible mistake. 

The passage into the mountain was a small, roundish, and gray slate stone opening. When they entered under the dripping moss, it surprised them to see a vast chamber dug out from the mountainside; stalactites, stalagmites, and pillars of limestone as far as the eye could see on the dim little light from Mr. Dauer’s cane-top; light bounced off the glistening rock and shimmered on shallow pools of water. Under different circumstances, the children would have stopped in awe of its undeniable beauty; shimmering gypsum, powdery dolomites, and wet, rough limestone crowning every edge, corner, turn and chimney; chirping bats and smacking droplets; endless caverns and deepening chambers. But its beauty was lost on them as they uneasily followed the decrepit Mr. Dauer and listened to his bones creak and groan as he walked ahead down the slippery, wet stone floor; it sounded like wood dragged across a pile of dried rice.

Aaron flicked on his headlamp and illuminated the tunnel, which seemed to displease Mr. Dauer. 

“By juckies! It’s colder’n a banker’s heart down here,” exclaimed Aaron. 

The group continued on a downward slope, while Aaron’s light danced all over the walls, floor and their faces. 

“I don’t like it either, Ess,” Herbert whispered to his sister in the rear of the party. “But what other choice do we have?” 

Esther stared at her boots, nearly indiscernible in the dark. They lifted one slow step at a time and splashed down into wet puddles. On and on they trudged, and soon she couldn’t discern if there was even a path, what was merely more rocks and walls, or where they had been. Any sense of direction had disappeared long ago.

I can’t believe she wouldn’t listen to me, she thought. Her mind was reeling and racing. This is why I should have been leading all along. And this isn’t going to end well for any of us. If I was bigger, I’d show all of them—and they would listen more. Just like those stupid girls at school. “You’re not cool.” I don’t need to be “cool”. Maybe because I’m the only one who knows what she’s doing. Ever think of that, Marian? No, you don’t! Oh, God—where are we going now? And following this nasty old man instead of Balaam. Why did he leave us? He could have stayed with me at least. He could have told me what to do. I’d be better than Marian. She blurted out loud, “Why did Balaam leave us?”

“Maybe he knew he wasn’t the best helper on our journey,” Herbert offered. “He did complain a lot about the mud and hiking and everything so far.” 

It surprised Esther that she had asked her question out loud. “That’s not the point,” she replied. 

Herbert sighed. “Well, maybe the Top-Hat Man is helping us.” Herbert didn’t believe this for a second, but he trusted Marian, and wanted to make Esther feel better.

“What did he mean about the cougar figurine, Herb? This isn’t the first time he mentioned you were hiding something.”

Herbert clenched his jaw and shook his head. “It’s nothing, Ess. I don’t know. He’s crazy and old.” 

“Herbert.” 

The two stopped walking. They were deep underground now, far from sunlight, breeze, and fresh air; their path seemed as invisible as their plan, an aimless wandering hike through black, abysmal darkness. Water dripped from the ceiling onto their heads.

Herbert sighed. Tears glistened on the edges of his eyes. “Ess,” he began. “I—”

“Where did he go?” Marian shouted from down the cavern. Esther and Herbert looked up; the others were quite a distance from them. They ran carefully across the darkness and slippery rocks to Marian and Aaron.

“The ol’ canker’s gone!” Aaron confirmed, his light dancing all about in spastic motion.

“What do you mean?” Esther asked as she reached them.

“He was right here one second and then—POOF!” Marian exclaimed. “Nothing but a cloud of dust.” 

“Lookie hair!” Aaron pointed at the watery ground; a puddle of hot, yellow wax was glistening on the wet surface. 

“Guys,” Herbert said. The others looked at him. His face was pale, eyes wide, and he was staring with one arm up, pointing beyond them through outstretched stalactites. His hand shook as he whispered, “Who is that?”

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