Advent Letters: Year Nine, Letter Four

Santa Claus, true to his word, strode directly toward the army’s front lines. He took a spot next to the mammoth at the center of the dome’s crack. Avvu and Kanute stood confidently behind him. I joined them as well—though I’ll admit with rather less confident. When it comes to battles, we elves prefer to stay above the fray as often as possible.

The distant goblin drums grew louder and louder. Soon, we could hear the goblin boots crunching in the snow. The goblin spears clattering against their shields. 

Santa Claus stood firm. Sword held aloft, he bellowed: “I can see the goblin banners in the caves—ready your weapons!”

The North Pole warriors responded with a battle cry. Their cry was just reaching a crescendo when, without warning, Santa dropped to his knees. I was so startled that it took me a moment to register his bowed head and outstretched arms. Santa Claus was deep in prayer. The fervent prayer of a living saint.

The surrounding polar bears and mammoth exchanged glances, each afraid to say anything. With a final deep breath, Santa made the sign of the cross and rose to his feet. His face shone with the effort of his prayer.

Santa held his shield to the crack in the dome. He held his sword poised to strike. The polar bears and mammoths assumed their battle positions.

I hesitated. Even though a goblin army was bearing down on me, I just had to ask. “Santa, why did you just…”

“Drop to my knees in embarrassing public prayer?” Santa’s eyes twinkled. “Somebody needed it.”

***

Still laying on his back beside the moat, Matt forced himself onto his elbow. He scrutinized the final hallway. An arch of weed-like ivy curled around the walls and ceiling. Matt had no idea what awaited him in that archway. But he knew one thing: he was putting on his gloves from Santa. 

The gloves’ fabric felt like spiderwebs, and shimmered amethyst blue in the torchlight. A silver unicorn was stitched on the back of each glove. Inside one of them, Matt found a note: “For Jer and Brian.”

The brothers fished Santa’s bag out of the moat, and put all their armor back on—their chainmail and grieves, their breastplates and helmets. They drew out their enchanted weapons. With his shield and sword at the ready, Matt stepped to the front. The brothers walked in tight formation toward the ivy-choked hallway. As Matt peered closer at the ivy, he noticed rows of serrated thorns running toward leathery black flower petals.

All three were on highest alert. After the last two obstacles, they knew anything could happen. Maybe an army of stone gollums was hiding behind the ivy. Or the ivy itself could turn into a python and crush them. The brothers crept forward, head and eyes swiveling in every direction. Jer kept an arrow drawn in his bow. Brian held his war hammer over his head. Matt tried to keep everybody safe behind his shield. 

The only sounds were the boys’ shuffling feet, and water dripping from the petals. Sweat gathered on Matt’s forehead. His neck muscles tightened with every small step. Any moment now. Any. Moment.

But nothing happened. The ivy just…hung there. Like normal ivy. 

The brothers were only a few steps from the edge of the ivy. They could almost reach out and grab the Krampus Doors. Matt started to hope that this final trap had malfunctioned somehow. That they were about to make it through.

So he didn’t notice the ivy strands tightening into cords. Or the flower petals opening up.

The attack was instant, from every direction. The vines fired all their thorns at the Mellema brothers. Hundreds—maybe thousands—or razor-tipped darts flew at them.

The brothers dropped to the ground beneath Matt’s shield. But by the time they’d protected themselves, the attack was already over. They waited, panting, for a second volley. Nothing.

Matt didn’t feel a prick of pain or trickle of blood. So as he dusted himself off, he was confident that his shield and armor had stopped all the thorns. But when he turned to his brothers, his confident smile evaporated.

Brian had just pulled a thorn from his wrist. Jer was pulling two thorns from the back of his neck. They left a tarry residue on the skin. Both Jer and Brian’s faces were ash gray. They swayed unsteadily.

Matt guided them both out of the ivy. By the time they reached the Krampus Doors, both were stumbling and sweating.

“Can’t…breathe” Jer wheezed.

Brian coughed up something dark and thick. Both boys seized up. Their bodies convulsed as the skin around their wounds darkened. 

Matt stood over them, frozen. He thought futilely of the first aid lessons he’d gotten that one time. Running his hand through his hair, he realized his gloves were glowing. Of course. This must be it.

Matt knelt beside his brothers. Their eyes had rolled back, and their mouths were foaming. Matt placed one gloved hand on Brian’s wrist, and the other on the back of Jer’s neck. 

Matt felt a vibration beneath his glowing gloves. That vibration pulsed like the beating of a heart. With each pulse, Matt could feel the poison being drawn back from his brothers’ veins, out of their wounds, and into his gloves. 

Matt could feel his brothers’ convulsions stop. Their breathing grew less ragged. It was working. But before he could celebrate, the poison leapt from Matt’s gloves and into his skin.

Burning tar in his bloodstream. It started in his hands, then seeped through his arms into his chest, and finally up to his head. His body shook. His chest heaved. Matt thought about letting go.

But he couldn’t. These gloves were for Jer and Brian. So he would hold on until all the poison was out of them.

Matt’s legs locked and his throat squeezed shut. He could feel the poison oozing into his lungs. And his heart. Matt’s vision blurred, and then darkened. His primal brain stem told him that his body was shutting down.

Matt was vaguely aware of his brothers shouting his name. But he wouldn’t let them pry his hands away. With his last reserves of strength before the poison took over, Matt resolved to hold on.

Everything went black.

Jer and Brian, meanwhile, regained their strength the instant the poison left their veins. They sprang to their feet and tried to get out of Matt’s grip. But by the time they did, it was too late. Matt’s body was stone still.

Jer shook Matt’s cold shoulders. Brian tried to remove Matt’s gloves, but an electric shock stopped him. Jer pulled Brian away. 

“What do we do now?” Brian asked. 

Jer only shook his head. 

The two brothers sat in the darkness. Neither knew what to say, or knew what to do. Jer laid his head against the cold stone of the Krampus Doors. Brian hid his face in his hands. For a moment that seemed to stretch in Faerie time, there was no sound except the flickering of the torches.

At long last, Jer prepared to get to his feet. He searched for the right words to explain to Brian that they had no choice but to keep going forward.

“Brian,” Jer said. “I think it’s time to—”

A light sparked. Matt’s gloves shone a brilliant electric blue. The light pulsed in a rhythmic hum. With each pulse, the veins beneath Matt’s skin glowed brighter and brighter. This sparkling glow gathered toward the gloves. The gloves then lifted off Matt’s hands, spun in the air. A final pulse, and the gloves vanished in an explosion of sparkling dust.

Another silence. Then a cough, and another cough. Matt’s eyes fluttered open, and for a moment he looked astonished to be there.

Matt struggled back onto his elbows. His brothers helped him into a seated position.

“All right, then,” Matt said, getting to his feet. “Glad we each got a turn.”

Jer and Brian looked at each other and shrugged. Matt turned to the great black doors to Krampus’ throne room

“How are we supposed to get through these?” he asked.

Brian unrolled his map. The scarlet arrow burned so bright that he couldn’t look directly at it. There was no room for doubt: the Heart of the North was on the other side of these doors.

A half-dozen plans filtered through Jer’s mind—everything from picking the lock to smashing the frame with Brian’s war hammer. But before he suggested any of that, he reached for the giant handle at the center of the doors. He turned it.

The doors began to open.