Advent Letters: Year Six, Letter One

Dearest Sam, Noah, Susannah, Piper, Shepherd, Henry, Holly, Jane, and Sunny,

I’ve spent the past several Advents chronicling your dad and uncles gallivanting throughout Faerie. But now, I’d like to remind you that others were affected by their quest just as much as they were. Specifically, those of us at the North Pole.

As a reminder, the Heart of the North was not merely one powerfully enchanted object among many. It was, in a sense, the enchanted object. Most of the North Pole’s blessings flowed directly from it. Among other things, it created the bubble barrier around the pole which kept out the otherwise fatal North Pole climate. It also protected us from raids by goblins and trolls, and kept us hidden from the rest of the world.

Even in the relatively short time that your dad and uncles had been gone, the affects of losing the Heart of the North were becoming apparent. Cracks in the shield were forming cerulean spiders against the sky. Goblin voices could be heard in the caves beyond our outer buildings. And there was a commercial airline jet that seemed to fly closer than it needed to toward us.

It had reached the point where the citizens of the North Pole—everything from elves to gnomes to polar bears to pelicans—was clamoring for answers. Where were the Mellema brothers? What was taking them so long? What would happen if they failed?

A particularly loud and particularly aggressive group of North Polians cornered Kanute and me by the North Pole tree. The polar bear—Avvu’s cranky uncle, as it happens—was threatening to grab a pike and plunge into Faerie himself. All of them wanted answers. 

Kanute, for his part, was about ready to drop gloves and fight the whole lot of them. I tried to play the diplomat. I assured them all that we would speak with Santa about their concerns, and get back to them presently.

“What does presently mean?” Kanute asked as we slid past the crowd and toward Santa’s chapel. “Is that a short period of time, or a long one?”

“It could mean either one, depending on context,” I replied. “Which is why it’s so dreadfully useful for people in my position.”

We both shuffled into the doors of Santa’s chapel. The instant we did, the jarring silence of the place took me off guard, as it always did. The ceiling arched high above us. The only lights were the orange flame of candles against the gold of mosaics and icons. Incense hung heavy in the air. And, at the far end of the chapel, kneeling serenely at his usual spot, was Santa Claus himself—Saint Nicholas, as I occasionally had to remind myself. He was evidently so lost in deep prayer that I felt bad to disturb him. But after a raised eyebrow from Kanute, I cleared my throat loudly.

I had to clear it another couple times before I finally got Santa’s attention. His eyes opened slowly, and a smile that was almost mischievous grew on his lips.

I waited for Santa to say something. When he didn’t, I decided to plunge right into it. “Santa, the North Polians are concerned about the Heart of the North.”

Santa nodded.

“They’re especially worried about the progress of the Mellema brothers. They worry the brothers may have lost their way, or gotten captured in some Fae enchantment, or else…”

Santa met my eyes, and I lost my train of thought.

“The Mellema brothers are safe. And they are making progress in their quest.”

I had no idea how Santa could have possibly known this. But over the centuries, I’d learned that these sorts of pronouncements were pretty much always correct.

“However,” Santa said, and for the first time a concern seemed to weigh on his brow. “The Mellema boys are about to be in grave danger. They are exiting free Faerie, and are on the cusp of entering the realm of Krampus.”

Kanute stepped forward. “Then it’s not too late for us to help. Let’s send them aid while we can: a detachment of gnomish axe-whirlers. A band of polar bears. Even some elvish bowmen could be of use.”

Santa shook his great head. “No. If we send North Pole troops, then they will be the ones to rescue the jewel, and not the Mellema brothers. In order for the Mellemas to be healed of their marks, they must rescue the jewel themselves. Character cannot be formed by the actions of others.”

“Then is there any kind of help we can send?” I asked.

“We will send all help to the Mellemas,” Santa replied. “In a sense, the Mellemas are powerless to do anything without our help. In another sense, the Mellemas must do this task themselves. Both are true.”

Kanute and I looked at each other and shrugged. Santa often spoke in riddles like this.

Santa chuckled. “As a matter of fact, I’ve prepared further aid for the Mellema brothers. They will need it to get through the final stage of their journey.”

“Great,” I said. “We’ll get the squirrel and send him with the—”

Santa’s chuckle turned into an outright belly laugh. “Not so fast, my friend. We can’t send the aid yet?”

“Why not?” Kanute asked.

“Because I don’t know where the Mellemas are.”

My hands flew to my forehead, and I could already feel the sweat. “Oh no! This is a disaster. Without the aid, the Mellemas will be helpless to do anything which—”

Santa held up a hand. “Stay calm. I don’t know where they are yet. But I do know we must give the Mellemas our aid, which means we will learn their location. We must simply wait.”

“But—” I began.

“If you’d like to do something useful in the meantime,” Santa continued. “Pray.”

Kanute looked at me, and I looked at Kanute. Shrugging once again, we both kneeled down beside Santa.

***

While Kanute and I joined our own feeble prayers with those of Santa, the Mellema brothers were deep in the heart of Faerie. They stood on the shore of a vast body of water, beneath a slate sky on top of grey sand as the slate waves bounced ferociously. In the midst of this expanse of angry water rose an island—at least, it looked like an island from their vantage point. For all they knew it could be the first tip of a whole other continent.

Up from the island rose jagged spires of rock. Swirling clouds, crimson in the dying light, were in constant motion around the rock face. Howls and cries were carried on the wind across the water to the cold ears of the Mellema brothers.

Even without any other information, the Mellema brothers knew, just standing there and gaping, that this was the realm of Krampus.

And it was exactly the spot where their enchanted map was pointing for them to go. 

“What in the world are we supposed to do now?” Matt asked.

“Maybe,” Bri thought, hesitatingly. “We could swim acr…” Bri shook his head before he even finished the sentence. One look at the beating waves and the huge gulf of water made it clear that swimming would be impossible. And extending in both directions as far as they could see, the beach was an empty expanse of sand and rocks. Not a sign of civilization anywhere.

The boys kept staring at the island until, all at once, they got the feeling the island was staring back. So they all stepped back and shook their heads, as if trying to keep the island out of their minds.

“Well, I say we start walking along the shore,” Jer said at last. “Maybe we’ll find something. Anything.”

With no other plan between them, Matt and Bri nodded, and the boys started trudging along the beach. As he walked, Matt tried closing his eyes and imagining whether, if the sky and the sea were not so rough, and the Krampus Island were not leering down at them, whether this would be a pretty spot.

On the one hand, there was unspoiled beach as far as the eye could see. And the Faerie woods which the boys had just passed through was wooded and gently rolling hills. That all could be pretty. Beautiful, even. But, and a shudder passed through Matt before he could stop it. The Krampus Island made all the rest of it bleak on its own. 

Fortunately, the brothers turned a bend in the beach and they found something which distracted Matt from these thoughts.

A village. One of those old-timey fishing villages that the boys used to see in old time King Arthur movies. There were round, thatched roof huts clustered along a main thoroughfare, with stables in the back and docks all along the bay, each port holding a boat filled with fish. Smoke curled pleasantly out of the hut’s chimneys, and the pleasant scent of cooking fish was almost enough to cover the scent of seaweed and freshly-caught fish.

And walking to and fro between the buildings and the boats were the inhabitants. The brothers were still far enough away that they were still little more than silhouettes against the setting sun. 

“They look friendly enough,” Brian said, more hopefully than informed. Matt and Jer tried nodding. They were coming up over one final sand dune before they could get a good look at them.

Then the brothers made it to the top of the dune, and their jaws all practically fell into the sand.

Dog-faced. Every single villager was dog-faced.

And no, I don’t mean that in the insulting way that some people use to imply a person is ugly or unattractive. (Never call anybody that, by the way). I mean this literally. The villagers had the heads and necks of dogs. 

Each had that look of a shelter dog you’ll often see—you know, the ones that are part Labrador, and part every other dog breed? Though within that, there were variations. Some had pricked ears while some were floppy. Some had long dark hair, others had short light hair, and still others were covered in spots. But they were all dogs.

At least, the heads were dogs. The rest of their bodies seemed to be roughly the same as humans—albeit rather hairier. They all wore the sorts of typical peasant tunics and breeches you’d expect. Well, except for the hole in the back of the breeches for the tails.

I would be lying if I said the brothers were not taken aback by this revelation. However, they had seen enough crazy creatures in Faerie by this time—and had been trained in manners well enough by your grandma and grandpa—to know that it was rude to stare. So the brothers shook off the shock, and tried to act as normal as possible.

For their parts, the dog-faced villagers barely seemed to notice the Mellema brothers. They simply went about their business mending their fishing nets, backing their bread, and sniffing each other in greeting.

After another quick exchange of glances and a surreptitious shove in the back, Jer went forward to try and make contact with one of the dog-faced villagers.

“Hello,” he said, and cleared his throat without reason. The dog-faced villager—who had shaggy brown fur and a fishing reel over his shoulder—looked up at Jer. To Jer’s relief, he seemed happy enough to see him—his tail was even wagging. So Jer pressed forward. “My brothers and I are on a, well, a quest. And we must cross the sea for the quest. Would you or one of your friends be willing to take us in one of your boats to that island?”

Jer pointed across the bay at the Krampus Island, and as soon as he did everything changed. Beforehand, the dog was watching with interest, the way your dog might when you’re eating a hot dog in front of him. But as soon as Jer pointed to the Krampus Island, the dog’s ears fell back against its head. Its tail stopped wagging, but instead was tucked between his legs. It started backing up, making howling and whimpering noises.

“I’m sorry,” Jer said, glancing back at his brothers for guidance. Matt and Bri just shrugged. “I didn’t mean to make you mad. We just,” by this time, a crowd of other dog-faced villagers had gathered, so Jer decided to make a general announcement. “My brothers and I would like to hire someone to bring us across the bay in their boat. We need to get to the Krampus Island.”

All the dog-faced villagers reacted the same as the first. Their ears fell back and their bodies arched and they backed away with yelps and whines. A few of them even bared their teeth at the boys.

“We’re not asking you to do it for free,” Matt said, taking off his knapsack and removing some gold ingots. “We come from the North Pole, and Santa has given us plenty of coins to pay for—”

An old dog, with grey along his muzzle and eyes glossy with age, hobbled over to Matt. It knelt down and, slowly, moved Matt’s hand so he put the gold ingots back in his pack. Then, with a shaking finger covered in hair and knobbled with arthritis, he pointed to the Krampus Island. Then he gave a definitive shake of his head.

“But we have to. We’re on a quest to—”

The old dog grabbed Matt by the tunic and shook his head even harder. It raised its head and howled. The other dogs soon joined in. Matt wriggled out from the old dog and stumbled into the middle of the town square with Jer and Bri.

“I get the feeling they don’t like Krampus Island,” Jer muttered.

“Yeah,” Matt replied. “Let’s get out of here while we still can.”

Brian, remembering his manners, shouted, “Nice to meet you all,” and waived before the brothers passed through the town. Even as they rounded another sand dune, the howls of the dog-faced villagers echoed across.

“What do we do now?” Matt said. This was more whining than an actual question. He and his brothers knew perfectly well that there was nothing else to do other than exactly what they were doing—trudge along the beach, and look for someone to help them. Though the brothers wouldn’t admit it to each other, they kept thinking back to the fear in the dog-faced villagers’ eyes, and wondered what about the Krampus Island could fill them all with such terror.

Just as Matt was about to share these worries with the group, the world when topsy turvy. For a wild moment, the three brothers screamed as they tumbled upwards through the air in a jumble of sand and limbs. When they stopped, and they could catch their bearings, they realized they were in a huge net. One that had evidently been hidden beneath the sand as a trap.

“Matt, cut us out with your sword,” Jer said. “And get your knee out of my back.”

Matt was just trying to reach his sword scabbard—a tough feat when Brian’s elbow was digging into his stomach. But before he could, a whoop and battle cry emerged from the forest.

It was a group of gnomes—perhaps ten of them. They all bore some weird contraption that looked like a mechanical torch, and gave out orange light. Their leader seemed to be an older gnome wearing a large head dress, and he was patting the shoulder of someone who looked, to Matt at least, a lot like Kanute.

“Told you this trap would work,” the Kanute look-alike said.

The leader nodded. “But no onto business.” The gnomes all took out long spears with whirling gears and electrified tips, and pointed them at the dangling Mellemas.

“We don’t mean any harm!” Jer shouted. “We’re just passing through.”

“We’re on a quest!” Brian added. “For Santa.”

“We know. We overheard you boys back at the fishing village,” the head gnome said. “That’s what we’d like to talk about.”

“Well, could we talk back on the ground?” Matt tried.

“Nice try,” the gnome said. “But we know that you boys want to go to Krampus Island. I can’t imagine why you’d want to do something so foolish, but I’m not one to judge. Well, as it happens we have a submersible water craft that can take you to the island.”

“Really?” Matt said, “That’s great. Thank you so—”

“But first,” the gnome continued. “You boys have to do something to help us.”