Nicholas- the Fantastic Origin of Santa Claus

by Cody W Urban

  Like starving beasts—predators ready for the kill—they launched at Nicholas who turned and ran with Juno close behind. They retreated through the temple hall into a back marble room that, only moments before, Nicholas and company packed full of mistletoe. Nicholas stopped at the rear door and portrayed a defiant fierce stare at the Krampus who stopped in their tracks, repulsed by the mistletoe. They coughed, gagged, and growled, and when they turned to retreat, the doors were shut and locked by Lysander and a few other brave warriors—fathers of the stolen children ready to give their all to save them.

  When the infuriated Krampus went to strike, a barrage of arrows from Nicholas, Biticus and other archers pummeled them from behind. Most arrows weren’t able to pierce their thick hirsute hides, but it held them at a standstill for the moment long enough for Lysander and company to dash out of the back door. Then Nicholas and his companions departed and barred the door from the outside, leaving the Krampus trapped in a room full of mistletoe. It actually made Nicholas chuckle.

  A couple of Krampus guarded the front of the temple but they were swiftly felled by an onslaught of vengeful attackers. A mob of Lycian citizens rushed into the temple to pull their children away as Lysander and Pete ransacked the place, lighting it on fire and burning the works that the evil horde had wrought at the hands of innocent slaves.

  Outside of the temple, Biticus and Nicholas organized the men to lash chains and ropes around the front pillars and heaved away at it. The stone blocks inched their way apart slowly when Lysander and Pete rushed outside.

  “Is everyone out?” asked Nicholas.

  “Aye, and the place burns away!” Lysander replied.

  “Pull those pillars down, men! Destroy this site of evil!” Nicholas had little time to spend witnessing the reunion of children and their parents, nor the time to watch the Temple of Artemis fall to the ground.

  “Off so soon?” Lysander shouted. The Scarlet Rider halted and looked back.

  “I am off to solidify our victory! Ye best scatter at once!” Nicholas declared. Then he rode off in the night knowing that the fires and plume of smoke would be a beacon for the Roman forces to investigate the scene and he hoped that this would leave Vasilis with little guard left. The Krampus were trapped within the temple and Biticus had told Nicholas where Vasilis was sure to be that evening. Nicholas knew that this night he would have his revenge and put an end to the terror Vasilis inflicted on the land of Lycia. He pushed Sleipnir's nearly silent hooves to sprint to charge like an army of three to oppose the man who stole all from Nicholas. At last Nicholas would bring his downfall.

  Chapter Twelve

  It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

  For lo! The days are hastening on,

  By prophets seen of old.

  Nicholas watched, crouching behind brush in the middle of the night, as he observed a full legion of Romans ride under the waxing moonlight toward the Artemis Temple. He loathed to see armed soldiers rushing toward his friends, but he knew the road they trotted on led back toward Vasilis. It was his greater desire to see Vasilis with fewer guards, vulnerable, and he would be the sole man who would rid the world of the disease he has plagued upon it.

  When the sound of the Roman cavalry was almost no more, he mounted back on Sleipnir and whistled a signal for both Sleipnir and Juno to make haste upon the dirt trail. The moon wasn’t quite full, but close enough to provide ample lighting for Nicholas to see his way through the darkness. When at last he came upon a high hill he could see the gray image speckled with orange dots of torchlight. He found the tall citadel where Biticus had directed him; where Vasilis was supposed to reside this night. Nicholas anxiously drew his sword to end his mission, as if his foe was already before him. He had failed with Flavius, he would not fall short with this enemy. After he had slipped through the forest he came to a rear gate where another gathering of armed soldiers mounted their steeds and argued about whether it was wise for more of them to ride off toward the temple. From their vantage, they could see an ominous, red hue just along the rim of the trees.

  “Scouts report that the entire temple has been torn asunder!” said one. “Surely every one of us ought to search for the vandals responsible.”

  “That leaves few of us here should the culprits come in the night,” argued another.

  “Bar the doors and keep vigil. We shall be off to assess the situation and shall send word back post haste!” replied the first soldier who just mounted his steed. “We shant be gone long, ye have my word.”

  “Very well,” responded the dismayed guard who held close to the wooden door. He then punched his chest to salute and said, “Fare ye well and return soon.”

  The handful of riders took off toward the trail and just as the guard nearly shut the door Nicholas shot an arrow right through the gap. Not a single soldier noticed as they rode off, and Nicholas and Juno (Sleipnir was bid to stay behind silently in the shadows) dashed across the clearing through the gap where the guard was pinned to a wooden post by his leather shoulder armor. “Good evening,” said Nicholas.

  “The Scarlet Rider! Why have ye come?” he asked, squirming in fear, trying to pry the arrow from the post.

  “I beg your pardon, sir, yet this must be done,” said Nicholas, just before he punched the man and knocked him out. He didn’t like to do it, but he couldn’t leave a guard watching.

  He and Juno went through the dark corridors and then scaled the citadel’s main stairway. Not another guard was in sight and Nicholas reasoned that was why the guard was so stressed over the others leaving him. The place seemed uninhabited as he passed empty room after empty room and nowhere was a candle or torch lit. To a far wing he saw a small glow and assumed it was the servant’s quarters—Vasilis’s door would have far more regal superfluities. Finally he came to a hall and saw at the end a large doorway adorned in golden Roman standards and red drapes. At once Nicholas knew he was within feet of finding Vasilis. Nysa would be avenged or by pain of torture he would release the information of her whereabouts from the scoundrel that lay asleep behind those doors.

  He unsheathed his sword, marched purposely toward the door and hesitated a moment, but for only a moment. He was determined not to falter as he had in Britannia—he was determined to succeed. He then thrust his booted foot upon the crease where two doors met and broke them open.

  “Governor Vasilis!” Nicholas shouted, pumping courage into himself by assuming an audacious attitude. “The Scarlet Rider has come to you to bring an end to your tyranny!” He pointed his sword at the bed and saw nothing. There was no movement. No sound. No breathing. He stepped forward presuming Vasilis was cunning in his method of concealing his shock and lay in pretend obliviousness. The bed looked, in the gray dimness, as though a mound of a person lay there. Nicholas then tapped the lump with his sword and the sword went through what he discovered to be a simple rumple of sheets.

  “Governor Vasilis!” Nicholas called out, not fearing being exposed, “Where are you?” He ran about the empty citadel and found nobody. He called out repeatedly, foolishly revealing his position, yet he didn’t worry about that. His hopes were so heavily invested in this night being the end of his pain and ending the oppression of a dictator. More and more his innermost voice had to talk him into accepting that this was not the night. This was why only one guard was left, there was only a building to safeguard, and no dignitary. He stepped out onto a balcony for fresh air and to clear his thoughts. As he stepped through some curtains into the cool moonlit night his peripherals become aware of a black figure.

  His spine tingled, his stomach sank, and in the instant he turned to face the shadow, it grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. It was difficult for Nicholas to get a good look at the figure that held him, but the hand was ice cold and rough as old leather and it wore a black shroud. His vision went blurry and even with both hands he couldn’t pry the sharp fingers from cutting off his flow of oxygen. His thoughts were too hazy as he tried to conceive an idea of escape and could only
think of the one directive to remove the hand from his throat.

  The clarity finally returned to him when Juno jumped and sunk her teeth into the shrouded figure’s arm. In a fit to remove her, it swung its arm and threw both Nicholas and Juno from the ledge. The fall was four stories and he was more concerned for his furry friend than himself as he grabbed her in midair, pulled her close to his chest and plunged through a thatched roof of one of the structures in the courtyard. The thatching slowed his fall and the wooden crate below that finished it for him.

  Nicholas collapsed, his feet and legs frightfully sore, gasping for air as he let Juno go—she was unscathed. The front side of his neck burned and his lungs throbbed. He heaved, coughed, and strained to clear his racing mind to regain focus. At the sound of two feet heavily landing upon the dirt of the courtyard his lucidity returned by way of fear. He grabbed an arrow and readied his bow only to find it broken by the fall. In a panic, as he found that he was in a woodsmith’s hut, he grabbed a hatchet. Just when the door opened he flung the hatchet into the shoulder of the shrouded figure and it howled and growled.

  Nicholas then grabbed the mistletoe from his neck, held it out in front of him, and limped at the cloaked creature which was repulsed by it. This was a Krampus indeed, but clearly the toughest and meanest one he had yet to encounter. It yanked the hatchet from its shoulder and threw it back, narrowly missing Nicholas’s head. He and Juno ran away as rapidly as his sore legs could go—Nicholas mostly hobbling. The shrouded Krampus chased after them with incredible speed and Nicholas perceived it was gaining on him swiftly. Finally he reached the room where the guard still hung from the post and just when the fiend reached the doorway, Nicholas slammed the door into its face. Hearing the impact between timber and Krampus, Nicholas ran his blade through the planks of the door and felt the tip pierce flesh on the other side.

  Upon the blood-curdling shriek, Nicholas limped out from the citadel toward where he had left his reindeer. “Sleipnir! Come, Sleipnir!” His antlered friend seemed to respond to the panic in Nicholas’s voice and he leapt over the bushes and came right up to Nicholas. When Nicholas, as quickly as his aching muscles would allow, mounted, Juno’s fur bristled and she began to growl. Nicholas turned his head and saw the shrouded figure, now upon the rim of the outer wall, spring as if flying at Nicholas like a black wraith until it swept him off Sleipnir.

  It drew a wicked curved blade and engaged Nicholas in a fierce skirmish. Nicholas was no match for this foe, especially in his weakened state from the fall, and he could only use his might and skill for pure defense. The Krampus wasn’t fighting like a savage, mindless beast, but with mighty technique in swordplay combat. Every step it took toward Nicholas was a blow, and every blow it drove at him was a step in advancement closer to him.

  If it wasn’t for Juno biting at its ankles, Nicholas would have been done in easily. Juno jumped and chomped at the shrouded face only to be punched away. Nicholas took advantage of its drawn attention in which he slashed across the fiend’s chest. It buckled back, clutching its newest wound when Nicholas ran back and leapt onto Sleipnir. With a “Yah!” Sleipnir took off at full speed and Juno ran swiftly just behind.

  When they reached the dirt road beyond the forest, Juno began to bristle and growl once more, and Nicholas was clued into the dreadful notion that this new powerful Krampus was still on his heels. As he rode, summoning Juno to keep close by, he caught sight of riders ahead and he was also worried they were the Romans returning from the temple. To escape both threats he turned right, riding southward. As he rode across the green hills he saw the other riders pursuing him. He looked over his other shoulder and saw a black figure moving rapidly alongside of him.

  He encouraged Sleipnir to ride faster, but his reindeer already moved at top speed and would soon grow exhausted. Before he knew it, he was nearly cut off by coming along the rocky cliffside overlooking the Mediterranean. It may have only been a little less than a minute that he paused to plan his next move, but it was far too long. The Krampus struck him from Sleipnir and the two skidded in the grass. As Juno bared her teeth and dashed at the Krampus, it flung a rope with two weights, one on each end, into her legs. Faster than she could comprehend, her legs were bound and she was of no use to her master. Nicholas had recovered little after the last wallop and as he tried to stand, tried to unsheathe his sword, tried to defend himself, he could not move fast enough. The Krampus punched him repeatedly, picked him up, and flung him over the edge of the precipice.

  Nicholas’s mind span as one’s mind does when under a burdening sack of anxiety and put in the peril of doom, but somehow he had instinctively snatched some roots jutting out from the side of the cliff and only two feet below the brink. When the Krampus stepped over him and drew out its blade, there was nothing now that Nicholas could think of to rectify his situation. All of his secret plans, disguises, weaponry skills and pure energy had been worn out. The only thing he could rely on was that his river of destiny wouldn’t dare drag him to this spot only to kill him—or would it? After all, hadn’t Kenalfon prophesied over him? It seemed those days were hastening on and should they come to fruition within his lifetime… how could this be the end?

  It was a feeble attempt to not lose hope, but as that blade swung down at his wrists he had more root to cling to than hope. Nevertheless, just as Nicholas had experienced before, that heavenly river had not failed him again; Nicholas heard a stabbing thud and looked up and found an arrow protruding through his attacker’s arm. It growled, looked away, and dashed off in the night.

  Nicholas ought to have been more relieved, but at first he was worried it was Roman soldiers that may have driven the beast away. To his great gladness, the first faces he saw next were Lysander and Pete’s. “Nicholas, how do ye get yourself in such situations?” Lysander asked and then reached out his hand.

  Lysander and Pete pulled Nicholas over the ledge as Nicholas replied, “Events this night have not gone as expected.”

  “You know not the half of it. Before we scattered at sight of the approaching soldiers it became clear that not all children had been rescued,” Lysander explained just as he steadied Nicholas. “Not by a long shot.”

  “I could swear we removed everyone from the temple!” Nicholas retorted, exacerbated by the grievous news.

  “Aye, we did. Every child escaped the temple, but there stood many heart-broken parents, empty-armed, as their child did not show at the reunion,” explicated Lysander. “I can only assume that there is another place where they have been taken.”

  Nicholas limped over to Juno and cut the ropes binding her legs. “We have no time to lose. We must follow my attacker, for he may lead us to that very place!”

  Nicholas then mounted Sleipnir and rode off with Pete and Lysander left to get on their horses and follow. With a sigh, Lysander said under his breath, “Never any time for gratitude.”

  2

  O’er all the weary world,

  Above it’s sad and lowly plains.

  The three rode over hill country in the general direction that the shrouded creature departed toward and, as best they could, tracked the monster’s footprints and the few drops of blood here and there that their defense wrought upon it. Truly it had been wounded multiple times that night and still it retained unimaginable stamina. Finally, they came down a little past the southern town of Kale and found on a peninsula a mighty fortress where another fiery glow lit the inner walls.

  From a high cliff, Nicholas, Pete, and Lysander could see down into an eerie red pit below a bridge that led toward Vasilis' lair. “There it is,” said Nicholas, feeling confident that this was finally the place for which he searched. “Vasilis' Tower. The very place of reckoning where I shall exact my revenge.”

  “And there. The Krampus!” noted Pete. Jumping down from the bridge into the furnace below could be seen the black cloaked Krampus. They followed Pete’s pointing finger to see the dark beast crawling over jagged rocks, further down into the pit, and meet wit
h another foul-looking Krampus.

  “There must be a way to bring this information to light,” said Lysander. “Surely not the whole of the Empire agrees to this travesty and allegiance with demons. Surely there must be higher officials we could report this to and let them take this matter into their hands.”

  Nicholas didn’t heed those words as he glared at the beast in thought. He wasn’t prone to trusting the Romans to carry out these legal matters, and local authorities had been paid off by Vasilis to keep their men silent regarding any unusual sightings. Only Biticus had defected with the information on these schemes. Then Nicholas spied something unexpected as his eyes probed the whole of the lair. On a stony terrace, a fair woman in rags and chains marched at the brutality of a Krampus. It shoved her ruthlessly out of sight and followed after with chains in hand. It was a brief glimpse as Nicholas's eyes strained to focus, and in a snap he lunged forward to charge after it, but Lysander stopped him, holding tightly to his cloak.

  “No! Wait!” said Lysander.

  “Nysa! In there lies Nysa!” declared Nicholas. Either he believed it or he so wanted to believe the woman he caught the glimpse of was his beloved. He was determined without a plan to plow in toward her. “I beheld her, just now. Did ye not see?”

  “You cannot storm the gates of hell alone, nor in your state!” argued Lysander. It was true, Nicholas was hurt and exhausted, but at the sight of Nysa his hope was restored to him all in a single glimpse.

  “The hell I can’t!” Nicholas grumbled and turned again, but Lysander held him back. “Lysander! Leave me or help me!”

  “She’s dead!” Lysander shouted. “Nysa is dead. I couldn’t tell you the full reports for fear of your sanity. Now I dare think even that is failing you.”