“A dead warmblood is no good.”
The bench was cleared with a final crash.
“YOU’RE REALLY STARTING TO PISS ME OFF!”
Claus picked up the coin. Cane shuffled behind him.
“You think you can’t be replaced?” Jack asked. “You think I won’t freeze your head just because we ate cereal from the same box?”
“No,” Claus shot back. “No, I don’t.”
“Then stop dragging your feet. You and your half-baked son are down here playing with dolls when I WANT THIS WARMBLOOD’S BRAIN EMPTY.”
Jack seized the toy. It shattered on the wall.
Cane crawled under the back of Claus’s coat.
There was a long moment where Jack’s lips were moving, like he was singing a silent song. His face was like a blackberry. When it lightened up, his lips stopped.
“You serve me, I serve the elven. Through me, you serve them. If you don’t, I stick my finger where the sun don’t shine. Comprende, stupido?”
Claus did not react.
“Trust me,” Claus said, “I serve the elven and I am the scientist in this room. If I say that a complete memory drain would’ve killed him, THEN IT WOULD’VE KILLED HIM!”
Their bellies touched.
When they were boys, they would shove each other around the room with their bellies. The one who fell was the loser. Much of the time, they would fall down laughing.
When they got older, there were fewer laughs.
Each time Claus won, Jack would throw something. First, at a wall. Then at Claus. The last time they ever played the game, Jack cleared Claus’s desk onto the floor.
Jack smiled. With all of Claus’s belongings on the floor behind him, he was remembering, too.
“You hiding something, you sly dog?” Jack asked.
“What could I hide? You search my laboratory whenever I’m not here.”
“Oh, that.” Wicked smile. “I didn’t know you knew, but I also don’t care. I’m keeping you honest, fat boy. Maybe you want to tell me what you’re hiding so as not to get caught in a lie. Mmm? Maybe-perhaps-kind of?”
Claus did not flinch. His eyes, calm and unblinking. “Everything I have is on the floor. Help yourself, Janack.”
Jack expected a hint of deception, but Claus was open. Jack sensed his thoughts. Everything he was working on was right out in the open. If he was lying, it was well disguised.
Pawn entered. “Excellence.”
Jack continued staring at Claus. “Continue.”
“The six-leggers have located the rebels.”
The wicked grin returned. Shock finally lit up Claus’s face. Jack pitter-pattered his hands and, very quietly, said, “Yaaay.”
Claus stammered. “How did you–”
“You’re not the only bright one in these here parts, my brother,” Jack said. “I got some scouts to uncover one of your discoveries.”
Claus was confused. Everything he’d done was sitting on his workbench. There was nothing that could lead them to the colony.
Jack gestured to Nicholas.
“The warmblood? Hello?” Jack tapped his head and frost poofed off his fingertip. “Think about it. Think how a warmblood thinks and then let me know when you get it.”
To follow him? What was unique about–
“Oh.” Jack turned to Pawn. “I think something… yeah, I think something’s happening.”
Warmbloods’ brains operated differently than anything on the North Pole. They could detect brainwaves and develop an algorithm to identify warmbloods.
And the colony has two of them!
Jack tapped the workbench. A hurricane of snow and ice appeared in miniature detail.
“This is exciting,” Jack said.
The battle unfolded on the workbench.
Six-leggers were being tossed around like pillows. (Jack winced. What he could do if Claus could develop the abominable weapon for him. He could set them loose on the ice, rooting through every ice floe until the warren of rebels was dug up.)
The six-leggers were persistent. They pushed through the gale-force winds.
“You’ll kill them!” Claus shouted.
“Not kill,” Jack said, deliciously. “Maim, perhaps, but not…”
An elven narrowly escaped the six-legger’s vicious jaws.
“Okay, yeah, they’ll probably kill them.”
When the last sleigh escaped and the abominable storm settled, leaving the six-leggers empty-handed, Jack slammed his open palm on the bench. “Oh! Soooo close! Man, did you see that one, it almost ripped the weasly little arm off that one elven.”
Jack walked away from the scene with his hands clasped over his belly, humming a little song to himself. Claus noticed that Nicholas’s heart rate had doubled, but he lay still with his eyes closed.
“The end of the Fracture is near, brother.” Jack raised his arms. “HURRAY FOR ME! We got them on the run unless they desert those warmbloods, and I think you know what they’ll do.”
Jack shook his finger at Claus.
“They ain’t got the balls to do that. Not like Uncle Jack.”
Claus hadn’t moved.
“Prepare a message.” Jack gestured to Pawn. “I want to make them an offer they can’t refuse.”
C L A U S
26.
The rebels escaped.
The snow settled as the abominables deactivated. The abominable spheres whisked into the back of the last sleigh.
The six-leggers shook the snow from their fur, sniffing around. They would find nothing.
This time.
How could I be so stupid?
Claus missed the obvious. Of course they could track the warmbloods; their minds operated differently than elven. All it would take was an adjustment to scanning equipment to find similar patterns in the Arctic. If he would’ve thought of it first, he could’ve skewed the data so that it wasn’t so different. They never would’ve suspected it.
This is bad.
As long as they had warmbloods, they wouldn’t be able to hide.
Claus was careful not to glance at the cube that contained the sphere. He busied himself with organizing the workbench. He pretended to reorganize the shelf and found the cube still there. Surely they’d picked it up, inspected it, shook it and pried on the corners. Clearly it worked. It was still there.
It was bad now. But if the contents inside the cube were missing, it would be even worse.
Nicholas moaned.
Claus finished cleaning up and checked his vital signs. He would wake him soon enough to find balance with the gap in his memories. It wouldn’t be easy. Nicholas had lost a third of it. There would be confusion and anger.
But, soon, he’d lose even more.
Claus would try to delay it. Maybe Jack would be distracted with the latest developments, but eventually he would come asking for Nicholas. Eventually, he would have to do it.
He left Cane under the bench, assembling another toy. He needed time to think about his next move. There would be few left, each one more and more important.
Each one, possibly his last.
THE OLD ONE
II
For whom the bell jingles,
It jingles for thee.
C L A U S
27.
“He’s stable,” Dr. Garland said.
Jessica was on her knees next to the bed. Jon’s skin was sickly pale and shiny. Jessica touched his forehead. It was impossibly cold.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “What did you say?”
Tinsel wailed at the foot of the bed. Tears spilled over her fingers as she covered her face.
“His body temperature dipped below eighty-six degrees,” the doctor continued. “Any further and we would have lost him. He’s stable, for now. That gives us some time to consider some options.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Tinsel wailed again. “This is all my fault. If I didn’t sneak up to show him Frosty, none of this would have happened. Now they almost caught us a
nd… and… they almost got Jocah and… now Jon is…”
“It’s all right, dearie.” Merry consoled her. “It wasn’t your fault. The six-leggers couldn’t have gotten there that fast. Somehow they already knew.”
“It was a good thing you were up there, too!” Nog chimed in. “If you weren’t ready, Jon wouldn’t have been there to save the day. He’s a hero, he is. Jessica, that boy is a hero. Saved us all.”
“Options?” Jessica said to the doctor. “What options?”
Dr. Garland pushed her round spectacles up her cherub nose until they were half buried in bushy white eyebrows.
“You may not realize this, Jessica, but your body temperature is hovering around fifty degrees. You’ve been responding to our actuating treatments to adjust to Arctic climate. You’re not made for this weather any more than a polar bear is meant to write a book.”
Jessica was heavier than she’d ever been. She thought it was just the fatty food, but now she realized it was the blubber. But it was more than that.
My body temperature is fifty degrees!
The weather hadn’t changed. She had.
“What can you do for him?” she asked.
“I’ll have to talk to my peers.”
“Talk to me. WHAT CAN YOU DO?”
They looked at Jessica.
It’s my fault.
If she hadn’t left his side, if she hadn’t let him wander off with Tinsel, he wouldn’t have been out there. She could’ve protected him. She would’ve been with him. And maybe nothing would be different, maybe he’d still be comatose in a bed, still…
It’s my fault.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s all right.” The doctor pushed the glasses up. “We’re all under a bit of stress.”
What right did she have to come into their colony and demand that they help? She should be dead. At least with the elven they had a chance.
She squeezed Jon’s hand and went over to Tinsel. Jessica wrapped her arms around her and together they cried.
C L A U S
28.
The hub was still enormous at the new site.
There were fewer amenities. In fact, everything was simple. Rooms were the color of blue ice. Furniture was limited to beds and tables. Everything was ready for a quick grab and an immediate exit.
Jessica and Tinsel didn’t leave Jon’s side for days. His breath came in even strokes. His pulse was steady. He remained stable. Remained hopeful.
Remained asleep.
Merry and Nog insisted they come to the hub. A critical meeting, they said. Everyone in the colony is required to attend.
Reluctantly, they left Jon in the glow of medical equipment.
There was very little room in the hub.
Every elven was present, pulling chairs from their bags to sit in orderly rows that surrounded a raised dais. Chatter echoed throughout the room in sullen tones.
Nog pulled chairs from his bag for Jessica and Tinsel. They nestled into them, stiff-looking, yet surprisingly comfortable. Merry sat with Nog in a two-seater. They held hands and, for once, sat quietly and waited.
The lights dimmed. Elven settled down.
Jessica turned in time to see Jocah – dressed in a long, white robe – walk down an open aisle, holding an assistant’s hand for balance. When she stepped onto the stage, silence fell on the hub like a blanket. Her assistant helped her onto a simple-looking chair. It was anything but a throne. She thanked her assistant. The chair rose up so that she could be easily seen.
Jocah closed her eyes.
The dais turned in a complete circle at a very slow crawl.
“We left our people one hundred fifty years ago.”
Jessica heard Jocah speak, but the words seemed to vibrate inside her head. She looked around, surprised. Those around her didn’t seem disturbed.
“We left knowing life would be difficult. And, yet, we chose this path because life demanded it.”
Jocah was now facing the other direction as the stage slowly turned; her voice continued to vibrate inside her.
This time with images.
Darkness crowded the edges of her eyesight until she was no longer seeing who was sitting next to her.
She was seeing a younger Jocah.
Jocah – her hair still braided and white but with strands of auburn – is on a veranda very high above the ice. The wind blows her braids. She’s speaking to a male elven with a bushy white beard and a bright red coat that flutters in the wind.
“I will stay,” he says.
“There is nothing for you here,” Jocah says. “You must come with the colony.”
“There will be so many left behind without a voice, so many without the courage to come. I will be their voice.”
“He will destroy you.”
Jocah waits for a reply, and when she doesn’t get one, she takes his hand and presses it to her cheek. She leaves without turning back.
“So many have sacrificed,” Jocah’s voice echoed.
Jessica sees reindeer land around a fortress of ice. There are flashes. Confusion. Elven scatter from the exits, rushing to the reindeer and latching sleighs and climbing aboard. The reindeer leap into the darkness.
Jocah stands next to the sleigh attached to the reindeer with the shining nose. She looks back, despite the urgent calls from her assistants. She looks back to see the fluttering red coat atop the ice castle.
“You are all very brave to be here.”
The visions faded.
“Now.”
Jessica realized she was holding onto Merry. The room was spinning.
“Thank you,” Jocah said. “Thank you for your courage.”
We love you, Jocah! We will die for you!
Jocah smiled – genuinely and somberly – acknowledging them with slight nods. She was not above anyone in the room, only recognizing their presence. Her assistants held up their hands for silence.
She continued.
“Our secrecy is over. Scientists are not sure why, but we knew this day would come. We knew we could not avoid it forever. There were hopes that we could turn the course of action taken by our elven, but today brings a new day.”
There were murmurs. What’s she getting at?
“We have received a message.”
The muttering grew.
The assistants walked around the stage, with their hands up.
One elven stepped onto the stage and delivered a cylinder. He held it gently, like an explosive.
“I have not viewed it.” Jocah sounded tired. “We will all view it together.”
She let it fall. It popped on the floor.
Bright light burst from it.
A figure took focus. An elven with bluish skin appeared. The entire room gasped.
He looked around the room. Then at Jocah, sitting expressionless.
“Hello, Mother.”
C L A U S
29.
Mother?
Merry’s and Nog’s eyes were wide, transfixed by the bluish figure.
What does he mean? She can’t be… she’s too good… he’s too…
Cold.
His skin, the color of a drowning victim.
“MY PEOPLE!”
He licked his finger and ran it over his hairless brow ridge.
“WHAT’S UP?”
He paced the stage.
He stared at the front row.
He walked through one of the assistants. He wasn’t there in the flesh; he was a projection. But that didn’t seem to matter.
Some elven whimpered.
“What’s it been, like one hundred fifty years since you left without saying goodbye?” He stood with his back to Jocah. “I got to tell you, you’re all still fat and ugly.”
His tongue darted out and licked his dark lips.
“Listen, I’ve got some good news and bad news. Let’s start with the good, you look like you could use some. The good news is that I come in peace. Peace, for your mind. Peace, for your
hearts. Peace, from all this silly running around. I’ve got to be honest, it’s been lonely since you left. There’s emptiness in the palace. Your family and friends miss you.”
He nodded emphatically.
“I’m not joking. I hear it all the time. Just the other day, some kid came up and was like, Hey, uh, Excellence… I really miss, uh–” Jack waved his hand at the front row. “Whatever your name is, right there… Yeah, I miss him. When is he coming home, Excellence?
“And what am I supposed to tell him? Never? Your mom and dad don’t want to come home? They hate you, that’s why they left? It’s all your fault, kid. Sorry.”
A sob escaped from more than a few.
Jack hit the sweet spot.
“Listen, I know some of you want to come home. I want you to come home.”
Jack pulled a ball – silver and shiny – from his pocket and tossed it from hand to hand.
“You belong home, back in the palace, with your friends and family. Stop all this nonsense of calling the reindeer and jumping all over the Arctic. It’s silly and stupid.”
He held the ball between his finger and thumb.
“You’re running around like a bunch of wild pigs.”
The ball fell.
It didn’t bounce.
It splattered into the images of wild boars. Coarse hair standing on their backs. Tusks curled from their lips. They squealed and bolted off the stage, into the crowd.
Elven screamed and jumped out of the way. The apparitions ran hog wild, uprooting elven until they evaporated somewhere near the perimeter of the room.
“I think you know about wild pigs.”
Jack stared at Jessica.
Claus: The Trilogy Page 10