Claus: The Trilogy

by Tony Bertauski

  She thought that perhaps there was a chance he was clinging to the edge, somewhere behind Frosty. She thought that if the abominable would just turn around and look, he would see her husband thrashing in the water. He could reach in and save him.

  If that brainless snowman didn’t turn around–

  Jessica leaped onto the icy slope, feet first. She slid only a few feet when she saw Frosty burst into snow and gust out of the arena like a storm cloud with Merry and Nog inside of it. The frosty squall hit Jessica and carried her with it.

  She clawed and screamed as she and the two elven tumbled through the crumbling hallway, out of the palace and into the night.

  She was carried to safety without her husband.

  C L A U S

  85.

  “I see him!” Jon pointed at the red streak in the night sky.

  Tinsel looked up and waved her arms. Rudy wouldn’t see, but he would feel her. The red light arched towards them and plummeted to the ice.

  “Get a sleigh over here!” Tinsel shouted. “Rudy can handle twenty benches, someone get one materialized and strapped!”

  “Twenty rows?” one of the assisting elven said. “That’s too much, Tinsel. He can’t launch with that much weight–”

  “Yes, he can.”

  Tinsel marched off to check the rest of the reindeer and sleighs that were loaded to full capacity. Donner was the smallest of the bunch, snorting and pawing at the ice. There wasn’t an inch of space left in the sleigh. He leaned into it and the rails crunched against the snow.

  “Get running, Donner.” Tinsel stroked his neck. He bent down so she could whisper in his ear. “If you can leap, do it. But if not, run as fast and as far as you can.”

  She rubbed his nose.

  “Get away from here.”

  Steam fired from his nostrils.

  And then he started forward. Slow at first. But then, step by step, he got the sleigh moving. Tinsel didn’t wait to see if he leaped. She turned her attention to the rest of the chaos.

  So many elven. So few reindeer.

  She felt the ice tremor.

  So little time.

  “Get more in the sleigh!” Tinsel smacked Vixen on the hindquarters. “She can pull more!”

  Vixen grunted. Load me up!

  The elven crowd was massive, mostly from the palace. They piled into the sleighs in orderly – slightly panicked – fashion. Parts of the palace had caved in, but the elven did not push or shove. They climbed aboard and waited for Tinsel to give the okay for takeoff.

  None of the reindeer could launch, but most of them had already run far enough away. They didn’t go in any particular direction, just away. They would be summoned to gather later.

  Just go.

  “That’s it!” Tinsel cried. “Go, Vixen! Get legs!”

  One last snort from the mighty reindeer and Vixen heaved ahead. The sleigh creaked in protest but gave way to the reindeer’s strength. Tinsel watched Vixen gather momentum, trotting into the night.

  They had used the last of their energy reserves to power self-propelled sleighs. Six-leggers – once vicious predators – now seemed like lost puppies, yapping in circles and following everything that moved. Tinsel kept her eye on them. It was hard to forget the predators that – hours earlier – wanted to eat them.

  What happened?

  CRACK, BOOM!

  Tinsel jumped.

  Half the palace collapsed.

  The roof just crumbled like crackers and sank into the water.

  Rudy was packed and ready. The elven in the sleigh began screaming for launch before the ice below them caved. But he was the last ride out. Once Rudy was gone, no one else would escape when the rest of the palace came down.

  Jon was stroking Rudy’s ears.

  “We have to go,” Jon said.

  “But they’re still in there.”

  “We’re risking the entire sleigh.”

  Tinsel looked around Rudy’s hindquarters. It wasn’t fair to ask the elven to stay, but Jocah was in there. Merry and Nog.

  Jon’s parents.

  But he was right. If he didn’t make her leave, she would stay there until the end. And then they’d all be dead.

  “All right–”

  FOOOOM!

  Something shot into the sky.

  It came from the center of the palace, a column of snow that was twisting and curling, arching away from them.

  What is that?

  The elven lost patience. They were shouting, banging on the sides of the sleigh. They couldn’t wait another second.

  Tinsel took Jon’s hand.

  A crack appeared in the ice behind him.

  “GO!”

  The palace imploded in slow motion.

  It fell into the water.

  Rudy heaved forward. The sleigh groaned. The ice cracked and popped as sheets snapped away from the perimeter of the collapsing palace. Snow flurries sprang into the air like dust, and the hole in the North Pole grew larger.

  It was gaining on them.

  “Faster!” Tinsel shouted from the front of the sleigh, looking back.

  Rudy bellowed and the sleigh picked up speed.

  It wasn’t going to be enough.

  Tinsel watched the cracks race after him.

  Rudy would never get airborne. She’d overpacked the sleigh. She waited too long.

  Elven were screaming.

  FOOM!

  Another blast shot from the crumbling palace, this one from the side and directly at them. It swirled like a comet with a long tail and it carried objects wrapped in big white arms.

  The ice broke beneath the sleigh.

  The back end tipped and the rails dipped into the water.

  Rudy bellowed as the momentum yanked him back.

  And then the snowy comet was all around them.

  Frosty!

  Tinsel looked down at the black water beneath them. They should’ve been sinking into it, but somehow they were still above it. Frosty had wrapped his arms around the sleigh, hovering over the water. Rudy galloped as the momentum picked up.

  The rails impacted the edge of solid ice and the sleigh rattled.

  The elven cheered.

  They looked back at the remains of their home, now a giant hole in the ice as it crumbled and, somehow, melted. Water sloshed over the sides, eroding the edges. None of them noticed the new passengers crammed into the front row of the sleigh.

  Tinsel could only see the back of Merry’s head as the two were wrapped in a tight embrace. On the other side of them, next to Jon, was Jessica.

  A sphere dropped into Tinsel’s lap.

  Frosty carried them out. He kept the sleigh from sinking.

  “Good job,” she whispered, squeezing the sphere.

  It was warm in her hand.

  Jessica looked over the heads of the elven. It was a sleigh larger than any she had seen. They were all looking back. The last of the palace sank into a black hole. The North Pole looked like a watery sinkhole.

  Her husband was back there.

  I was so close.

  Now he was gone. He’s gone. Forever.

  She felt so helpless to be that close to him and… lose him.

  An elven was staring at her. She looked away, not wanting him to see her cry. She just wanted to be alone. If Frosty hadn’t pulled them out, she would’ve been just fine sinking with Nicholas.

  What else was there for her here on the North Pole?

  She covered her face and let the sobs come, soaking her palms. She quietly wept as the sleigh jostled over the snow.

  There was a small hand on Jessica’s arm.

  She sniffed back the tears and composed herself. She pushed back her hair and looked at the elven.

  There was something familiar about him. His face. His smile.

  It was…

  Jessica threw her arms around Jon and buried her face on his shoulder.

  Tears of joy, this time. Tears of joy mixed with the pain. She lost one of her loved ones th
at night.

  But gained one back.

  C L A U S

  86.

  It was so quiet. So peaceful.

  He was dense and heavy. He was dead and numb and remembered nothing. But there was a POP!

  Something released inside him.

  Something carried him away from the arena of ice. Now he soared outward at the speed of light.

  Now he remembered everything.

  His parents. His wife and son and their trek to the Arctic.

  Every moment of his life had been released, and those memories floated like snowflakes, settling softly on the fabric of his mind.

  He was dreaming.

  He had to be dreaming because he was hurtling through outer space. He was a fat man tumbling through black space like a comet. He zoomed past planets with rings and moons with craters and blazing hot suns. And yet he was breathing.

  He was living.

  And remembering.

  I am Nicholas Santa.

  And I want to go home.

  But it was more than Nicholas’s memories that were released. Someone else’s life – someone’s memories – was mingling amongst his own.

  Nicholas remembered being born in the cold with a twin brother sliding from the womb right after him. He lived among elven that were short, fat and jolly. He grew up on the ice floes of the North Pole, where he learned how to hunt, how to build, and how to lead.

  These thoughts, these memories, were like his own.

  Impossible.

  He wasn’t an elven. He knew who he was, he was Nicholas Santa. He was born human. His mother had given birth to him in the bedroom of their two-story house. He grew up in Sweden, going to school and climbing mountains.

  He’d never been to the Arctic, yet he recalled the subtle differences in snow and how to carve tunnels in the ice.

  He remembered like he had done these things.

  Hello, Nicholas Santa.

  A voice rang through the heavens.

  Nicholas recognized it.

  It was Claus.

  If you’re experiencing this, you have survived. And I am grateful.

  Claus’s voice echoed through space. Nicholas continued his journey through the solar system, slowly spinning head over foot. But no matter what direction he looked, he couldn’t see anyone out there with him.

  “Where am I?” Nicholas’s voice had a strange echo, like his ears were plugged.

  He made one complete rotation.

  Somewhere in your mind.

  “Am I… dead?”

  No. You just haven’t returned to your body yet. You will when all the memories have found their place in your mind.

  “These memories, they’re not all mine. There’s some mistake. Some of these are yours.”

  My apologies for what we have done to you. Sometimes our shortcomings cause others pain. For that, I am sorry.

  Nicholas remembered having snowball fights with classmates and polar bearing at midnight when he was supposed to be in bed. He remembered being selected team captain and choosing teammates. He remembered seeing Jack standing all alone when no one picked him. He remembered turning his back on him.

  “Why do I have your memories?”

  We are more like humans than we like to admit. Long life does not automatically grant us wisdom. I saw mistakes I needed to correct. The resolution, Santa, required my life.

  Nicholas felt like he was soaring faster, spinning quicker, as he flew past an icy planet.

  “You died. You sank through the ice with your mother and brother.”

  My brother caused suffering. He was confused and alone. He needed to see his true value. When he did, he would no longer be so cold. I didn’t expect to survive. I have given you my memories, Nicholas. You possess my life.

  “Why?”

  The elven are good. They will need a leader.

  Nicholas cruised through a solar system and was quickly closing in on the center of the galaxy, where a black hole was consuming everything around it. Whether he was dreaming or not, he was about to puke from all the spinning.

  You will be that leader, Nicholas. It’s time we let humans into our life. My memories grant you the wisdom to lead the elven race.

  Nicholas whizzed through an asteroid belt, narrowly missing chunks of flying rocks.

  The black hole drew nearer.

  Remember, as you lead them, what one of your philosophers once said.

  Nicholas closed his eyes. He was a shooting star on a collision course.

  The measure of a man is what he does with power.

  The black hole was his destiny.

  There was no turning back.

  You are a good man, Nicholas.

  With Claus’s memories, he would no longer be Nicholas Santa.

  Lead wisely.

  His life would change.

  Santa Claus.

  He opened his eyes.

  He was no longer spinning.

  He felt the cold on his cheeks and the embrace of a snow drift. He saw stars twinkling in a night sky. Space was above him, the earth below.

  He was lying in the snow.

  He was on his back, staring at the Arctic sky streaked with bands of green and red. The Northern Lights washed over the sky like solar currents. And directly above him, glittering brightest of all, was the North Star.

  Santa Claus is home.

  C L A U S

  87.

  Winter solstice.

  The darkest day of the year.

  But the elven weren’t wasting it sleeping. They were on top of the ice, carrying glowglobes to light their way around a massive party. They had been separated far too long to wait another day to reunite.

  Some were parents that carried glowglobes looking for a daughter or son that had left with the colony so many years ago. They carried the light at face level, searching every face, calling out names. And when they found them, there were tears and hugs and rolling around.

  A lot of tears and hugs.

  Music boomed where the younger elven gathered. A snowball fight broke out with bombs flying. Every dull thud that hit its target was followed by laughter. It wasn’t long before girls squealed and a group of boys streaked through the party totally nude for a midnight round of polar bearing.

  Occasionally, an errant snowball crashed somewhere outside the battle. If it hit one of the older elven, they would toss it back. Soon, the snowball fight turned into a marauding stampede of frolicking elven. At the center of the festivities was a mountain of shirts and pants and socks. The kids leaped into the pile and dug their way to the other side like burrowing Arctic foxes.

  The clothes were discards. No one wanted them anymore.

  No one needed them.

  They were dark blue uniforms.

  The reindeer had run away from the collapsing palace.

  They didn’t look back until they reached the edge of the polar ice. They were as far away from the palace as possible. The elven that wore Jack’s uniforms – his “recruitments” – were itchy. First, one stripped off his clothes. Then another. One by one, the colors that signified the Fracture fell to the snow. They were scooped up and thrown together.

  They were free.

  It was like they had been released from a spell.

  When Claus’s A-bomb went off (and everyone was talking about that, let me tell you), something changed. All those years, they lived in fear. And that fear gripped them, clawed deep into their brains and froze their minds. And then–

  POOF!

  Gone.

  Melted away.

  And they were free.

  The true spirit of the elven race was alive and well once again.

  Far from the snowballs and glowglobes, the engineers were setting up the follicle wind harvesters to collect kinetic energy. The long, fibrous strands swayed in the breeze like silky hair. The energy reserves were completely empty. It would be another couple days before they could finish carving the ice to house everyone. At the moment, no one seemed to min
d.

  The moonlight cast down on the reindeer gathered around two elven.

  Tinsel and Jon were at the edge of the follicle field. They held out handfuls of treats that the reindeer picked up with long tongues. Their free hands were clasped together, fingers twined.

  Vixen let out a moan as she ate from Jon’s hand. Donner nudged Vixen and got the next handful. He let out a moan and rolled his eyes.

  The herd migrated over to Jon.

  “What are you feeding them over there?” Tinsel asked.

  “I added a touch of willow bark to your formula.”

  She looked over her shoulder. “How did you do that?”

  “I’ve been doing some research.”

  “On your own?”

  He shrugged.

  Tinsel pulled another handful out of her bag and held it up. Blitzen ate it, but his eyes were on Jon.

  “Willow, huh?”

  He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.

  The follicles parted. Jessica held the strands open just enough so she could see the reindeer. The engineers were walking in the other direction, seeding more stalks. She had been helping them by looking over the top and giving feedback on which way the tips were moving.

  She meant to go back and help some more. It was nice to be with scientists for a little while. They were so serious and calculating. For her, it was like being alone with company. She didn’t want to think. Just help.

  So many emotions.

  It had been so long since she had seen her husband, but all that time she carried the hope that he was still alive and they would be together again. And for a second – just a matter of seconds – she almost had him. That was the worst part. She was so close; that made it hurt worse.

  I didn’t even get to see him.

  And now it was over.

  There was no hope for a future. He was gone. He was somewhere on the ocean’s floor. She could only hope that his ending came quickly and that he felt no pain. That was her only comfort.

  And it was no comfort at all.

  For Jessica, though, the healing was just beginning. She needed to process the difficult reality a little at a time, so it helped to be with the engineers, to take a break from working with these emotions.