Adventures of Jacko the Conjurer

by Jamie Ott

  Chapter 13

  No demons or Titans bothered him, again, up on the mountain peak. For weeks, it rained and snowed, but Jacko kept warm by a fire he’d conjured, and, sometimes, he’d take the fire outside and watch the sky.

  The war raged on in space, as evidenced by the dreadful storms, but Jacko supposed there were periods of rest because, sometimes, the sun would come out and the sky would be clear of red and blue flying rays.

  Although none of Jacko’s enemies visited him, various other beings came to try and talk to him, and to convince him to seek the orchard again: Olympians, Gaia, angel creatures with messages. They tried to reason with him, tell him they were sorry about his sister. Not wanting to engage in conversation, he simply stared, motionless, into his fire. When they saw there was no getting through to him, they left.

  Now and again, it occurred to him that he should look for his siblings – that they would never give up on him the way he’d done-, but he didn’t know how or where to find them. He felt bad about sitting on his rear while they were god-knows-where and perhaps enduring god-knows-what, but he was in full rebellion. It was more important that he defy the gods than give into them when they wouldn’t lift a finger to protect him, his family, or humanity. In his own way, he did nothing as pay back to the gods, for his family.

  Okay, but how lame was that? He asked himself. What a selfish person he was, to think in such a way. But, still, where would he go? What could he do with a blessing? It would change the fact that he had no clue where or how to rescue his brothers and sisters, Manlo and Althenio.

  Many days passed with him on the mountain top. The weather was dreadful, but the fire burned on. Jacko magically kept the tent from caving under the weight of the snow. When he was hungry, he conjured food to him; when he was thirsty, he magically called coffee and tea to him.

  Other than sleeping a few hours through the night, he stared at his fire or the sky all day and most of the evenings and mornings. As he sat, though, his mind was hardly blank. Often, he’d recall memories of times with his mother, and stories she’d told him.

  On one particular occasion, he recalled a peculiar day when his mother, after watching him on the playground with kids, called him to her. Jacko was always a kind at heart boy, but his mother sometimes told him that he lacked virtue, and that without virtue he was doomed. On that day, several kid bullies tried to oppress Jacko who rebuffed them easily, and without temper, yet pretended not to care about his friend from class, whom the boys bullied next. Guiltily, he watched them out of the corner of his eye and wondered if he should help him.

  After watching him a few moments, unbeknownst to him, his mother pulled him aside and told him of Aristotle’s theory of a tragic hero. She told him he was a good kid, and kissed his cheek and hugged him tight, “Do not be a tragic hero. Be strong; do not deny your weakness, but understand them and work against them. Whatever you do, do not let fate wreck your life. Fight for good, and fight for your own, and stay good and end things with you on top of the world. Do you understand me, Jacko?”

  He remembered she had tears in her eyes. She scared him, at that moment, and he didn’t want to disappoint or upset her more, so he nodded his head. Now he understood every word she meant. For Jacko had studied several Greek tragedies since then, at school, and he reflected how the hero’s life always went from good to worse, leaving him a sad, pitiful person.

  Was that his fate? Is that what the Fountain of Youth, really, showed Althenio? In the end, he stood alone, abandoned by everyone. He was gonna be alone and hated, if he continued on his path.

  One evening, he cleared pounds of snow from the front of his tent and sat outside to watch the sky. The war had picked up again and, once in a while, he’d see a rocket sized arm or leg fly passed the atmosphere, and he’d wonder if another god had been obliterated or simply maimed. Sometimes, a shower of space rock would cut his scalp and cheeks, and he’d wonder what planet, star, or rock had been destroyed at that moment.

  Jacko marveled at how the war mongering gods were no better, no more advanced, than man. They were millions of years old, yet were fighting the same battle, millennium after millennium.

  Of course, the demons were to blame, too, because some beings only respond to force, he thought to himself. It was not likely that talking to them or the Titans would have helped anything. As Ouranus said, they were bent on war and had sided with the demons. When beings are overruled, they, often, result to force, and perhaps that is just the nature of being alive and having desires.

  Was it the demon’s right to have a turn on Earth? Maybe. Did he want the demons to have the Earth? No. So he had no choice but to fight, and it was the same with the gods.

  Contemplating these things did not make Jacko feel any better, though. Rather, thinking about them made him sick to his bones with guilt that he sat there, still. But he was mad! If the gods wanted him, then they could have at least done the one thing that would have made Jacko feel secure: protected his family.

  He conjured rice and chicken which he ate as he sat and watched the lightshow in the sky. In a red parka and matching pants with boots, he sat in a green sling back chair. A fire crackled as infrequent roars cried out from the sky. He wondered if regular humans could hear and see the commotion in the stars.

  Someone was there, watching him, but he didn’t turn around. He’d had enough visitors, and if it was a demon, he’d obliterate it on the spot.

  “How long do you plan to stay here?”

  The voice came from his right, but Jacko kept eating. He knew who it was and didn’t care.

  “This is a whole new you, and yet it is not,” he continued, “so angry and so obstinate. But, where, once, you would have been motivated to find a new way, now your anger paralyzes you, turning you into a stubborn child.”

  Jacko exhaled and wished he’d go away.

  “Your anger gave you a power boost, and you frightened the demons into leaving you alone, but it won’t last you. There are bigger, older, stronger, demons and they will find you. If you think the Titans are hardened, wait till you feel the indestructible flesh of evil. You have to fight, Jacko. If you want to survive, you must go to the orchard, now.”

  Then let me die, he thought to himself. Jacko could feel Lucem looking at him, but he continued to eat.

  “So that is it, then? Let you die? I will not let you die, Jacko. You are my prodigy and I cannot let you fail. If I have to drag you out of here, I will. Understand, Jacko, that you have no free will, where I am concerned. We are not humans, but we are gods and we have responsibilities.”

  Jacko’s jaw clenched. His hands shook and his grip on his fork tightened.

  How dare Lucem talk to him that way! No free will? Who does he think he is? This is not 5,000 B.C., and he is a slave to no one, not even gods.

  Whether Lucem gleaned this thought from his mind, Jacko didn’t know. Instead, he said, “Just so you know, it was I who sent Dog to you – you didn’t conjurer him-, and, yes, it was I who whispered to you; I’ve been with you every step of the way.”

  Yeah, thanks for nothing.

  “Look at me, Jacko,” Lucem squatted in front of him, making it impossible for Jacko not to see at his hardened glass blue eyes. “You need to come with me, now, before it’s too late.”

  “Can you bring back my Sissy and my father?”

  “If they’re in heaven, than you can see them whenever you want, but they probably chose to move on. Once a soul is inside the fountain, it is nearly impossible to bring it back. Besides, even if it was easy, there’s always a chance they’ve moved on to another life, already. Most souls, who are wise, do not stay long in the fountain.”

  “We can’t even try.”

  “We could but I don’t recommend it. Inside the fountain is even more confusing than here. There, people are reliving their lives, and their past lives, and, sometimes, a fantasy life more lurid than here in heaven. Many gods cannot penetrate that kind of energy. Such
a journey has its danger for even the most powerful of us.”

  “What happened to her? How did she die?”

  “I don’t know, Jacko,” he said with exasperation. “You ask us questions like we know everything, but we do not, cannot, know everything. Though we are well beyond a human’s capability, gods have limitations too.”

  When Jacko said nothing, he continued, “When the demons learned you were on your way to the orchard, they realized that using Sissy for a trade wasn’t going to work – that you’d come after them with the full strength of a god. They were counting on you being uninformed and foolish, but it didn’t work out that way, so they let her go. However, they had her followed, in case she ran into you, and that way they could attempt an ambush. What I do know, for certain, is she was not ordered to death by the dark gods or demons. I believe the one who followed her is, likely, responsible.”

  Indignant at his response, Jacko said, “If you saw her chest, it had a big hole in it, as if she’d been struck by a bolt of antimatter. A demon killed her; it is more than likely, but it is fact! I know it!”

  Lucem didn’t flinch. He looked like a lifeless statue.

  “But what made her look for me at my father’s house? She knew I was in heaven.”

  “Someone lured her.”

  “Who? I want to know, Lucem!”

  “You may never find the demon that killed her, if it was a demon. It could have been a Titan, too.”

  “What about my half-brothers and half-sisters? Manlo and Althenio?”

  “The elders have them.”

  “What?” he sat up in his slingback.

  “Manlo and Althenio broke out of their imprisonment; they were met by Oganat who turned them over. Later, they collected the rest as you slept.”

  “Who are ‘they?’” Jacko crushed the carton in his hand.

  “They are the sons and daughters of the eldest gods, who are, now, retired.”

  “Take me to them.”

  “I cannot. Only those who are invited may visit them at the summit of the gods.”

  “What is this summit?”

  “It is the infamous Mount Olympus, but it is not reachable by anyone. We will never find it, unless we are invited, for it is shrouded in mystery.”

  “How could they kidnap my family but not allow me entrance to meet them? Aren’t they on my side?”

  “Of course, but their reasons for holding them is not to protect them, but to ensure that you follow your destiny – that no demon has leverage over you. You should be grateful, for, in a way, you’ve gotten your wish.”

  “So they are safe, then?”

  “They have everything they could possibly want, and are probably watching you, as we speak.”

  “Watching me, how?”

  “Bowl of Amphitrite; an object created for special viewings.”

  Briefly, Jacko recalled a tale about a special bowl the gods would use to spy on humans. The idea that his family could be sitting somewhere watching Jacko do nothing made his muscles contract with shame.

  “How do I know that you’re telling me the truth?”

  “Look into the fire,” he stood.

  “The fire?”

  “Yes,” and he moved to sit beside Jacko.

  He looked into the fire where images appeared. On each leaping flame, a piece of a scene could be seen. On one piece, Dienla and Forsi played a board game of some sort while, on another tongue of flame, he could see Manlo looking through a window. Next to him, Althenio looked like an imitation of the Lincoln statue, as he sat in a chair, looking outward and not saying or doing anything. Brain and Machine wrestled as the rest of them were preoccupied with reading or watching television. Their surroundings were blurry, but he could make out walls covered in televisions, the way they were at Oganat’s villa.

  “How do I know this is real?”

  “It is real, Jacko. I would never lie to you.”

  “But you would conceal truths from me? Which is why you set me up the way you did, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve whispered to me, but only showed yourself, now. You didn’t even have the decency to approach me after you nearly killed me by possessing my body,” he said bitterly.

  “I didn’t know if I should approach you, fully. I didn’t know if you were ready.”

 

  Lucem stood back and held out his hand to him. Jack took it and stood up, but as he grabbed Lucem’s hand, the world around him spun, and, when it settled, they were in heaven.

  “Let’s go,” he took long, fast strides along the gravel path; Jacko followed.

  “Why can you not just take us to the orchard? Why must we waste time, walking?”

  “Althenio should have explained, better, that you cannot just will yourself into sacred places; like the Fountain of Youth, you must journey there. If you do not sacrifice for the sacred, then it will not favor you. Only sacrifice is rewarded in heaven, and even gods must work for what they have. How else are we to divine the truly capable and the truly deserving?”

  “So walking is our sacrifice?”

  “It is work, is it not? It is time to reflect and contemplate. A pilgrimage tests strength, knowledge, and character of an individual, as he will, undoubtedly, encounter difficulties along the way. When we get to the orchard, it will know about the sacrifice we made to get there, and especially that which you have lost. The orchard will know how we behaved and will decide if we, that is you, are worthy of favor.

  Besides, no one knows exactly where the orchard is at. Certain sacred places are shrouded in mystery so as to protect them. We can only get to them by walking to them.”

  “Who is the god in the fig orchard? Oganat didn’t get that far.”

  “He is a god of many names. Ancient hamadryade Sykea – but he is no nymph. He is a god born out of the chaos, like Gaia, whom you’ve met. He is the symbol of life, strength, and prosperity. It is fortunate to have his blessing, but he doesn’t grant many anymore. Some say he’s passed on.”

  “On where? Is there a death for gods?”

  “No, not death but he may have gone into permanent rest. Once a god loses his or her form, he or she is free to choose what they do with their life force – their energy. Some will go out in the universe and retire as a planet, some will plant themselves and feed a cause, such as the Sykea in the sacred orchard, and others may drift between unconsciousness and consciousness.

  Gaia would be an example of moving on and drifting in and out of consciousness, but there have been many gods who tired of being aware and stayed unconsciousness for so long that they no longer exist, and they cannot be pulled back from wherever their energy went; it is possible that this is what’s happened to Sykea. However, it is possible to wake from unconsciousness after millenniums, but it is hard to do.”

  “How depressing; it sounds so dark.”

  “It sounds dark but, when you live as long as a god, or longer, more permanent, rest is highly appealing. Think of it this way, you have a dream, and you keep having the same dream over and over, every five minutes forever… that is what being immortal is like.”

  “Eerily, I think I get your point, Lucem. It still depresses me, though. Will that happen to me? Will I harden, turn white, clear, and lose form?”

  “No, Jacko. Humans are lucky because they get to start over fresh. You will die because you are human and have a soul; only a few impure gods were ever born without souls and lived fully as an immortal.”

  “Does Althenio have a soul?”

  “No, he is one of the few.”

  “Manlo?”

  “Yes.”

  “But how is he still alive? I understand gods age slower, but he’s been alive for centuries!”

  “Millenniums ago, a person like you could live up to 1,000 years, but that rarely happens anymore. Still, be prepared, Jacko. He is less pure than you, and so you may live longer than him.”

  “Oh no, I am less pure than he. My father was mortal.”

&nb
sp; They walked on for a long while in silence until Jacko asked, “Why me?”

  “Why are you the one who has to fight? Because you belong to me. You are the goodness I sent into the world. Once you have your blessing, you will be complete.”

  “I don’t belong to anyone!”

  “You are wrong, Jacko. It is time you know that your father was not fully mortal. Now you will know why you are bound by duty…” but Jacko interrupted.

  “My father was a mortal. I only do this to rescue my brothers and sisters, and keep them from getting hurt. After, I want nothing more to do with any of you.”

  “You can never shut out family, and you can never escape me, or where you come from.”

  Jacko’s tempered flared like a match, “Why not? You can leave me alone, as I wish. If you do not, then that is because you choose not to. Yes! I can escape you, and you can leave me be. So, tell me, why, then, won’t you leave me alone?”

  “You are wrong, Jacko. I cannot – not ever – fully leave you because you are my son, too. You are my soul. I have been watching you your whole life. ‘And every millennium, he sends a piece of his goodness into the world.’ Remember what Oganat said?”

  When he said nothing, Lucem continued.

  “A millennium ago, and for many millenniums prior, it was an honor to have the child of a god. Then, people believed in magic, the supernatural, and higher forms of life. On the woman’s wedding night, her husband would be offered up for possession, and they would lie together. The gifted child would be celebrated and given every advantage by the family and its community.

  Man has changed much in the last 1,000 years. Nearly everyone has lost their faith; even the so-called Christians do not truly believe in anything.

  Over a decade ago, when I returned to the Earth to conceive again, instead of offerings, it was like I didn’t exist. There were no celebrations and no rites to welcome me back. Instead, I had to resort to finding an appropriate mother for my child, and I searched for months!

  Now, originally, I stuck to tradition and looked for a healthy, wise mortal woman, but none would have me. When I’d speak to them, they’d recoil in horror. One beautiful lady was committed by her husband, and was convinced she’d become insane.

  I still feel guilty about that.

  Finding a mate was difficult, so when I found your mother, it was relief. But, as I’ve said, things have changed. Your mother didn’t look at me as a blessing, but a cursed prophecy to fulfill.

  At first, she resisted me because of her love of Manlo, though they weren’t married. But she knew the fate of the world depended on her carrying you. Her grandmother told her she would give birth to the conjurer who would change the world, and save it from the demons, and her mother told her, and so did many a fortune teller.

  Still, I did not pressure her because a woman must offer herself to me. If the offspring is to be pure and good, it must be conceived in a pure and good manner. And, if she never offered herself, you would not have been born.

  After contemplating me for many nights, she finally offered herself to me. She was the most honorable woman I’d ever known; she sacrificed her happiness to save you and the world. Bless her soul, Jacko.

  I took possession of Manlo. A god cannot pair with a human while in a god form, but she knew it was I, and not him. Your mother was frightened, but I held her tight.

  The next morning, Manlo’s good friend, Althenio went to her with a warning. He told her that if she raised you in a house of gods, that demons would never cease coming after you – that they were already preparing to strike her home.

  She was scared for you, and knew she needed to protect you at all costs, so she put on her shoes, bundled up Sissy (her youngest at the time), and left in her automobile. Later, she met John, but your mother never got over leaving Manlo, and that is why she and John split; that is why she died, and that is why she left you behind – to protect you.”

  Jacko stopped in his tracks and looked at him. Lucem kept walking.

  “Come on, Jacko. We haven’t time to waste,” but he stayed back.

  John was not his father, Manlo and Lucem was. His mother left him because she was trying to protect him. These thoughts repeated themselves, in a circle-like order, over and over.

 

  Jacko wanted to destroy something; briefly, he thought about destroying Lucem. He thought about fleeing again, and returning to the peak. Lucem continued up ahead without slowing.

  Now he realized that he’d never escape this god business, whether he got rid of Lucem or not, got his blessing or not, he was sucked in for life. What if he found another mountain peak somewhere on the Earth? He could shroud in mystery, as Lucem said, and make it so no one could find him; if they tried, he’d obliterate them.

  Just leave, now, he told himself. But he put one foot in front of the other. He must continue on; he must get his blessing and receive his strength. It was what his mother saved him for, and his sister died for, and he wasn’t going to let them down. So he stuffed down his anger, down inside, and quietly followed Lucem. He stayed behind and followed him for hours until Jacko became weary.

  Without a word, he sat off to the side of the road, resting his back on the trunk of a tree. Lucem sat next to Jacko who got back up and moved ten trees further along the road.

  Ten trees was not far enough because he heard clearly when he said, “I sense you are angry. You continue to contemplate escape. Still, you must understand that this is the way it has been for millenniums.”

  “Screw you,” said Jacko. “The only reason I’m still here is to protect myself and my family,” but Lucem continued as if he’d said nothing.

  “If the world hadn’t changed so much, you would have had the life you’ve always wanted, and you never would have had to go through such a long, winding road of madness, but everyone who is otherworldly must live in secret now. Unfortunately, that means many people who have otherworldly destinies only find out about them when they have no choice but to be enlightened. You see, it is for their protection that they are hidden and truths withheld.”

  When Jacko didn’t reply, he said, “I didn’t want to manipulate you, and neither did your mother, it was just the way it had to be.”

  Jacko remained silent.

  “Can you not find happiness? A while ago, you were angry because you thought you were all alone, except for half blood relatives. Now you have full blood family.”

  “It’s not the family that I want. This is not the life that I want. When we are done, you will leave me alone!”

  “We can’t choose our family, Jacko.”

  “I knew there was something familiar about you when you spoke to me, and when you possessed me. I could feel that you were part of me, which is why I thought you were Sissy, I guess. I felt the same way when I met Manlo. Does he know that he is my father?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “So was that you at the diner? Who stopped the man from hurting me?”

  “Yes, that was me. Although I spoke, often, to Sissy, too; it was I who told her to email you, after being out of touch for so many years. When you left home, weeks ago, it was I who whispered to her, which is how she knew you were in trouble. I whispered to Manlo, told him you had come into your powers and needed a home; that it was his responsibility not to let a child like you alone in the world. And it was I who told you to go to Concord that morning in the diner. You are my son, and I have never abandoned any of my children. I could never be there for you, like a normal father, but I was always watching you.”

  They walked for what seemed like, forever. During which, the heavenly scenery remained unchanged for days, in Earth time, but many, many hours in heaven time.

  Finally, there was a drastic change, around them, that let them know they had made it to another part of heaven: the roads became winding and the sky had a special shiny, golden tinge to it, like a marine layer. It was even more beautiful there, thought Jacko, until he looked down and s
aw hundreds of blackened, hacked up trees for miles, and the smell of burnt fig overwhelmed his nose.

  “Did the demons beat us here?”

  Lucem walked up to the closest tree, drew down a branch, and examined its leave-less bark. He allowed the branch to snap back, and layers of char burst off and fluttered to the ground.

  “Demons or Titans,” he replied.

  “But how could the Titans do this to their own gods?”

  “For the same reason man turned on theirs.”

  Lucem motioned to Jacko, and he followed.

  They walked further into the orchard and found trees that weren’t burned up yet had been hacked down at their bases.

  Shame and guilt choked Jacko. He knew his enemies destroyed the trees to stop him from getting his blessing. If he’d come sooner, like he was told, they would have never bothered.

  He bent down to examine the trunk of a tree. Just like the ferns, they lived and, inside, the cork and heart wood were blood red. Jacko touched the bark and found the consistency was more watery than human blood.

  There was a noise behind him. He stood and turned; black shadows ran around him, tree to tree, so fast that he could not see them clearly.

  A red jewel eye peered at him from around the trunk of a tree. Jacko tried to obliterate him but couldn’t; his strength, from before when he was enraged, had left him. Since finding out Manlo and Lucem were his father, and that his mother sacrificed herself for him, he’d felt extremely sad. He supposed, like Lucem said, his power didn’t last because his rage had gone.

  However, the demon must have felt his attempt to destroy him because it screamed like it was in pain. It sunk to its knees and wiggled on the ground.

  Confused, Jacko looked on and didn’t react as he should have, which was to find cover.

  Something shot Jacko from behind. A moment of shock, and then extreme pain in his shoulder. He, too, sunk down to his knees.

  Lucem appeared, with a furious look on his face, beside Jacko, and obliterated the demons one-by-one; although there were sounds of others fleeing. The demons must have thought Jacko would arrive at the orchard, alone.

  Though Jacko knew Lucem to be a warm being, he scared him at that moment. He turned to him, and his face had a look of rage on his face that could terrify the bravest men; a wild madness in his eyes, his skin had gone paler than the ghostliest ghost, and his hair seemed to glow a fluorescent light bulb white.

  “Up, Jacko,” he commanded.

  On they continued and, though they heard footsteps and sounds all around them, the demons did not show themselves again.

 

  They walked until Jacko couldn’t continue. He slept for hours, until Lucem woke him.

 

  He was lying against the trunk of a tree. A hundred feet or so, in front of him, he saw an entanglement of humungous tree trunks, wrapped like vines, to form a trunk the size of 50 cranes. The tree rose high into the sky – they couldn’t even see its branches, but it stood strong; although there were signs of attack.

  The trunk was hacked at and charred.

  “He is alright, but he is weak.”

  “How did we get here, suddenly?”

  “I brought us. I didn’t want to waste time.”

  He moaned about his aching shoulder.

  “Can’t you fix this?”

  “Come on,” he picked Jacko up with one arm and placed him on his feet.

  They walked toward the large tree. When they got close, Jacko was amazed to see that the demons had hacked into the tree, breaking entire trunks of trees in half; they almost managed to cut through the whole thing. It looked like they’d been at it for days, and maybe even weeks.

  Jacko stood on a root, intending to get a closer look at a cut on the tree, but it crunched down to the ground, under his weight. Noticing an exposed root that expanded and contracted on the ground, he knelt, and lifted it; he could feel it struggle in his hand. Sadness overwhelmed him as he realized he’d missed his chance.

  Although not a manly thing to do, he couldn’t hold back the tears that watered up behind the film of his eyes. He had been through too much, and he had cost others too much. Now, because of his selfishness, what would he cost others? He didn’t want to end up the tragic hero.

  His arm throbbed, terribly; he peeled his bloody shirt away from his arm and saw there was a gaping hole and nearly threw up. He ripped up the lower end of his tee shirt and pressed it against the wound; the cloth soaked through with blood. Clumsily, he managed to tie the cloth onto his shoulder.

  Jacko stood up, wiped his face, and looked at his blood stained hand, and a voice whispered to him.

  “What?” he said. “I think it spoke to me. What?”

  Jacko leant into the tree, touching it with his bloody, tear soaked hands. The whispering got louder and louder, but he couldn’t make out what it was saying.

  “Stand back, Jacko,” and Lucem grabbed him. “Kneel” and he shoved him down on one knee.

  The ground shook and the tree rumbled, slightly; though Jacko could tell that it struggled.

  The tree emanated heat like a radiator, a golden ray of light emanated out from the gaps in the wood-like vines. Something hit Jacko in the head, and he looked to his side and saw a gleaming gold colored fig lay on the ground. He looked up and quickly back down to be avoid being hit in the eyes, as the sky rained down golden figs. Lucem looked around, picked up a handful, ripped them open.

  “Eat, Jacko, eat.”