Advent Letters: Year Seven, Letter One

My Dear Sam, Noah, Susannah, Shepherd, Piper, Henry, Holly, Jane, and Sunny,

Seasonal felicitations! (That’s elf-speak for Merry Christmas). My, how the years are flying by. When I first started writing, Sam was a baby. Now, he’s reading these letters himself. And I understand Noah and the triplets are not far behind. My hearty congratulations!

Let me also congratulate you as fellow fans of the Denver Nuggets. All of us at the North Pole were thrilled to watch them win their first NBA championship. Besides römmeljebållen, basketball is North Polians’ favorite sport. And we have special affection for the Nuggets—after all, both Nikola Jokic and Jamal Murray have elves in their ancestry.

But now, back to the story. It’s starting to get serious. Your dad and uncles were in a tiny submarine on their way to Krampus Island.

***

The gnome spun a crank before peering through the submarine’s periscope.

“But most dangerous of all are the trolls,” he said. “They’ll grind your bones into bread.”

“We already fought a troll,” Jer said. He hoped the gnome would drop the subject.

The other gnome adjusted the submarine’s rudder. “Trolls are dangerous enough,” he said. “But the true danger are the goblins. Travel in hordes, with their claws and their fangs and their jagged swords. And always sniffing for lost travelers.”

Matt didn’t say anything, but Jer could see the blood drain out of his face.

“Can we talk about something—”

“And don’t forget all the flying spies,” the first gnome continued. “Krampus has spies all over his island. Crows by day, bats by night. And always the feeling of—”

“We’re getting close now, right?” Jer asked.

“What’s that? Oh, we’ll be landing any minute. Get ready.”

The gnomes kept whirling gears and pulling levers. The submarine was maybe the size of a ten-passenger van, and stuffed with brass pipes, glass spheres, and shining cylinders. It should have felt cramped and claustrophobic. But the exterior was made of clear crystal, revealing the dark waters of the bay before them in every direction. If anything, Jer wished he could feel a little more hemmed in. 

As they approached Krampus Island, the gnomes dimmed the submarine’s lights. They slowly rose to the surface, and the boys quietly gathered their belongings. Each, of course, had his own magical weapon. Matt also carried Santa’s bag, which held endless provisions. Bri held the map which pointed their way to the Heart of the North. Over his shoulder, Jer slung the most mysterious item of all—the satchel which contained Santa’s newest gifts.

The boys unscrewed the top hatch and carefully climbed onto the sub’s smooth crystal. They should have been watching their steps so they didn’t slide off. Instead, they gaped upward at Krampus Island. The mountains at the center loomed in craggy spires. Lightning jumped between the red swirling clouds. Up ahead, thickets of trees coiled around each other like barbed wire.

Once on shore, Jer turned to thank the gnomes. But they had already closed the hatch and dropped below the water.

Jer looked at Matt. Matt looked at Bri. Bri looked at Jer. Sighing, Jer cleared his throat. 

“No sense standing on the shore. Bri?.”

Brian unrolled his map. After a moment’s wait, the glowing arrow appeared to point the way. Straight ahead into the trees, and toward the tallest mountain. The wind carried a wailing howl as they stepped forward.

The island was a maze of ravines which splayed through the mud like sickly veins. Above them, the bare trees cast layer upon layer of cobweb branches, dispersing what little sunlight made it through the constant cloud cover.

As Jer trudged behind Brian, the gnomes’ warnings rang in his head. Every shadow in the trees, every flutter of wings, every change in the wind was a potential enemy. And it wasn’t just Jer. Matt made the brothers hide in a thicket for five minutes because he thought a couple boulders were actually trolls in disguise.

Stumbling out of the brush, Jer realized he’d barely looked at the special gifts from Santa. He opened his satchel and frowned. Three boxes, each wrapped in metallic paper and looking like they belonged under a Christmas tree. The note attached to them read, “You’ll know when to use these. Blessings, Nicholas.”

Matt glanced at Jer. “I still think we’re missing something. Like we should be using the gifts already and we’re missing it.”

“We’ll know when it’s the right time,” Brian said.

The boys emerged from their ravine into a small clearing.

“This can’t be right,” Matt said. He looked over Brian’s shoulder. The map’s arrow pointed straight ahead. But the only thing straight ahead was a sheer cliff wall.

“There!”

Bri pointed to a dim outline beneath an overhang of stone. A cave?

“No way,” Matt said. “I don’t like close spaces. There’s no way I’m crawling through some dark and dripping—”

“Brian!” Jer shouted.

Jer saw, too late, that a rope was strung at Brian’s feet. When Brian stepped forward, the rope tripped a log which was stashed in the trees. That log swung by its own rope into a giant iron gong. The clanging clatter of the gong pulsed through the boys chests and echoed off the hills. 

The boys held their breath for a heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Just as Jer dared to hope they were okay, it started.

The rumble emerged from deep in the forest. The clamor of a thousand feet striking the mud. Of a thousand voices shrieking. Or a thousand daggers banging a thousand shields. 

“Goblins!” Matt gasped.

“They’re coming this way!” Brian said, raising his war hammer.

“Into the forest,” Matt said. “We’ll find some place to hide.”

“It’s no good,” Jer replied. “They’re coming from all around us.”

It was true. The boys couldn’t take a step in any direction without the noise growing louder. With nowhere else to go, they scampered into the clearing.

“Up against the cliff!“ Matt said. 

Once the boys backed against the stone, a black arrow thumped into Matt’s shield. The shield was enchanted to stop anything, so it didn’t hurt. But the boys’ eyes rushed to the tree line. 

Dark outlines emerged from the forest. Goblins. An entire horde of them—too many to count. They were about the height of Matt—or they would have been if they weren’t hunched like baboons. 

The goblins stood still as gargoyles. Scales covered their green skin. Their eyes, red and larger than a squid’s, narrowed at the boys. They bared their curved needle teeth.

Other than the cliff at their backs, the boys were exposed from every angle. There was only one thing to do—what the map had said all along.

“Into the cave,” Jer whispered to his brothers.

Matt was about to protest. But then all at once, the goblins charged. Like vultures to a carcass they charged. And their screeching growling bounding tumble drove all other fears away. 

All three boys positioned themselves in the mouth of the cave. Jer fired his first two enchanted arrows, which always hit their targets. Two goblins fell in the approaching horde. Because his arrows magically replenished, he kept firing as quickly as he could.

Bri grew his enchanted war hammer until the head was the size of a Volkswagon. He took out three goblins with his first swing, and four more with the backswing. 

Matt crouched at the front of the group, his enchanted shield blocking all goblin missiles. As the goblins lurched into range, Matt swung arcing circles with his enchanted sword, which sliced through anything it touched.

The boys were soon covered in green goblin blood as goblins fell in droves to their enchanted weapons. But the goblins kept coming. They pounded against the cave mouth like waves against the shore. 

Without realizing it, the boys kept retreating further into the cave. While firing arrow after arrow, Jer dimly noted they were backing through a stone archway. Matt nearly tripped over the archway’s door while shielding Brian from a goblin dagger. 

This gave Brian an idea. He grew his war hammer to the size of a dumpster. With his loudest battle cry, he pushed the goblins out of the doorway and then quickly closed the door in front of him. Matt and Jer quickly lowered the iron bar to latch the door in place. 

All at once, the world was quiet. The only flickering light was from two torches built high into the rocks above. The goblins outside still shrieked and clawed, but the stone muffled it.

Breathing hard, the brothers patted each other on the back and wiped the goblin blood from their faces.

But then, as if the same shudder ran through them, the boys turned. They stared into the deep dark of the cave. Into the endless shadow that yawned before them, vast enough to hold any terror. 

Wanting to look anywhere else, Matt noticed runes carved over the door. His face grew pale as he translated:

“Labyrinth of Darkest Night. Beware the Minotaur.”

After explaining to Brian that a labyrinth was a giant maze, and a minotaur was a monster with the body of a man and the head of a bull, Matt put his ear to the door. No use. The goblin hordes were still out there.

Brian clapped Matt on the shoulder. 

“It’s okay—we still have this.”

Brian held aloft the map. But even as he unfurled it, the glowing arrow grew softer and softer. Soon it was gone completely.

Brian showed the blank parchment to his brothers. 

“The labyrinth must have some counter-enchantment,” Matt’s voice cracked as he spoke. “What are we supposed to do?” 

Jer wanted to say that it would be fine and that Matt was freaking out over nothing. But the truth was, they were trapped between a horde of goblins on one side, and a pitch-black Minotaur maze on the other. He had no idea what their next step should be.

Until he noticed a thin line of light from inside his satchel. The special gifts from Santa Claus. When Jer opened up the satchel, he broke into a smile.

His gift was glowing.