Nicholas- the Fantastic Origin of Santa Claus

by Cody W Urban

  “That is a disappointment that you also share in the delusions of the feeble-minded,” the magistrate replied.

  “Aye! Let them both be taken to the gallows for their treason and deception,” Vasilis ordered.

  “Not too hasty, Governor,” the magistrate snapped, holding out his hand to stay the movement of the surrounding soldiers from seizing the Rider. “It is clear the people you have been empowered to rule in the name of Rome have resulted to concocting this tissue of deceit only to make a strong argument that you are failing as their Governor. Rome may be made of iron, but our citizens’ strength keeps it.”

  “My lord,” Vasilis replied, his feigned humility and fealty eroding away, “I still see no reason to abdicate upon the whims of this masked rider and rouge politician.”

  “Yet you will see, Vasilis,” Nicholas shouted. “The people of Lycia have seen you beaten and will rise in opposition of your rule, should Rome not supplant you for a more competent Governor.”

  “Governor Vasilis,” the magistrate said, growing weary with the needless debate, “witnesses we all are of your gamble. It is my decision for the good of the empire to cut our losses with you, for this sole individual has made it evident that the public sees you as a tyrant. Rome requires taxes, verily, yet it seems clear your books are erroneous due to your alleged treachery. There will be civil unrest in the people by what has taken place this night should ye not resign.”

  “Humph,” Vasilis replied with a sneer as he looked off toward the northwest. Nicholas followed his gaze and saw the horde of Krampus rising up from the pits below them and others swarming in from the hillsides where they were sent to stop the Scarlet Rider. His gut sank with anxiety as he now felt unsure about what he could do. Vasilis said, through a cunning smirk, “I disagree with you, for word of this night will never reach the Emperor. The next time he sees me I shall be marching with a host of my warriors to seize control of the realm.” Around them all, a horde of Krampus rose up, armed with chains, branches, clubs, and crooked swords. The magistrate stepped back in terror into the arms of his soldiers for protection and cowered. Vasilis threw away his efforts for keeping a loyal countenance, smirked malevolently, and nearly chuckled watching his superior recoil like a pussycat from hounds. “Meet what the children of Lycia will develop into: my army to be.”

  Nicholas looked around at the monsters surrounding them and gasped, “Children?”

  “Oh yes, Rider,” Vasilis said. “Though they can procreate on their own, their numbers multiply when they abduct young children and mold and warp them into Krampus themselves. The process takes about a decade, but it shant be that long before they are able bodied warriors with no minds of their own save for obeying my bidding!”

  “My word!” gasped the magistrate. “These devils operate with you? What heresy is this?”

  “The one I tried to tell you of!” Nicholas replied. “The people of Lycia have been fighting this dark sinful lot for far too long and should Vasilis fall, so too shall they for it is he whom they obey!”

  “Ha ha! Indeed, they do obey me,” Vasilis said while he raised his hands, drunk with power. “Behold! Krampus! Slay them all!” The instant Vasilis uttered the words, the Krampus attacked the Roman soldiers and overwhelmed them, killing many straight away, and Vasilis watched in delight. Nicholas drew his bow and shot an arrow at one, not killing it, but slowing it down as it attacked a soldier in time for him to scramble away and rally together with the other soldiers to hold their ground.

  They surrounded the magistrate as best they could, yet their efforts were proven futile when a chain whipped through their shields and snatched the magistrate from them. He slid on the stone ground and shrieked as the Krampus pierced him with its twisted sword.

  Orestes and Nicholas drew their blades and stood back to back as other Krampus climbed the bridge supports and came up over the side to face them. “It is a pleasure to have you fighting with us finally,” Nicholas said.

  “I know now I would rather die a martyr for what is right than of old age cowering in dread of losing status for my beliefs,” Orestes replied. Vasilis watched in delight as his minions circled around his foes, walking slowly toward them. Though they lacked much intelligence, many of them had faced Nicholas before and so approached cautiously. Plus he was wearing mistletoe, and they had to swallow their aversion to it.

  “Yield, Scarlet Rider,” Vasilis shouted. “You alone may have accomplished an impossible feat this night, though for naught. You alone can do... nothing.”

  “I am not alone, Vasilis!” Nicholas replied hearing the remote bells chiming still. “For now behind me stand a choir of citizens singing for peace and freedom!”

  “Freedom? So utterly imprudent,” he grunted in reply. Then he insisted to his underlings darkly, “Slay him!”

  Nicholas locked eyes with the hairy horned enemies—the chain link cable-wielding sable-toned workers of wrath—and they all stepped forward in unison. Juno growled viciously, baring all her teeth, holding them back for the moment until their nerve obliged them to assail. Nicholas felt himself on the verge of despondency, yet wouldn’t succumb to dismay for he had the resolve to put his life on the line come victory or not. He knew that Pete was trapped here, therefore no matter what the cost, he would do all he could to help him. Even in the depths of his heart he held the unyielding speck of hope that Nysa was alive and it was well worth fighting to the death in the chance he could reach her. He just wasn’t sure how he allowed himself to be in such an ambush with no contingency plan. He glanced up to the Roman soldiers as they ran into a stairwell to escape the monsters on their heels and felt little comfort in knowing they were allied to him based upon a common enemy.

  The Krampus charged in and Nicholas clashed his sword with their weapons as Orestes fought at his back. As he slashed one Krampus away another was just behind it, and though Nicholas was holding his ground somewhat, it wasn’t long until he heard Orestes cry out in pain. Nicholas looked around and found that a barbed chain had struck him, the metal hooks bored into his flesh through his coat, and the heavy links slammed him to his knees. Nicholas fended the attacker off by slicing its arm free but in the move, he was fully vulnerable to the strike of the nearest Krampus. Before he could return to a guarding stance, a foe slammed down its club toward Nicholas’s head. To his surprise a whirling, airborne battleaxe struck the creature away before landing the lethal blow.

  It came as a shock to not only Nicholas but also to his attackers as well. Just as they all paused, they heard a horn blow and saw striped sails bathed in the orange light of the sun as it finally rose over the horizon. It was the sails of a Norse ship anchored along the coast of Kale. Charging up from it was an army of leather-clad, hairy warriors. Hákon, upon his horse, led the charge with Lysander just to his side and Tryggr, Snorre, Ranveig, and Baldrick just behind a large throng of savage invaders. They shouted a roaring cry of enthusiasm and courage as they stormed the bridge and plowed through the rear wall of the Krampus fighters.

  “To glory! To conquest! For Nicholas!” Hákon shouted as his forces crashed upon the Krampus like a vengeful tidal wave.

  As Lysander came up and struck his sword against the thick hairy hide of a monster, he turned and locked eyes with Nicholas, who gleamed with joy and thankfulness. “Nicholas! Go! Dispatch Vasilis!” Nicholas nodded and looked up to the floor where Vasilis previously stood and saw the space now vacant.

  2

  Truly He taught us to love one another,

  His law is love and His gospel is peace.

  Nicholas and Juno rushed through the dark forces and stormed the tower through a giant doorway to find their villain. The ruby rebel and the courageous canine dashed up a stairway to a stony causeway that led near a citadel just over a deep glowing pit of furnaces and gears where Krampus-slaves crafted weapons, chains, and armor. Other thick long chains hung from higher structures and hoists to maneuver vats of molten metal, containers of coal, or other necessary parts for man
ufacturing an army. When Nicholas rounded the corner, Juno stopped, the fur on her back rising in thick angst, and she bared her teeth.

  There at a doorway, beside a staircase that led down into the pit, stood Vasilis beside a Krampus who pulled an adorable, thin four-year-old girl with dark curly hair from a sack. She was red from tears and clutched a little stuffed doll Nicholas had made for her days prior. She was petrified in horror, wanting to scream but unable to as Vasilis looked at her with overbearingly cruel eyes.

  “Let her go, Vasilis,” Nicholas demanded in a bold, challenging tone. “You have lost.”

  “Doesn’t the pitiable size and feeble vigor of such a small creature not intrigue you, Rider? Like a small sapling she can be shaped, molded to the elements surrounding her upbringing,” he said with a soft tone concealing a deep madness. “I am capable of hurting her without apprehension of her retribution, or I can care for her. Or I can force her to love me, to obey me, to worship me even. From this meager size, this wretched little creature can develop into a tool at my disposal. Is that not fascinating?”

  “You continue to prove to me just how insane and corrupt you are,” Nicholas replied. “Let her go now or suffer further consequences.”

  “Consequences?!” he retorted with a huff. “I am master of my destiny! Would only you possess as much brain as earwax ye would have the sense of hearing my words, for I am law!”

  At that Nicholas sprang to action and pulled out his bow, strung an arrow, and shot it through the Krampus’s head. It fell dead instantly and the girl shrieked when she fell to the stones below her. Nicholas shouted, “Come hither, little one!”

  Vasilis drew his blade and set it near the girl’s throat. At that, Nicholas ran at him. This sent Juno the cue to strike and with greater speed she swiftly dove right at Vasilis’ neck, ready to sink her teeth in him. He quickly slashed her aside and Nicholas saw Juno flung away like a white flash with a high-pitched squeal before she fell to the ground and whimpered.

  “Juno!” he shouted in alarm. At sight of his close companion hurt and unmoving, rage struck him and he unleashed a barrage of attacks with his sword that Vasilis was skilled just barely enough to fend off. He had to step back to parry the strikes of Nicholas’s blade and he was pushed back at every blow that slammed upon him. The little girl scampered away from the feet of the brawling men and hugged the wounded wolf both for comfort and to offer consolation.

  Nicholas faked an attack that Vasilis moved to defend which brought his arms right where Nicholas wanted them, and in a swift move he knocked Vasilis to his back, sending his sword sliding out of reach. Nicholas strode just over his enemy and held the tip of his blade to Vasilis’ neck. Nicholas took a moment to let the dread sink into his adversary and to clear his thoughts from the gloomy fury. “Bring me Nysa,” he told him.

  “What would one who reeks of a swine monger want with her?” he countered with a scowl. Nicholas flung back his hood, revealed his face, and glared down upon the floored foe. Vasilis had an uncanny way of maintaining an austere, unsurprised attitude, even in such a precarious position. He grimaced still, unphased by the revealed Rider. “I had presumed at sight of that mangy dog that ye were either in cahoots with the Bishop or the very imbecile himself.”

  Nicholas leaned in and pressed his blade into Vasilis’ neck, just starting to break the skin. “Look closer. Deeper. Beneath the age and beard,” he directed. It was the moment he had been waiting for—the moment to reveal to the one who sentenced his execution to see he had lived. It was time for Vasilis to know that Nicholas survived and for the past seven years had been plotting his revenge—scheming the undoing of Vasilis. Nicholas reveled at Vasilis’ expression of powerlessness knowing that to him just the sense of susceptibility was torture.

  “Who are you?” he asked, peering at his assailant.

  “I am the one whom Nysa loved, who loved her before you stole her from me!” Nicholas told Vasilis, on the fringe of sinking the sword through his throat to end him for good.

  The revelation stung Vasilis as one feels from leaving a pitch-black tunnel and entering burning bright light. He felt betrayed himself by the one whom was supposed to finish the job. “You are that boy?” Vasilis asked in total alarm. For so long that deed had been out of his thoughts; he really didn’t even know the meaning of the word regret. Of course he only held remorse for not taking more pleasures out of life more often, never had he any regret for those whom he crushed for his own gain. Vasilis was without mercy to his core.

  “My name is Nicholas!” he announced with pride and power, clenching a fist as the breeze blew his red cloak about while he stood in triumph over his enemy.

  “What a pity,” Vasilis scoffed under the ignored sword. “Alas for you! Having spent nearly a decade plotting my downfall to rescue your teenage love like some romantic sap, only to find defeat. All this to save that wench long after the end of her pathetic life!”

  “You lie!” Nicholas stated with his teeth clenched, illogically presuming that the stronger he forced his blade against his enemy the more true it would make Nysa’s survival. He had come so far and through so much—there was no way he could so easily accept that Nysa was truly dead. He wasn’t sure what to believe, so with every cell of his being he ignored the dilemma and chose to believe she was still alive. The best way to prove it would be to harm the one who told him the lie. But all Vasilis would do was laugh and jeer at him. Nicholas raised his arm and was about to swing a fatal blow when his arm was grabbed by the shrouded figure from out of nowhere. With incredible strength, the cloaked opponent hurled Nicholas away into a stone wall with a heavy thud that knocked the air from his lungs.

  Nicholas crashed upon the floor and tried to recuperate as the black shroud was removed and the most malicious, gargantuan, and treacherous Krampus beast exposed itself to Nicholas’s eyes. Ru’Kas stood six and a half feet tall and had far less hair covering his bronze leathery skin. Jagged bones protruded from his skin and two goat-like horns stood from the sides of his head. He had pointed ears and a nose ring along with sunken orange eyes.

  “Ru’Kas, make him taste carnage as red as his robe!” Vasilis ordered, as he stood holding his bleeding neck. With his black-clawed hands, Ru’Kas drew two bent swords and gawked down at Nicholas who couldn’t seem to believe what he beheld. He noticed scars all over his opponent’s body, some from wounds Nicholas himself had inflicted, but he stood with bulging muscles and eager for a fight. Nicholas pushed himself, rose to his feet, and held his sword firmly.

  “I have felled many Krampus,” he stated positively.

  “Not this one, my foolish foe,” Vasilis said almost chuckling. “You have met and though you survived, you did not surmount him. Facing the both of us together is the preface to your imminent death.”

  “You have taken from me everything I held dear,” Nicholas said stoically. “What makes you think I wouldn’t fight to the death to bring ye both to your knees.”

  “To the death is the plan,” Vasilis grunted as he retrieved his blade. “I am master of destiny, I determine the prognostication of your anguish and then your demise. Trust me, it will happen no matter how long you struggle against it. Here my word is law.”

  “I fight on side of the one whose law is love and no sword against him can ever prevail!” Nicholas declared and charged in wielding his blade to the greatest speed and agility and strength he could muster and fought both Ru’Kas and Vasilis; driven by a passionate frenzy.

  3

  Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother,

  And in His name all oppression shall cease.

  Lysander sank his sword through the core of the Krampus he fought and dark blood splattered on his wrist. As he waved his arm to swing the muck off, he came to realize that he and the Scandinavian forces were winning the contest. To his left, Snorre fought alongside the last remaining handful of Roman soldiers and finished off the last Krampus monster there. “Victory is surely ours, gents!” Hákon declared ent
husiastically. “Secure the bridge. Ranveig, Snorre; you two bring a group and take that wing of the castle. The rest come with me!”

  Hákon wiped his sword in the fur of a fallen fiend, cleaning off the blood, and then rushed forward cautiously toward two tall wooden, iron reinforced, double-doors. It wasn’t long until his team of axe-wielders hacked a hole through it and were soon within the inner court. There, stones from above pelted them as another wave of Krampus flooded from every shadowy nook and stormed down upon them. Their blades soon met enemy chains and clubs as they battled through a seemingly endless swarm of dark beasts.

  Ranveig and Snorre battled through an enemy hold to guide two Roman archers to a lofty position. Once in place, the archers rained their arrows down upon the attackers to provide relief until they met yet another Krampus scourge at their level. It was all Ranveig and Snorre could do to protect the archers from the onslaught.

  After dodging the lashing chain-whip, Lysander found himself perilously at a high bluff over a deep pit and had to continue to parry attacks while keeping his balance. Finally, the chain struck a stone pillar and as it bounced off, Lysander grabbed it and pulled hard, tugging the Krampus right into his blade. Then as the creature lashed out at him, he swiftly twirled about like a pirouette and knocked the Krampus down into the pit.

  It was while the Krampus plummeted down upon rocks that Lysander took notice of the fiery glow from deeper and beyond a bend in the hill upon which the castle was built. As he strained his focus further he was able to see what appeared to be people locked in cages—not adults, but children. Just as he resolved to inform Hákon, who was in the middle of holding off an attacker, Ranveig cried out from above, “Captain! Our men fall slain!”

  It was a gloomy report; even the most proficient fighters needed to team together to fell a single Krampus unless by some cunning technique they could take one down alone. Everywhere Lysander looked was either a fallen Scandinavian soldier or a wounded one. Along with the bleeding Orestes, the Roman soldiers had lost two more to the Krampus since last Lysander noted and Ranveig was rearing from the hungry horde. “Fall back! The lot of you, fall back!” Hákon commanded.