Claus Trilogy (Boxed Set)

by Tony Bertauski

  “Didn’t get the memo? I changed it, like, five hundred years ago. Get with it.”

  Jack clucked his tongue.

  “Man, you look great. You lose weight or something? I can’t put my finger on it, you just look… fantastic.” He framed his fingers and looked at him from a couple of angles. “It’s that filthy coat, I think that’s it. It’s you, baby. You make it work.”

  Claus pulled his coat closed and cinched the black belt over his round belly. Cane peeked out.

  “Holy iceballs! Is that my one and only nephew?” Jack threw his arms out. “Get over here and give your favorite uncle a hug, you little fart smeller!”

  Cane hid his face in Claus’s coat.

  “You’re going to hurt my feelings, nephew. Get over here, nooooow,” he sang with a touch of irritation. “I meaaaaan it.”

  “Janack, he’s shy. Let him hide for a bit.”

  “Okay, all right. Let him chill. I get that. He’s just a kid.” Jack tapped his chin, thinking. “I’ll bet the knee-biter is a little chapped I missed his birthday. All five hundred of them.”

  “That doesn’t help,” Claus added. “What do you want, Janack?”

  “Get to business, huh? I like that about you, brother. Always an eye on the future. Good, good. Have you heard from Mother?”

  Claus’s expression didn’t change.

  “Don’t suppose you would tell me if you did, perhaps? Would you hide that from me, dear brother? Word from our mother? Because, I got to tell you, that would be a very unbrotherly thing to do, you know. Hide something from me.”

  Jack tilted his head, tapping his finger on the desktop like a bird pecking for insects, spraying ice crystals.

  “Hiding anything would hurt my feelings, you know.”

  They were born thirty seconds apart.

  Claus was first. It was the only thirty seconds of his life that he did not have someone reading his mind. From the time they were born, they knew each other’s thoughts. They would finish each other’s sentences. Until Jack became sick. A mutated gene changed his metabolism and his body temperature began to drop.

  And drop.

  And drop.

  The doctors could do nothing but watch as it dipped below freezing. His blood, though, did not crystallize.

  Janack, Claus used to say. It’ll be okay, Janack.

  But Jack kept getting colder.

  “Are you hiding anything from me, brother?” Jack stopped pecking a hole in the desk. “Perhaps you are hiding the truth. Are you? You hiding something from me, you little devil?”

  “You know my thoughts, Janack.”

  “I don’t know everything, and you know what? I got a feeling you’re protecting that warmblood.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you love all things, I guess.” Jack shrugged, polishing a spot on the desk. “Because you’re good. You’re good and I’m bad.”

  Jack pecked the desk again.

  “You’re goooooood,” he sneered.

  “Janack, it’s not like–”

  “YOU’RE GOOD; I’M BAD!”

  Frosty whiskers fluttered off his face. Cane pulled the coat over his head.

  “The warmblood needs rest,” Claus said. “If you rush his recovery, you’ll destroy him. You’ve waited thousands of years for one to fall into your hands; you can wait a few more weeks.”

  Jack stared at his brother, sensing his thoughts, looking for a dirty lie – an ounce of deception – in his good and perfect and stupid brother. The big doofus really wanted the warmblood to get well. Jack just didn’t want the skinny giant to die; he couldn’t care less if he felt better.

  Jack shook his head. “You’re such a softy.”

  He slid away from the desk, gracefully gliding around the room. It’s what he did when he wanted to think: slide around his room, in between all his stuff.

  “It’s why you are you and I am leading the elven,” Jack shouted. “You can’t make the tough calls and I can. Stop acting like you’re scared, brother. Pain isn’t a bad thing, you know. Why can’t you appreciate what I’m doing?”

  Jack slalomed between a series of couches and came to a sliding stop on the edges of his feet. He eased up to his brother. Their facial features, identical. Their expressions, opposite.

  “Why do you care about a dirty warmblood?”

  “It’s murder, Janack.”

  “It’s survival of the fittest, dummy. It’s how Nature works.”

  “You want to wipe out all the warmbloods. You’ll kill them all.”

  “THAT’S RIGHT.”

  Their bellies touched.

  “It’s called balance, you dope. I’ll return the world to the Ice Age because elven were meant to be the world’s caregivers. We live ten times longer, we do not overpopulate. We do not strip the world. Warmbloods do that, brother. Warmbloods are the species that are self-consumed. Self-serving.”

  Jack’s cheeks turned purple.

  “Self-centered.”

  Claus looked around the room. “Right. You want to destroy the human population… for the good of the world.”

  Jack snorted several cloudless breaths. He smiled again, his complexion returning to its normal bluish hue.

  “Don’t appreciate your sarcasm.” Jack straightened Claus’s collar and brushed off his shoulders. “But you’re my brother, so I’ll let it slide this time. I imagine it’s hard to live in your pants.”

  He patted Claus’s cheek. Frozen lines appeared on his flesh.

  “I was born for a reason, brother. I was born to restore balance to the world. You know it; I know it. You were born to help me do that, that’s all. I make the difficult decisions that need to be made.”

  “They don’t seem difficult for you.”

  “I have no guilt for what’s right. Neither should you.”

  Jack coasted back to the chair behind the desk.

  “You have a week to heal the warmblood. A week, and that’s all. I mean it.”

  “Too soon. He’ll need much longer.”

  “A WEEK!”

  “Then just kill him now.” Claus didn’t flinch. He meant it. Jack could sense that he did. Nothing would heal that fast.

  “All right, all right.” Jack’s fingernails tap-danced on the desk. “Just don’t screw around, I mean it. I’ll make a Popsicle out of your head if I find out you’re up to something. I want the warmblood to extinguish the human race.”

  “His name is Santa.”

  “Really?” Jack rolled his eyes and threw back his head. “Do you have a name for all the fish in the ocean, too? Who gives a dookie what his name is? The warmblood is a leech, a parasite. Vermin, for crying out loud. We’re going to strip his mind and clone the dirty warmblood, so WHO CARES WHAT HIS NAME IS?”

  Jack dropped his feet on the desk.

  “Not me, that’s who.”

  C L A U S

  12.

  Jessica vomited in the sleigh.

  She couldn’t help it. She never liked heights.

  She once hid on top of a three-story building after she stole from a fruit vendor and the police were on the lookout for her. She’d curled up against the chimney, more afraid she’d fall off than of getting caught.

  When the reindeer leaped, her head snapped back.

  Before she could catch her breath, they were a thousand feet above the ice. One minute later, she was barfing. She wiped the tears away and looked down once. After that, she closed her eyes and gripped the bar in front of her like it was a raft in the middle of an ocean.

  Jon couldn’t see enough.

  His eyes were filled with water, also – although the wind shear wasn’t what it should have been, like there was some protective bubble around the sleigh that cut down the Arctic air that, at that speed, would’ve peeled their cheeks off. He leaned left and right, taking in the sights. The polar ice cap stretched out as far as he could see, zigzagged with ice ridges and watery leads.

  The massive reindeer – white as clouds �
� had extended out all four legs. Flaps of skin stretched between his body and the base of each leg, allowing him to glide. Although it didn’t make sense that a thing that big and solid and powerful should soar so effortlessly, like a helium-filled balloon.

  They began descending.

  Jessica tried not to squeal. The plummeting sensation punched her in the stomach. Even Jon grimaced as the sleigh tilted at such an angle that it appeared they were crashing. They were going straight down. The ice was coming fast.

  The reindeer kicked his legs out. The skin flaps billowed out, catching the wind. The sleigh flattened out. They cruised toward the surface, almost parallel with it, almost touching it, when the reindeer slammed all four legs off the ice.

  They launched again.

  Jessica thought they were landing. The reindeer couldn’t glide forever; he had to descend to leap again, this time to the sound of a full-grown woman screaming.

  Merry and Nog sat quietly, turning slightly with the sleigh.

  Just another reindeer ride.

  Several jumps (and screams) later and Jon could see points of light grouped on the ice. The reindeer stretched out his right legs and the sleigh tilted to the left. Jessica held onto Jon.

  They glided down to the surface. The sleigh rails swooshed across the snow and the reindeer’s hooves sprayed ice over them, running with amazing speed. The muscles bulged as he slowed his pace, bringing the sleigh to a nice and easy stop.

  Jessica didn’t let go. Jon couldn’t break the grip she had on him. It wasn’t until Nog climbed on top of her lap and pried her hands apart did she open her eyes.

  “Where is everyone?” Jon asked.

  “Already under the ice,” Merry said.

  Nog pulled the bag out and, with his magical glove (science, not magic), he made the sleigh disappear.

  “Off you go,” Nog said, scratching the reindeer’s hindquarters. “Tinsel’s got treats for you.”

  The reindeer’s hooves thundered over the ice as he trotted to the group of reindeer gathered around one elven.

  “Who’s that?” Jon asked.

  “Tinsel?” Merry said. “She’s our herder. Very gifted child, she is. The only one that can communicate with the reindeer. Without her, we’d have a very difficult time knowing what they need. She’s giving them one last snack before they bound off for the mainland.”

  Jon’s face was numb from the cold, but his chest was warm.

  “Can I go over?” he asked.

  “For a spell, darling,” Merry said. “But we need to get under the ice.”

  “Is Tinsel coming under?”

  “Yes, when the reindeer are off.”

  “Then I’ll come down with her.”

  Jon didn’t wait for Merry to answer.

  “We’re going to need a special entrance for Jessica,” Nog said.

  “Suppose you’re right,” Merry answered. “Given her size.”

  Nog pulled a disc from the bag. It was flat and silver with symbols and indentions where he fit his fingertips.

  “I don’t see what you’re talking about.” Jessica didn’t see an entrance, just the endless stretch of white. She was grateful to be on her feet, even if it was lonely and barren.

  “You won’t see anything,” Merry said.

  “You see,” Nog chimed in without looking up from the disc, now the size of a frying pan, “we use carving gear to tunnel through the ice sheet. It’s simple, really. It analyzes the thickness of the ice and, based on the tunnels and room configurations, it changes the ice to vapor. In a matter of seconds, we have a fully developed colony below the surface and no one is the wiser.”

  “How does it…” Jessica was shaking her head.

  “Watch.”

  Nog tossed the disc. It hovered a few feet above the ice, defying gravity and the wind. When it found its sweet spot, it dropped like a hunk of metal and melted through the ice like a hot coal. A cloud of steam erupted.

  “You see,” Nog said proudly, “the physics of the carving gear were solved, but the mechanics were the most difficult. It wasn’t until I–”

  “I don’t think she wants a history lesson, Nog,” Merry said.

  Nog stopped mid-sentence, finger in the air. He looked hurt. He waddled toward the hole. It was much larger than the disc. A ramp corkscrewed around the perimeter.

  “I’ll go first,” Merry said. “Let Jessica go second.”

  Nog agreed.

  Merry shouted over to Tinsel and Jon to be under the ice soon, then stepped onto the icy ramp and shot down and out of sight. Nog told Jessica to lay back with her hands crossed over her chest. “Just like a slide,” he said.

  He said with a twinkle in his eye, “Let the ice take you where you need to be.”

  Jessica sat down and looked over at Jon.

  “He’s all right, Jessica,” Nog said. “He’ll be down shortly.”

  She let the ice take her.

  C L A U S

  13.

  The reindeer stopped when Jon arrived. Jon came up alongside the one that pulled their sleigh and put his hand on his left rear flank. Clouds stormed from the reindeer’s nostrils. Tinsel didn’t see him on the other side of the reindeer. She tossed a large green cube in their direction. The reindeer caught it between his teeth and began grinding it.

  “You’re welcome,” Tinsel said sweetly. “Why are you so late – oh!”

  She dropped her bag.

  Two of the reindeer stepped between Jon and her. She peeked between their legs. Her hair was bright red and braided tightly over her ears, each hanging down to her feet. Her face, puffy as all the other elven, was smooth and freckled. Her eyes were as green as spring.

  There was a long pause.

  First, she was tense, almost angry. But then she looked at the reindeer next to Jon and relaxed. The reindeer that were in front of her – guarding her – stepped aside like they understood he wasn’t a threat.

  “You’re a… a warmblood?” she said.

  “A what?”

  “A warmblood.” She searched for a different word. “Human.”

  Jon’s chest continued to warm.

  One of the reindeer brought its muzzle down to Tinsel’s height and nudged her bag. She tossed a green cube to him. She did the same with the rest of them while they all patiently waited their turn. Saliva dripped from their rubbery lips. All except one. The largest of the herd – the one that pulled the special sleigh with the white-haired elven – was separate from the herd.

  “I’m sure you’ve never seen reindeer like this, just like you’ve never seen an elven.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because we bred them. They’re genetically modified. They have helium bladders next to their lungs that give them buoyancy. Bet you never heard of that.”

  That explained how they were able to glide for so long.

  “Nog said you’re a herder.”

  “I am.” She looked back, her eyes smiling. “Did he say what that was?”

  “Just that you’re special.”

  “Well, I don’t talk to them. You won’t see one of them talking. If you do, you’ve been above ice too long.”

  She thought that was hilarious.

  Jon didn’t get it.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Elven humor.”

  “No, no… I get it.”

  He didn’t.

  He turned away from her. Something felt like she would know he was lying. Jon scratched the reindeer’s hindquarters again.

  “He likes that,” Tinsel said.

  “How do you know?”

  “When I was little, I heard them… thinking.” She held up her hand and one of the reindeer brought his muzzle down for her to scratch. “And when I say I was little, I mean from the time I was born. I didn’t know it wasn’t normal; I thought everyone could hear them. I was telling my mom and dad what they were thinking, and pretty soon everyone thought I was crazy. I was the kid that everyone started to ignore. They wouldn’t let me play games
with them and started calling me names.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Jon said.

  “I didn’t really want to play with them anyway. I liked being out here.”

  One of the reindeer snorted. Tinsel giggled. She shot a quick glance at Jon and blushed.

  “What?” Jon said. “Are they… talking about me?”

  “Sort of.” She laughed again. “They think you’re funny.”

  “You mean like funny ha-ha?”

  This broke her out in a fit of hysterics. A few moments later, the reindeer all began snorting.

  “No,” she said. “But now they do!”

  Jon was beginning to feel like the one left out of the little reindeer games.

  “Do they have names?” he said over the chortling.

  “They do,” Tinsel said, but only after catching her breath. “But you have to promise not to laugh. I named them when I was a little girl. You promise?”

  “All right.”

  She looked at him with a sidelong glare. “Promise, for real?”

  “Yes, I promise.” He held up his hands. “Nothing’s crossed, I promise.”

  Tinsel glared a bit longer, then gave out the names, pointing as she did. “Here we go. Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, and Donner. And that right there,” she said, pointing at Jon’s reindeer, “is–”

  “Blitzen.”

  All the good humor left Tinsel. “How did you know that?”

  “I… I…”

  Jon didn’t know how he knew. It was just a word that popped onto his tongue.

  “Lucky guess,” he said.

  “What about that one out there?” Jon pointed to the largest of the herd, off on his own. “What’s his name?”

  The large reindeer was staring at them. Like he heard.

  “That’s Rudy,” she said distantly.

  “Why’s he out there?”

  “He’s been like that since the Fracture.” She tossed a final handful of cubes and put the bag away. “I don’t suppose you know anything about the Fracture that split our people in two, so I won’t bore you with the details. Just this. Someone really bad was born and that’s why we have to move every two weeks.”