Yuletide Knights 3

by Johnny Miles

  “Wait a minute.” Griffin stepped back, confused. “I don’t understand. You guys disappeared. How are you here? Woden said—”

  “Never mind what I said. Sometimes I lie.” Woden approached and stared Griffin down. “Did it ever occur to you that I might be one of those people who doesn’t like to lose? I always have a… What do your people call it? Ah, yes. A Plan B.”

  “Smooth. I’ll admit. But there’s something else. If Kram—”

  “Ah! Don’t say his name right now.” Gaea placed a finger to Griffin’s lips. “The very mention of his name will jeopardize us all. We’ve placed a protective enchantment in this room and in the dungeons below.”

  “Ohhh. So that’s how he can’t hear us.” Griffin furrowed his brow suddenly. “But, Woden, didn’t you say we weren’t to use magic?”

  Gaea and Woden exchanged glances.

  “Sometimes, the use of Magic cannot be avoided, and use of it comes at great personal sacrifice,” replied Gaea. She stepped away. The others followed suit.

  Griffin realized the depth of her words. Alone and unaware they were being watched, half a dozen Elves worked mysteriously, their backs to the crowd. Griffin gazed just beyond them to see a shimmer of energy that circled up and over, surrounding them in a bubble. But even as he watched, even as their selflessness sank in, one of the Elves stumbled, as though beneath a great, invisible weight.

  “Dad…” Griffin reached out, and Gavin took his hand. “But they’re…”

  Father and son embraced. Gavin whispered in his ear.

  “I know, son. I know. But these are the sacrifices we must sometimes make. Even when the rest of the world knows nothing about it…or us. This, too, is part of the Magical world.”

  Gavin broke away.

  “Be on the ready. All we can do now is follow orders.” And with that, Gavin strode off to stand beside Kris.

  Griffin watched the two Santa Clauses as they spoke to the Elves. He watched Jackson, who mingled with the Wild Hunt. And Griffin noticed Woden speak to various released prisoners, a hand on their shoulders. Even from that distance, Griffin could see the power behind the man’s touch: comfort, courage, and hope to those who needed it.

  And then Woden raised his arms. A deathly silence fell.

  “Is everyone ready?” Woden’s voice was barely a whisper, yet everyone seemed to have heard. There was a lot of nodding. “Good. You know what to do. Go!”

  The remaining Elves hurried off in pairs, spreading out near the shield as they went. They splintered from the group to position themselves. Two by the main doors, two by a huge stained-glass window to the right, two at the expansive wall behind them, opposite the castle doors, and another two against the wall where, on the other side, was the Great Hall.

  A pained sound escaped one of the Elves holding the shield intact. When he crumpled to the ground, two freed prisoners ran to pick him up and carried him to one of the four positions, as if awaiting passage.

  Gaea caught Griffin’s attention and called him to her. She took his hand even as she grabbed the humpback witch with the other. They soon formed a circle—Kris, Gavin, Woden, Jackson, Gaea, the witch, the floating lady, Griffin, and all the others.

  “Remember, red one.” Gaea spoke using Mindspeak.”You are directly descended of me, and together, with the members of the Wild Hunt, both the old and the new, as one we shall trump this evil thing called…”

  “Krampus!” they shouted aloud.

  The shield collapsed, as did some of the Elves who had held it place. Those who still remained standing hurried to their brethren and helped them to four portals that opened the moment the shield fell. Magicals began to pour through into whatever lay beyond.

  A great roar bellowed within the Great Hall. It traveled through the foyer and the rest of the castle. It shook the walls and filled Griffin with dread. And yet, despite his fear, he felt strangely empowered when they cried:

  Let the Wild Hunt begin!

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Krampus gazed out on the Great Hall. The bloodthirsty heathens had thrown themselves headfirst, in some cases cock first, into a revelry of food and lust. Everywhere he looked, there were undulating bodies, a gluttony of ravenous indulgence. Some even ate while fucking. The Bacchanalian scene moved Krampus. It filled him with a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. But as lust stirred within his own veins, he caught himself smiling and realized…this was happiness.

  He grew hard and stroked himself. A single drop of precum formed and oozed from the head of his cock. It glistened like a sparkling jewel. Krampus dabbed at it with the tip of his finger and pulled away. The drop stretched into a long, viscous strand of clear cock juice. Krampus brought his finger to his lips and sucked. He quivered with pleasure, reveling in his own flavor.

  “Ummm…Father?”

  “What?” Krampus shouted, annoyed at himself for forgetting Black Pete stood near. It wasn’t like his son didn’t know about self-abuse. Krampus had caught him plenty of times in flagrante delicto—both alone and with partners, willing or otherwise. In fact, they’d each caught the other in various stages of satisfaction. Still…it was incredibly annoying, and as much as Krampus didn’t care, some things were best kept away from the eyes of offspring.

  “I need to step away.” Black Pete groped and rearranged himself, his voice husky with desire. Krampus saw the imagery of coupling in his son’s mind, nearly driving his son to madness.

  “Yes, yes. Go!” Krampus replied brusquely. A moment later, after Black Pete had taken off to satisfy his own perverse needs and the doors of the Great Hall slammed shut behind him, Krampus grabbed hold of his immense cock and masturbated.

  One by one, those who were awake drew near to watch and worship their personal savior and Master as he abused himself in all his glory.

  His balls, huge and heavy with cum, bounced and smacked the seat of his throne. A male ogre crawled near, mouth open, eyes glazed over with hideous desire. Krampus enjoyed being watched by other males. He got off on their envious admiration at the size of his genitals. In fact, sometimes he even fucked males, though usually for dominance, putting them in their place. And then there were times when he fucked males out of hate. But for the most part, they were not his preference.

  Krampus slapped the ogre aside when he got too close. He thought of Toya, fucking her in caves, in the dungeons far below the main floor of the castle where no one could hear her scream. Once in the middle of a haboob, where so much sand had blown up his ass he’d farted dust for days.

  He needed to cum so bad it hurt. But what a waste to spray his seed rather than plant it! He was tempted to call for Toya, use her. Then he remembered he’d killed her.

  “Cunt,” Krampus muttered. “Fucking bitch. Pussy. Whore.”

  He let loose with a litany of words that edged him closer. His head pounded and throbbed almost as much as his cock did. Perhaps someone out there in the sea of writhing flesh was worthy. He gazed out at the revelers. Their own sexual lust now sated, mounds of goblins, ogres, and trolls lay scattered about in the aftermath, drunk from the blood of dead Magicals.

  At the center of the hall, all but one of the minotaurs surrounded the charred skeletal remains of a roasted unicorn. Inside the upside-down carcass, while his brothers slept and snored, the last bull-like creature took his turn using Santa’s lover. Krampus watched him fuck the old, wrinkled Elf. As he watched, the minotaur convulsed in the throes of orgasm. The sound of his braying filled the space.

  His head pounding, Krampus stroked faster, masturbating furiously. He let loose with a howl as the minotaur gave his last shudder. Those closest to Krampus were showered with his demonic seed, the acidic substance splattering and burning their flesh, making it sizzle. And yet instead of pain, they cried out in orgiastic pleasure while swaying with religious fervor, as if they’d been bestowed with the most precious of gifts…baptism by sperm. And not just any sperm. Krampus’s.

  Just then, the castle grumbled. The ground sho
ok. Grit fell from the ceiling, followed by the sound of something cracking. Suddenly on guard, Krampus sniffed the air to identify who might have trespassed. But at the same time, the searing, stabbing pain returned.

  Krampus growled with an almost delirious pleasure.

  “Bring me Jackson!” Krampus cried as his son burst through the doors of the Great Hall.

  “Now? But, Father, someone’s here.”

  “I don’t care. Bring me Jackson. Or Griffin. Anyone. Just make this fucking pain stop. Make it go away!” Krampus extended his arm and shot a bolt of energy at Black Pete that sent him flying across the room, skidding on his ass.

  Krampus buried his face in his hands. He pressed the tips of his long-nailed fingers against his temples in an attempt to stave off the quickly mounting migraine long enough to devour his next victim’s Magic once his son returned.

  Minutes later—or was it hours? It felt like a lifetime—the doors of the Great Hall blasted open and flew off their hinges. Magicals streamed in. Hundreds of them. They might have been stripped of their power, but they’d armed themselves with anything they could use as a weapon.

  They stormed the hall and descended upon the lounging, sleeping creatures, stabbing and bludgeoning their prey before Krampus’s court even had the opportunity to rise.

  Horrified shrieks caused Krampus even more pain as a battle commenced before his very eyes.

  “Aaarrrggghhh!” Krampus slapped his hands to his ears and watched, paralyzed as another wave of pain struck. His eyes grew watery, and he blinked back tears as Woden swept in, followed by the Wild Hunt, Jackson, and the remaining Yule Lads, as well as Kris, who rushed to Bucket’s side with Kaine. They all slashed, slew, kicked, smacked, slapped, and punched. Without question, without mercy.

  From amidst the chaos, something big and wild and red came toward him. After a moment, Krampus realized it was Griffin. He had grown in stature and filled out even more, clearly possessed of even more power. He held Krampus’s son, pinned in place with a thickly muscled, hairy forearm around Black Pete’s neck. Beside the young man, his now scrawny father.

  “Gavin? But I thought—”

  “Yes, I know. You thought I was dead. So did your son. As did your lackeys. But as you can see, I’m not dead yet.”

  Krampus noted the jagged piece of wood Griffin held at his son’s throat.

  “What…is the meaning of this?” he demanded, despite the pain in his head. “How are you free? Who’s released you?”

  Woden came to their defense with a gust of wind while the others continued to fight. He’d grown great and powerful, his voice imposing. “I released them. Upon my return. In your ignorance, in your blindness, in your focused intent on revenge, you forgot I was an Elemental and not a Magical like these poor creatures fighting behind us. I cannot—and will not—be harnessed. Especially by the likes of you.”

  Krampus’s head throbbed and a stab of pain nearly rendered him useless, but his mounting anger, writhing like a tempest within him, bubbled and boiled. He pushed past his pain.

  “How dare you?” He slammed the arm of his chair that wasn’t broken. It splintered. Krampus stood and rose, growing taller as he did so. His anger made him look like a frothing bull. Spittle flew from his lips, and his chest heaved as he worked through a fresh onslaught of pain that ratcheted to a new level.

  “How…dare…you?”

  In his fury, Krampus grew into an even bigger beast. He felt the emotion swell within him, and it was like his mind had taken a backseat to the animal within. In that moment, there was no discomfort, no pain, no throbbing or debilitating headache. Only a massive anger that turned him into a madman blind to anything but the sight of his enemies. He lunged and brushed them aside with a massive arm. They went sprawling.

  Griffin and Gavin let go of Black Pete, who ran headfirst into the melee. Moments later, he emerged with Jackson dangling in the air, a hand about the neck of Woden’s son.

  “Jackson!” Griffin cried. He ran toward them, except Black Pete shot out a wave of energy that stopped Griffin in his path. Then, with a grin, Black Pete gestured, grasping Griffin by the neck across the distance. The beefy redhead rose as though pulled up by invisible strings.

  Krampus let go with hearty peals of laughter that caused the ground to rumble.

  “You poor, pathetic mortals. You dare put up a fight with me? And without Magic, no less? Fine. If it’s a fight you want, then it’s a fight you shall have. But…you will lose.” Krampus shot both arms out, extending them for wider reach. He pushed forth a wave of energy into the fighting crowd that knocked most everyone off their feet. For a moment, they were like leaves on the wind.

  A portion of Magicals managed to keep their balance. Others quickly found their footing. Some turned tail and ran screaming from the Great Hall. One by one, Krampus’s court—minotaurs, ogres, and goblins—got back on their feet or hooves. Most of them blocked the path to keep the Magicals from escaping. A few others blocked the path but only because they, too, were trying to escape. Those fighting in the name of Krampus, as well as those fighting against him, were crushed and trampled.

  Black Pete groaned abruptly as Jackson, still flailing, connected with a kick to the balls. Both Jackson and Griffin dropped like dead weight. They scrambled back together while Black Pete clutched himself.

  “Now watch closely. This next trick I learned ages ago.” Krampus’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “From good ole Saint Nick.”

  Krampus turned his attention to the crowd at the door still scrambling to escape. Those fighting in his name stopped and looked toward him, as if he’d called out and said something only they could hear. Krampus then turned back to the group and smiled sweetly.

  “What have you done, demon?” Woden asked. “I see noth—” But even as he spoke, he heard the screaming.

  As one—Kris, Woden, Griffin, Gavin, Black Pete, and now Gaea—they turned to watch the former prisoners and ex-Magicals turn on one another. They launched a violent attack. They swung weapons, used their bare hands, spilling blood at their feet and leaving the bodies. One of the minotaurs picked up his spear and skewered dead bodies as carefully as though he were putting together a kabob.

  “Krampus…please.” Gaea sobbed, unable to watch any more.

  “Fuck you, Gaea.” Krampus leaned forward and sneered. “You bitch. You think you can waltz in here and boss me around? Well, you can’t. This is my home, such as it is.”

  “But these people… They’ve…they’ve done nothing to you. They are innocent,” Gaea cried.

  “Innocent? Ha! That’s rich.” The hall filled with raucous laughter. “No one is innocent, you traitorous bitch. We all reek of lies and deception. The stench is almost as bad as humans.”

  “Release them!” Gaea bellowed and stepped forward, quaking with anger. “Release them, or I shall personally kill you with my bare hands, you…monster!”

  “Monster? Really, Gaea? You? Don’t you think I know who you are? You don’t think I know where I came from? How you abandoned me to those undeserving filthy wretches I thought were my real parents? Oh, yes. I worked it out…Mother.”

  Gaea staggered as if she’d been slapped. Krampus, sensing weakness, pushed further.

  “Clearly you didn’t expect that, did you? Bitch. You act all high and mighty, pretend to be so noble…a tragic queen, mother nature, raped and abused by her pestilent little children infecting the earth like a virus. You’re nothing but a dirty, stinking cunt.”

  Gaea composed herself and faced Krampus, head held high.

  “Tell me, bitch.” He smirked. “Did you create me the way you created your weak lovers, your children? Or did you actually rut like the whore that you are? Because you see, the one thing I haven’t been able to figure out is…who is my father?”

  A sudden silence filled the room. Even those by the door seemed to have stopped. They listened with rapt attention, their curiosity stronger than the spell Krampus had cast on them.

  Woden steppe
d forward and stood beside Gaea.

  Krampus stared. Gradually, his face contorted with hatred and derision for the villagers where he’d grown up, for the ignorant man and woman he’d thought were his parents, at the injustice of having something nearly handed to him, only to have it yanked away, and now for the two who were his parents.

  The pain was too great, both in his head as well as in his heart. Krampus curled his hand into a fist and raised his arm. He looked as though he might smash Gaea like a bug.

  Then she walked out from the crowd. The only woman Krampus had ever loved.

  GRIFFIN WATCHED THE striking, beautiful young woman step out from the crowd. But where had she come from? He hadn’t noticed her before. Slender and willowy, unlike Gaea, who was meatier and buxom, this woman had long, thick black hair in a braid draped over her left shoulder. She wore a pale yellow dress that reminded Griffin of spring. It adorned her slender limbs and pressed against a slightly swollen belly.

  “Anwyl?” A clearly disbelieving Krampus morphed slowly back into his former appearance.

  “Temmen.” The woman walked boldly toward Krampus.

  A stunned Griffin watched as, clearly, an equally stunned Krampus stared with disbelief at the woman. By the way Krampus looked at her, Griffin knew they’d had a past. An image flashed in his mind. The girl, Anwyl, slender and almost boyish, naked in a lake with an incredibly hot and handsome Krampus before he turned into what now stood before them all. But as quickly as the image popped into Griffin’s mind, it faded.

  “No. This cannot be. You’re—” Flabbergasted, Krampus seemed powerless in the woman’s presence.

  She took his hand in hers and placed it against her belly.

  “No!” Krampus recoiled. “You’re dead. You died. I watched you die.” Griffin could see the fear and longing in Krampus’s eyes mixed with disbelief and something like awe.

  Krampus turned his attention to them. “What kind of evil Magic is this? How can you be so cruel?”

  “It’s not magic, Temmen. It’s me.”