Adventures of Jacko the Conjurer: The Dawn

by Jamie Ott

  He grabbed him by the collar around his neck and shouted, “Uncle Bally, this isn’t the Christian apocalypse! This is a war between species, like I tried to explain to you. If the demons catch you, you’ll be recycled into the volcano of life, and then you’ll be reborn a demon. We have to move, now.”

  More bolts hit the lawn, combining with the bombs that Bally’d already buried. Grass and dirt covered them.

  Jacko dragged Uncle Bally into the house.

  “Listen,” he said breathlessly, wiping dirt off his face, “go down into your shelter and stay there. I gotta get out of here, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Jacko, if you think I’m gonna just let you run off, alone, you’re crazy!”

  But he didn’t have time to respond, for they were clobbered, painfully, to the ground.

  It took a moment for Jacko to realize that what clobbered him was the roof of the house.

  He struggled to push the wood and shingles off. Once he was free, he saw that the house was completely leveled. The gods that were on his side appeared to have arrived, as all around him, giants jumped about, sword fighting and dodging beams that sailed from the points of tridents, rods and spears.

  One demon on cherub, seeing him helpless, sent a dozen red beams at him, but a large white body blocked them all with his sword.

  Quickly, he sifted the debris, calling his uncle’s name. Finally, he found his hand, but he was out cold.

  An alabaster hand, the size of a garbage truck, lifted the debris, cupped Jacko and his uncle in his hand and shouted, “Go, now!!”

  And then he threw them high over the mountains.

  Meeting Oganat

  Chapter 7

  With Uncle Bally still passed out, they flew through the cold dark air for nearly an hour until he found a mountain that was covered in the tallest trees he’d ever seen. There was not a single light there, which lead him to believe it might have been completely deserted.

  He settled them in amongst the trees. Then he conjured a couple cots and lay his uncle down on one. Next, he tried to heal Uncle Bally the way he healed himself, back in the fig orchard. But for some reason, his powers weren’t working. This scared him because he already had a head injury. So he listened to his heart beat and when that seemed strong, he monitored his pulse.

  After a while, Jacko determined that Uncle Bally was merely unconscious, so he called fire to keep them warm, though there was no kindling, and layed back on his cot and fell asleep.

  By the time Uncle Bally woke the next morning, Jacko had dandelion coffee brewing; although he used his powers to goad the process forward a bit. He also conjured his uncle’s favorite brand of smokes because he was often cranky in the mornings without them.

  A couple fish smoked on a spit he made, just like his uncle showed him.

  “See you’ve been busy.”

  He cried and groaned as he tried to sit up.

  Jacko rushed to his side and helped him. Then he filled two large bamboo shoots with coffee and handed one to him.

  “Phew, that’s good! Much better than any I’ve ever made.”

  Jacko tasted his, and then laughed. It was good; too good, but that was because he’d cheated.

  “I was worried that you might not wake.”

  “What? I’m fine!”

  He tried to stand, but then, immediately, sat back down. He clenched his face, trying not to yell.

  “I hurt all over!” he said through gritted teeth.

  He lifted the hem of his jeans, revealing a severely swollen ankle.

  “I don’t think I’ll be moving much today.”

  “Yeah, just relax. I got everything, uncle.”

  He picked up a large banana leaf, placed a fish on it, and handed it to him.

  Uncle Bally took a bite and said, “Hmm. Not bad.”

  Jacko, then, helped himself.

  They ate in silence a few moments before Uncle Bally said, “Well, Jacko, I’m ready.”

  “For what?” he said, spitting out a bone.

  “You to tell me everything. I know why you held back the truth, because you didn’t think I’d believe you. Well, I do, now.”

  Jacko fed the fire a few logs.

  “Why are they after you?”

  “They’re fighting for control of the Earth. In the beginning, the demons ruled, but then their atmosphere was destroyed. The gods moved in, along with mankind. Every millennium since then, there’s been a war between demons and gods to take back the Earth.”

  “But that still doesn’t explain why they’re after you.”

  “They think I’m going to end the war, leading the gods in a final victory. Some think this will be the last and the biggest war.”

  “But you’re just a kid.”

  “Not to the gods.”

  Jacko continued to answer Uncle Bally’s questions. Despite his gut feeling that he shouldn’t have told him anything, he spilled his entire misfortune and how it all began. From the night he left home, to the accident in Reno, when he first flipped into the red lands. He explained about his mother and why she married John, the man he thought was his father; how he found out he had twelve brothers and sisters – all with powers, too, and how they were stuck on the summit until he finished a predestined battle against some demon.

  “Well, Jacko, that’s some story. Now I understand why you’ve been so up and down. I thought you were just mourning John and Sissy, but I can’t imagine what it must be like to know the world is waiting on you.”

  “Yeah,” sighed Jacko.

  Though Uncle Bally said he understood, he really didn’t know the fear that kept him up every night. He knew he was, likely, going down to die. If he just went to the heaven of the gods, he’d be okay with that, but being demi meant that he, likely, had a soul. All those with souls went into the fountain of youth, and once they were reborn, they forgot everything from before.

  After breakfast, Jacko conjured a couple canteens and went back to the stream to get water. Then, finding hare tracks in some shrubs, he set a couple traps.

  His uncle slept most of the day while Jacko gathered brush to make a shelter. It was a lot of work. He could’ve used his uncle’s help. Occasionally, Jacko tried to heal him but his powers still wouldn’t work that way. He could conjure whatever he willed -- though he chose not to abuse his powers. Still, why couldn’t he heal others?

  “Here, let me help you, boy,” he reached to grab a branch. “OH!” he cried, snapping his arm back.

  “It’s okay, uncle. You just got clobbered by a house. I got this.”

  “Yeah, well, the rain’s coming. I can smell it in the air, and you’ve got a ways to go.”

  He looked to the Fourth of July sky. It had an icy look as if it were inlaid with glass.

  “So those flashes of light jetting across the sky are the gods warring?”

  Suddenly, there was thunderous sound, as a black cloud pushed out, in the sky. A moment later, ash rained down, heavily on them. Some of it was kind of tender, like flesh.

  “Does this answer your question?” asked Jacko, holding up a piece of leather that had red slime on one side.

  He tossed the black skin into the fire and said, “You know, I’m just gonna do this over there because I can spread out and get this done faster. Besides, the ground is harder, so we should camp over there, tonight.”

  He picked up the brush and the palms. “Yell if you need anything.”

  Uncle Bally was right. The rain was coming, and it was coming fast. There was just no way that he could finish the shelter on his own.

  In the bald center of trees, he looked over his shoulder to make sure his uncle couldn’t see him. Then he commanded the branches to entwine, and the leaves of the palm tree to braid themselves securely.

  As he watched his shelter come erect, he felt someone near.

  “What do you want?” he asked aloud. “Are you demon, Titan or friend?”

  But no answer came.

  “I know y
ou’re there.”

  When the shelter was done, he moved the fire and cots to the bald spot, and then helped his uncle over.

  “Wow, Jacko, you’re quite the woodsmen.”

  He’d managed to cover the entire three foot, in diameter, circular bald spot. He’d tied the entwined palm branches to the trees, and layered them, thick, with brush, creating a ceiling tent.

  Atop the brush, Jacko created a slope with banana leaves that ran into large bamboo shoots, collecting water for them to drink later.

  By the time they were comfortably settled in the shelter, twilight had come and gone.

  “I know it’s late, but I’m gonna check the traps anyway. I’m starving.”

  “Of course you are, son. Here,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “Take my flashlight. Be extra careful because, if you get hurt, I can’t help you.”

  He traipsed into the tall trees, where every shadow danced sinisterly. Rain ferociously petted his head, running into his eyes, making it harder to see his direction.

  The bush to his right shook rapidly. He was sure he saw a little foot.

  He froze.

  When after a minute, nothing more happened, he continued.

  His first trap was empty.

  “Damn,” he cursed aloud.

  The sound of crunching leaves came from beyond the trees behind him.

  He spun around.

  “Show yourself!” he said shakily.

  But all he saw was darkness and tree branches waving, violently, in the wind.

  A hundred feet out to the other trap, he was stoked to find a good sized rabbit.

  “You’ve been eating well,” he said to it. Too tired to kill it, he said, “Heart, stop.”

  The rabbit slowly closed its eyes, and it lay motionless on the ground.

  He opened the trap, picked the hare up by the ears, and made his way back to camp.

  “Woo hoo, boy! Hallelujah!” Uncle Bally laughed jovially.

  An hour later, they feasted, happily, despite the dreary weather. He pulled the roasted rabbit from the spit, ripped it in half, and handed one to his uncle.

  “Well, I’m surprised this shelter hasn’t blown down yet. You must have done a really good job twining.”

  “Hardly,” he laughed.

  “You did good, boy. Not a drop of rain on us.”

  He laughed again.

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “Because I cheated.”

  “Oh, you mean you used your witchy powers.”

  “They’re not witchy! There’s no such thing as witches.”

  “Yeah, okay, okay, I believe you. Listen, you couldn’t get me my whiskey, could you? I mean, you said you’re a conjurer, right?”

  He focused on a point on the ground, and slowly coming into view was Uncle Bally’s bottle of Jack.

  “Well, what the hell are we doing out here? If you can do that, can’t you at least get us a house?”

  “No, I think it’s wrong to cheat fate. Little things are okay, but not stuff like that.”

  “Can you heal my ankle?”

  “Actually, I tried already. I can’t, for some reason. My power isn’t limitless, you have to understand. The gods have a thing about crossing the wills and fates of others.”

  “In other words, you think the gods won’t let you heal me?”

  “Exactly. If it’s your time to be hurt, then you’ll be hurt. In their eyes, this all serves a higher purpose. One thing leads to another. That’s their philosophy. There’s a reason for us being here, indisposed at the moment; although we might not ever know why.”

  The next morning, Jacko woke to the sound of his uncle pouring dandelion coffee into bamboo shoots.

  He limped around, handed one to Jacko and said, “So?”

  “So, what?”

  He took the coffee and sipped.

  “Did one of your friends visit you last night?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He pointed to under his cot.

  The gold bow and bag of arrows lay there, next to the belted sword and shield.

  “Huh!” he exclaimed. “I don’t know how those got here! Honestly!”

  “I thought not,” he said, lighting a smoke in the fire. “Someone must be looking out for you though. Got any ideas who?”

  “I haven’t a clue! I swear!”

  Jacko spent the rest of the day hunting with the bow and arrows while Uncle Bally limped to the river, with the rabbit guts, and fished.

  That evening, they ate more fish as they stared at the fire. Uncle Bally occasionally took swigs of his whiskey.

  Suddenly, there was the sound of someone walking toward them.

  Jacko rose with bow and arrow at the ready.

  “Who are you? Speak or I’ll shoot?”

  The sound of footsteps got closer and closer. An outline of a very tall man appeared.

  “Put that down, boy!” said the figure.

  A few feet closer, and Jacko recognized the figure.

  “Oganat!”

  Although smaller on Earth than in the red lands, he was still six and half feet with the belly of Buddha, bald and no shirt. His baggy pantaloons swayed around his legs with each step.

  He lowered his bow and arrow, and asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to talk.”

  He conjured a stool and sat close to the fire.

  “This is my uncle, Bally.”

  Oganat nodded to him, and then noticed the bow Jacko set on the ground. Then he turned and eyed the bag of arrows, sword and shield lying on the ground, behind him.

  “You’re nearly ready to fight,” he said. “The divine ornamentum don’t come to you at any time. Only when you’ve done something to show that you’re ready to handle them.”

  “Someone left them under my cot.”

  “They’re the divine weapons of the first conjurer, forged by Lucem, and blessed by the chaos. Rightfully, they’re yours; they’ll never leave you until the end of the battle. Then they’ll return to their rightful place in heaven.”

  “What are the elders saying?”

  “They haven’t met since before you left heaven.”

  “What about the dark gods?”

  “No, Jacko. Everyone is sitting back and watching the war, though some are cheating.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Some have, clearly, interfered so their favorites – like you – might win, or at the very least, survive the battle.”

  “I’m not anyone’s favorite. I haven’t had any help.”

  “Of course you have. How do you think it is that you’ve come this far? The gods have watched your every step. Every time the wind blows, and every time you feel fortunate, thank the gods.”

  After a moment, Oganat said to Uncle Bally, “You’ve done well, teaching the boy.” He, then, turned to Jacko. “You must draw on those strengths in the final phase of your journey.”

  “Jacko is not ready for a journey,” said Uncle Bally.

  “Of course he is. He’s a man.”

  His uncle was about to argue, but Jacko put up his hand. Simply, the gods didn’t view what qualified a man as being age and experience.

  They stared at the flames in silence for a long while.

  “Have you been to the summit?” Oganat finally asked.

  “No.”

  “Don’t you miss your family?”

  “I worry, but I hardly know them. How can I miss them? The only family I have is Sissy, and she’s dead, now.”

  He waved his arm and images appeared, dancing in the flames.

  On one flame, Bordra and Dienla played chess while Alica read a book. Another flame depicted Anle walking in the rose garden, whispering to them the way Sissy used to talk to her tomatoes. The boys were engaged in a game of basketball.

  “Where’s Manlo and Althenio?”

  “Aurora has them.”

  “Why have you come?” asked Uncle Bally aggressively. “It would be best if you
got to the point.”

  “To congratulate you on the progress you’ve made, the last few weeks. I know you think you’ve been hiding, but there is no hiding from us, boy. No, you’re right where you should be. But soon you’ll have to leave here, and go into the red lands, alone.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you started this, and now you have to end it.”

  “I didn’t start anything,” he said defiantly.

  “You know that once a demon gets your scent, it’s for life. Heaven and hell had an agreement that each would keep to his own side. You started this war when you broke that agreement by wandering into the red lands. This is your war; it started with you and it’ll end with you.”

  “Who is the demon that hunts Jacko?” asked Uncle Bally, exhaling a stream of smoke.

  “Manik. He’s Jacko’s equal in every way. Young, inexperienced, and to some extent, brave. He’s the son of Caliga, Lucem’s dark godly counterpart.”

  He sighed, wondering how he was to fight a tough as leather demon.

  “When the time comes, you’ll know what to do,” Oganat said, reading his mind.

  “I wish that I could just hide. I don’t wanna do this.”

  “Well, there is one safe place that you could go to: the summit. It’s shrouded in mystery. The demons would never find you.”

  “It wouldn’t be right, though.”

  “Surely, you want to say goodbye to your family, before going to your fate? Now, you’ll find the summit by instinct. When you get close, you’ll settle to the ground, and continue on foot. Like the fig orchard, it can’t be found by will, alone. Once you get to the mount, you’ll find a sacred path.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments.

  Uncle Bally watched Oganat very intently.

  “Well, I think that’s all. I should go.”

  He disappeared in a wisp of air without saying goodbye.

  “I don’t like him. He gives me a weird feeling,” said Uncle Bally. “Are you sure you can trust him?”

  “He’s strange, I know. They’re all strange, the gods.”

  “I think he’s right about one thing: We should go to the summit.”

  Jacko considered him a moment and said, “As soon as your ankle is better, we will.”

  Jacko didn’t sleep that night. He stared at the ceiling, wondering if it would hurt, much, to die. He couldn’t help but contemplate what it must feel like to be stabbed, or to have his body cut in half, which he was sure a powerful demon could easily do.

  Thinking these thoughts made him realize that he did, indeed, need to seek the summit. He may have done well at hunting, and shown some ability to fight, but he had not a clue as to how to use the sword and shield.