Claus Trilogy (Boxed Set)

by Tony Bertauski

  She swung her feet off the bed and hesitated before dropping them on the icy floor. But, like the walls, they were coated and warm. She walked over to the desk, ducking slightly when the ceiling brushed the top of her head. The gear was hers, stacked nice and neat and clean. She rustled through the shirts and coat and the backpack below.

  The light hummed.

  The illumination increased, throwing more light onto her gear as if sensing she couldn’t quite see. Jessica reached over and plucked the light – a strange globe about the size and shape of a perfectly crafted snowball – and held it in front of her face. Something was in the center, glowing like an eternal firefly. It didn’t flicker, so it couldn’t be fire. And it wasn’t hot. She turned it around and around, looking for a latch or a seam–

  Moan.

  She hadn’t noticed the other bed on the far side of the room. The light brightened as she squinted to see what was there. She recognized the dark, shaggy hair.

  Jessica dropped the light and ran.

  “Jon.” Jessica tore the blanket down and grabbed his face.

  He winced. Jon was accustomed to his mother’s rough love, but after a long, restful sleep, it was hard to take.

  A long, restful sleep. Just how long?

  “Jon, Jon,” she repeated, pressing her lips to his forehead like she used to do when he was young and sick with fever.

  Jessica held him at arm’s length and studied his face. Jon opened his eyes, prepared for the ache of snow blindness. But there was none. His eyes were filled with water and the swelling had disappeared. In fact, he felt close to normal. The never-ending hunger that gnawed at the inside of his ribs was mysteriously absent. He wasn’t full, just… not hungry.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  His mother was still mesmerized by his face or his recovery or the dreamlike feeling that was all around. She sat back on the floor and her stare turned vacant. She was shaking her head, trying to remember.

  “Where’s Dad?” Jon asked, looking around the empty room.

  He wasn’t as shocked by the surreal surroundings as his mother, adjusting like it was a cool dream they happened to wake up inside. Just, where’s Dad?

  “I… don’t know.” Jessica pushed her hair from her eyes. It hadn’t been that long since she’d cut her hair before boarding the Alexander. It seemed really long. “I just woke up a few minutes ago.”

  “Is this ice?” Jon waxed the wall with his palm.

  Jessica didn’t answer. She stood up and looked around. The glowglobe brightened enough to light the entire room. It was large but rather sparse. Besides the desk, gear and beds, there wasn’t much. Jessica noticed a hole in the wall. It was near the floor and ended at waist level. She took a knee next to it and looked inside. She could crawl through it, but it was dark only a few feet past the entrance. She could get that glowglobe, find out where it went.

  She snatched it off the desk. When her fingers brushed the surface of the desk, the entire desktop illuminated. Jessica stifled a brief squeal and stepped back. She squeezed the glowglobe while pictures began to materialize on the desk. First it was snow. Then there was the sun. Then the horizon appeared on the desk like a three-dimensional reality in miniature scale, snow drifting over the surface. She stepped closer and leaned in. It looked like the Arctic, the very ice floes they were crossing toward the North Pole before they hid inside the tent. Before the storm.

  Before the rope came back empty.

  Nicholas.

  Jessica touched the desk, remembering her husband’s face before he left. She remembered his voice calling back.

  The image on the desk moved when her fingertips hit it. She pulled back like it might burn her. The image jerked as if she’d actually touched a picture. She slowly moved her fingertips from left to right and the view moved left to right. The sun moved off the edge of the desk and an ice ridge appeared.

  “Whoa,” Jon said. “You’ve got to see this.”

  He was out of bed, bare-chested and barefoot.

  Jessica couldn’t remember seeing him that puffy. He had always been a lean kid with muscles rippling beneath his skin. She had always been concerned he didn’t have enough body fat to insulate him in the cold weather, and now he finally looked big and soft.

  Jon got on his hands and knees. Jessica stood over him.

  It was a perfectly round hole like the one in the wall, like it had been drilled in the ice. This one went down a few feet until it turned deep blue.

  “Is that water?” Jon asked.

  “It must be.”

  “Then, are we… we’re inside an ice floe?”

  How did she tell him that being inside an ice floe was the sanest thing she’d heard since she woke up? What would he say when he saw the desk and the glowglobe and–

  “Hello.”

  Jessica held up the light and looked at the hole in the wall.

  Now things are getting weird.

  C L A U S

  4.

  They weren’t exactly… people.

  People-like.

  It wasn’t because they were short – they were three feet tall, max – that made them seem so odd. They had two eyes, a nose, a mouth and all the things that defined a person as a person. They were just… different.

  Fat.

  Round.

  Their skin was puffy and doughy. Their rosy cheeks crowded their faces, setting their eyes deep beneath their bushy brows. Their arms hung near their bare feet. The one on the left appeared to bow with his hand in front of his stomach, his brown mop flopping over his eyes. The bow didn’t make it far, as his gut was just too thick to bend much.

  The other one – an apparent female, her hair tied into a single braid that touched the back of her heels – tapped him. He stood up, only having to move an inch or two, and grunted. A smile crept over his face, lighting his cheeks up another shade of pink.

  “Are you going to introduce us to them?” the short woman asked him.

  “Oh, yes, yes. Yes.” He cleared his throat and grabbed her hand. “Please to make your acquaintance… um, people?”

  “They have names,” she scolded. “You can use their names.”

  “But they don’t know how we know their names.” He spoke from the corner of his smile like a bad ventriloquist.

  The woman shook her head. She decided to take control.

  Her toes curled on the ice floor and gave a short push, sliding across the room as effortlessly as an ice skater but without any apparent blade. Jessica and Jon backed up. The short woman turned her left foot – which was far bigger than it should have been – and came to a stop.

  “I am Merry.” She nodded and blinked. “My husband is the tongue-tied one. His name is Nog.”

  Nog nodded and blinked, as if that was a way of greeting. Fine with Jessica. She wasn’t eager to shake their hairy oversized hands. When they didn’t respond, Merry turned to Nog. He nodded and blinked again. She did the same.

  “Do you… think they got damaged?” Nog asked.

  “I don’t think so. You do understand us, do you not?”

  Jessica said, “Yes… I’m just–”

  “Oh, where’s our manners!” Merry squealed. “Nog, you didn’t plug the drain hole.”

  Nog was still nodding and blinking.

  “NOG! THE DRAIN HOLE!”

  He looked blankly at her. Merry wagged her long, knuckled finger – a fine coat of light hair on the back – at the hole. Nog understood and with a quick kick he shoved himself across the room, sliding like Merry had done.

  Jon backed up.

  Nog reached into one of the pockets of his loose flowing coat that fluttered over layers of white shirts and gray pants. He slid a dull metallic sleeve over his finger that had a long point. Nog dropped on both knees and leaned over the hole, his belly rubbing the floor.

  Jessica noticed the soles of his feet were covered with bristles of thick scales all pointing at the heels. She could only assume they allowed them to grip the ice to pus
h and slide.

  Nog muttered something to himself.

  “They could’ve fallen in, Nog,” Merry said. “You need to be more careful, you do.”

  “No, they couldn’t.”

  “Yes, yes. Yes, they could. If they weren’t looking, they could’ve fallen through.”

  Nog, with his metallic finger pointed at the hole, turned toward Merry. “No, no. No, they couldn’t. Now, can I close it? Would that be all right with you if I close it now?”

  Merry turned her head.

  “Thank you.” Nog dipped the silver fingertip into the hole. The empty space made a crackling sound. Icy lines spread out from the fingertip like a spider web. More lines appeared until the hole was filled with fresh ice. When he stood – rocking himself until he had enough momentum to get to his feet – the hole had disappeared.

  “Satisfied?” he asked.

  Merry pointed her knobby, fur-covered finger at Nog. She began to open her mouth–

  “Hold on!” Jessica stepped in front of Jon and waved her arms. “What’s going on?”

  Merry and Nog were frozen for a second. Merry covered her mouth. “Oh, my goodness. Where are our manners, Nog? We need to orient our guests; there isn’t much time.”

  “Well, then. I have just the thing.” A short kick and Nog slid to the desk. “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing an orientation video. It’ll only take a minute and you’ll be oriented just right. Yes, yes, indeed. Yes.”

  He placed his palm on the desktop and lifted it like his fingers were heavy. Lights and images rose off the desk in a three-dimensional holographic display of an icy landscape with a dull sun near the horizon.

  “Hold, just a moment,” Nog said. “The audio was giving me fits this morning, but I think I’ve got it synced–”

  “Sshhhhhht!” Merry pushed next to him and whispered loudly, “Have you lost your mind?” She jerked her head. They turned slowly. Jessica and Jon were standing against the wall. “I’m sorry, my husband, he doesn’t think. There’s so much to take in and he wants to introduce you to holographics as an orientation. Where’s your mind, Nog? Where’s your mind?”

  “I think that’s unfair,” he said. “You know I–”

  “Where are we?” Jessica interrupted. “Just tell us that, please.”

  Merry and Nog turned and said in unison, “North Pole.”

  “This is the North Pole?”

  They nodded and blinked.

  “We’re in an ice… cave?”

  “Sort of,” Merry said. “Like I said, it’s hard to explain. We just don’t have time–”

  “What are you?” Jon stepped in front of his mother. “Are you humans?”

  Merry and Nog were quiet. The rosy complexion faded from Nog’s cheeks. He raised a finger and said, quite matter-of-factly, “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. It’s one thing to insult me, but another to insult my lovely wife.”

  “He didn’t mean anything by that, dear. It’s a perfectly legitimate question, one I think we should answer. The answer, which is quite simple, is yes, we are human. And, no, we aren’t.”

  “Yes and no?” Jessica said. “What’s that mean?”

  “We’re elven. And if you watched my orientation video,” Nog said, “you would’ve learned that forty thousand years ago, roughly one-third of the planet was covered with ice and our people were the predominate species. We, us… not you warmbloods with the slow brains and the thin skin and the–”

  “That’s enough, Nog. They didn’t mean to insult us; they just don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Well, I’m trying to tell them.”

  “We don’t have time for your stories. We need to go. If you can collect the room, we can move along and explain things to them later. Maybe they can watch your orientation video later, yes?”

  Nog’s cheeks regained their color. He happily pulled a brown fuzzy bag from his pocket, muttering praise to himself.

  “Stand back,” he said.

  Nog pointed his silver, pointy finger at one of the beds and watched it vaporize into a silky cloud. He guided it into the bag. He did the same thing to the other bed and the desk and their gear until the room was empty.

  “Magic,” Jon muttered.

  “No, no.” Merry headed for the exit. “Magic is what you call something you don’t understand. This is science, dear. Nothing magic about it.”

  “It’s a simple space compressor and atom fragmenter,” Nog said, holding up the bag. “It’s quite simple, really. You see, matter is simply energy that–”

  “Nog, dear, I think it’s time to go. We’ve wasted enough time. The colony needs to relocate, and these two darlings need to dress for the journey. If you could throw them some proper wear, they can get dressed. They don’t have fatty layers to survive without additional clothing.”

  “Yes, yes. You are so right, Merry. So right.” Nog reached into the bag and pulled out stacks of coats and boots and gear that seemed impossible to fit inside it. He placed it at their feet.

  “When you’re dressed,” Merry said from the tunnel, “please follow. I’m sorry, you’ll have to crawl through this. We don’t have enough time to make a hallway large enough for you to walk through. Quite frankly, we’re not accustomed to such large quarters, and we’re only in an eight-foot ice shelf so there’s not a lot of room to spare.”

  “We’re inside an ice floe?” Jessica asked.

  “Of course, dear. This is the North Pole. There’s no land out here, just ice and water.”

  “And us,” Nog added.

  “And now you,” Merry said. “So if you won’t dally, we’ll be able to relocate to another ice shelf, one that’s closer to twelve feet thick so you don’t have to duck so much.”

  “Wait! Where’s my husband?” Jessica leaped forward. “Where’s Nicholas?”

  Merry and Nog glanced at each other. Their jolly expressions darkened.

  “We’ll tell you once we’ve relocated,” Merry said.

  “We’re not going anywhere.” Jon stood next to his mother.

  Again, they shared a knowing glance. A dim one.

  “Someone else is… caring for him,” Merry said.

  “Who?” Jessica said. “Where?”

  “Oh, you’ll have to save that question for Jocah. She’ll tell you everything, dear. It’s a long story and you just got here.”

  Merry and Nog went on their way before another question was launched. Their voices faded down the tunnel.

  “They’re doing quite well, don’t you think?” Merry said.

  “Yes, yes. Yes, they are.”

  Jessica and Jon stood in the middle of the room, their gear at their feet. Her fingernails – usually chipped and dirt-stained – were clipped and clean. And her hair was free of knots and neatly trimmed. Jon was the same, all bathed and pampered.

  He stared back. “You all right?”

  Jessica wasn’t sure.

  C L A U S

  5.

  Nicholas’s fall was long and dark.

  It was some time later he realized he was not underwater. It was cold, but not wet. And it was as black as a moonless night.

  Am I dead?

  He moved his lips. Turned his head. His joints were stiff and slow.

  He wiped a sticky slick from his cheek and tasted the tang of iron on his fingertips. The left side of his face was swollen. Perhaps his left eye was shut.

  He tried to bend his knee–

  “AaaaarrrrRRRRRHHHH!”

  He woke.

  The pain was in his left leg, stabbing just below the knee.

  He labored to breathe. Each ragged breath rebounded around him in some sort of black cavern. It didn’t echo, so it wasn’t that big, but big enough that he couldn’t feel the walls around him.

  As he settled, he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position without moving his legs. It took minutes to do that. And a lot of breathing.

  The leg is broken.

  Nicholas knew that dead feeling. Broken bones ar
e useless. The climb out of this hole would have been difficult, at best. Now it was impossible.

  And the end?

  Agonizing.

  “Jessica!” His wife’s name bounced. “Jessica!”

  He leaned back on his elbows, gulping a lungful of air, pushing back the throbbing.

  “JESSICA!”

  He continued shouting. Shouting until the name scratched his throat. Shouting until it was a hoarse whisper.

  Shouting until he heard another sound.

  “Over here.”

  There was squabbling.

  Nicholas turned his head left and right, listening like a bird locating a worm. It was ahead of him.

  A slight glow illuminated a round opening, a tunnel perhaps. The light was bluish, reflecting off the icy walls and shimmering like water. It was bright enough that he could see his snow-frosted body.

  And the odd angle of his left leg.

  Long shadows cast down the tunnel. They were short, fat and waddling toward the entrance.

  “He’s down here,” one of them said.

  Nicholas waited.

  Defenseless.

  C L A U S

  6.

  Jessica felt like she was crawling through a sewer pipe.

  It was dark and tight. She tried not to think of crawling through an ice shelf with the ocean below and enough ice to crush her.

  She tried not to think of Nicholas. That thought was heavier than all of the ice in the Arctic. He had gone out to save them. It wasn’t the image of his frosty face she remembered quite as clearly as the end of a clean-cut rope. How strange the end can be so abrupt. Despite the dangerous life they lived, she always assumed they would be together when it ended. She always thought it would be a little more romantic, like lying in the snow, watching the sun set while holding hands.