Ivan grew restless. It had been too long. He should have found it by now, even without the monk’s help. Already he had found an old friend, Nike, to help him. He had searched along the Amazon in Brazil and Columbia but to no avail. Reassurances flew from his lackeys, the poor mule traders hoping to have a part in the reward. Don’t worry señor. We will find it. Don’t worry.
Slowly, slowly an aching, a longing desire arose in his core. It grew and became nauseatingly constant in its plea. Unquenched and untamed, it grew stronger moment by moment. Consumed in fury, knowing the Fountain was still hidden and still eluded his desperate grasp, he hunted his prey with a savage passion, methodically destroying those who stood in the way. Months passed slowly as they snaked their way to Peru.
“How do we search a whole country, brother? There are only two of us,” Nike asked, curious why Ivan was so desperate.
“Surely someone will know of a monk in this pagan place,” answered Ivan.
“Indeed. But many call themselves such to gain respect,” Nike said.
Ivan grinned. “Ah, but only one knew of the Fountain.”
“Yes. But we need a guide –”
“At the inn. We need food and fresh horses anyway.”
And so to the inn it was. Into the place they stormed, shouting and demanding new steeds and supplies. There was only a beggar outside and an old woman inside, who cursed at them for disturbing her work. She was only sleeping. But they cursed right back and screamed for a guide to take them to the monk, Raul. All the noise brought in the beggar who told them shortly that there was no monk around, but there could be. For a price. While the old wench whined at the beggar to leave, he calmly filled his pockets with coins and said, “There is a monk who lives in the caves. He has been there for many years and never leaves. Go up the path to the lake and you will see the first of the caves, the one he lives in. It’s a monastery. Some of the boys, the orphans, go and live up there with him and bring him food from the village.”
They left with the old woman’s horses in a hurry without refilling their water pouches and food sacks. The path, being much longer than they thought, was entirely uphill, which upset the horses and forced their riders to walk most of the way. Having passed an abandoned graveyard along the way, Nike was still trying to reassure the guide that they were most certainly not going to be cursed. There was a crushing silence as they walked – even the trees were silent. A crack sounded close by.
“What is that, Nike?” Ivan exclaimed, startled.
“One of those orphan boys, I suppose,” Nike replied.
“Nothing else would care to climb this blasted pile of rocks,” Ivan spat.
“Come out, boy. Show us the way to the caves,” ordered Nike.
“Don’t talk to it. Revolting thing, still living like an animal! Lead the way, you little bastard,” Ivan said, disgusted. “Are you sure it knows where to go?”
“Certainly understands more than you. Look at it go,” Nike said.
They arrived at the lake and upon seeing the caves, rushed toward the first one, knocking their orphan guide roughly into the lake. The stony entrance, though small and unsightly, opened up to a spacious area. Rugged paths led away into other grottos, providing a rather large living area. Their frantic calls echoed throughout the cavern and produced a small, slightly shriveled old man.
Raul gaped a little at his visitors.
“Who are you?” he asked timidly. “I haven’t had visitors in decades.”
“We’ve come for your help. You know where the Fountain of Youth is?”
He paled and whispered, “No.”
“You should know.”
Raul strained to regain some composure but failed. “I don’t know where it is.”
“Tell us,” Nike demanded.
“Let me be,” pleaded the old man.
“I must find it!” Ivan screeched.
Nike shoved him out of the cave. “Ivan, look…he doesn’t know where it is.”
Ivan growled as he paced across the stony path, biting his fist. He couldn’t find it. Couldn’t find the Fountain. No! He thought. I’ll die. I can’t die. I can’t. “We’re going back to Haiti, where that man told me about the monk! I’ll kill the bastard,” Ivan cried. “I can’t let him live.” He cursed. Nike followed him as Ivan leapt onto his horse, kicking it into a gallop and swearing death on the monk, the orphans, and his own worst enemy, the unknown man in the forest.
Nike wondered if it had been wise, following Ivan on his exploration for the Fountain. No one had found it. No one knew much of anything concerning it. And for Ivan to believe a stranger, well, that was unlike him. Perhaps he would be convinced otherwise.
They traveled a long way before reaching a reasonably sized town. Ivan had insisted on finding a decent hostel to stay at - one in a village without monks, that is. He proclaimed hatred on every monk, saying they were greedy and trying to kill him. They tied the horses up, and Ivan screeched at the nearest child to wipe them down and feed them. Nike said nothing as they stepped inside. It was quaint, smelling of pine and old beer. A little brunette girl dressed in a faded rose dress skipped up to them, offering to take their grungy coats. Ivan tossed his onto her, spoiling her neatly combed hair and stomped up to the desk, demanding a room for the night. He asked gruffly if there were any monks staying here as well, to which the man, clearing his throat said, “No monks.” He grinned at Ivan, proudly showing him an array of crooked blackened teeth. Ivan sneered, taking the key and mumbling to Nike to come with him. A few wrinkled old men stood aside drinking ale and murmuring, staring pointedly at Ivan as he turned.
“Hello, Ivan,” one of them said, dressed in white coat and strangely clean trousers. He winked.
Nike pulled Ivan away and up the creaking stairs to their room, a small whitewashed space at the end of the long hallway. There they laid their dirty belongings and sat on the dingy mats left for them. The air was stale and smelled too clean for a room in an inn so dirty. Regardless, they were tired and cared little about their surroundings.
“Go to sleep, Ivan. You need to clear your head,” said Nike, pushing his friend onto the cleaner mat. He waited quietly til Ivan drifted off before disappearing down the crisply painted hall.
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