Advent Letters: Year Nine, Letter Two

Back at the North Pole, Santa Claus had just given the order to prepare for battle.

Rushing down the torchlit halls from Santa’s library, I tried to remember the last time the North Pole had gone to war. It was 1919, when the Kaiser’s northern expedition got too close to our territory. But that hadn’t resulted in actual fighting. Our last proper battle was the hobgoblin insurgency of 1875.

Luckily, we at the North Pole are blessed with long lives and long memories. So as the giant brass horns resounded through the North Pole, its citizens assumed their battle stations with practiced determination. Honestly, I think most were relieved. After so many sleepless nights fretting about the fate of the Mellema brothers, it was nice to have a concrete task.

The polar bears put on their golden helmets and spiked collars. We elves strung our bows and fletched our arrows. And the gnomes charged up their giant mechanized suits. The bakers stopped making pastries and started making bread rations. The blacksmiths stopped making sleigh bells and started making spears. And Ratatosk summoned his battalion of warrior squirrels and rabbits who specialized in tree-based combat.

I said all of this in a few lines. But accomplishing this meant frantic preparations by every North Pole citizen. While the pixies and gnomish engineers were still analyzing the North Pole dome for cracks, our peregrine falcons spotted a goblin scouting expedition outside the dome. Our wolves and reindeer quickly drove them away. But it was clear that time was running out.

The gnomes, meanwhile, made an important determination. Though there were many cracks in the North Pole dome, the only one which could reasonably be breached was the one right behind the giant world tree of Ydrasail. So that was where Santa deployed the chief part of the army. 

Along with Kanute, Aarvu, and the other generals, I stood on a parapet overlooking the tree. Despite the fear and sorrow grappling in my chest, I couldn’t help but wonder at the shining ranks of the army of Saint Nicholas.

At the front were the giant creatures: the polar bears and the musk oxen and the walruses. The wooly mammoth placed himself directly in front of the crack. Behind them were the ranks of elven archers. They stood in their brilliant mirrored helmets and scarlet cloaks. Beside them were gnomes who carried small brass cannons that shot something green and glowing.  Along both flanks were the gnomes in mechanized battle suits, as well as the wolves and the reindeer and the other fast runners. And soaring over the whole scene were the battle falcons.

As I scanned the warriors, I noticed all the faces turning up toward me. It took me a moment to realize why. Santa Clause had joined us at the parapet.

***

When Matt opened the package, he found three items inside. One was a narrow glass vial the same green as Jer’s tunic. Another was some contraption that looked like a gas mask crossed with a snorkel. It was the same red as Brian’s tunic. Last was a pair of gloves woven in the same blue as Matt’s tunic. Instinctively, each boy reached for their matching item.

Standing up, Jer took a final breath before opening the door. 

It took a moment for Jer’s eyes to adjust to the dark interior. The only lights came from rows of spectral purple torches lining each wall. The room itself was a long hallway. It seemed divided into three sections. The first appeared to be a normal stone floor. The only unusual feature was a series of holes along the left side wall. Beyond that was what looked like a pool of dark water—a moat?—which was cut in two by a gate of iron rods. Beyond the moat was a run of thick ivy vines along the walls and ceiling.

And at the distant end of the hallway was one final set of doors. They were made of the blackest black stone, and arched upward into the shadows. Carved in relief was the giant, leering face of Krampus himself. His teeth were embedded with ivory, and his eyes were giant rubies. Even glancing at the face chilled Jer’s blood.

“I guess we just…” Matt began.

The brothers started walking down the stone hallway. But no sooner had their feet hit the stones than a wall of fire erupted in front of them. Jer leapt backwards into a somersault. 

“What was that?” Jer gasped. Though the flames had only been there a moment, the heat still radiated off the stones.

Brian pointed to their left. “Those holes in the wall. The fire must shoot out of them when we get close.”

Matt wiped sweat from his forehead. “How in the world can be get by…”

His eyes fell on the glass vial in Jer’s hand. Jer nodded, and popped the bottle open. As he did this, he noticed a small note attached to the cork. He read it aloud: “For…Matt and Brian?”

Matt scowled. “That doesn’t make sense. The bottle is your color green. There’s even a bronze griffin etched in the side.”

Brian’s first reaction was to reach for the bottle and try it out right away. But at the thought of the wall of flames, his hand paused midair.

Matt bit his lip. “Okay—I’ll test it. A bit, anyway.” He poured a small amount of the oil on his pinky finger. Then he inched forward, pinky extended. The wall of fire burst in front of him. With an obvious strain, he stuck the tip of his pinky into the outer flames. A fraction of an instant later, he pulled his hand out with a scream. By the time he was back with Jer and Bri, his pinky was swollen and blistered. 

“I didn’t even stick it all the way in the fire,” Matt said. “There’s no way that oil can protect us. No possible way.”

Matt stuck his finger in his mouth. Bri rummaged for a salve in Santa’s bag. Jer, meanwhile, stared deep into the glass vial. He spun a single thought around in his head. He hoped for some other answer: any other answer. 

His jaw set. There was no other answer. 

Without a word, he spread some oil over his entire right hand. Then, while Matt and Bri were still distracted, he strode forward. When the wall of flames leapt in front of him, he thrust his entire hand into the fire.

Pain. Intense, mind-exploding pain. But this didn’t surprise Jer. In fact, he’d half expected it. So he forced himself to keep his hand in the fire a fraction longer before taking it out.

Matt and Bri rushed up to Jer on his way back.

“What were you thinking?” Matt shouted. “Can’t you see the oil doesn’t work?”

“Doesn’t work for you,” Jer replied. “But it does for me.”

“The fire didn’t hurt your hand?” Brian asked.

“Oh it hurt. A ton.”

“Then what are you talking about?” Matt asked.

Jer held out his hand. There was no swelling or blistering. It looked completely fine.

“I feel the pain in the fire. But the fire doesn’t damage me. I think—” Jer paused to catch his breath. “I think I’m supposed to protect you two from the flames. That’s why the note says, ‘For Matt and Brian.’”

“No!” Brian shouted. “We can’t let you do that.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Jer said. “It’s obviously what the gift is for.” Jer looked to Matt for support. 

Matt ran his hand through his hair, forgetting about his own burnt finger. “Jer’s right—it’s our only way. But if we’re going to do this, let’s do it right.”

The boys talked strategy. First, they made sure that every square inch of Jer was covered in oil. And just to be safe, every part of his armor and clothing as well. At Jer’s insistence, they also doused his cloak in the oil. 

“That way I can spread it out to keep the flames from you,” he explained. Fortunately, the brothers discovered that they could pour all the oil on Jer that they wanted, and there would still be more in the vial. Part of the enchantment, they supposed.

Finally, when Jer was dripping from helmet to boot in oil, the brothers practiced their technique for crossing the flames. They decided to hug the right side of the wall, with Jer holding out his cloak to cover his brothers as they shuffled along. It turned out that shuffling at top speed while covering two people with a cloak was difficult work. Jer was suddenly grateful his dad made him do so many basketball drills on proper defensive technique. After a couple practice shuffles at the entrance, the brothers decided they were as ready as they’d ever be.

Jer spread out his cloak. Matt and Brian both ducked beneath it. “Last chance,” Matt said. “You don’t have to do this.”

”Yes, I do,” Jer replied. 

He stood at the threshold of the flames. He knew that this was going to hurt more than anything he could imagine. But he shook those thoughts away. Fretting about it wouldn’t change what he had to do. 

“On three,” he said to his brothers. “One…two…THREE!”

The flames hit Jer’s back with a pain so intense it took his breath away. He kept his arms spread for the cloak, and focused on shuffling as fast as he could. The pain grew with each step, biting and searing and overwhelming his body. But underneath the pain, Jer could feel his body was still intact. The fire could cause him pain, but it couldn’t actually hurt him. So he kept his legs going. 

“Faster!” Jer shouted at his brothers. His feet scrambled and his legs and back and head and arms were a flame but he kept going. Finally, after seconds that felt like eternity and a day, they made it to the other side. Jer collapsed on the ground. Even as he fell to the stone, he felt instant and total relief.

The oil had worked. The pain was over. They had made it through. 

At least, they were through the flames. Now they had to worry about the next obstacle.