Nicholas- the Fantastic Origin of Santa Claus

by Cody W Urban

  Tryggr opened the double doors they previously hacked through and just as the bright morning light broke forth into their midst, so did a barrage of arrows flown from obscurity. As the front wave of Krampus fiends dropped holding their wounds and protruding arrows stuck into their flesh, the warriors turned and there they beheld eight bow-bearing Elves dressed in crimson cloaks. “Belay that order!” Hákon shouted with a renewed resolve. “Stand your ground or get out of their line of sight!”

  With so much at stake, it seemed an arbitrary act to stand and soak in the moment that Lysander first met an immortal being of legend, though every human present who had attended Nicholas’s tales of Alfheim desired it greatly. So he took this as a moment of providence granting him the means to slip past the engaged Krampus gang and rush down a trail carved into the hillside, down toward the red pit.

  It wasn’t a long hike, and the downhill slope provided him with great acceleration as he ran down and first found himself amidst large metal kilns, burning pits of coal, smoking vats of molten metal, chains, and weapons. He heard commotion and ran in further with his sword ready to meet whatever he found, and discovered his vision was correct. There he found a cage with four dirty and sweaty children crammed inside. They sat in a state of amazement but didn’t stir much at sight of him.

  “Stay there, I will get ye out!” Lysander said in a panic. It wasn’t until he had already found a large hammer beside an anvil when he realized the redundancy of ordering shackled individuals to remain where they were.

  He raised the hammer behind his head and with a mighty stroke he beat the lock and shattered it. “Come! You are free!” he proclaimed. The children moved at a snail’s pace with disinterested expressions; a puzzling event to Lysander at first until he recalled the state of many children he had liberated from the Artemis Temple earlier. The children were in a state of brainwash and progressive hypnotism to become drone servants at Vasilis’ bidding. It seemed to keep a lasting spell whether they were chained or not. It made Lysander shudder at the thought of arriving a month or more later, and what he may have found in these cages then.

  “Lysander!” shouted a familiar boy’s voice. “Is that you?”

  He looked around, past an assembly line where weapons were forged, and found another profusion of similar cages filled with similar children and in one, front and center, sat Pete. “Pete?” Lysander asked, looking through the haze and sweat that dripped into his vision. As he approached it, he was beyond doubt that he had found Pete in a place he had never expected to. “Pete! It is you! How did ye get in here? Nicholas sure will be glad to see ye are well.”

  “Is Father well?” Pete asked.

  “He has led both man, animal, and supernatural forces here to rescue you all!” Lysander said. He struck down the hammer upon another lock and released Pete and the other stoic children in his midst. As Lysander went to free more captives, Pete rushed to the assembly line and lifted a hefty dagger. He looked upward toward a high ledge and saw sparks from swords clashing amidst moving shadows and striking blows, and he caught a glimpse of red moving about. He knew that his beloved father figure was risking all to save him.

  “Follow me, children. This way,” Lysander instructed just after opening the final cage, and he began to lead them toward the path he had taken down there. As he neared it, he caught sight of Pete venturing toward another staircase. “Pete! Not that way! Where are ye off to?”

  “I am going to find and help Father!” Pete replied and before Lysander could debate the issue with him, Pete vanished in a full sprint out of his sight. Then Lysander too raised his gaze up to the three shadowy figures locked in an ambitious battle.

  Up there, on the high precipice, truly was an epic battle. Not just one between two sworn enemies fighting over property like most wars fought, but it was a personification of the age-old duel between good and evil. And Nicholas clashed, emboldened by knowing that he represented the good that he believed in since he was a young boy—a good that would always prevail over evil. With each stroke, Nicholas had to work twice as fast and hard to fend off both foes without exhausting what little energy he held after the long night before he succumbed to weariness.

  Ru’Kas slashed Nicholas's arm with such brute force that it tore the red sleeve and his skin beneath. Nicholas stepped back in pain and before he could recover he had to defend himself from Vasilis as well. But he never let the stakes dissolve from his forethoughts. He focused his mind on Nysa, on Pete, and on his loved ones. Moreover he focused on the malevolence he struggled to rid the world of; a wickedness he had determined he was disposed to lose all to destroy. He fought both his nemesis and the devil’s right hand servant valiantly with all his skill and speed. So it came as a gut-wrenching shock to realize that after years of training, planning, and preparation that though he was the representative of undefeatable good, he just didn’t quite have it in him.

  He tripped after evading Vasilis’ strike and blocking Ru’Kas’ assault at the same time and directly found himself hanging by one hand on the ledge over the fiery pit below. Ru’Kas and Vasilis stepped over him menacingly, inflated with pride and overconfidence.

  “Now is the time, Nicholas, to finish what should have been done long ago,” Vasilis said with the relief of already counting upon the impending demise of his rival. Ru'Kas lunged down to Nicholas, swinging his great sword until he paused, writhing and wrenching as a blade extended beyond his chest. Ru’Kas stumbled to his knees and fell to the side, continuously twisting. Nicholas watched in astonishment as the blade pulled away and behind it stood Pete, shaking in awe at his accomplishment. The one he came to save had now rescued him, and Nicholas for yet another time was overjoyed at evading a surely fatal situation. He and Pete smiled at each other for a brief moment before Vasilis snarled and swung at Pete. Nicholas quickly raised his other arm that held his sword and slashed at Vasilis’ leg, cutting through muscle and tendon, and took him down.

  After crying out in pain he tripped away, thrashing in frustration. Pete reached out to help Nicholas climb back up, but just as he did Ru’Kas assailed him. The menace, who typically takes little time at all to recover from even seemingly fatal wounds, was now moving with refreshed vitality. Pete evaded the creature in a panic and scrambled away from the two swinging blades wielded by the grotesque scoundrel. Pete rushed back, moving with youthful agility, evading the sharp edges, until he fell back against a wall. He tried to defend himself with no other option but to raise his dagger, but it was to no avail as upon impact with Ru’Kas’s blade, it was instantly flung from his grasp. With no option but to utilize what lay at hand, Pete wittingly grabbed a lit torch from the wall and shoved the fire into the dark monster’s face.

  Ru’Kas bellowed from burning pain and tore the torch away from the boy. The menace was about to blindly cut him asunder when Nicholas vaulted into it and slammed it against the stone wall. It turned to strike Nicholas with limited visibility and Nicholas ducked and popped back up on his rear and then kicked the creature over the ledge to plummet down into the pit.

  Nicholas didn’t offer time to watch the foe fall but turned to hug his friend. “Pete!” he cried out. Just when the two were about to embrace, Pete was pulled away and as Nicholas followed him he watched in disbelief as Vasilis flung the boy over the ledge just behind Ru’Kas. “No!” Nicholas cried out.

  He ran to the ledge and looked over just in time to see Pete grab onto suspended chains and hang on tight. “You throw mine over, I do the same to yours!” Vasilis grunted. Nicholas turned ready to cut him into pieces, when Vasilis limped hurriedly over to another chain and swung on it out into the web of chains. He slammed a mean kick into Pete, thrusting him away from his safety net.

  Pete fell and landed painfully onto a smaller net of crossing chains just over a vat of molten metal. Where his body collided with the metal links he felt sharp jabs of pain—miniscule injuries to the molten liquid below him he could have fallen into. He looked around in terror to guard himself
should Vasilis plant another boot upon him but his vision turned blurry. Sweat dripped into his eyes and his skin began to swelter upon the heated links dangling over the fires below. He desperately needed his father.

  Nicholas didn’t give the situation much thought before quickly grabbing a chain himself and he swung out toward Pete. Riding the metal vine, he flew feet from Pete, but Vasilis intercepted mid-swing with another strong kick that nearly tore Nicholas’s fingers from the links. As Nicholas came to the apex of his returning swing, he ran his sword at Vasilis who narrowly deflected it with his.

  Below, on the floor, Ru’Kas recovered from the fall and stood up next to the vat below Pete. Even with his near invincibility, a five-story fall onto rocky ground broke his arm. He growled and groaned, but when he gazed upward and saw Pete struggling in the metal web, no broken limb could stop him. He grabbed the chain attached to the vat and clambered up, drooling at the thought of capturing the boy above.

  As Nicholas came down again, he successfully landed a hard enough blow upon Vasilis and knocked him away. Nicholas then snagged a chain among those bearing Pete, stopped his momentum, then started climbing down toward Pete. Vasilis swung to a small ledge in the rocky hillside and landed painfully upon his gashed leg. He supported himself by keeping tension on the chain and frowned at seeing Nicholas moving down to rescue the lad. Knowing that he fared a better chance at reaching the boy before his servant, Vasilis clutched the chain, got his footing and ran a short sprint, gathering speed, and finally vaulted out heading right for Nicholas. He put his feet out in front of him and slammed a vengeful kick into Nicholas’s side that sent him flying into a free fall.

  He fell toward the vat of molten metal and just scarcely managed to grab a hoist-chain before plunging in. The sudden stop made him lose grip on his sword and it continued to plummet down toward the vat. Nicholas watched in shock as his sword landed in the molten metal and sank down, turning an emblazoned red as it bubbled and submerged into the bright liquid. The red ribbon tied to the hilt caught on fire briefly before it turned into a mere glimpse of black soot.

  Nicholas had carried that sword bearing the last gift Nysa had given him for so long that it felt like watching part of him melt into total annihilation. It wasn’t a long moment to grieve however, as before he knew it he sensed Vasilis swing at him again. He glanced over and spied his foe holding his sword ready to slay him. Making a quick decision, Nicholas dropped a few feet, grabbed the chain, stopped just below the attacking blade, and then grabbed Vasilis' bleeding leg. Nicholas squeezed the gash he sliced earlier and pulled hard on him.

  Searing pain shot throughout Vasilis’ body as he swung back. Nicholas released his chain and put his whole weight into his enemy’s wounded limb, the strain became entirely too unbearable, making him fall and the two dropped down into a pile of coal just beside the vat. Nicholas landed upon the lumps, rolled, and tripped over onto the ground. After such a long night of stress and physical exertion, Nicholas found himself rather tired as he rolled over on his back. There he found Vasilis limping over him and extending a sword toward his chest.

  Nicholas felt for his sword by force of habit then recalled its demise and soon found himself in a vulnerable position with few options. But as his luck had carried, or by continuous acts of providence he now believed in, he heard a bark. Juno leapt into the scene and sank her teeth into Vasilis' neck. He screamed and tried to fight the wolf. Just when he removed her, his vision met Nicholas’s fist. Vasilis lost his footing and landed into a cog supporting the vat. Nicholas turned a crank, slightly tilting the vat, and crushed Vasilis’ left arm and pinned the gear to halt. From his gashed leg, his bleeding neck, and now crushed arm, Vasilis was a wet mess of anguish.

  Nicholas paid him no mind for the moment, however, and knelt down and hugged his wounded wolf friend whom he was desperately hoping wasn’t gravely injured. “Thank you, girl,” he said softly into her furry ears.

  Just then he heard Pete cry out for him and Nicholas returned to the events around him and saw the livid Ru'Kas was nearly within reach of stranded Pete, climbing slowly with one arm. “Nicholas!” Pete called out in dread at sight of his pursuer now within feet of him. “Father, please!” Until now, Pete had been trying to remain calm and emotionally collected despite his discomfort dangling among the hard metal chains. Now, the sweltering heat and the nauseating fumes rising from the vat below him, coupled with sight of a horrendous creature scaling his hungry teeth toward him, pushed him well past the brink of rational calmness.

  Nicholas, with only his bow and a single arrow left, strung the arrow, aimed, and shot. Almost no thought passed through his mind as he did it, for his mind operated in the instinct of the Elves by now. The arrow flew through space swiftly and unswervingly in the direction of Ru’kas’s head. However, with stunning reflexes, it snapped around and caught the arrow with the hand of his broken arm, holding it just inches from his eyes. It snarled a malevolent drooling grin and grumbled something that in its sinister way sounded remotely like a mocking laugh.

  With that grim giggle, Ru’Kas crushed the arrow and glared at Nicholas who was now without options. Ru’Kas began to climb, but stopped all of the sudden. A stray arrow punctured his head from behind and he ceased moving, petrified. Both Nicholas and Pete looked to see where the arrow came from. Lo and behold, the archer was Tomte. Holding his bow, he stood on the platform with Lysander watching from the distance. In need of rapidly recovering, as he typically could, Ru’Kas lost his grip on the chains and turned limp. The dark corpse fell down into the vat of molten metal and splashed into a heap of flames.

  4

  A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,

  For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

  Amidst the battle with the Norse warriors, the Elves, Orestes Pancras, and the three remaining Roman soldiers, the Krampus all paused by some revelation through a sixth sense. Though clearly they were affected by a sense of smell, for while they paused they began to sniff the air, something illusive seemed to drain from them. As though a great burden had been lifted from their shoulders, it seemed they had become free agents, albeit still agents of iniquity and violence. The death of Ru’Kas, who was supernaturally capable of withstanding immense pain and rapidly regenerating from wounds, was utterly unable to recover from dissolving within liquefied metal which finally freed the Krampus horde to move at their own bidding—the spell had been broken. At this moment, their newfound sense of direction was to head to the source of the coal they smelled. Baffling all those who were locked in battle with them, the last twenty-some Krampus turned and ran down into the pit.

  There, all in unison, they came before Vasilis, pinned by the cog, and stopped to inspect the scene in their feeble intellect. For so long they had worked at the whims of this man, now it was rather strange new territory to not bend for him, now they wished to injure the one covered in coal dust.

  Nicholas helped Pete climb up a chain and when Pete reached the ledge, Nicholas lifted him up into his arms and embraced him tightly. “Pete. I thought I had lost you,” Nicholas said. Tears nearly filled Nicholas’s eyes.

  “I knew you’d come, Father. I never gave up,” Pete replied, overjoyed to finally receive the long awaited hug from his adopted father figure. It was his first hug ever since his brother hugged him the day before he vanished.

  “Will you kill me, Bishop?” Vasilis asked, watching the Krampus walk in closer to him. “For the boy to behold, ye would allow such carnage?”

  “Even death and hell aren’t fully what you deserve. You drove Nysa-“ Nicholas said when Vasilis interrupted.

  “She is alive!” he snapped. “I swear it.” Nicholas sensed Vasilis lied with the motive that Nicholas would rescue him only to be able to properly stab him in the back as Flavius was sent to do. Nevertheless, Nicholas listened to that innermost voice that told him this may be his only shot at seeing Nysa again. Nicholas jumped and slid down the hill and held out his mistletoe toward the Krampus and
they halted and growled, not moving a step closer. Without Ru’Kas’ enforcing spell, they were back to their natural aversion to the herb.

  “Cease your lies, Vasilis!” Nicholas said as he approached him with a clenched fist. Nicholas grabbed Vasilis by the collar and lifted him up. “Do you think I would be so easily fooled? You wish to prolong your fate by-“

  “Free me and I will take you to her,” he said. Nicholas knew entirely that Vasilis was a master of lies, so either he spoke the truth or made himself appear to be doing so. Either way the thrill of hope to finally see the woman he loved won his inner debate between mind and heart. He released the cog letting Vasilis loose.

  On the way to the cell they were soon greeted by the others, but before they could speak, Nicholas raised his hand, “My friends, we shall greet properly in due time. Until then this filth shall work to spare his life by bringing me to Nysa.” They all followed Vasilis and Nicholas, who walked silently as his belly filled with butterflies. His palms sweat and he developed a lump in his throat as he nervously prepared himself for two options: either Nysa was alive and he would at last be with her—something terribly exciting and yet he wasn’t sure if he could face her for fear she had lost her feelings for him—or Vasilis lead them all to a trap and she really was gone. In either case he was comforted at having those whom he loved, the ones who supported him and traversed the continent to aid him, at his side.

  After climbing an outdoor staircase and crossed a high precarious causeway they finally reached a tall spire and stood before an iron door. Vasilis, with a resenting frown under his bruised and bloody face, nodded and then opened the creaking door. When Vasilis moved to step in first he found axe blades, swords, and spear tips in his path and several grim expressions silently telling him not to budge in the slightest. Nicholas took in a deep breath and slowly stepped into the cell.