Adventures of Jacko the Conjurer by Jamie Ott (drm ebook reader txt) 📖

next week, they made much progress. To Jacko’s delight, they covered fifteen miles each day, only breaking for lunches of smoked fish and water. But the day they finally reached the mountain base, the temperatures dropped, dramatically, and it even rained.

“This has never happened before,” said Julius, from under a plastic green parka. “This place has never been affected by weather. It’s just been the same every day, except for when the skies turned red.”

Jacko and Uncle Bally didn’t like the sound of that, but they kept quiet as usual.

They stood, facing a fifteen foot mound that, right above it, was a jagged rock cliff. The cliff was approximately 10 feet thick, and appeared to go around the mountain and wind up to the top, disappearing into the thick cloud layer that shrouded the summit.

“I don’t see any paths,” said Uncle Bally to Jacko.

“What do you think we should do? Climb up the hill, or walk around and look for the supposed trail?” asked Julius.

Jacko looked at Uncle Bally who was looking at the circumference of the hill, which was as big as a mall. Then he stepped back a bit and looked at the jagged rock above the hill.

“Uncle Bally, look,” he said, pointing to the cliffs.

The winding white-ish rock had deep horizontal lines etched, purposefully, into them: long lines from the top to the bottom that looked almost like a sign, telling them they were in the right place.

“That does look like it could be a trail,” said Uncle Bally. “But what if it really goes around like that?”

He was right to be concerned. Such a trail could increase their travel time from a couple days to many weeks.

“We have no choice but to turn back,” he said, sounding hopeful that Jacko would agree.

Something was nagging Jacko, though.

“We have to get up this hill,” he said, scratching his head. “I don’t think that’s the trail; it’s just a sign, letting us know we’re in the right place.”

“Jacko, a climb up this hill could kill us.”

“Yeah,” said Julius. “And even if we make it, when we get up there, we won’t have enough food to endure such a winding trail!”

“That’s not the actual trail!” he said more forcefully. “We’ll climb this hill, and if we don’t see a more obvious way to the summit, then we’ll turn back.”

“Yeah, but it’s raining. We might hurt ourselves, trying to get up there,” Julius suggested, motioning to the slippery, muddy hill.

“I’ll go first,” said Uncle Bally.

“No, I will. When I get up there, I’ll throw down the rope. Julius will go second, because if he falls, I can hall him up. Then you’ll go last, Uncle Bally, that way there are two of us to pull you up, if you should fall, too.”

Uncle Bally handed Jacko the tied up rope, which he put in his backpack. Gently, he put his right foot on the incline of the hill. He pressed his foot down, hard, testing the sogginess. Then he bent over, placed his hands on a large rock that protruded, and used it to help pull him up the first few feet of the mountain base.

Easily, his toes pushed into the soggy mud, creating a bit of slip each time, but settling just right, almost like a foot divot in a wall.

A few more feet up, he noticed a row of jagged rocks that he climbed over to and followed to the top of the hill.

Ten minutes later, he stood atop, turning around, looking for some other sign of a trail.

Next, went Julius, who seemed to be part monkey, as he scaled up the base in half the time. Julius turned and tossed the rope down to Uncle Bally who, then, tied it around his waist. He struggled the most but got there all the same.

As they stood there, looking about, they were momentarily disappointed. There weren’t any other signs of trails, but then, all of a sudden it appeared.

“Did you see that?” asked Julius.

Jacko turned his head to see what he spoke of. Where the down side of the hill was, a moment ago, now laid a dirt trail that was lined with trees and bushes. He followed it with his eyes, and saw that it led up and out of sight, behind the other side of the mountain.

“That must be it,” Jacko said and walked on.

They followed the trail, which, except for the rock grades, was fairly easy. However, Uncle Bally seemed the worse for it, as he wasn’t accustomed to hiking such tight angled inclines.

From the ground, the mountain looked like a dry dirt rock with some green. But now, they were drenched in a moisture rich atmosphere, surrounded by scented plush green grass and tall coniferous trees that blocked out much of the sky.

As before, they didn’t see any signs of other life. They had a ton of food but there was no telling how long it would take them to reach the actual summit. Hunting could be dangerous, especially if they had to go far off trail to find food.

The intensity of the trail led them to take frequent drinks of water. Thirst was, quickly, becoming a problem, so when Julius wasn’t looking, he tried to enchant their bottles the way he’d enchanted Uncle Bally’s whiskey and cigarettes to replenish itself. It didn’t work. Puzzled, he tried a dozen more times, and finally gave up.

In the evening, when Uncle Bally asked why he looked so worried, he told him.

“What do you think it could be?” Jacko asked, running his hands, agitatedly, through his hair.

“I don’t know. This place must be anti-enchantments.”

Jacko looked at Uncle Bally, a moment, and wondered if they’d, also, spent time together in another life.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes you say such smart things, and it makes me wonder if you and I have been here before. How would you know to make a suggestion such as anti enchantments?”

Uncle Bally merely looked at him, and sipped his whiskey.

“I don’t believe in reincarnation. What sort of Christian do you think I am?”

Ignoring his reply, he asked, “Have you ever had a sense of deja vu while with me?”

Lightly, he pursed his lips and looked away.

“Uncle Bally?”

But he said no more, as Julius had emerged from the trees.

“I’m worried; it’s getting colder.”

~~~

When they woke at sunrise, it was to discover temperatures dropped another ten degrees; then there was a light afternoon snow. Julius wanted to continue, but they decided to give it a rest for Uncle Bally who’d started complaining about his arthritis.

Off the trail, toward the mountain side, the incline of the actual rise made excellent protection against the elements. They settled as close to the mountain wall as they could. Combined with the trees, not only were they shielded from the snow fall, but they found good insulation that stayed their fire from withering, keeping them warm through the night.

As much couldn’t be said for the next night: Twenty more miles up the cold mountain, Julius tried to get a fire going, but even with a magnesium block and a piece of char cloth, it was too moist and cold. Uncle Bally asked Julius to help him gather more wood so that Jacko could give it a try. Fire wasn’t a problem when you could control heat, but as with the water bottles, his efforts were useless.

When Julius and Uncle Bally got back from the bush to find Jacko still running the back of his blade along the flint, sending sparks into the magnesium shavings, his uncle gave him a look that said a thousand words.

“I know, I know,” Jacko said and exhaled loudly. He passed the flint and knife so Uncle Bally could try. “We need to get to the summit as quickly as possible.”

Thankfully, Uncle Bally got the fire started that night, with a combined effort of spark throwing from all three of them.

Relieved, they both settled in and relaxed.

“You know,” said Julius, pulling out the cookware. “I sort of think we should go back, especially since neither one of you knows how much further we need to go.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. If you need to go, it’s fine.”

Jacko pulled out a pack of pheasant meat and the bottle of olive oil and handed it to Julius.

“By myself? That might be more dangerous.” He poured some olive oil into the pan. “No, I’m staying. Mother came to me last night. She said to stay with you both; that we’d make it, though it would be rough.”

Uncle Bally who was puttering with the metal can, gathering snow for water - for tea, looked at Jacko.

Julius looked at them, looking at each other, and said with blue eyes wide, “I know I sound crazy, but my dreams have never let me down before. So I know that you, two, must be worried, but don’t. We will be fine.”

Uncle Bally smiled, shook his head and kept gathering snow.

“You know, that makes me feel so much better. Yes, I was really worried,” said Jacko, the relief sounding out in his voice. Even if Julius didn’t know why his dreams always panned out, Jacko and Uncle Bally knew it was a good omen. And that night, they slept most restfully, knowing that, soon, they’d be in a place that would protect them from the end-of-times war.

The next morning, they were, each, so sore that they were practically crippled. Jacko’d never had such a painfully stiff neck. His shins felt as though they’d been through a cheese grater. Every step taken was a leg in an iron maiden.

Jacko helped Uncle Bally stretch his muscles for a good thirty minutes after breakfast before they went on their way. For good measure, Julius joined them in their exercises.

The weather dampened considerably, wearing away at their good nature like rust on metal. By nightfall, temperatures were down another twenty degrees. A heavy snow fall had begun; the sky turned almost purple, and the moon looked grey, as did the clouds.

Poor Uncle Bally couldn’t continue, and Jacko had no intention of forcing him.

At first, Julius was disappointed that they should lose a day of walking, but then he conceded, stating that everything would work out the way it was meant to be. His words were just another grouping to pass his lips that made Jacko wonder, with killer curiosity, who the heck he really was.

Nothing is a coincidence anymore, he muttered under his breath, as he followed Julius and Uncle Bally off the trail.

Over the next few days, it was more of the same. They pushed on in spite of their pain, yet every other day they had no choice but to rest. It was one thing to push on in a warm atmosphere; however, the cold had a way of contracting not only muscles, but tendons, touching right down to the bone, making an otherwise normal person have to work twice as hard just to flex. Each step taken in the cold was a step taken with a ten pound weight strapped to his calf.

The higher they got up the mountain, the more force the elements used to beat them down. Dense gravity became their mortal enemy, manipulating wind and snow to act like darts to pierce through every single layer of clothing, and stab right through their skin.

But the lowest point of their trip would come when they found themselves facing a grade so steep that they needed a rope pulley to get over it.

Finally, on the sixth day, it was just too cold to continue at all.

“I don’t think I can go on,” said Uncle Bally. “I’m so sorry. You’ll have to continue without me. I can’t take much more pain. I’m just an old man.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” said Julius, sounding relieved that Uncle Bally spoke up. “I think we should all rest. My legs hurt badly. How are you feeling, Jacko?”

“Like crap. I agree; let’s rest. Anything to