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Ryder was afraid to move.
After all, the North Pole wasn’t a land. It was a sheet of ice floating on the Arctic Ocean. They weren’t going to survive long in this weather, but one wrong step and they could plunge through an open lead into dark water.
They would only last minutes.
Ronin’s footsteps were disappearing. The bitter wind blurred his vision. The tracks were quickly eroding.
“Cherry!”
He barely felt her slip from his grasp. She was shuffling in the same direction Ronin was last seen moving, swinging her arms in front of her.
“Stop—” He choked on a mouthful of frigid air.
And then she was gone, too.
Unlike Ronin, he watched her disappear. She didn’t plunge through the ice. She just vanished. First her arms and then the rest of her, like she’d walk through a veil that didn’t part but rather absorbed her. Ryder reached his arm out.
His mitten vanished.
He stuck his arm out again; this time it disappeared up to the elbow. Before he could pull it back, something grabbed him like something taking bait from below the ice.
Silence.
That was the first thing he noticed. He hadn’t fallen into the belly of a sea monster. Cherry was holding onto his arm. The scenery hadn’t changed. The sky was still dark and the stars numerous and bright; the snowy landscape went out to the horizon. It was bone-breaking cold.
The wind is gone.
It was like a window had been rolled up. Their breath streamed out in thick clouds that hovered in front of their faces. There was a slight blur behind him, a watery wall that warped the view.
“What is it?” she said.
A liquid wall hovered in space. He put his arm through it. “I can feel the wind on the other side.”
Ronin had come this way. The snow had been trampled around them like a stampede had swept through the area with no indication of where it came from or where it went. The prints were wide and deep, a mixture of hooves and snowshoes.
Footprints.
“You hear that?” Cherry said.
He slowed his breathing. It sounded like... like singing. It was all around. They moved a few steps and stopped. The celebration grew closer. The hair on the back of his neck stiffened. The air had that funny watercolor look to it again.
“Ryder!”
Cherry pointed back from where they had come. An object was falling from the sky. At the last moment, it threw out four legs and glided over the snow, galloping to a stop and shaking a rack of antlers. Someone fell off.
William.
The old man gathered his coat around his neck. He was prepared for the fierce weather, buttoning up and pulling on a second pair of mittens. The wind pushed him away from the cloned reindeer. He leaned into the gale and worked his way back, using the clone for protection. He reached into a pocket. A chill more frigid than the water below the ice trickled through Ryder’s legs.
The phone.
Ryder had dropped it before Ronin had thrown them on his back. Now the old man cradled it in the thick padding of his mitten, pulling it close to see. Ryder didn’t know how it worked.
He just knew what it did.
Cherry shoved Ryder behind her. The old man waved the phone side to side. He looked directly at them, lifted his hand and squinted. The loose ends of his coat flapped like a kite snagged in a tree.
Chilling fear had filled his legs and was replaced by red-hot coals, but not the imaginary kind the old man had made him believe. He’d been running his entire life, searching for where he belonged. Now he knew the truth of who he was and why. The old man couldn’t take that away from him. No one could.
I’m not afraid.
“There’s nothing!” Ryder shouted. “You’re alone, William!”
The old man cocked his head.
Cherry kept Ryder from moving forward. Her lips drew a grim line. Crystals had formed on her eyelashes and had begun to melt. Ryder felt a smile jab his cheek. Determination creased her forehead.
“He can’t hear you.” The voice came from behind them.
Two elven were in the trampled snow. One was bearded with a giant bush. Their enormous feet were half buried. They smiled while Ryder and Cherry searched for words. The pause was long and silent, the strangeness wrapping around them and squeezing.
“We’re inside the dome.” The elven who said that wore a long gray braid that pulled the hair from her doughy, grandmotherly face.
“Back-reflecting technology,” the bearded elven added, “allows us to be unseen. The field generator is in the center, you see, and we adjust the radius—”
“Nog.”
The grandmotherly elven touched his arm. Nog went silent, lips still parted as if he might continue.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” she said.
Ryder and Cherry looked at each other. This was what the game room felt like. Vertigo weakened his knees. Reality had flipped upside down.
“Nog and I decided to present ourselves first. This is quite a bit, we realize. A bit overwhelming. So take your time, and don’t worry about William and his reindeer.”
The old man had wandered farther away.
“What Merry means to say is that she decided to show ourselves first. Honestly, I think it’d be better if we went Band-Aid on this. It’s not like time is abundant right now, and the wandering gentleman out there isn’t going to last long, not like that—”
“Nevertheless.” Merry took his hand. “There’s no good way, children. It is Christmas Eve. We’re busy at this time of year and there’s been a lot to celebrate. We don’t invite your kind into the colony, you see. Only three in the last two hundred years.”
“Where is he?” Ryder blurted. “Where’s Ronin?”
“He’s safe, child.”
She twittered her fingers and urged them to come closer. Nog stepped aside, his wide feet stamping the snow like snowshoes, making space between Merry and him.
“What about William?” A look of concern wedged between Cherry’s eyebrows. The old man was struggling. The wind shoved him down. “We can’t let him freeze,” she said.
“That won’t happen,” Merry said.
“He will find what he needs.” Nog lifted a defiant finger. “The true Christmas spirit.”
After all he’d done, it was still hard to watch the old man like that. He was cold and suffering. Most of all, he was lost.
Merry and Nog held up their hands, both with wiggling fingers and merry smiles, their cheeks rosy and eyes sparkling in deep folds. Ryder and Cherry took their hands. With their backs to William, they faced another watery wall. They were standing in the space between two incognito domes, Nog explained.
“Don’t you think we should show them first?”
“You do.”
“We should.”
Merry was warm and soft and full of wrinkles. Nog was a step ahead of them. When he got back in line, she nodded. Their hands tightened as if the roller coaster were climbing over the first drop.
“Children,” she said, “the real North Pole.”
The air shimmered like a vertical pond of water was suddenly disturbed by a pebble. The distant horizon wavered and the dunes of snow quaked. And then like turning a knob, a correct frequency was found and the window was clear. A roar of celebration surprised them.
Elven were everywhere.
They sang and shouted, cheered and laughed. The volume was deafening and so full of joy that it felt like a bonfire had been ignited with gasoline.
They wore long coats and short coats, some with caps and others without. Beards that touched their toes and faces smooth and round, a concert of partygoers mingling in controlled chaos. There were fast avenues where the ice was exposed and the elven slid on bare feet. There were congregations crowded together and barely moving.
Snowballs were launched like beach balls, and snow fell like confetti. Elven popped out of the ice, and others leaped into open leads of water. And they were singing.
They were all singing.
Presents brightly wrapped floated amongst the crowd, passed along like pails of water, each making their way toward a giant red sleigh, where elven kept count and directed traffic. Enormous snow creatures were at the end of the lines, taking the gifts with thick arms and placing them in a big sack, their heads turning like turrets. They were abominable things made of snow.
Ryder felt the ice begin to tilt.
He and Cherry staggered. Merry and Nog held them upright. His balance was suddenly elusive. He didn’t get dizzy in dreams.
“It’s real,” Cherry murmured.
“My dear, you flew on a reindeer,” Nog said. “Of course it’s real.”
“It’s just so, so... magical.”
“Not magic. Science. Magic is phenomena not yet understood—”
“Nog.”
He cleared his throat. “Not magic.”
“That feeling you have right now,” Merry said, “is why we remain secret. You’re not ready to see. William took our knowledge for the wrong reasons. There are others like him.”
Ryder didn’t know if he’d ever get his legs back. In the game room he knew it was an illusion, that he could leave and go back to the way things were supposed to be. And in a dream he woke up. Reality was always waiting.
But this is reality.
A hoarse call rose up. A herd of reindeer was gathered in a circle. They were facing in with bushy white tails flickering out. Their antlers clattered as they crowded together. Somewhere in the middle a greater set of antlers rose up.
Ryder took a tentative step.
His legs were stiff and numb. Merry tried to hold him back, but he stumbled ahead, dragging them through the barrier with him. It felt thick and wet, raising every hair follicle on his body as he passed through it. He emerged on the other side still dry.
All at once, everyone stopped.
Presents held stiffly, snowballs cocked and ready, no one moved. They were caught in the act, holding as still as Arctic hares. Even the snow creatures were motionless, as if they were natural features conjured up by a storm.
“Everyone!” Merry called. “I’d like to introduce—”
The stampede drowned her out. Sliding and marching, rolling and jumping, cheering and singing as they rushed toward them. Ryder and Cherry drew closer as short arms and little hands mobbed them.
Merry and Nog tried to control traffic, but it was futile. The fat little bodies crushed together, pulling at their coats and grabbing at their hands. Touching them and cheering. Gray-haired elven seemed just as thrilled as the bouncy younger ones.
The abominable snowmen got control.
They parted the crowd and stomped their way toward them. Gently, they moved the swarming elven a safe distance away, allowing a few at a time to reach them.
“Christmas, everyone!” Merry’s amplified voice magically rose above the din. “Remember it’s Christmas. We need to continue our work. Please, everyone.”
A collective groan rippled through the crowd. Little by little, they peeled away and picked up the presents. Three younger elven slipped between the snow creatures and tossed a gleaming cube in the air. As it hovered above them, they wagged their tongues and threw up fingers.
“Enough selfies.” Merry ushered them away. “You have work.”
The reindeer hadn’t moved.
The tips of great antlers were barely visible. The snow creatures cleared a path. Ryder and Cherry walked down the icy red carpet with straggling young elven on both sides of the abominable barricade.
The reindeer snorted.
Two elven were feeding them and adjusting harnesses on their bellies. They seemed immune to the hysteria, focused on the reindeer instead. Ryder held out his hand. Wet nostrils walked up his arm and sampled his neck and hair. A coarse tongue raked his cheek before the next one in line did the same, purring with approval.
“They remember you,” one of the handlers said.
She gave them green cubes. Little by little, the center of the gathering was revealed. Ronin lay on folded legs. He lifted his head slowly, like his antlers were cast iron. Eyelids lazily revealed watery eyes. Ryder fell on his knees.
The reindeer closed around them.
“You’re special,” the handler said. “You have the kiss.”
Ryder touched his cheek where the birthmark was. “I... remember...”
“He never forgot.”
A musky scent of wet fur and grassy breath smothered them. Ryder leaned against Ronin’s neck, the fur warm and tickling. Cherry did the same on the other side. They ran their fingers over his long snout. A deep satisfied groan rattled deep inside Ronin. The adrenaline that had fueled Ryder tapped out and a deep restfulness fell over him.
Reindeer breath sprinkled down like magic.
“You share a connection.” The handler’s voice was comforting. “One that will always be there. One that might feel...”
Ryder could feel her lean closer to whisper.
There was an explanation for all of this—like how a reindeer flies, or the way he saw through Ronin’s eyes, or that elven really do exist—but he didn’t want to call it science. Not just yet. They shared a connection, one that seemed to connect their thoughts and senses. There was only one word for that.
“Magical,” the herder whispered.
The sky was dark and still. Colorful ribbons dashed against an endless backdrop. From outside the ring of reindeer and imposing snow creatures, a song rose up. Surrounded by the impossible, Ryder rested in the best place in the world—the strong neck of a reindeer.
The greatest of them all.
***
Bells.
Melodious bells gently carried Ryder to wakefulness. The ground jolted.
“Not this year.” Tinsel, the elven herder, stroked Ronin’s muzzle. “You’ve done enough for one night.”
That didn’t slow him. Ryder and Cherry fell back as he made it onto his front legs. The antlers swung around as he stretched his neck and let out a long mournful wail.
“They’ll be fine,” Tinsel said. “They know the way.”
Reluctantly, he dropped back down, a growl rumbling in his throat. There was nothing he could do about it. He didn’t have the energy to stand. Tinsel soothed him until he laid his head down. Snow puffed out in long streams. His eyelids dropped once again.
“Come,” Merry called.
Nog helped Cherry stand. Merry waited patiently for Ryder to take her hand. Ronin’s eyes were already wandering beneath his eyelids, watching dreamy green cubes dance like sugar plums.
“Thank you,” Ryder whispered into the fluffy ear.
He stopped from hugging the big snout resting peacefully. This was the presence he’d felt all of his life. No matter how lonely he felt, there was someone out there watching over him. Ryder told him that he didn’t need him anymore.
Secretly, he didn’t want to let go.
The elven were no longer scattered across the ice but grouped tightly around the sleigh. None were waiting for Ryder and Cherry as the snow creatures escorted them. Occasionally, the younger ones snuck a selfie. Everyone else was focused on the most important night of the year.
Cherry and Ryder laced their fingers.
The sleigh was larger than it appeared from a distance. The eight reindeer were tethered to the front, mouths buried in feed bags, stamping the snow impatiently, bells ringing on the harnesses. The sack was bulky and tied shut. The strangeness of all of this threatened his balance again, telling him to wake up. There weren’t sleighs on the North Pole or sacks filled with toys.
And reindeer don’t fly.
The bench was padded and a control panel looked like something from a spaceship. A mug of cocoa steamed from a cup holder, little white marshmallows bobbing in foam. Cherry pinched his arm and he winced.
“Just wanted to make sure you’re real.”
“Why wouldn’t he be?” The voice was deep and resonant, as if a bassoon could talk.
His beard was as white as snow and thick as a blizzard. His red coat was worn and thick, white specks of snow stuck to the fuzzy surface. A strong fragrance of nutmeg surrounded him.
This was not the cartoon from movies or coloring books or holiday calendars but a real man with scuffed mittens and a ruddy nose, eyes as deep and blue as Arctic ice.
He’s real.
Ryder didn’t say it. He’d said that enough already. Even though they’d flown on a reindeer and waded through an ancient race of jolly elven, seeing the fat man was the most dizzying thing of all.
“Santa.”
A low rumble of laughter tumbled from his thick beard, an abrupt but distinctive one. His eyes twinkled like stars were born from them. An elderly woman was next to him, sprigs of gray hair escaping her winter cap. She took his arm and they smiled upon them gently.
“It’s been a troubled road,” he said. “But those hardships have made you who you are.”
He shed his glove and touched the tips of their noses. A faint smell of cinnamon tickled their nostrils.
An elven approached with an electronic tablet and reminded Santa what time it was. He acknowledged him with a nod and turned to the waiting crowd, lifting a hand above his head.
“Merry Christmas!”
They cheered and leaped. The ice shuddered. Snowballs were launched. Elven hugged and danced, and Santa’s laughter was buried beneath the celebration. They took the feed bags from the reindeer.
More elven joined the one with the tablet and ushered Santa to the sleigh, muttering updates about weather and routes. He slid onto the seat and listened intently, having a sip of cocoa.
“Are you coming?”
He turned a twinkling eye to Ryder and Cherry. They had turned solid with wonder, had become observers watching reality dress up like a dream. Santa patted the bench.
“Life in the ice isn’t for you,” Merry said. “He’ll take you home.”
“We don’t have a home.”
Cherry beat him to it. They couldn’t go back to Kringletown. The ice was as good as any other place they’d been.
“You do now.”
Mrs. Claus adjusted Ryder’s cap and tightened Cherry’s scarf before guiding them around the sleigh. Elven held their hands to keep them steady, boosting them onto the front seat and then handing Mrs. Claus two steaming cups of cocoa. She put them in cup holders and winked.
She fussed with Santa’s coat, pecking him on the cheek with a smiling kiss and silly laughter. The elven cheered like children and cleared a path in front of the sleigh. Santa waved with a thick mitten.
“Would you like to do the honors?” he said.
Ryder and Cherry didn’t know what he meant. Santa gestured to the reindeer, their heads turned and waiting, clouds streaming from their nostrils.
“Now Dasher, now Dancer...” he started.
The two reindeer in front faced forward; muscles rippled over their hindquarters, white tails flickering. Ryder looked at Cherry and swallowed. He couldn’t remember the rest.
“Now Prancer and Vixen,” Cherry said.
Santa threw his head back and put his hand on his belly. “Ho-ho-ho!”
They finished the names together. Ryder managed to squeak out the last one but then, unexpectedly, heard Santa add one that wasn’t in the popular refrain that everyone back in the real world knew and loved.
“And Ronin to lead them all!”
The sleigh jerked forward. The reindeer dug into the snow and sped through a storm of celebratory snowballs and cheers. They jostled in the seat until Dasher and Dancer lifted off the ice. Two by two, the rest of them followed. Their antlers glowed and warped the atmosphere, surrounding the sleigh with a protective bubble where the wind couldn’t reach them.
They soared on a smooth trackless path, circling above the mass of elven. Santa waved back and wished them all a good night. Ronin was a dark figure on the ice. A sorrowful moan reached them. Ryder waved with a lump in his throat. All was blurry when he heard the last reindeer call to them.
And then they were gone.
They had exited the incognito dome that kept them hidden from the world. Alone on the North Pole where they lived in the ice, their stealthy technology keeping them secret. How long would it last? And what would happen when they were finally discovered? After all, William found them.
It can’t be much longer.
“He’s been watching you.” Santa flipped a switch and leaned back with his cocoa, tossing a sideways smile at Ryder. “Ever since he found you.”
“He doesn’t have to anymore.”
This time, Ryder meant it. This was where the last reindeer belonged. Maybe it was time for someone to protect him.
Santa reached for a button. When he pressed it, a high-pitched whine sounded from the rear of the sleigh. The stars blurred and the earth too. They had entered a time-warping field that would allow them to travel the world in a blink of an eye. Santa began laughing.
“Just try to stop him.”