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The other side of that wall boasted no handle or latch. I pressed back against it and felt only cold stone. If I had second thoughts about going further on this journey, it now seemed clear there was no going back.
The cave narrowed and hooked to the left. Around that bend, I found a second keyhole. Brass hooks hung on the wall on either side of it. On the left hook was the bent key. How it got here was as much a mystery as everything else this night. On the right hook hung a jacket, lined with fur. A note was pinned to the collar.
WEAR THIS – YOU WILL NEED IT.
I took the coat down off the hook and tried it on. It was too small for me, forcing my arms and shoulders into an awkward shrug. Whoever had provided it must surely have been expecting a gnome or root-dweller, not a thirteen year-old human. I took off the coat and hung it over my left arm. With my right hand, I put the key into the keyhole, and once again, it was pulled from my grasp. It vanished just as before. With a rumble the wall opened, this time inward. Again, barely enough to allow me access. I wondered if the unbent key would have opened a wider doorway. It must have done, if Trimble had passed through. A draft of cold air rushed from the new opening. Not just cold, but frigid. I put the coat back on. I felt very silly, just as I no doubt looked.
I squirmed into the new passage, almost burning my sleeve with the candlelight as I did so. Once I had got all the way through, the wall closed itself, and I was trapped in a dark, misty corridor. It was bitter cold. I pushed against the wall. It was heavy, fixed and unmoving. With no way to turn back, I faced the chill. It settled on my skin and instantly burrowed deeper, making my teeth clench.
The haze of icy mist put an aura around the lantern’s glow. The warm, clear skies I had left behind in Christchurch must surely lie just two doorways back. Yet I knew I must be somewhere else, someplace impossibly distant. I could literally feel it in my bones. My shaking, shivering bones.
The aggressive cold energized my steps. I noticed a dozen points of candlelight around me. Other lanterns, I thought, but it was only the light from my own lantern, reflecting off of mirrors stuck along the walls on both sides of the tunnel. Each mirror was framed in rough, unfinished wood, hung with twine on wooden pegs. The reflections amplified the light, and I could see well enough to turn my quick steps into a near run, until I reached the other end of the long, twisting passage, and yet another keyhole. On a small, crooked table next to the wall was set the now-familiar bent key, and a pair of boots with another note.
YOU WILL NEED THESE TOO
The boots were too large. I could slip my feet, shoes and all, into and out of them. I wouldn’t be able to walk so much as drag and lumber along in these. I thought it might make more sense to simply carry them until they were really needed. It took both hands to lift them, leaving me no way to carry the lantern. So, I slid my shod feet into the hulking things yet again, picked up the lantern, slid the key into the hole, watched it vanish, and stood back as this third wall opened.
The stone wall swung my direction, a little further this time. A gust of wind carried a flurry of snow through the new opening. There was enough leeway to allow me to step through without wriggling. Once I was past it, the wall shut tight. Now it was just a rocky ledge, jutting from the ground, surrounded by snow. I turned around and faced an unfamiliar world, dark, and cloaked in terrible weather.
The wind pressed firmly into my uncovered face. I stepped, or schlepped, into it, pulling the jacket up over the top of my head. The wind sang a slow, eerie harmony in the air. Beautiful if it weren’t for the accompanying sting of cold.
A drift of snow lay just beyond, and there were tracks, deep enough that the wind had not yet erased them. I could not see beyond a few yards. I detected the shadows of trees not far off. In the flickering spotlight of my lantern, I saw that the tracks traced the steps of a hooved animal and a young child. Trimble and Clive, it must have been. I kept my head down and followed these tracks.
I stood by the branches of a snow-covered evergreen where the tracks divided. Trimble’s went off to the left, and Clive’s led around to the other side of the tree. I followed Clive’s trail, and to my dismay, saw that it vanished, as if he had been caught up into the air.
There were shouts in the distance. I turned my body away from the wind, and saw a morphing orange glow from the other side of a dark rise in the ground. It looked as though at least three electric torches had been switched on in the distance, and their lights were moving and scurrying, making beams in the dark. I heard the voices of men hollering through the breeze, in a language I didn’t recognize.
Suddenly, between the torch lights and the place I was standing, an enormous shadow came into view. It looked like a giant wearing the antlers of a reindeer on its head. The shadow passed quickly by, and I heard a brutish roar. A chill went through my already cold frame.
Another shadow came into view, outlined by the beams of light in the haze. It was a reindeer. The torches projected its shadow against the snowy air, so that it loomed over me. It had to be Trimble. I wanted to shout out for its attention, but nothing came from my mouth.
Suddenly, the deer bucked up on its hind legs. I heard it make a terrible noise. The deer’s shadow fell and rolled, and I saw, too clearly, the shaft of an arrow protruding from its side. Men’s voices called out in triumph. I saw the shadows of two more arrows sail through the air and land with horrible accuracy in the deer’s neck and haunches. Then I turned away. If it was Trimble, I was too late to save him.
I suddenly sensed that I was not alone. Someone stood just behind me. He cast an imposing shadow. I gasped as the man spoke.
“Don’t be afraid,” he shouted. Then he leaned closer and said in a low voice, deep and calm, “I hope you didn’t see what just happened.”
I nodded my head.
“Such an awful turn of events.” He stood straight again and raised his voice to be heard above the melodic howl of wind. “Follow me! You need the warmth of a fire.”
He wore a thick coat of dark brown, trimmed with fur colored a light beige. The coat tapered to a fur-trimmed hood. He also wore a thick leather belt and heavy boots. I tried to see his face, but he turned away and started to walk. I moved awkwardly after him, only a step or two. Then I found myself stuck. My boots had buried themselves as I tried to move ahead.
“Wait,” I said, and he turned back around.
“Try to lift your feet as high as you can. You get stuck if you drag them. We only need to get a few more yards,” he said and he pointed into the darkness. “You’ll be safe and warm in a moment.”
I finally had a look at his face. He had gentle blue eyes, and a white beard. Above his brow, but beneath his hood, he wore a crown of entwined holly branches.
“Father Christmas?” I said. He didn’t answer, but turned and kept walking.
Soon enough, we arrived at a small cottage, almost completely buried in drifts of snow. A lantern hung by its large wooden door. The roof and all beyond it were in shadow, or lost in the grey rush of wind and fine fragments of ice. My host pushed open the door and hurried me through. As soon as I walked into the warm interior, I shivered, a deep shudder that ran along my spine and through my entire body. I had never been so cold.
“Into the den, young man,” he said. He took the tiny, ludicrous coat off of my shoulders, and asked me to step out of the gargantuan boots. These he picked up and carried as he showed me into a cozy room. There were three large, cushioned chairs. A fire burned in a stone fireplace, and the hearth above it was decorated with a crèche.
“I’m happy you arrived safely. And I’m glad I went outside when I did. You could have caught your death of cold,” the imposing man said. He lifted the coat in his right hand and looked at it. “Oh dear, is this the coat they left for you?”
“It was hanging on a peg ...” I began, but found myself unable to say more.
“And those boots. Really, who could they possibly have been expecting? Someone with tiny shoulders and enormous feet.”
I was still shivering, though the room was very warm. The flannel pyjama shirt was wet, as were my half-bare legs.
“I’ll have warm drink and dry clothes brought to you at once. Please take a seat by the fire. I must go back outside, but I’ll return soon.”
I sat in the chair nearest to the fire. The bearded man in the great coat disappeared down a hallway. I heard him say a few words to someone, then he reappeared. He gave me a smile, warm but weary, and a nod. He opened the front door and was gone back into the freezing darkness.
A gnome with a long nose, topped with wire-rimmed glasses, appeared from the hallway pushing a teacart. He wheeled it to me, and gave a bow.
“I don’t know who you are, but a friend of my master is a friend of mine.”
“Where am I?” I asked.
“You are at a scouting post just a short distance from Very North. My name is Clement, and I am posted here until New Year’s Day. This is usually a quiet post, but there seems to be an awful lot happening tonight.”
“What country is this?” I said.
“Country? I guess I don’t know. I’m no good at keeping track of human borders. If it helps, you are at the edge of a forest we gnomes call the Ice Crown.”
“It’s ... cold all the time?”
“Oh yes. This close to Very North, it’s always cold.”
“I’ve seen snow on the south island before, but I’ve never been in anything like this.” It felt like my thoughts were coming out disconnected and dull. I was overwhelmed, and more than a little frightened. “I’m not sure I should be here.”
“But you are here, and once you get to Very North, you’ll like it.” He poured some tea and set it on a small table beside my chair. “We’re almost out of biscuits. I confess, I ate most of them myself. But there are these two left, if you want them.”
“Sure,” I said.
“They are crisp and taste of ginger cake. I do hope we will get more soon.” He turned away and scuttered down the hall. “Don’t go away,” he said as he went.
The prospect of an evening meal had first been raised when I got to Sissy’s house, and that now seemed like a very long time ago. Since then, I had not eaten anything. The ginger and spices of those biscuits tasted better than any sweet I ever remembered eating. I devoured the two baked treats. They were rich and filling. The tea warmed my throat. The sensation of hot liquid running into my body was soothing. I wanted to drop off to sleep in that chair. Yet I wondered if I could possibly go to sleep. Surely, I was already doing so, and dreaming. Then, there was the troubled part of my mind, the one telling me that I had just seen an animal slain, an animal that must have been Trimble.
Clement reappeared with a stack of clothes. “I don’t know how well these might fit, but they’re warm and dry, so, please try them on. I’ll go back to my quarters, and you can change. You’ll be on your way again in a short while.”
The clothes fit well. There was a pair of trousers, a dark pine green in colour, and a white undershirt. A red wool pullover, graced with a knitted image of a reindeer, completed the ensemble. As soon as I put them on, I was very glad to have them. I stacked the wet clothes in the corner. On handling them, I remembered the medallion. It was still in the trouser pocket. I transferred it to the pocket of the new trousers, and felt a twinge of guilt as I did so. It was something I was certain I should not be carrying.
Once changed, I took a minute to look around the room. Several pictures hung on the wall opposite the fireplace. One depicted the face of a priest, surrounded by a wreath. Another looked like a portrait, drawn long ago, of a young girl, surrounded by a heart-shaped bough of holly.
Presently, the front door opened. I felt the rush of cold air and heard the insistent moaning of the wind. The tall man had returned. I heard him stomp his boots in the entryway, and soon he was in my presence.
“I hope you’re feeling more comfortable, and relaxed,” he said as he reentered the room.
“Yes, sir.”
“You may call me Kris.” He removed his coat and hood and hung them on a hook. The crown of holly stayed atop his partially bald head, above his bright silver-white hair.
“Are you Father Christmas?” I said.
He lifted his head and glanced at me sideways. “At just this moment, not quite. But, in a little while, yes. By all means, yes.”
“So, does the name Kris mean you’re Kris Kringle?”
“Sometimes. I have a lot of names. I like Kris.” He strolled to the chair I had been sitting in, and took his place there. Then he looked back at me. “You aren’t still feeling a chill, I hope.”
“No sir, ... Kris,” I said. “I’m ... happy to meet you.”
“Likewise, but you have me at a disadvantage. I still don’t know who you are.”
“Oh! I’m Mannie.”
“It’s a great privilege to meet you, Mannie.”
“Mannie Candler.”
“Superb. Please, have a seat.” He gestured toward a smaller wooden chair. “Mannie Candler. I usually know who my guests are going to be ahead of time, but I am always happy to receive surprise visitors.”
“You were expecting Olivia, right?”
“She is one candidate I was especially eager to meet. Apparently, her invitation was usurped.”
“Have you met her brother Clive, then?”
“I have seen him, briefly.”
“Is he ...”
“Safe? I hope so. My agents took him into custody.”
“Is he in trouble?”
“That will depend a great deal on Her Ladyship.”
"Am I in trouble?”
Kris gave me a quizzical look. “Is there some reason you should be?
I didn’t say anything. I thought about the little trinket I had carried with me. All I knew was that it had been stolen from Trimble and was reputedly filled with potent magic.
“If I can put your mind at ease, young man. You look troubled.”
I almost told him about the medallion but changed my mind as quickly. I was sure he could read the racing of mixed emotions on my face.
“This world must seem very different from the one you woke up in this morning.”
“Very.”
“We are close to the world you know, but only barely a part of it. Tell me, Mannie, do you daydream a great deal?”
“Yes.” I smiled. “Everyone who knows me can tell you that.”
“It’s a common trait among those humans who can see the fair folk.”
“Lemuel told me, um... Do you know Lemuel?”
“I am well acquainted with that rascal, yes.”
“He told me that once I’m older, I won’t see such things anymore.”
“That’s probably true. You must be twelve?”
“Thirteen.”
“It’s unusual for boys your age to see this world. But not unheard of.
He leaned closer to me. “I was once a boy much like you, a human child, and prone to fanciful dreams. I stumbled into this world much as you have done. But that was a long time ago. I am very old, much older than I look.” He glanced down at the empty biscuit plate and shook his head. “That’s the last of those,” he said. “Did you enjoy the biscuits?”
“Yes, very much.”
“They are made by a forest gnome in the Bavarian woods. He has customers around the world, and he permits only two dozen biscuits each year per customer. No exceptions, not even for me. You’ve had the last of them, so I am glad to hear that they gave satisfaction.”
He stood and moved closer to the fireplace.
“You have no prior experience of the strange magics. They flow through the earth and connect distant shores to one another. I am human, but I have learned to detect the shifts in these magical tides. The forest people and the root-folk, they are far better attuned to that stream. But tonight, my instincts proved inadequate.”
He looked at me with a serious expression. “We have business to attend to, Mannie. Some of it joyous, some of it sad.”
“Yes.” My voice shook a little. Kris’s presence was at once reassuring and intimidating. He sat himself in the largest chair of that room.
“Tonight, you have found yourself in the middle of an operation, led by myself. The aim was to secure the safety of a reindeer named Trimble. That operation has failed. Trimble has been shot and killed.”
I said nothing, but lowered my head. The news came as no surprise, but hearing Kris say it so bluntly made my heart sink.
“That is the sorrow,” he continued, “but there was always some risk that it would come to this.”
“I saw it happen, just before you found me.”
“It was a terrible sight. I regret you had to endure it.”
“Who shot him?”
“Hunters in the service of a powerful sorcerer. Have you heard of the Grim Frost?”
“Yes, sir.” I couldn’t stop myself from addressing him that way. “They talked about him in the forest.”
“He is a magician, feared by many. He demands loyalties from his subjects, and he expects frequent gifts. If these are not delivered, he is able to cause a great deal of misery.”
Kris stood and walked to the hallway. He motioned me over, then drew a book off of a small shelf and opened it. He handed it to me. On the page was a woodcut illustration of a giant creature with a goblin-like face emerging from an ice cave. A whirlwind of frost issued forth from its bellowing mouth.
“This is a depiction of the Grim Frost, etched by an explorer from the Scoresby Expedition to the Polar Sea.”
“Is this accurate?”
“It is a little drastic, but this is how many think of him.”
“Is he your enemy?”
“We are at odds with one another, but without him, I would have died long ago. I am dependent on his powers. I disapprove of the way in which he wields them. I do not think of him as an enemy. I think of him as a prisoner.”
“Is Trimble ...”
“His sacrifice, yes.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Trimble’s life was his demand, and he had many agents in place to make sure it happened. I had my own agents. I did my best to prevent it. Well, I tried to do my best.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh, please don’t blame yourself. You weren’t an agent.”
“But I had Trimble, for a moment. In a garage.”
“There is no need to explain. We have much to accomplish. There are other children here, you know. They arrived by very different means. By invitation.”
“Candidates? Like Olivia?”
“Yes, that’s right. Each one of them carried messages or helped the effort in some way. They have no idea what has happened here at this outpost tonight. In fact, they are hoping to meet Trimble. That would seem to be impossible now, yes?”
“Yes,” I said, and my voice shook.
He leaned in close. “May I trust you?” But as soon as he came within a few inches of me, he closed his eyes in a wince, and tilted his head slightly, as if he had sensed something. “What have you got with you? You’re holding something, a powerful object.”
“It’s a medallion,” I said. I dug it out of my pocket. “Lemuel gave it to me.”
Kris’s face grew stern. “Has anyone else held it?”
“Flutterbold put his hand on it, for a moment.” I said.
“It belongs to Trimble!” he shouted. “This could have protected him!” He stepped away angrily and crossed to the fireplace. For a few terrible moments, he looked into the flames. I wanted to disappear. I felt my throat clutch.
“I never wanted it,” I said. Kris heard the emotion in my voice. He turned.
“I’m sorry, Mannie. This isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.”
I extended the medallion by the chain. “Will you take it?” I asked.
“I don’t dare,” he answered. “In my hands, the Grim Frost will find it too quickly. It’s probably safer with you.”
“But then, am I safe?”
“Not here. Very North must be your fortress. I will take you there immediately.”
Clement entered the room. He held a fur coat. “Here. This coat belonged to a forest tracker named Lastbear. He was a giant among gnomes. So, it might fit you.” I tried it on, and the coat fit perfectly around my frame. The sleeves were slightly too short. It didn’t matter. It was a vast improvement over the coat I had recently tried to wear.
Kris led me back out the door of the outpost and into the snowy cold. A sled now stood nearby. It was carved of wood, similar in its ornaments to the wagon that had brought Drillmast into our presence back at the dirt road. Two reindeer were harnessed to it, and I saw, with instant grief, that another reindeer lay in the back. It was the body of Trimble, unmistakable from the VN on its head. The arrows had not been removed from his body, but they had been broken off. I couldn’t look for long.
“What a terrible thing,” Kris said, almost shouting to be heard over the sound of wailing wind. He placed his gloved hand on my shoulder for a moment. “Take this end, will you?” He handed me one side of a green tarp, and together, we threw it over Trimble’s body. I stood by for a moment as Kris secured it.
“Try not to dwell on this,” he said. “You carry a powerful charm. It might change everything. Remember I said it looked impossible that my candidates might meet Trimble?”
I nodded, while stamping my feet to ward off the cold creeping into my toes.
“I now think it might be possible. Not easy, but possible.”
He turned and walked over to the bench of the great sleigh. “Get on board, and keep your head down. The wind is picking up.”
I walked around the front of the sleigh and climbed up next to Kris. “It will be dark and very cold, but where I’m taking you is not far. Banner and Lina know the way. I hardly need to guide them. Shield your eyes. You don’t want them to freeze.”
Clement was standing by the two deer. He slapped the flanks of Banner, the deer on the left, and both began to move into the darkness.
The wind picked up in intensity almost as soon as we took off. I huddled and kept my head down against it, though once or twice I peeked over at Kris, and saw that he too had trouble looking into the snow and ice rushing at us. The oncoming flurry of tiny white flakes against the blackness looked like a tunnel of shooting stars. I couldn’t glance into it for more than an instant, and then I buried my face again. I put my gloved hands against my ears, as the cold made my lobes ache.
The trip took only a few moments, and then Kris brought the sleigh to a halt. “Stay put,” he instructed. “Keep your eyes closed.” I waited as he dropped down to the ground, his boots making a soft thump against the snow. He walked around to my side, took me by the shoulder, and guided me into a sheltered opening. It looked like the entrance to a tunnel, with walls of rock and ice.
“I’ve got to go another way,” Kris said. “This path will take you to Very North and I will meet you there soon enough.” He handed me a lantern, opened it, and then struck a match against the side of the sleigh. He lit the candle within, and closed the glass door. “The passage is safe, and you won’t have to contend with this wind any longer.”
I lifted the light to the tunnel ahead. It sparkled with blue and white.
“Mannie, a word before I go. You will soon meet the young candidates. I need you to keep Trimble’s fate a secret. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” I said. “If anyone asks ...”
“You simply don’t know. And the secret treasure you carry. Don’t mention that either.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“One last thing,” he said, and he looked at me with a smile that was both weary and consoling. “Try to be of good cheer. Cultivate merriment and share it with the others. I place my confidence in you.” He stepped onto the sleigh and took the reins. In no time, it disappeared into the darkness, and the noisy rush of wind.
The ground inside the tunnel was solid, of hard earth with no ice or snow. I no longer wore the ridiculous boots, but my own shoes seemed thin and inadequate to the chill. I found an etching on the wall. It was a labyrinth, carved into the stone. It looked to be a perfect match to the pattern of the Moss Circle. Just to the right of it, there was a rough-hewn doorway. The instant I stepped into it, a soft glow began to emanate from the ground. Patches of ice along the sides caught a soft illumination that seemed to spread like the gentlest of fires. Blue light pulsed behind sheets of ice. My path was being lit, as if by fireflies beneath the surface of the frozen path.
I found the words of another verse etched along the right hand wall, one word every few yards: The ... worthy... snows
I backtracked to the beginning, and called each word out as I practically raced through the labyrinth. The verse I recited was similar, but not exactly the same, as that from the Moss Circle.
The worthy snows of Very North
Protect this ancient hidden place
If you but banish cares henceforth
The magics here will thee embrace
By the time I reached the last word, I was in the final, concentric spirals of the labyrinth. At its center, I found steps, rising at a gentle slope to a doorway above. It was open. As I stopped to catch my breath, a face appeared from behind it.
“Hello! Welcome to Very North,” said a man with a pointed black beard. “You must be Mr. Candlewax.”