The Tower of God

Who are you? What do you want?” The voice from the hut was not kind.

“I’m looking for Melquiades,” said the little girl, “I’ve been told he lives somewhere in this valley.”

“Oh? And what business does a child have with old fools like Melquiades?”

“I am going to The Tower to pass through the Gates of Heaven. I heard he is only man to ever return.”

The voice, now grim and sardonic, began to laugh. “Stupid girl... No man has ever made it past The Gates. What makes you think you stand a chance? You'll probably die before you even get halfway up the mountain!”

“I have no choice. My little brother... He...” Her voice began to tremble with the grief and anger that accompanies helpless inevitability, but then pulled resolute. “He has the mark... I know there is no cure, but if I pass through The Gates, God will grant my wish and he will be saved.”

When rumors of the illness first came, the people did not believe them. The little girl had overheard her parents once. “Can you believe what they’re saying in the market about this “new plague?””

“The mark that appears on the palms?”

“Apparently you feel just fine until it begins to spread…”

“How do people buy such nonsense? Are their lives really that dull?”

“Well, we know better.”

But they did not know better. The illness came first to the valley up the river, then down to their valley and into their village until all the world was consumed with fear. No one understood its behavior, how it spread only among the youngest children, but one thing was certain: anyone who had the mark would soon be dead.

“Say you make it to The Tower, what then? Do you know what lies ahead?”

“I know The Tower is really 3 Trials: The Mountain will test my body, The Temple will test my mind and The Gate will test..”

“Your heart.” The voice softly contributed. “Your intentions are noble, but they will not save you… There is nothing on that mountain for you, but death.”

“As I said, I have no choice. There is no other way.”

After a long silence the voice spoke again “here then, come inside and speak with me a while. Foolish though you may be, I will help you in this endeavor.”

The little girl entered the hut and saw a dark silhouette against the warm glow of a small fire. “Sit,” said the voice and the little girl obeyed. She could not distinguish much in the old man’s face, but his voice had tempered and she felt safe in his company.

“First, you will need to take the train to the border lands. It will be at least three days until you see it and then three more until you’re at the base. Do not go until the rains end, else when you face the mountain you will surely freeze or be blown off in a storm. At the base lives the sage, Melchior, he alone knows the path that will take you to the top. His information will not come without its price though - he loves gold, so make sure you bring something, anything. Afterwards, pay him no attention for anything he says will be a lie to dismay you. Once you are past the clouds you’ll need not fear any storms, but will have to travel by night for the sun will now be your enemy. Travel at day and you will burn. If by some miracle you defeat the mountain you will find yourself at the The Temple. The sage, Caspar, will present you with a question. Answer correctly and you will be permitted to enter. Answer wrong and you will have no recourse, but to turn back. Once you are inside, follow the path and do not stray. Whatever you think you see, whatever you think you hear, stay your course and do not turn. Continue in this manner and you will eventually find the last sage, Balthazar, who will take you to The Gates.”

“Then what?”

“I cannot say, for I do not know, but take this with you.” The old man reached out and placed before the girl a little black book and an old minaudière.

“What’s this?”

“Everything I learned when I climbed The Tower is in that book. Judging by the looks of you, you’ve no money for a train ticket, let alone gold. Inside that purse is $20,000. Go now. Should you make it to The Gate I wish you strength to accomplish that which I could not.”

The little girl had not shown any sign of consternation or defeat when the old man mentioned the soon to be financial demands of her journey. But now, at the sight of his generosity and the consequent realization that her farfetched hope had now become a reality, tears of gratitude began to stream down her face. “Before I go,” she said, “won’t you tell me your name?”

“My name is Melquiades.”

Two weeks after the rains had ended the girl packed what she could and bought a train ticket for the border lands. The next three days she studied the notes in Melquiades’ little black book. In it she found a wealth of knowledge so great she began to realize the value of what was written vastly outweighed the money she had been given. On the third day she finally saw it. As if from nowhere and then suddenly, straight into the sky and beyond the clouds it stood. It was an ineffable sight. “It really does go all the way to Heaven,” she thought as her eyes strained to see what might lay beyond.

On the sixth day, after making a few purchases at the small village near the train station, the girl made her way to the forest at the base of the mountain. She had packed mostly food, but at the lower levels she would be able to forage the various berries and roots described in Melquiades’ book, for once she was above the clouds there would be nothing but rock. The Mountain, which now resembled a large wall, seemed to go on and out in every direction. She wandered and found paths everywhere, but no sign of a sage. That is until suddenly she came across an old man dressed in the most extravagant and regal attire, purple from head to toe. “Excuse me, do you know where I can find the sage Melchior?”

“You seek the sage?”

“I wish to enter the Trial of The Mountain and am told he knows the one true path.”

“Stupid girl.. You’ll never make it. But I suppose I could show you the path… If you can compensate my services…”

“Here, this gold is all I have.” And the girl handed him what she was able to buy with the remainder of Melquiades’ money.

“Very good, yes.”

The little girl had anticipated a more spectacular scene, but the sage merely hobbled a few paces to an overgrown trough in the bushes. “This trail will lead you to The Temple. Not that it matters, you’ll surely die on the way. They say if the mountain were laid on its side it would take several days to cross. But you are going up.. Why bother?”

The little girl ignored him and immediately started on the path. As the days passed it seemed like any time she grew sore or tired he would appear inexplicably for no other purpose than to mock her. It carried on this way, until she broke through the opaque maze of clouds. Beaten, bloody, starving and aching all over she found herself retreating into shadows to escape the sun’s fiery torrents of light. Not that she minded travelling at night, for at this height the path could be seen quite easily by starlight alone and she marveled at the beauty of the heavens and contours of the earth.

Up she went, night after night until, near the summit, she found a cave. “This will be a good place to sleep,” she said to herself. She had only just began to close her eyes when a voice called out. “Well, now, this is a treat...”

“Who said that?!” cried the girl as she struggled to her feet. “Are you Caspar and have I come at last to The Temple?”

“You are indeed in the company of the sage. Congratulations on defeating The Mountain. Your body has endured much, but are you prepared for your next trial?”

“I am.”

“Very well,” said the voice and from the darkness came an old man, meekly dressed in blue. In his arms he carried a water vase which he placed on the ground. “Without saying its name, tell me what this is. Answer correctly and you may enter.”

It seemed simple enough – the girl knew exactly what the vase was, but how without words could she answer? She sat there at the foot of the cave, staring at the vase, pondering her dilemma. “Be sure to answer soon. If you do not answer correctly you will not be allowed to enter and there will be no shelter for you from the sun.”

Dawn was coming and the little girl began to panic. “I’ve come too far for it to end this way,” she said to herself. Nothing was coming though and then, just before the sun was to breach the horizon she stood up and kicked the vase, spilling water everywhere. “Congratulations child, you have passed. Go forth and seek The Gates.”

Inside she crawled for what seemed to be days, tired and beaten, groping her way through the darkness like a blind lamb. There was no light, no sound – just the dark. She had lost track of time and began to forget what it was like to taste and smell, to feel. When suddenly, from the darkness came howling cries and grotesque sounds unlike any she had ever heard before. Fear began to take her, but she remembered Melquiades’ words and did not turn. On and on she went, deep the abyss, until in desperation she cried out “Where are you?!” Suddenly, the darkness became illuminated with stars and no longer was there an up or down, no way forward and no way back. “What brings a child to such a place?” The voice was at once nowhere and everywhere.

“Is that Balthazar? Have I come to The Gates?!”

“I have many names... You are in the realm of fallen stars – What is it you seek, child?”

“The Gates of Heaven, so I may pass and have my wish fulfilled.”

“Heaven and hell exist only on earth. It is true you, should you pass The Gate your wish will be granted, but it will not come without sacrifice - nothing can be gained without loss. Now tell me, what is it you truly seek?”

“To save the life of my little brother.”

“I see, but are you prepared to face what lies ahead? What if I were to tell you in order to save a life, one must be given?”

“I've come this far, I am prepared to do what must be done.”

“And are you so sure this is what is best for the world? For you to depart so another may stay?”

“Yes.”

“Very well, close your eyes and pass.”

The little girl did as the voice instructed and felt herself begin to fall. Through space and across time she fell and witnessed the life and death of stars. She fell for so long weariness took her and she thought “this is it, at last, the end…” She let go into a deep and dreamless sleep, but although it was an end, it was not the one she thought…

When she awoke it was to the touch of something familiar and a sound sweeter than any she had ever heard before, “Maya, wake up – a miracle has happened!”