Advent Letters: Year Nine, Letter Three

Back at the North Pole, Santa Claus stepped to the front of the parapet. He wore his armor from when he was a young man in Anatolia. Each piece was centuries old, and saturated with blessings and enchantments. Over his chest we wore scale armor which was polished to a mirrored shine. His helmet was conical in shape, with metal bands around the bottom and guards extending down to the cheeks. His shield was large and oval, painted a brilliant red with a white reindeer rampant at the center. The sword at his side was long and broad. It shimmered at his side.

Slowly, Santa Claus scanned the rows of warriors, his eyes resting on each face in turn. The silence hung in the air like a crystal.

Santa drew a breath from his deep chest. His voice was both musical and booming:  “My brothers and sisters—friends. I have asked you to defend our home. And you have all answered the call. I am grateful for each one of you. I have complete confidence in your skill, your valor, and your devotion to duty. But even as we prepare for war, let us pray that we may still be delivered from its grim necessity.”

We all bowed our heads. Even as we raised our silent petitions, the pounding of goblin drums rose in the distance.

Kanute and I exchanged worried glances. I thought of those foolish human boys: in the deepest corner of Faerie, preparing an attack on Castle Krampus. If any creatures in the cosmos needed prayer, it was them.

Santa raised his head. When he spoke, his words were iron. “In the meantime, we shall do what we must. Polar bears: save a place for me on the front lines!”

***

Meanwhile, the Mellema brothers stood at the edge of the moat. They peered into the dark water, then up toward the gate at its center. The gate itself looked like it belonged in front of a medieval castle. The iron bars were wide and strong, and too close together for even Brian to squeeze through. It seemed to extend from the ceiling all the way to the bottom of the moat—wherever that was.

“How deep is it?” Matt asked.

His brothers could only shake their heads.

“First thing’s first,” Matt said. “We can’t swim in our armor. Let’s take it off before getting in the water.”

“But we’ll need the armor against Krampus,” Jer said.

“Let’s put it in Santa’s bag. Then we can pull it along behind us,” Brian suggested.

None of them were confident that would work. But they didn’t have any better ideas. After carefully placing their armor in Santa’s bag, they placed the bag by the edge of the moat. Brian turned his gift from Santa over in his hands.

“So we just swim to the gate?” Jer asked.

Matt shrugged. “Maybe there’s some gap in the bars.”

Again, none of them were confident about that. But they all prepared to hop in the water. Still fiddling with his gift, Bri kicked Santa’s bag into the water. He expected it to float. Instead, the bag was pulled instantly below the surface.

“Our armor!” Jer shouted.

“What were you thinking—now we’ve lost Santa’s bag!” Matt yelled.

“It wasn’t me!” Brian shot back. “Something pulled it under.”

Still frowning, Jer dipped his hand in the water. “Brian’s right. Some kind of current. The instant we get in the water, we’ll get sucked down.”

Matt wanted to complain that it was hopeless. Instead, he turned to Brian. “Then we’ll need Santa’s gift. What’s that weird mask thing?”

Brian held the contraption to his brothers. It looked like a gas mask crossed with scuba goggles. A small canister hung from the mouth, and two tubes extended from either side of the canister. Each tube had a snorkel mouthpiece. The whole thing was ruby red, with a golden phoenix painted on the canister. An old-fashioned lightbulb hung from the mask’s forehead. And a note hung from the lightbulb: “For Matt and Jer.”

“Same as my vial of oil—Brian helps me and Matt?” Jer said.

“Let’s do it!” Brian said. “I’ll put on the mask, you guys each use a snorkel tube.”

“Wait!” Matt called out. The thought of getting dragged beneath dark water with only a magic snorkel for air made his knees buckle. “Even if this thing works, how do we know we can get through the gate?”

Something burst above the water on the other side of the gate. It was Santa’s bag. It bobbed gently toward the far side. If something as wide as Santa’s bag could make it through the gate, the brothers could too.

Matt reached for a snorkel tube. “This had better work. There’s no way we can make it in one breath.”

“Santa gave this to us,” Brian said. 

Brian put the mask over his head, his brothers put the snorkels in their mouths, and they all sat on the edge of the moat. Brian held up three fingers, then two, then one.

The brothers dove in.

After the cold shock of the water, Brian felt the current pull him down. His breathing sounded like Darth Vader. The moat was clear, so the lightbulb illuminated most of the way down. But not all of it. 

Because the current was so strong, Brian didn’t have to swim. And that was a relief. He would never admit it to his brothers, but he could barely do more than doggie paddle. 

Brian’s breathing slowed to normal as he got used to the mask. On either side of him, his brothers seemed to relax as well. In science class, Brian learned how humans breathe in oxygen, and breathe out carbon dioxide. He guessed that this mask converted his own carbon dioxide into oxygen for his brothers. So every time Brian breathed out, his brothers could breath in.

At first, Brian wished his brothers had goggles too. But eventually, they sank so deep that everything outside the shallow glow of his lightbulb was black. At long last, Brian could make out the stone bottom of the moat. This was the good news. The bad news was that the current stopped. 

His brothers clutched onto Brian’s shoulders. Brian whipped his head back and forth, forth and back. Nothing. He took a few tentative doggie paddles to his left. Then to his right.

He saw it. 

A gap in the gate wide enough for all three brothers to squeeze through. Brian gave each brother his best reassuring pat on the arm. Then he dogpaddled them through the gate.

Just as they were on the other side and hope began to swell in Brian’s chest, he heard something. A click. Like a blender shutting off. Or a Gameboy breaking. Or…

Another click, and his lightbulb switched off. Brian was floating in darkness. His first instinct was to dogpaddle upward as fast as he could. Jer and Matt’s grips both tightened on Brian’s shoulder.

As Brian paddled, he realized something even worse than the lightbulb. His heavy breathing didn’t help the burning in his lungs. With each attempted breath, they only tightened. As if confirming his fears, he felt the empty canister drop from his mask.

He was trapped without air. For a moment, he let the panic take hold. He flailed and cried and screamed into his airless mask. But even as he screamed, a thought floated into his head: Santa. He had given him this gift on purpose. There had to be…the realization hit him as he breathed out his carbon dioxide: his brothers could still get oxygen from him. Bri grabbed his brothers’ arms and pushed them forward. He hoped with all his might that they would understand.

They did. Jer and Matt each put an arm around Brian, and together they swam in an upward surge. Brian, meanwhile, kept breathing out the carbon dioxide that would become their oxygen.

But even as they rushed toward the surface, Brian could feel his lungs emptying. His vision blurred and dimmed. Just as everything started its fade to black, his brothers did something with their own snorkel tubes. They exhaled into them. It took Brian’s muddled brain a moment to realize what was happening. He took a couple ragged breaths. Oxygen! His brothers were passing their own carbon dioxide back to Brian, and his mask turned it into oxygen.

Brian revived enough to urge his brothers forward. All three now swam together. With a final kick, they burst through the surface on the other side of the moat. They were shivering and spluttering and exhausted. But they had made it. The brothers pulled themselves out of the water and laid on their backs, breathing in the dungeon air like it was the most beautiful thing in Faerie.