Yuletide Knights 3

by Johnny Miles

  Santa’s Workshop Unlimited also took pride in being the most eco-friendly company in all the realms, especially Earth. They boasted a lack of child labor, and nothing was outsourced. Everything was made in-house, much with magic, thus ensuring any Elf who wanted to work at SWU the opportunity to do so. Even now, running at full capacity, Elves still clamored to get a position at the workshop.

  Pay was more than fair or adequate. No one was insulted or exploited with disgustingly low or disparate wages. But it was their benefits Earth-realm companies laughed and sneered at: on-site daycare for children and pets? Full medical paid for by the company with no exceptions or limits to pre-existing conditions? They didn’t even have deductibles! To say nothing of the flex hours, generous sick and vacation leave—not that most Elves ever took a day off in their lives—plus the cafeteria—where Emeril, Gordon, and Puck had all been guest chefs—with gourmet lunches and dinners, all subsidized, again by SWU.

  When times had been rough, they’d suffered through the economy together. When times were good, they all blossomed, enjoying the financial boon as one. Not that they needed the money. The Elvish way of life was more about barter and helping their fellow Elf rather than hoarding coin and paper. Money was just the icing on the cupcake, in case any of them ever wanted to leave the North Pole and try their luck in any of the other realms, as many had done in the past.

  “You’ve a full day ahead as you make your rounds,” Garland said, bringing Kris back to the present. “And Evergreen is in your office, working on logistics for the upcoming deliveries.”

  Kris made a mental calculation. It would be at least nine hours before he’d get to Evergreen, ten if he stopped for lunch or early dinner on the way. It was a shame that his rounds were so intensely time consuming, not to mention exhausting. But SWU was about personal interaction as well. Each Elf was crucial to the continued success of their symbiotic relationship.

  “Then I guess I’d better get on. Thank you, Garland.” Kris clapped the receptionist on the shoulder and walked past her. He placed a hand on the digital print reader beside a door with an innocuous sign that read SWU MEMBERS ONLY. The door swung open, granting access, and Kris stepped through to a small vestibule with another door before him.

  Kris let the first door close behind him and stood still a moment. Suddenly there was a gust of air and a whirring sound as the walls glowed blue, retracted slightly from grooves along the floor and ceiling, then revolved around him, scanning to ensure no spies, bugs, or unscrupulous person had snuck through. Few ever broke into SWU to see firsthand their trade secrets, but those who did frequently lived to regret it.

  The walls slid back into place once Kris was past the body scanner. He walked down a corridor with specialized workshops on either side. He stepped into the first one and was immediately struck by a sense of melancholy. He gazed about the large room with row upon row of wooden tables littered with various tools, bits, and parts as well as raw material. As he stood there, Kris absorbed the sound of Elven chatter and the busy hum of energy as they made toys the old-fashioned way…by hand. This was what Kris remembered the most when he’d been recruited and became Santa Claus more than 150 years ago.

  “Santa!” the Elves cried out, almost as one. It was like the sound of applause, wave after wave of warm love surrounding and engulfing him. The sensation had a hugely energizing effect, and Kris briefly wondered if this was anything like what actors felt when audiences applauded them after a performance. If so, his life would be difficult to give up, and truth be told, he’d missed it the last time he’d stepped down from his post.

  But at the rate things were going, it seemed a replacement might never be found or at the very least would be a long time in coming.

  No! Stop that. We have no room for negative thoughts here.

  Putting on a huge smile, Kris laughed. It was a rich and hearty sound.

  “Ho, ho, ho!”

  Jolly Kris walked about the large room, greeting each Elf by name. He enquired about them, after their families, their loved ones. And each Elf, pleased they’d been asked and that Kris had taken an interest, regaled him with updates.

  It was at least an hour before Kris left the first workshop to enter the next. There, he repeated the process before moving to the next workshop. And so on and so on, until he’d visited each workshop on the first floor and moved on to the second with three more levels to go.

  Each workshop Kris entered became more complex, depending on what they produced. With increased complexity came less and less Elven contact, which meant that the tiredness Kris had felt when he first walked in that morning had once again taken hold. By the time Kris got to his office on the top floor, he’d barely made it across the threshold before slumping into an overstuffed chair behind his boat of a desk carved from mahogany.

  And I’m supposed to make one more trip in this condition?

  Kris wondered what would happen if he were ever too tired to fulfill his obligations. It had never happened before. Then he quickly pushed the thought from his mind. He had no choice. He’d made a vow to the Elders—to uphold magic and hope, spread cheer and goodwill on Earth—when sworn into his post as Santa Claus. He would honor the tradition and make the trek come hell or high water. Never mind that there was less magic to help him along the way, thus forcing him to use some of his own personal energy. Too many people depended on him, the least of which were the children. Kris couldn’t let any of them down, and he couldn’t afford negative thoughts. They had a way of becoming tangible. Giving in to negativity would be like giving up hope they would ever find a replacement or a solution, let alone an answer, to the dwindling supply of magic and Magicals. Goodness only knew what ramifications his thoughts would have.

  “And what condition might that be, sir?”

  Kris jumped at the unexpected voice.

  “Damnit, Evergreen! You startled me.” He’d forgotten about the Elf, then realized he hadn’t guarded his thoughts.

  “What condition were you referring to, sir?” The serious-looking Elf—one of the oldest except for the Elders, who were even older still—peered out from behind an oversize flat-screen computer monitor. Unrolled maps yellowed with age and tied with ribbons, along with stacks of reports Kris knew from experience would contain travel routes, flanked Evergreen.

  “I…I wasn’t referring to any condition, Evergreen. Besides, that was a private thought. You shouldn’t have been listening.”

  “Forgive me, but…it’s just that you thought it so loudly.” There was a hint of concern on the Elf’s face.

  Kris gave a nervous laugh and realized he would need to be more careful. It wouldn’t do to slip and let someone witness a moment of the increasingly debilitating weakness he’d been feeling the past thirty years. The relationship between Elf and Santa, solid as it was, could easily become brittle and thus unravel once an ounce of doubt entered the picture.

  “I’m fine, Evergreen. Truly.” Kris did his best to conceal his faux pas. Then, because the Elf still stared expectantly and with more worry, Kris felt obligated to say more. Surely it wouldn’t be all that bad to admit he was tired?

  “I’m just getting old, is all. The weekly walkthroughs… They sometimes leave me…a bit winded.”

  Evergreen seemed to process Kris’s comment, then blinked and went back to work.

  “Have you been taking your vitamins since you woke up from your healing sleep?” Evergreen’s voice was now slightly muffled. “You need to take your vitamins. Get some exercise in too. Hit the treadmills. Go cross-country skiing.”

  Kris hadn’t realized his health was the topic of discussion among the Elves.

  “What about lifting weights? You used to be fond of that. Remember when you won the National Weightlifting Championship on Earth Realm in 1975?”

  Kris smiled fondly, remembering how everyone had lusted after him when he was what they now called ripped and buff. He could have had anyone, male or female, but the only one he’d wanted was Bucket.


  “Of course, there might also be something going around.”

  Kris felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach.

  “How do you mean?” Kris cleared his throat.

  “Well…” Evergreen started and paused. Kris noted the way the Elf furrowed his brow, clearly uncertain what to make of the facts. “My wife has been complaining lately of being…fatigued.” The word hung in the air between them, neither question nor statement, but more of a curiosity. Things like fatigue simply did not exist in the Elven world.

  “How long has she been…complaining of this…fatigue?” Kris knew Evergreen’s wife, knew of her charities in the Earth Realm. Her energy seemed boundless, no matter the event, from concept to planning to execution. And to hear this news was indeed odd.

  “Hmmm. I’m…not certain,” Evergreen said, deep in thought, then shrugged. “A year? Maybe two? I don’t really remember. It could be thirty for all I know. What I do know is that no matter how much sleep she gets, it never seems to be enough. Now I think on it, her brother’s not been himself, either. Nor has…”

  Kris tuned Evergreen out, lost in his worry and concern that what might be happening at the North Pole could be greater than all of them. It was one thing for an Elf to feel as he did, quite another for an Elf—especially one like Evergreen, who had always been focused on numbers, travel plans, and logistics—to take notice of another’s maladies. And even when they did, it was to speak of someone’s broken limb or shattered bones. To say nothing of an Elf’s passing. That alone gave cause to shut down all but the most vital of businesses at the North Pole so each and every Elf could honor their brethren in meditation, on their return to the Source, the origin of all energy that could never be destroyed. An Elf’s birth also shut down the North Pole, but those days tended to be joyful events and full of revelry.

  This, however, was entirely different. Tiredness, fatigue, exhaustion. These words were not frequently heard in the Elven community and rarely, if ever, were cause to take note.

  “I think it’s all this technology,” Evergreen said with a certain finality.

  “Technology, you say? How so?” Kris leaned forward in his chair. Evergreen’s comment, innocent though it was, piqued Kris’s interest and made him wonder.

  “Well, it’s all energy, isn’t it? That’s the power source of these things.” Evergreen stood, strode to Kris’s desk, and laid out his cell phone, a handheld laptop no bigger than a paperback book, and his fitness device, which he removed from his wrist. “These things might not be a naturally-occurring energy like human, plant, and animal life force or even planetary vibrations, but it’s energy nonetheless.”

  “Go on.” Kris rubbed his chin absentmindedly, observing Evergreen as he grew more excited and began to pace.

  “We are energy. Naturally occurring energy, that is. You. Me. Weather. Plants. The food we grow in our greenhouses. The animals we feed and take care of as well as the wild ones we share the North Pole with. We’re all energy. We affected by it. We respond to it. Therefore, since we are energy and these are energy, it stands to reason that we’re affected by all of this technology we wear, use, and create here.”

  Kris was silent.

  “Uhhh…sorry, Kris. I—I didn’t mean to…you know. My wife is always telling me I get a bit too carried away with my thoughts sometimes. She says I have scientific notions of grandeur.”

  “No, no, Evergreen. I wasn’t—”

  “Don’t worry. I assure you I haven’t gone off the deep end. Let’s just get back to these plans, shall we?” Evergreen turned and walked back to his desk, where he immediately piled massive reports in the order they were to be looked at and approved.

  Kris remained seated, unable to move. Was there any truth to Evergreen’s theory? Could the long-term tiredness Kris had been feeling be a direct result of the pulse discharge from all that unnatural energy? There had been a measurable surge far different from the life force that emanated at the North Pole. But could it be that simple? If it were the case, if the effects could be proven, they’d have something to work with. They could take precautions when using technology, assuming they still wanted to use products proven to have such effects.

  But what of Magic? Could the increased use of technology be the reason why Magic was declining?

  Kris opened his mouth to ask Evergreen if he thought the loss of technology could affect Magic, then decided against it.

  No. That feels different. Something sinister’s afoot.

  Kris stood and strode toward Evergreen.

  “I, ummm…I hadn’t realized you’d given the matter so much thought. It makes sense. The way you’ve explained it, I mean. When Bucket and I return from Christmas rounds, I’ll request a meeting with the Elders. You can present your hypothesis to them, and if they’re in agreement, perhaps you’d head the research?”

  “Me? Are you kidding? I’d be—”

  Kris stopped mere feet away from Evergreen, interrupted by a single incoming message loud enough to stop a herd of reindeer in flight.

  “Kris? I found one.”

  “Kris? What is it? Is something wrong?” Evergreen jumped to his feet, immediately on guard.

  “It’s Bucket,” Kris replied, then turned his attention to his lover. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Bucket replied a moment later. “And, Kris? I think he might be related to Gavin.”

  Kris jerked as though zapped by a live wire. If what Bucket said was true, then they’d have to act quickly. Magicals, once found, had an odd way of disappearing.

  “Evergreen, please go and ask Melchior to ready the sleigh and be on standby. I might need to travel at a moment’s notice. And hurry! We’ve no time to lose.”

  Evergreen rushed from the room. Kris then closed his eyes and envisioned Bucket honing in on his location. He placed the tip of one finger up to his nose. The office seemed to disappear around him, flickering as he dematerialized. He experienced a moment of free fall and was suddenly slammed with a G-force so powerful it made him want to throw up. If he lived a thousand years, he doubted he’d ever truly get used to traveling in that fashion.

  Seconds later he materialized in the surveillance room before Bucket.

  Kris took a moment to catch his breath and swallow back the bile in his throat. He placed a hand at the back of Bucket’s neck and squeezed with an excited urgency that made his cock stir.

  “Show me,” Kris said. And Bucket did.

  Chapter Seven

  “So? What do you think?” Bucket glanced hopefully at Kris, who sat in an office chair beside him. Bucket couldn’t mask the hint of pride in his voice. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know. Probably.” Kris stared with rapt fascination at the computer monitor as the recorded images looped again. He leaned toward the keyboard and hit Pause, observing the anger on the burly man’s face. Kris reached out with his mind and tried to connect across the realms, noting the man’s thick but well-groomed beard, the mass of flaming red hair with natural streaks of orange. “He certainly looks like Gavin.”

  “What do you mean he looks like Gavin? He’s the spitting image of your predecessor.” Bucket swatted Kris’s hand away from the keyboard and hit the Play button. The large muscled bruiser stood in the parking lot one moment and disappeared the next. The two other men standing then fell to the ground, first the older, then the younger.

  “It has to be him. It just has to be.” Bucket’s voice was soft and small, suddenly tremulous with fear.

  “There’s no doubt he’s a Magical, but I won’t know for sure if he’s Gavin’s kid until we’re in the boy’s presence. I need a more accurate read on his energy.”

  “And if he’s not?” Bucket swallowed hard.

  “We’ll know for sure, regardless. Either way, I must get to him. The sooner the better. What is that place?” Kris pointed at the screen. “And can you put a trace on him to see where he’s gone? I highly doubt he’s still there.”

  Bucket’s finger
s were a blur as he typed. He hit Enter and another image—this one live, not recorded—flickered on his screen. A large marble building, imposing and officious, loomed in the background as the handcuffed redhead stepped out of an Ashewoode police vehicle and was escorted up the stairs.

  Kris groaned.

  “What is it?” Bucket asked. Kris didn’t speak, but a memory surfaced, so strong and powerful Bucket didn’t need to read his lover’s mind. Bucket sat back in his chair, saddened that after all this time there were still things he couldn’t help with. In the heavy silence Bucket felt Kris’s past surround and haunt them as surely as if it were his own.

  “Listen, Kris. I…” Bucket leaned toward Kris and took one of Kris’s large brown hands in both of his. Bucket searched for the right words. When he finally spoke, it was with trepidation. He didn’t want to sound insensitive. “I’d be lying if I said I know how you must feel. I can’t imagine what it must have been like. Being in chains. I can’t even fathom how men could do…how they justified—”

  “A hundred and fifty years, Bucket.” There was a throaty, faraway quality to Kris’s voice, mingled with sadness yet laced with a hint of awe. “You’d think I’d be…over that…other part of my life, but…I mean, there’s no reason why the past should still have such a hold on me. Not after being Santa Claus all this time. Not since you’ve been in my life.”

  Bucket turned Kris’s hand over and raised it to his lips. He planted a gentle kiss on the lifeline, then delicately traced a finger along the path. A shimmering glow appeared and faded almost immediately.

  “That’s all in the past now, Kris. Where it belongs.”

  “I know, but…it’s like it’s a piece of my soul. I don’t know if I’ll ever forget. I…frankly don’t know that I want to.”

  “Does it serve a purpose?” Bucket traced the lifeline along Kris’s other hand. The glow appeared once more. It shimmered as before but for a bit longer. It faded seconds later as Bucket planted another kiss on the palm of Kris’s hand. It wasn’t much Magic but quite old and highly effective. Bucket could already feel Kris letting go of his brutal, painful past.