The Elf

by Max Dune

“It’s impossible to tell from down here,” Yuriko says. “Sit tight...and don’t leave without me.” Then, without another word, she hurries to a nearby tree and scampers up the trunk like a squirrel. Minutes later, she returns. She shakes her head. “It’s a never-ending maze,” she says. “We have our work cut out for us.”

  Tiktok looks up. “If we can find a clearing of some sort, I can set off a bomb in the air. Nothing will catch fire, but the loud explosion will catch her ear, even if she’s miles away. I’m sure she’ll come to check it out.”

  Huh. Actually, that sounds like a great idea. I nod.

  “That could work,” Jack agrees.

  “Let’s do it,” Yuriko say, turning to smile at Tiktok. “Smart thinking.”

  He shrugs. “Just doing what I do.”

  Jack gives Bullets a pointed look. “Much better for negotiations.”

  “I don’t negotiate,” Bullets says. “I annihilate.”

  We spread out and start to search for a bald area. Fuego is the first to spot one. The open field is filled with glowing blue flowers that resemble oversized orchids. The plants are about four feet tall, although some are as tall as myself. The clearing is at least a couple hundred yards across.

  “Perfect,” Tiktok notes as we get to the center.

  Jack examines the area. “The acoustics should be pretty good. I bet the sound will carry for miles.”

  I watch as Tiktok programs one of his devices, an explosive shaped like a Frisbee. It looks as if it could be hurled a good distance. Let’s just hope it doesn’t malfunction and blow up prematurely. Then I hear Yuriko cry out in pain. Whirling around, I see her standing in front of one of the big orchids. Only it’s not an orchid any more. It has morphed into a bat. Flapping its wings, it rises into the air, releasing a low growl from its toothy mouth.

  “It bit me!” Yuriko exclaims, holding her left hand.

  While we all watch in bewilderment, it continues ascending, then emits an ear-piercing screech. To make matters worse, the whole clearing come alive, as all the other flower-bats suddenly wake up and take flight, spinning into a shrieking swarm of terror.

  My eyes widen. “This is bad. Real bad.”

  “Back to the forest!” Jack shouts. “Now!”

  We run as fast as we can, but it’s a lot of ground to cover, and some of us aren’t track stars, no matter how many laps we’ve run in the training facility. Yuriko is just ahead of me, her katana glistening against her black shirt. Then out of nowhere, a bat dives down and digs its claws deep into her shoulders, then actually lifts her off the ground, like an eagle picking up a field mouse.

  I stop in my tracks. “Yuriko!”

  But the ninja has everything under control. In one swift maneuver, she pulls her katana from its sheath and swings it around over her head, slicing the bat’s legs clean off. The amputated beast screams as it flies away. Yuriko, on the other hand, lands, ever so gracefully, on her feet and keeps running toward the forest.

  To think I worried about her.

  Just as I’m about to move again, I feel powerful claws cut into my shoulders. Within seconds, I’m airborne, with a screeching bat above me.

  “Heeelp!” I wail, flailing my feet and arms.

  My crossbow is strapped to my back, and I can’t reach it in my current position. Kicking myself loose is really my only options as I am carried up toward the trees. From that height, I see the others, like little insects below me, scrambling to the edge of the clearing. They glance up at me, clearly alarmed by my capture, but there is little they can do to help me. I’m on my own.

  Just as I accept the horrible reality, I feel the bat’s grip loosen, and I drop free of its claws. I am certain I am plummeting to my death. But I land in woven nest instead. I stand, dazed and trying to figure out what to do now.

  The bat doesn’t give me much time to come up with a solution, because it lands quickly and scuttles toward me. Its snarling mouth is wide, revealing rows of sharp teeth.

  I reach for my crossbow, cock it, and pull the trigger.

  After the arrow flies into its gaping mouth, the monster stumbles back, flutters its wings, then collapses against the other side of the nest. It’s dead. Even so, I quickly reload; there are plenty of bats still flying about.

  From below, I hear shouting. I lean over the edge of the nest and see the others running into the forest below me. Precisely then, several bats converge on Bullets. One latches on to his neck and sinks its teeth into his ear. Yelling in rage, the big Rogue slaps the bat off, then swings his machine gun at the flapping creatures around him. “Bite this, you...” Bullets roars.

  I don’t hear the rest through the staccato of automatic gunfire. The frenzied bats that were attacking him start falling to the forest floor. He doesn’t stop there though. He takes aim at the main body of the swarm and lays into them. I watch as more bats start dropping like flies. Soon, the swarm disperses, heading up and away from my friends.

  With a sigh of relief, I climb down to the ground, wincing from my injured shoulders and collective bruises. Minutes late, I join my team. Under the glow of a low-hanging tree branch, I can see that the others are a bit bloodied and shaken, but they seem okay.

  “I think we spooked them off,” Jack says while examining the bite mark on his forearm.

  A loud screech emanates from above the canopy of tree leaves. Turning around, we stare up at the angry swarm of neon lights. It appears they are regrouping, drawing closer, preparing for one final attack. I take a step back as I watch the newly formed mass swoop down at us.

  “Or not,” Jack says.

  “Relax. I got this,” Tiktok assures us and walks forward. He then gives the bomb a good toss. It arcs up into the blue lights diving down toward us, straight into the middle of the swarm. “You might want to cover your ears,” he says.

  My hands shoot up at his warning.

  Boom!

  In front of us, the azure sky explodes into a spectacular display of bright white. The earth-shattering explosion obliterates all other sounds. It’s louder than the most violent thunder I’ve ever heard.

  No way Wintress didn’t hear that.

  A moment later, the sky dims, and I lower my arms. The swarm is gone, except for a few stragglers, flying away from the pall of smoke. Meanwhile, Tiktok is just standing there, smiling dreamily at the results.

  He definitely loves his work.

  Jack, however, does not seem pleased in the least. The mission was not supposed to play out this way. We weren’t supposed to fight with Wintress’s creatures or blow them to bits. He sighs heavily, then turns to us, inspecting our injuries. “Is everyone okay?” Jack asks.

  The group checks their wounds. Nothing serious. Just superficial cuts and scrapes. We can deal with those.

  “I think we’re all good,” Bullets says, wiping a small trickle of blood off his shoulder.

  That’s when the forest stops glowing. Trees, plants and grass—they lose all light, fading to darkness. Everything is pitch black.

  “Whoa,” Fuego says. “Who turned off the lights?” He flips the trigger on his flamethrower and a small fire appears on the ignitor, offering enough light for us to see each other.

  “I think we did this,” I mutter.

  “Shh,” Jack whispers. “She is here.”

  From out of the darkness, a sliver of vertical white light appears, off to the right. It expands outward, taking a feminine form. Shapely and tall, with flowing blonde hair and striking blue eyes. Her breezy white dress shines like the sun, and I must raise a hand to shield my eyes. Once my sight settles, I study Wintress.

  She is not pleased.

  Her eyes burn with anger, and her hands are curled into fists at her sides. It doesn’t come as much of a surprise, considering how much mayhem our arrival brought to her peaceful home. Jack bows his head in reverence, almost apologizing on our behalf. To my side, I note that Bullets tucks his machine gun behind him, trying to hide the weapon he used to slaughter so many of her bats. Why
even bother?, I think. It’s her realm—she knows everything that happens here.

  “Wintress...” Jack addresses quietly, his gaze still lowered.

  She says nothing for some time, then finally offers a tense greeting. “Jack. To what do I owe this...pleasure?” The revulsion in her voice is very clear.

  “I apologize for the disturbances we’ve caused here.” Then he raises his eyes to meet her cerulean glower. “I’ve come to ask for help.”

  Wintress gives a small, humorless laugh. “But not before destroying my beloved creatures, I see.”

  “My apologies again,” he replies. “We were...unprepared for them.”

  Her fury seems to simmer down. “Well, fortunately for you, I can heal them. Now, tell me why you need my help.”

  Jack straightens his posture. “Wintress, an evil force has risen, one that threatens to destroy all elves...and even Christmas.”

  Her right eyebrow cocks. “What is this evil force?” she asks.

  “Santa,” he answers.

  It appears she is on the verge of laughter, but she manages to rein it in. “You can’t be serious.”

  “You’re a telepath,” he reminds her. “Look into my mind and see the truth.”

  Doubtful as she is, she approaches him. She seems to glide over the ground. Just inches in front of Jack, she raises her hands up and places them on either side of his head. She narrows her eyes, concentrating hard.

  Then something curious happens. Holograms appear over Jack’s white hair, images of people moving and talking. Jack’s memories are being manifested into something visible.

  We all stare intently at fuzzy moving pictures of Jack and his wife, Irina, sitting in Santa’s office, on the day they captured the first skriller. The bound creature exposes Santa’s dastardly dealings, and an argument ensues. Jack threatens to tell the whole village what Santa has been up to, so Santa, attempting to kill him, fires a red blast of energy. He hits Irina instead, fatally wounding her. The skriller lunges at the big man, trying to rip out his throat. Jack, knowing he is sorely outmatched, flies out the window, barely managing to escape with his life but with his heart torn to shreds.

  Wintress drops her hands. The holograms disappear.

  Jack lets out a breath and looks at the ground again, deflated, overcome with the stinging pain of the loss.

  “I believe you, Jack,” Wintress says gently. She pauses, and her voice hardens again. “I am sorry for your loss, but I do not involve myself in the affairs of elves. This is their battle. Not mine.”

  Afraid that we are going to lose her, I speak up, my voice startled back to life. “Ms...Wintress,” I choke out. “The elves are not the only victims of Santa’s dealings. He’s hurting animals, too, especially reindeer. They’re practically worked to death. We’re all suffering. And he’s also threatening to destroy Christmas itself, along with the dreams of countless children all over the world. Please...help us.”

  She fixes her gaze on me. Then she approaches and proceeds to read my mind too. It feels like invisible fingers are penetrating my brain as she digs around in my thoughts, searching for truth. It isn’t a pleasant sensation, but I grit my teeth and bear it, willing to do anything to pull her to our side.

  At once, I’m there, in the laboratory. I find the dozens of mice being tested, afflicted by pain. Zeb and I get caught. Santa appears and confesses the truth. He orders Oleg to kill me.

  Wintress digs even deeper in my mind, going back farther in time. I watch as tired, overworked reindeer are forced to pull sleighs full of chopped wood, toys, and supplies—all to maintain Santa’s evil operation, all for his greedy gain.

  Wintress pulls harder, and I am standing at my parents’ funeral. Tears spill down my grief-stricken face. I am utterly destroyed. Broken. I know Wintress can feel it.

  Finally, she lets go. I am jolted back to present reality. My legs feel like rubber, and I have trouble standing. I drop to my knees. Yuriko and Fuego lift me and hold me steady until I regain my strength.

  “You have both spoken the truth,” Wintress states. She stares into the distance for a long moment. “I need time. I have much to consider.”

  Jack nods, solemn. “Very well.”

  She points her hand at the ground around us. To our confusion, the earth starts to tremble. Before anyone can speak, the ground begins to shimmer, turning white, seemingly breaking apart. And we start falling.

  Chapter Twenty–Two

  My body twists and turns as it plummets through white light. While flying between dimensions, I ask myself if Wintress was the one opened who portal. It must have been. Who else could wield such power? My feet hit the ground with a crunch, and I fall forward. My hands sink into cold, letting me know we’re back in our world.

  Examining the area, I realize we’re outside the main entrance of Jack’s home, almost exactly where we started our mission, only on the other side of the wall Jack put up. I quickly put on my jacket and gloves before frostbite can set it. The others do the same.

  “Anyone who wants to do that again, raise your hand,” Bullets says.

  No one seems interested, and I can’t blame them.

  “Point taken. Our quest didn’t go exactly as intended,” Jack admits.

  “Yeah,” Bullets says snarkily. “I wouldn’t hold my breath on hearing back from her.”

  In light of everyone’s discouragement, I feel obliged to point out the silver lining, however small it may be. “At least she teleported us back here,” I counter. “I mean, she could’ve sent us somewhere a lot worse. And, she didn’t feed us to her bats.” I turn to Jack, hoping for some reassurance. “Those are good signs, right, Jack?”

  Jack runs a hand through his hair, coming off as troubled. “Perhaps.”

  So much for backing me up.

  Tiktok gives a loud snort. “What did I tell you? All that was a big waste of time.”

  I try to think up a decent retort, but before I can, he stalks away into the blowing snow.

  “Where you going?” Jacks demands.

  “Hunting,” Tiktok’s retreating silhouette calls back. “I’m tired of soup.”

  “Without a gun?” Jack says.

  Tiktok’s fading form raises a familiar, disc-shaped bomb over his shoulder. Jack stares on, incredulous, as the fuming Swede walks farther and farther out onto the mountain.

  Fuego groans his disapproval. “That hothead’s gonna go and get himself get killed in an avalanche.”

  “Exactly,” Jack says, shaking his head.

  After darting her eyes from Jack to Fuego, Yuriko starts walking in the direction Tiktok headed. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” she says, letting out a frustrated sigh.

  “Thanks,” Jack says to her. “We need him alive—at least for tomorrow.”

  His words sound a bit cold to me, given all we’ve been through together these past weeks. Yet I know that Jack doesn’t mean anything by it. Like us, he’s just stressed and tired. Taking a quick glance at Yuriko, I pray she can somehow turn our bomb expert around and lure him safely back into the compound.

  Jack sighs to himself. “Lucian, round up the elves. We’re having a meeting.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  He opens the ice wall, and I take the stairs down into the warmer confines of Jack’s home. Fuego and Bullets follow behind. As we make our way through the dark corridor, worry gnaws at me over tomorrow’s attack. “You don’t think Tiktok will quit on us, do you?” I ask.

  “Nah,” Bullets says. “He just needs to walk it off. That boy’s got a short fuse, like me.” He chuckles to himself. “You know, that’s what got me kicked out of the army.”

  “What happened?” I ask, as he’s never mentioned his discharge before. “Did you cuss out your captain or something?”

  From his expression, I suspect my guess was close to the truth, but he just shakes his head. “Bar fight.”

  “That was it?” Fuego asks, rolling his eyes. “They kicked you out of the army just for that?”


  A guilty smile spreads over Bullets’s face. “Well, I made the mistake of using my metal arm,” he confesses. “Went a bit haywire on the idiots who riled me up. And by the time I finished teaching them a much-needed lesson...well, let’s just say there wasn’t really much of a bar left.”

  Fuego laughs while I shake my head. It’s not that I don’t believe that he destroyed a bar; rather, it’s that it sounds completely in character. “Remind me never to go drinking with you,” I joke.

  “Ah, it was a crappy bar anyways,” he says nonchalantly, waving a dismissive hand. “Of course, my captain didn’t buy that. I was out the same morning.”

  I am hesitant to ask my next question. “Ever wish you could go back?”

  “Nope. I had to go. Over time, my views on politics changed, and theirs didn’t.” He pauses. “But I’ll always hold to the life lessons they taught me. Number one being that the only thing you’ll never get BS from is your gun.” With a nostalgic gleam in his eye, he adds, “My pops used to say that all the time.”

  “Was he a soldier too?” I ask.

  “Oh yeah,” Bullets says. “And his pops before him. He’s right though. You take good care of your weapons, and they’ll never, ever, let you down. Can’t say that about anything else, not a good woman or even a dog.” He gives me a sideways look. “So always make sure you take care of your weapon,” he warns. “You’ll need to depend on it now more than ever.”

  I don’t have an argument for that.

  Not after the day we just had.

  * * *

  One of them is following him. Tiktok knows it, even if he can’t see who exactly it is, what with the dimming light of the arctic twilight and the blow of snow. He doesn’t really care which one it is. It’s not like Tiktok needs any of them. On the contrary, he’s the most valuable right now, so it’s not worth his effort to make all nicey-nice. And why should he? Their failed mission made it clear that he was right. Searching for that supposed ally this late in the game had been foolish. They should have listened to him.

  Jack is deluded—the whole lot of them is.

  Stopping, he crouches and spreads out dried berries on the ground. Something should come along, drawn by their sweet scent. Then he’d have some barbecue. It’s been a while since he’s eaten that. He clears off some snow from a scrabbly mound of arctic bushes, planting a remote-controlled bomb under a drift. Once it’s hidden, he retreats and waits behind a boulder for some unsuspecting animal to make an appearance.