This charismatic guy has guts! Jack thought he is a hell good speaker.
Jack was feeling optimistic and happy. “At least someone is taking the initiative for harmony,” he whispered to himself.
Jack watched the speaker minutely. His skin seemed to be dark brown.
“Why is he organizing such harmony gatherings?” Jack asked a dark elf out of curiosity.
“Because he is an impure hybrid himself-a disgrace on our superior dark elf race” the dark elf grumbled.
Jack listened to the speech patiently.
Finally the speech was over, and the speaker shook hands with dozens of gathered elves. When he was about to depart, Jack approached him, took him aside and handed over the broken scepter.
“What’s this?” the speaker asked.
“I have been carrying this scepter secretly for quite some time now, searching for the most suitable person to hand it over” Jack explained “This might bring you some good luck. I shall collect it from you after a fortnight if you find it as mere junk” Jack said and offered his hand “I am Jack”.
The speaker Elf shook Jack’s hand warmly and said, “I am Makarios. Makarios Ameer”.
* * *
Two weeks later.
Jack visited the ‘Freya National stadium of Elf-land’ near Reykjavik in Iceland, disguised as an old bearded man and wearing black eyeglasses. He bought a combo-ticket for the sports events and occupied one vacant seat in the ice-hockey stadium.
A drunken spectator, partly troll & partly ogre came toddling along and demanded “Get out of here. Let me sit”. He was ugly looking, had a strong, well-built figure and a potbelly. He appeared slow-witted or highly intoxicated. Saliva was drooling down from his mouth. There was abundant hairs & beard on his large head.
“But there are so many vacant seats around” Jack protested.
“How dare you protest? That’s my favorite spot” the beastly spectator thundered. He shoved Jack and shouted, “Now get lost, or else…” Jack fell on the floor. The semi-troll lifted his club, grabbed Jack’s beard and pulled hard. Jack’s beard came off.
While the slow-witted beast was scratching his head in confusion, Jack had already left the spot, and mingled among the elf spectators.
Very soon the stadium was filled to the brim and then started overflowing with spectators, much beyond its capacity. There was a high degree of excitement in the air, as if they were expecting ‘a miracle on ice’.
Just before the game started, the two VIP guests, Ded Moroz and Santa Claus entered the stadium. But neither of them shook hands or greeted each other. They kept distance and avoided looking at each other’s faces. Mr. Santa was dressed in red and black, while Ded Moroz was dressed in Czarist aristocratic blue.
The organizer, Makarios Ameer welcomed them and made a short speech. He winded up quickly by thanking Santa and Moroz for accepting his invitation to witness what he described as the ‘games of the millennia’. He announced, “Let the games begin”.
Seven skaters and one goaltender of both the teams entered the natural ice rink. The black elf players were wearing black dresses, with ‘black panther’ marked on the backs. The light elves were wearing yellowish white dresses with ‘beastly victors’ on their backs.
Though he had spent a lot of time in elf-land, it was the first time in his life that Jack was going to witness an elf sports. He was a bit worried though. He remembered the first time he witnessed Elf-dance. It must have been an hour or so that Jack had witnessed their dance. But when he came out, he was absolutely bewildered to find that three days had passed!
It was clear from the start that the skaters of both teams were locked in a deathly fight. It was a matter of prestige. Racial prestige! The matter was much beyond just winning or losing the shining golden trophy. It would also reflect the racial superiority of either black elves or light elves.
It was a really fast paced game, where the players armed with hockey sticks exhausted all their physical strengths to put the puck into opposing team’s goal. As the puck bounced on the ice, the excitement among the spectators got more and more heated up. Jack started wondering whether organizing such a series of games by Makarios would really bring about unity and harmony among black and light elves.
But one thing was clear to him. It was better to vent out the racial feelings through such sports events than through riots in the streets.
* * *
The following morning, Jack bought an ‘Elf-land Daily’ from the news stall. One of the front-page news instantly caught his attention:
Makarios Ameer has urged Santa Claus and Ded Moroz to stop interfering in Elf-land politics. Following the closing ceremony of the games, he attempted and achieved the impossible: he initiated negotiation talks between Santa and Moroz to reduce conflict in Elf-land. A summit was held between Santa and Moroz near Reykjavik, in presence of an elf translator. It was reported that the talks were reaching a breakthrough, when it snapped unexpectedly. The exact details of discussions were not available, considering the opacity and secrecy of the proposed deals.
Jack folded the newspaper and muttered, “He is the prophesized blessed prince. I have no trace of doubt left. The scepter has finally fallen in the right hand. Now only the other half of the broken scepter needs to be restored to him to end the curse on Elf-land”.
Jack folded the newspaper once again and tucked it. Then he whispered to himself “But how shall I ever restore it from Devil’s possession?”
Back to top
Chapter 39
The End OR The Beginning?
“The venue for the next meeting between Santa Claus and Ded Moroz was fixed at the summit” Beelzebub said to Devil “They agreed to hold it at ‘Gozo’ Island near Malta in the Mediterranean. Santa and Moroz agreed to hold talks for long-standing peace and friendship and official end of rivalry”.
“Is it?” Devil asked without any emotion. He looked down at his pet pussycat, which was rubbing its white furs playfully against his feet and purring gently. He kicked it, without least emotion, bouncing it against the wall. The pussycat gave out a shrill cry “Mmeeeeoowww!” and dashed outside through the open door.
Devil signaled Beelzebub with his forefinger to close the door and raised his legs on the table. Then he lighted a thick, supersized black cigar, jabbed the end between his parted lips and pulled at it deeply. He closed his eyes, rubbed the boots on his legs against each other and exhaled thick draught of smoke through his nose like a steam engine.
“What else?” Devil demanded.
“They have decided to hold the conference aboard a cruise steamship ‘Pakjesboot’. The steamship is owned by Santa’s cousin Sinterklaas, and it will be anchored near the Mediterranean island of ‘Gozo’”. Beelzebub said with a trembling voice, and looked at his master with fear on his face.
Devil opened his eyes, read Beelzebub’s face and smiled pitifully at Beelzebub. “Why ‘Gozo’ in particular?” Devil asked playfully.
“The twin islands of Gozo and Malta are located in the geographic centre of the Mediterranean, and are of great tourist interest. They plan to visit the ruins of ancient Neolithic temples of ‘Xaghra’, before signing the historic treaty of friendship”.
“I see…I see…so they are having nice daydreams, huh?” Devil stubbed the burning end of his cigar on the table. “So they are about to spend a night or two in a tourist resort!” Devil broke out in a hearty laughter “And then they will shred their differences and reconcile?!” His laughter paused in an instant and his face became hardened and awfully serious. “But, I’ll have my own way…I will, I will” he fumed in a fit of rage.
Beelzebub helplessly watched his master raving madly with anger and pulling his own hairs so hard as if attempting to lift himself up from his seat.
“End of conflict? What end?!” Devil threw the ashtray against the wall, spreading ash and cigarette butts all over.
“I know how to reignite the flames” Devil said in a hissing tone.
> After calming down a bit he instructed, “Add more fuel to the fire. Spread the rumor among nationalist supporters of Ded Moroz that it is not step towards friendship, but surrender of Russian values and culture”.
Beelzebub bowed down silently, but remained doubtful. Devil glanced at his face, and noticed his questioning looks. He frowned at Beelzebub faintly said “If you have something in your mind, ask without fear. I hate cowardly attitude”.
“I only wished to ask…I mean…. what seems perplexing to me is why do you target only Ded Moroz. Isn’t Santa equally blameworthy?”
Devil’s frown changed into a smile and then into a gentle laugh. He pulled out a chart from the drawer. On it was prominently displayed a circular diagram, divided into nine sectors with different colors, looking somewhat like an ‘enneagram’. Encircling the inner circle were twelve zodiac signs equally spaced from each other. The zodiac constellations were moving slowly in their circular paths. The chart resembled a ‘wheel of luck’.
“This is my own invention” Devil said “I had done quite some studies on human psychologies, and complex influences of zodiacs on personalities. Now this….” Devil touched the magenta blue segment “…is a peacemaker. That’s exactly what Santa Claus is! Therefore his behavior is quite expected; it doesn’t make me mad. Understood?”
Beelzebub bowed again, silently.
“If Ded Moroz is not interested in continuing the rivalry….” Devil said, “…Let some other eligible enthusiast get a chance and take over”.
Back to top
Chapter 40
Coup Attempt
Ded Moroz went to spend his holiday in his ‘Dacha’, a seasonal home, in a small seaside resort in the Crimean peninsula. He enjoyed his stay in his Dacha on the beach of the black sea. He was proud of his ancestral property, with oversized attics and glazed verandas. It was his favorite holiday retreat, with a moderate size estate, and gardens of rare orchids and cherry orchards.
In the meantime, Devil’s henchman ‘Beelzebub’, Ded Moroz’s right-hand person Koschei, and Koschei’s co-conspirators, the notorious ‘gang of eight’ held a secret meeting in one of Koschei’s ‘clubhouses’. Beelzebub had thrown a fee Mexican party with exotic Mexican delicacies.
“Therefore gentlemen, beware of Mr. Santa shaking hand with stupid and greedy Ded Moroz” Beelzebub concluded “Money and gold has blinded Moroz so much that he is perfectly willing to sell holy motherland Russia to Mr. Santa. He will stoop to sell his own mother. He will abandon good nationalist people like you at Santa’s feet, so that Santa can crush you all under his boots”.
Beelzebub passed another round of super-strong Mexican ‘tequila’ to the already over-drunk conspirators. “It amazes me how you people never doubted from where Mr. Moroz is getting all his wealth for his lavish spending” Beelzebub said scornfully “And you call yourself intelligence agents!” Beelzebub mocked them harshly.
“During the last meeting of Moroz and Santa, your betrayer master Moroz received a quantity of gold enough to feed your seven generations” Beelzebub disclosed “My trusted men eavesdropped some of their secret plots”. Beelzebub pointed Mr. Santa as Moroz’s source with such confident attitude, that it seemed he had quite forgotten that he himself was present when Devil discussed about providing money to Ded Moroz.
Even before their glasses got empty, Beelzebub passed a bottle of ‘mescal’, the Mexican intoxicant made from ‘peyote’ cacti. “Gentlemen, you got to try this Mexican experience,” Beelzebub said. Raising their glasses to their lips, they discussed about the agreement Ded Moroz was about to sign with Santa Claus. They unanimously denounced it as humiliating and surrender to Mr. Santa rather than a friendship attempt.
Beelzebub didn’t fail to hint to the conspirators about possible actions by Moroz like drastically cutting of funding to Koschei’s secret unit, or attempt to disband the ‘gang of eight’. They panicked at this alarming disclosure, and agreed that Ded Moroz has gone too far-he must be stopped at all cost.
By the time they had finished their discussions, they smelt so strongly that their breath made the air intoxicating.
At Koschei’s secret directive, all communication between Moroz’s ‘Dacha’ and outside world were cut off. Guards were placed all around the estate and on the gates, with strict orders not to let anyone in or out.
Ded Moroz and his granddaughter Snegurochka were in effect put under house arrest. They were completely isolated, but not before Snegurochka had managed to dispatch an appeal to her adopter brother Jack in a sealed envelope through Jack’s trusted Elf servant ‘Moily’.
* * *
Five days passed.
Meanwhile, the press reporters of ‘Christmas gazette of Russia’ suspected some foul play and started swarming around Ded Moroz’s estate.
“Ded Moroz had decided to lead a life of isolation for some time, and didn’t wish to meet anyone” Koschei informed the press. “He is doing some soul searching like a recluse. Besides, Moroz is weak after having partly recovered from his fever. He needs complete rest” Koschei announced.
“Is any doctor attending him?” one reporter asked.
“Of course!” Koschei said “In fact there are two specialist doctors and three nurses on full-time attendance”.
“How soon is Ded Moroz expected to make his appearance to public again?” A lady reporter came forward with the question, holding her writing pad and pen.
“Sorry, no comments” Koschei said.
“Why won’t you allow any of us to meet him for a private interview?”
“Look! You people have already troubled me enough” Koschei expressed his anger “I give you thirty seconds to disappear. Or else, I will ask my guard to set the bloodhounds upon you”.
Koschei slammed the entrance door on their faces.
* * *
Later in the evening, Koschei and his gang members tried to convince Ded Moroz, not to surrender Russian pride at the feet of Santa Claus. Koschei demanded further increase of funding to his ‘patriotic organization’ to erase Santa’s growing influence in Russia.
Ded Moroz refused to their demands point blank.
“I don’t want to be tough on you” Koshei said, holding a sharp knife “but you are leaving no options to me”.
“What will you do? Kill me?!” Moroz asked with a tone of half defiance, half anxiety.
“Nurse!” Koschei called aloud.
A nurse in uniform rushed in. She appeared drunk and smelt of medicine and spirit.
“I should have appointed one nurse for attending to your health” Koschei said with a malicious grin “Anyway, I am appointing her now”.
“A nurse-what for?” Moroz stammered, “I am not sick or bedridden”.
“Of course not!” Koschei agreed “But a nurse can be very useful sometimes, you know”.
Koschei grinned and continued, “She doesn’t have any nursing training, or any formal education. But, nonetheless, she can handle injections…nurse!”
The nurse took out a large syringe, filled it with a bluish liquid from the glass ampoule, and squirted some liquid through the hypodermic syringe. Then she dipped a piece of cotton in spirit and squeezed it.
“What’s that?” Ded Moroz asked, eyeing the syringe with fear. The fear of getting a prickly shot was strongly visible on his face like some severe childhood trauma.
“That will slow down your pulses and stop your heartbeat” Koschei explained “a convenient way to convince people that you had a heart attack. And later, during postmortem, they won’t find a trace of anything in your liver”.
Koschei broke into peals of laughter. “The lady reporter’s concern and enquiries about your health made me realize that you do require a nurse” Koshei giggled “it often pays to listen to other people, provided you adjust that to your advantage”.
“You can’t go that far to achieve your nefarious goals” Ded Moroz blurted, still looking at the syringe with extreme fear “That is plain murder”.
“
Don’t teach me how far I can go!” Koschei snapped, “You don’t even know what sort of nice things I have done in the past…………….and by the way, I needn’t order a murder. We have other choices, don’t we baby?” Koschei looked at the nurse with a naughty smile.
“Of course!” the nurse nodded enthusiastically and displayed another red colored ampoule.
“That will make you happy, forever” Koschei said, taking pains to emphasize the words ‘happy’ and ‘forever’. “You will laugh at the doorknob………..sing aloud merrily at the market square, dance with complete strangers…laugh at funeral processions…you’ll be forever happy!”
“For the sake of gratitude for all I have done for you, leave me alone” Moroz pleaded.
“How can I leave you, till our demands are met?” Koschei growled.
“You want me to abandon all friendship attempts with Santa?” Ded Moroz asked with a desperate tone “Is that all you demand?”
“Well, that was our original demands” Koschei said “But now, I want a little more………..you have to resign and appoint one of us, preferably me, as the official gift distributor of children of Russia. We want a piece of pie from your multi-billion ruble empire”.
“Never!” Moroz blurted angrily “So that you can siphon off all the money for your evil projects?”
“We will give you sufficient time to reconsider” Koschei said “And don’t forget: your grand-daughter Snegurochka is under house arrest too!” Then he turned to the nurse and said, “Stop food and water supply to both of them”.
Koshei walked towards the door, stopped abruptly and considered something in his mind. Turning back, he said, “Listen nurse! I don’t intend to kill him though. Saline injections and glucose injections are fine and allowed in copious amount,” Koschei ordered while looking at horror stuck Moroz’s face.
“Sure Sir” the lady nurse said, “I’ll be generous”.
That very same day, Koschei made a declaration to the reporters “Ded Moroz is critically ill and may be unable to continue his normal routine for a long time. He has expressed his unwillingness to continue his role. I am awaiting his final decision, and in his absence I may accept his job, though unwillingly, and with a broken heart”.
Christmas Jack-o'-Lantern Page 25
