Childhood Fears

by L. L. Soares

  “Quick version of what?”

  “Everything you know about Christmas is a lie, a watered-down version of the truth. There is no Santa, no bringing of presents, no Rudolph guiding a sleigh. The reality beneath it all is a legend older than time, the legend of the Holly King who rules Winterwood, the land we’re in now.”

  “It’s all true? The Yule Elf? Winterwood? The Holly King?” Dark circles stood out under Anna’s eyes, giving the appearance she’d gone days without sleep, but Anders knew it was shock. The shock of her boys going missing, and now an added attack on logic as her childhood nightmares came true. It hurt Anders to see her that way; hurt even more to know that in some part, he’d caused it. However, it couldn’t be avoided. Not with the clock ticking down on them.

  “Yes.” Anders wanted to say more, but the fear in his daughter’s eyes stopped him. What good to say “I told you so”? It would only add to her pain.

  “Goddammit, will somebody tell me what’s going on?” Paul looked from his wife to Anders.

  “The celebration of Yule, the three longest nights of the year, is much older than the Christmas you know. It’s the time when the Holly King’s reign over the world comes to its annual end. On each of the three nights of the solstice, Krampus, the Holly King, takes his forces out on the Wild Hunt. He travels the world on an enormous stag, with his hounds and his soldiers by his side. Between the hours of nightfall and dawn, he and his men capture anyone they find and bring them back. At the same time, his sons—the Yule Lads—ride out and kidnap boys and girls who’ve been bad. The Yule Elf, the creature you met at your house, the one who sent us here, it’s his job to make sure good children don’t get taken. Parents are supposed to leave presents for their children under a decorated tree or wreath to show the Yule Elf that their children had been good.”

  “And that’s what happened to Nick and Jake?”

  Anders nodded. “I believe the Yule Lads took them, and they’re being held down there.” He gestured at the village.

  “Then we have to go get them,” Anna said.

  “No. We have to find shelter. You’re not dressed for this weather.”

  But where? Simply hiding behind a tree wouldn’t be good enough. And they certainly couldn’t go down into the village. As he peered out at the forest, Anders noticed several of the tree houses were dark inside.

  Does that mean the owners aren’t home? The village seemed busy enough. Perhaps everyone was hard at work, preparing for…

  The feast. He didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t stop the words from appearing in his head. The following night would be the annual festival of the solstice, when the Holly King and his men celebrated the end of another year and enjoyed the spoils of the Hunt, while Winterwood closed itself off from the world until the following fall.

  A festival whose menu included anyone captured during the Wild Hunt or by the Yule Lads.

  No. I won’t let that happen to my grandchildren.

  Anders put a finger to his lips and then motioned for Anna and Paul to follow him. Crouching as low as his age-stiffened back allowed, he moved from the shadows of one tree to the next until they reached the nearest darkened home. He peered into the single window and saw a small room with a lone candle stub burning on a table, its feeble flame nearly gone.

  “Hurry,” he whispered, thumbing the iron latch on the rough-hewn door. It opened easily, and they rushed inside, ducking to pass through the arched entrance. Anders shut the door then frowned. No lock, which meant they weren’t as safe as he’d have liked.

  Anders looked around the small room. The ceiling, although low, allowed them to stand at their full height, with a couple of inches to spare. A fireplace sat cold and dark along one wall, an iron pot hanging over a bed of smoldering embers. A small table occupied the center space, its two chairs the perfect size for children but impossible for an adult to use without risking total collapse. A single pewter mug sat on the table, next to a wooden bowl. The walls were bereft of decorations, save for a few kitchen utensils and animal hides hanging off metal spikes. At the far end, a staircase led up to another level.

  The inside of the tree turned out to be warmer than Anders expected, enough so that he found himself able to take off his hat and gloves. Anna and Paul had stopped shivering, and the color was returning to their cheeks and lips.

  “You’ll be safe here,” Anders said, checking his watch. Not even eleven yet. How had so much happened in less than an hour? Their trek through the snow alone had seemed to take half the night. “I’ve got to get going. I need to find Jake and Nick before the night passes and we end up trapped here forever.”

  “Wait.”

  Anders stopped and looked at Paul, alert for any signs the man was going to freak out, as Anna’s generation liked to say. But despite the frantic look still lingering in his eyes, when he spoke, his voice was calmer, with just a hint of a tremble in it.

  “You said that whoever took our children has them in that village.”

  Anders nodded. “Yes. And if we don’t get them out before dawn, we never will.”

  Paul rubbed his eyes, reddening them even further. With his hair mussed and wet from wind and snow, he appeared more like an escaped lunatic than a bank manager. Next to him, Anna let out a soft moan and put a fist to her mouth. A few tears ran down her cheeks, but she kept control.

  “We’re going with you.”

  Anders shook his head, wishing he could accept the offer. But any potential help would be offset by their having no idea what they were dealing with. He couldn’t rescue the children and babysit his daughter and her husband at the same time. “No, you can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Too dangerous? Those are our kids, Anders. And it can’t be any more dangerous for us than for you.”

  Anders ignored the not-so-subtle reference to his advanced age. “You don’t know what to expect down there. I do.”

  “So, you’ll tell us. Show us. But we’re going.”

  “He’s right,” Anna said, and Anders started to thank her for agreeing with him. Then he saw she was looking at him, was taking Paul’s side.

  So stubborn. I wonder where she gets that from? Willa’s sarcastic voice, in his head. How many times had she said that to him when she was alive? He took a second to appreciate the irony of the situation, then tried another argument.

  “You can’t come. You’ve no coats, no hats. You’ll freeze out there.”

  Paul and Anna went silent. They looked at each other, each hoping the other would have a solution. When neither said anything, Anders knew he’d won.

  Until a voice spoke from above them.

  “Perhaps I can help with that.”

  Anders’s heart banged into high gear as he swung towards the source of the oddly melodic voice. The rush of terror-fueled adrenaline only increased at the sight of a short, stocky figure clad in a green vest and matching pants, descending the stairs. The dwarf-sized man sported a thick, ragged beard that did nothing to hide the lumpy, misshapen face above it. Bushy eyebrows hovered over deep-set, dark eyes. Pointed ears peeked out from between ropes of wild, stringy hair.

  Elf!

  Thoughts and emotions collided inside Anders, creating a mental traffic jam that rendered him immobile. Should they run before the elf sounded the alarm? Or charge him, subdue him? What if he’d already given some kind of silent signal and others of his kind were already on the way? Indecision anchored Anders in place. He heard Anna’s intake of breath, but he couldn’t even turn his head to see what she and Paul were doing.

  “Please don’t be frightened,” the elf said, holding his hands out to the sides. “I have no desire to see you taken captive. In fact, I would like to offer my assistance.”

  Anders found himself captured by the elf’s singsong tones. Each word arrived like a note in a song, a song with no melody yet delivered, with great beauty
despite the high pitch of the voice. Only when the elf stopped speaking did Anders’s common sense return.

  Why wasn’t he calling for help? He didn’t even seem upset by the appearance of strangers in his house. His gestures were as calm as his words, his body language relaxed.

  Why wasn’t he alarmed by their presence? And was his composure a good thing or bad?

  It took two tries, but Anders found his voice to ask, “Assistance with what?”

  “Finding your lost children. I heard you talking from my bed. Indeed, my first thought was to call for help. Strangers in Winterwood? Humans in my home? Never has there been such a thing. Then you spoke of children captive in the village. And I knew I couldn’t let you go there on your own.”

  “Why would you help us?” Anders asked, still prepared to run or fight if the elf showed any sign of turning on them. One shout, that’s all it would take, and they’d be as good as dead. Still, a part of him wanted to believe. If the elf really could aid them in some way…

  “Because I was once human like you.”

  For the second time in as many minutes, Anders found himself at a loss for words.

  The creature before them had once been human? No. Not possible.

  “How?” Anna asked. The elf turned his attention towards her and she stared back, confusion and pity pulling down the lines of her face.

  No, Anders’s mind shouted while his mouth remained frozen. Don’t listen to him. It’s a trick so you’ll stay here until help arrives.

  Except Anders had a feeling the elf wasn’t playing a game with them.

  “’Tis the dark magic of this land,” the elf said, his voice now filled with minor chords of sadness. “Years ago, I had the misfortune of being captured by the Hunt. Like many of the humans taken, the King’s men put me to work as soon as we arrived in Winterwood. Only they never told me the awful truth until it was too late.”

  “The awful truth about what?” Anna leaned forward. Despite his misgivings, Anders found himself caught up in the tale as well.

  “The closing of the Veil.” The elf’s tone grew even more somber, and beneath his thick eyebrows his eyes seemed to glisten with the tears of old sorrows. “Any humans in Winterwood when the solstice ends, they are changed by the magic of this land. Into this.” He patted his barrel chest.

  The impact of the statement hit Anders immediately.

  “You mean all of…?”

  The elf nodded. “Aye. All those you see like me, the ones in the village, were once human. Taken from our homes and molded against our will. Pressed and twisted like dough, reshaped into the deformed thing standing before you.”

  No one spoke for a moment, and then a thought came to Anders, one that he was afraid he already knew the answer to but still had to ask.

  “You said those who were taken ended up like you. Do you mean just adults, or children too?”

  The elf shook his head. “It makes no difference, I am sad to say. The moment the Veil closes, your humanity will be ripped from you and you’ll be nothing but an ugly shell of your former self.” He squinted at Anders. “But then, I believe you know this isn’t the greatest danger Winterwood poses.”

  Anders shook his head. He knew well what the elf referred to, but he didn’t want to accept it.

  “Jesus, this is like a bad trip. There’s something worse than being turned into a garden gnome?” Paul ran a hand through his already mussed hair. “I don’t know if I want to hear it.”

  “Quiet,” Anna said to him. “It has something to do with the children, doesn’t it?”

  The elf nodded. “I will tell you all you need to know. But linger too long we cannot. If you truly aim to find your missing kin, it must be done before this night ends.”

  Anders looked at his daughter and Paul, with their red eyes and haggard expressions. While still hesitant to trust the earnest-seeming elf, he owed it to his family to do everything possible to get Jake and Nick back.

  “Tell us.”

  “Lucky you are for choosing my home to hide in.” The elf, who’d introduced himself as Ulaf, sat the table. As he spoke, he twisted and rubbed his stubby finger in nervous fashion. “Had it been any other, prisoners by now you would be.”

  “Thank you for not turning us over to the King’s men.” Anders had already given him a shortened version of how they’d come to be in Winterwood.

  “You must have angered the Julenissen greatly for him to do such a thing,” Ulaf said. “He is an honest jegere, but his temper is not to be tested. Even the trolls and the other jegere fear him.

  “Trolls?” Paul frowned. “I thought we were talking about elves. Aren’t trolls giants, like ogres?”

  Anna squeezed his hand. He shot a glare in her direction and shook his head. “Christ, I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation. Maybe I’m not. Maybe this is all a flashback or something.”

  “It is all real,” Anders said.

  “What are jegere?” Anna asked.

  “Hunters,” Anders translated, and Ulaf nodded.

  “Here in Winterwood there are three peoples. The jegere, the trolls and the elfin. Jegere and trolls have always been; we elfin are…”

  “Not natural.” The words left Anders’s lips before he could stop them, but Ulaf took no umbrage.

  “Aye. The King, his sons, even the Julenissen, they are jegere, despite how different they look from each other. The trolls serve the King. And we elfin, we serve as well, although not always willingly. Some, like me, endure our fate and after many years earn a status of more than just slave, with a pittance of a wage and a place to live outside the castle. The ones who cannot adjust rarely live to see a second Christmas.”

  Silence filled the room for several seconds as the impact of Ulaf’s words sunk in. Then Anna spoke.

  “What happens to them?”

  Although most of his face remained hidden by his beard, Ulaf’s eyes showed his sorrow at having to deliver grim news. “I’ve told you that some men and women taken by the Hunt become elves when the final night of the Yule meets its end. Those less fortunate will not see the sun rise, as by then they’ll be nothing but meat for stew and pies.”

  Anna put her hands over her face.

  “Pies?” Paul frowned. “What does pie have to do—?”

  “The solstice” Anna said, her voice muffled by her palms. When she looked up, tears stained her cheeks. “You’re talking about the solstice feast, aren’t you?”

  “What’s this feast?” Paul asked.

  Anders answered, his growing dread they might already be too late stealing all emotion from his voice, “When the divide between our world closes, there is a great feast. The Feast of Juul. And many of those who’ve been captured by the Hunt or the Yule Lads…they become part of the meal.”

  Anders paused, watching while Paul digested this new information. He wasn’t sure what to expect. Shouting, perhaps. Or a complete breakdown. Instead, his son-in-law surprised him, putting an arm around Anna and speaking in a calm voice, “Earlier tonight, Anna said something about a Krampus. What—”

  “Hush!” Ulaf waved his hands at them. “’Tis bad luck to speak the King’s true name.”

  “The Holly King has many names,” Anders said, despite Ulaf’s grimace. How much worse could their luck get? “The one you used is his most common, but not his oldest. In different countries he’s known as Father Ice, Jack Frost, Frey and even Odin. After Christianity spread across Europe, he became Saint Nick and then Santa. People forgot the truth, and the legend of the Holly King evolved into just another fairy tale. But some of us, the people who lived in the lands of the North, we remembered. We kept the old stories alive. Even when some refused to believe,” he added, staring at Anna, who looked properly contrite.

  “Children aren’t supposed to be afraid of Santa,” she whispered, wiping away tears.

 
Anders sighed. “You’re wrong. They should be afraid. Very afraid.”

  “So now what?” Paul asked. “If all of this is true, what do we do?”

  Ulaf climbed off his chair, a determined look on his face.

  “Now we rescue your children and send you all home.”

  Anders pulled his hood tighter to save his face from the arctic wind. Behind him, Anna and Paul wore jackets made of goat hide, jackets which had magically transformed to the correct size when Ulaf handed them over. Leather boots had performed a similar trick.

  “Winterwood has many magics,” Ulaf had said, not bothering to explain further. Anders wondered if they should be worried about magic being used against them, and then decided to focus on the problems they knew about, rather than what might be.

  At the moment, that meant getting close enough to the village proper without being seen, so they could find out if Jake and Nick were among the elves and children toiling under the watchful eyes of violent-looking ogres or if they were inside the castle.

  “There are only two places boys would be put to work,” Ulaf told them as they made their way down the edge of the clearing, circling through the forest to avoid the glow from the bonfires. “The stables or chopping wood. Since your lads are small, I’ll bet my boots they’ve been sent to the stables.”

  “I still can’t believe this is possible,” Paul whispered. “How can elves and kings and giant reindeer enter our world without being caught on camera? This is the twentieth century, not the Middle Ages.”

  Anders kept his voice low enough to be swept away by the wind after a few feet. “Despite televisions and telephones, the modern world is good at hiding the truth. Some children are missing? They ran away or got kidnapped. Noises outside at night? Turn up the TV, lock the doors, don’t get involved. And with Christmas celebrated around the world, so many houses have trees and gifts the Yule Elf can’t tell the good from the bad unless they get caught outside.”

  “Enough talk.” Ulaf pointed ahead, saving Anders from answering any more questions. Behind a barn carved from a fallen pine the size of a small building, a dozen tethered goats milled about, snorting and huffing in agitated fashion. To Anders’s horror, several children, their faces hidden by darkness and distance, tended to the animals, brushing them and putting down food and water while three ogres armed with knives and spears looked on. A foul odor drifted up, the harsh ammonia reek of urine mixed with feces and moldy hay.