Advent Letters: Year Eight, Letter One
Need to catch up on past Advent Letters before diving into this year’s installment of the story? You can get started here.
My dearest Sam, Noah, Susie, Shepherd, Piper, Henry, Holly, Jane, Sunny, and Brooks,
Could this really be year number eight? And can there really be ten of you now? When this story began, Sam was just a baby. Now he could read this story to his siblings and cousins if he wanted. For that matter, Noah, Susie, Piper, and Shepherd aren’t far behind. Time sure does fly—even for 450-year-old elves like me.
And speaking of me, this year’s story opens in a very special place indeed: my home.
*****
Kanute and I sat in the armchairs on either side of my crackling fireplace. Hot cocoa sat on my lap, and snow pelted my windows. Kanute was midway through another one of his rants. I nodded into the marshmallows and pretended to listen.
”You know I’m the last person to question Santa. But if you ask me, he’s brought the North Pole to the brink of disaster. Without the Heart of the North, our enchantments grow weaker every day. All of us can feel it. The cracks in the North Pole dome are still growing. It’s only a matter of time before it shatters completely. Goblin scouts have been spotted near the Faerie border. We all know what’s happening: Krampus is plotting to invade the North Pole. And with our waning magic and cracking dome, it’s hard to blame him.”
I sighed. “I hear these sorts of complaints every day at the office. Could we please talk about something else?”
Kanute pretended not to hear me. “And don’t get me started on the Mellema boys. You know I’m fond of them—even if they did lose the Heart of the North and trick me into taking them to the North Pole. Where are they now? The dungeons of Krampus? The belly of a troll? We’ve barely heard a thing.
”You know as well as I do,” I said, taking my first tentative sip of the hot cocoa. “We have no way of tracking the boys in Faerie. Especially now that they’re approaching Krampus Island.”
”We should have sent a battalion of proper warriors when we had the chance,” Kanute grumbled. “Not three human boys who already proved they have no virtue to speak—”
A crash of splintering wood made us both jump. I first thought a disgruntled mob had broken down my door. Instead, it was just Avvu. He was picking himself up from the shattered remains of my front door. He had obviously come in such a hurry that he’d accidentally broken through. I wish I could say this was the first time this happened.
”Important news,” Avvu said, dusting door splinters off his shoulders.
Kanute rose to his feet. ”Goblins?”
“More important,” Avvu replied. His head brushed the ceiling as he rose to his hind legs. “The ravens have returned. They bring news of the Mellema brothers. And Krampus.”
Kanute fell back into his seat. I clutched the arms of my chair and tried to keep my voice calm. “Where are the ravens now?”
“Santa’s study. He wants you both to join him straight away.”
Even as I nodded, I could feel the color drain from my face. “Who else have you told?”
Avvu zipped a pretend zipper over his snout, and said his lips were sealed. After giving my hot cocoa and its bobbing marshmallows a final glance, Kanute and I followed Avvu into the North Pole night. As I plodded behind Avvu and the snow swirled in the street lamps, I fretted over what those ravens would say.
The ravens, Huginn and Muninn, were perhaps the most mysterious creatures on Earth or Faerie. They flew in constant circuits around the two realms, observing everything and missing nothing. If anybody knew where the Mellema brothers were, it was them.
Santa’s study was in the far tower of the North Pole’s ancient castle. After navigating the castle’s maze of stone halls, we approached the great oaken door to Santa’s study. It was painted brilliant red, with a silver door handle and silver knocker in the shape of a reindeer. Before I could reach for the door, Santa’s deep voice emerged from the other side.
”Come in. All three of you.”
We opened the door with a loud creak, and stepped inside Santa’s study. As always, I couldn’t help but gasp.
Some centuries ago, the leading gnomish craftsmen and elvish scholars finally convinced Santa to let them build the grandest study in either the human or faerie realms. And they succeeded. The domed ceilings vaulted into the sky. A multi-story fireplace carved with saints and faerie creatures dominated the one wall. Every other wall surface was covered, floor to ceiling, in leather-bound books. Immense ladders and platforms connected the different levels, which contained books on every subject from theology to biology to astronomy to ancient history to modern literature.
The elves and gnomes also offered to make Santa the grandest desk in either the human or faerie realms. But here, Santa refused. As I walked past the roaring fireplace, I found Saint Nicholas at his usual spot: the simple wooden desk he made for himself when he was a young man centuries earlier.
On either side of the desk was a massive raven. They each turned a black eye to us as we approached.
”You have news? About the Mellemas?” I asked.
Neither spoke. But each kept their eye on me until I turned my own eyes down.
Santa rose. “Thank you all for coming. Huginn and Muninn have assured me they have news of the Mellema brothers. But I wanted to wait until you three arrived to hear it.”
Santa gave a respectful bow toward the ravens. They spoke in the same low, croaking voice as wild ravens. They also spoke as if they had a single mind between them—trading different parts of the tale, and finishing each other’s sentences. Their account, however, has been the basis for this entire tale so far.
The ravens began with a place I’d never seen, or even heard described. A place of cold and shadow: Castle Krampus. The castle itself was built into the mountain at the very center of Krampus Island. At the top of this mountain was a crater. At the center of all this missing stone were the twisting spires and spiked ramparts of the castle.
Inside, beyond the winding corridors and hordes of goblins and locked iron doors, was the Chamber of Krampus. And at the center of that chamber, on an elevated pedestal and wreathed in darkest shadow, Krampus sat on his throne. The shadow was so dark that not even the ravens could see through it. The goblin general entering the chamber couldn’t see Krampus either. There was only a silhouette that was darker than dark.
The general bowed low, his giant yellow eyes cast to the ground and his green bat-like ears quivering. Krampus, with joyless deliberation, devoured the final leg of whatever roasted creature he’d been eating. The goblin servant behind him ran to fetch him more.
”What news do you have?” Krampus asked. His voice was low and raspy, like the hiss of a crocodile.
The general forced himself to his clawed feet. He could not, however, keep his voice from shaking.
”Scouts report the North Pole Dome is cracking. It could shatter any day.”
Krampus waved the news away. “What of their forces? Who has Santa sent to reclaim my prize?”
The goblin general risked a glance to the back of the room. Set in the slate wall and giving the chamber its only light, the Heart of the North shone brilliant red.
”Nobody, my lord.”
The shadow of Krampus paused. “That’s not possible.”
Globules of sweat poured from the goblin’s iron helmet. ”We’ve had our best scouts out since the morning you claimed the Heart of the North. Our best wyverns are patrolling right now. We haven’t seen anything resembling an army. No battalions of elven archers. No gnomish siege engines. No war polar bears. Nothing.”
As Krampus sat in silence, the goblin servant approached with another platter of meat. But on the way, the goblin stumbled on the top step. Though it didn’t spill anything, it did make a loud clatter. Without a sound, Krampus grabbed the spluttering servant and threw him from the top of the pedestal. He then called for a new servant and a new platter of food.
”Impossible,” Krampus said. “Santa may be a fool, but even he would try to reclaim the Heart of the North.”
For a while, the only sound was the moaning of the thrown servant. Finally, the goblin general gave a raspy cough. “There is one possibility. We’ve been tracking three human boys who won the Grand Chariot Race. A battalion of goblins reported those same three boys on this island.”
“The goblins destroyed them?” Krampus asked.
The goblin tugged on his chainmail. “We don’t know, my lord. The human boys fought the goblins, and eventually escaped into the Labyrinth of the Minotaur. We…don’t know what became of them after that.”
The goblin braced himself for Krampus’ reaction. But to his shock, the sound that emerged from the darkness was a laugh. A sharp and joyless laugh.
”Perhaps Santa is the fool I’ve taken him for all along. Imagine entrusting the Heart of the North’s rescue to some human boys. It’s not possible. These boys must be up to something else entirely. But it doesn’t matter. If they entered the labyrinth, they’re surely dead by now. Once you’ve confirmed this, we’ll prepare our final move.”
”Final move?” The general asked.
Krampus’ gleaming fangs caught the crimson light from the Heart of the North. They were curved into a savage smile.
The ravens finally soared away from Castle Krampus. They flew down the side of the mountain, across the rocky plain, and over a wide canyon. The canyon was truly a marvel. It was too wide for any bridge, and so deep that hazy clouds obscured the bottom. And it encircled the entire island. Which meant anybody hoping to reach Castle Krampus had to somehow cross it.
This was a huge problem for the Mellema brothers. At that moment, they stood at the edge of that canyon, wondering how they could possibly cross it.
”I can barely see the other side,” Matt said.
”There has to be a bridge or something,” Jer said. “Maybe if we walk along it far enough, we’ll find…”
”No,” Brian replied. “The map wants us to go straight ahead. Look,” he lowered Santa’s enchanted map. The glowing red arrow pointed straight ahead into the abyss.
”Maybe we can climb down…?” Matt began. But even as he spoke he shook his head. Climbing those sheer walls was unthinkable.
Jer pointed along the canyon edge. ”Let’s just try a little bit down that way. Even if we don’t find a bridge, maybe we’ll find a narrower section, or a place we can climb down. Anything’s better than this.”
”Too dangerous,” Matt countered. “It’s open space on either side. Once we leave the rock outcroppings, we could be spotted by goblins or trolls or who knows what else.”
“Well, we can’t just stay here,” Jer said.
That was certainly true. Brian had been worried for some time that their quest was taking too long. Who knew what was happening at the North Pole? Also, there were the boys’ Marks. It was true that the weed-like brands on their forearms had gotten lighter throughout their journey. But Brian was noticing it more.
The boys had to find the Heart of the North. They had to get rid of their marks. But to do that, they had to cross the canyon. Which was impossible.
Brian dropped to his knees as he stared across the impossible canyon. But he held tight to the map, and to the arrow pointing straight ahead.
That’s when he noticed the glowing present in his satchel.
