Crimson Overcoat Versus Christmas by Luke Monroe
wood and gold filigree. It stretched upwards into a living Christmas tree, covered in silver and gold and sparkling with light. Fine furs covered the throne. Below the raised dais were several occupied chairs. Black Peter sat in one of them and bowed his head in recognition of Alexander.
Alexander took his place at the table with the Amaryllis clan next to Holly. The rest of the merry throng filed in, all taking their seats. Some of the dwarves noticed Alexander and cursed him, but he couldn’t hear them over the cacophony. Being mature, he scratched his head with his middle finger and pretended to ignore them.
When everyone was seated, Black Peter rose and slammed a staff on the floor. The sound was massive and the room fell silent.
“All hail the Yule Lord, Master of the North, Lord of the Hunt, Kris Kringle!” cried Black Peter.
In a flash of fire from the fire in the center of the hall, Santa appeared.
Kris Kringle was not what Alexander expected. For one, he was tall, at least among the assembled throng. He wore a red fur-lined cloak. His features were sharp, and his beard and mustache were close cropped. He had a sword and whip connected to his thick leather belt. What Alexander first thought were fur leggings were his legs. His lower half were white hair ending in black hooves. Leather chaps covered the front of his legs. A set of mighty antlers curved out of his forehead, and a crown of garland sat upon his brow. He was built like bricklayer, strong undefined muscle with a slight belly pooch. Calling him fat would be a mistake.
“LET THE FEAST BEGIN!” he bellowed, shaking the hall with the power of his voice.
“Holy crap,” muttered Alexander. Even with everything he had seen he was still astonished. Christmas at the North Pole was getting crossed off his bucket list.
Despite his anxiety, Alexander ate like a horse. It was the best food he ever had, and there was no shortage of it. He listened to the songs sung by the elves, and even to the epic poetry the dwarves performed. His sharp senses were overloaded by the experience and he had to focus to clear his head. The whole party was ephemeral and he was starting to lose touch with reality, something he could not afford. He reached into his pocket and thumbed his totem. It was beating fast like the heart of a small animal, a sign that he was being enchanted or otherwise ensorcelled by other dimensional powers. He flicked the toggle on its side, and a burst of energy shocked him back to his senses hard enough to throw him from his chair.
“Are you alright?” asked Holly.
“Fine,” said Alexander, lying.
Alexander put on his goggles and adjusted them to try and block out the intensity of the feast. It helped enough to clear his head up in time for the real festivities. Tables were cleared and moved from the floor. Risers were assembled and the crowd took their places as Kringle announced the beginning of the trials. There were three that evening, the final being Alexander’s.
Kringle sat on his throne and watched as the first combatants took the floor. One of the dwarves’ captains, a grizzled and scarred dwarf named Crushtar served as his Champion. The first battle was over as quick as it started. The elf charged Crushtar who allowed himself to be stabbed by the elves short blade. It bent and broke as it struck his stone like skin. The dwarf grabbed the elf by the skull and squeezed until pale blood ran out of his ears. He dropped him to the floor in a heap. The entire crowd roared in approval. Christmas was a rough time of year at the North Pole.
The second battle lasted three seconds longer than the first. This time Crushtar crushed the elf’s ribcage with a head butt. It was ugly, but Alexander saw enough to calculate a winning strategy against the brute. He was set so far in his ways as to be predictable to a fault.
Alexander’s time had arrived.
“I CALL FORTH THE COMBATANT OF CLAN AMARYILLIS TO ASSERT THEIR RIGHT TO TRIAL BY COMBAT ON THIS CHRISTMAS EVE!” bellowed Kringle.
Alexander stepped out into the room. It was silent for a moment. He was decked out in full superhero gear. His brass goggles glowed with an inner light, concealing his eyes. His hair and sideburns were free and flowed in the breeze that circulated the room. His coat was open enough to give him access to his ray gun and tool belt. At his waist were two small rocket mounts, allowing him to fly for brief periods.
“I, Crimson Overcoat, stand as Champion for Clan Amaryllis,” he said. It was nostalgic but he did his best to keep focused.
“STEP FORWARD AND MEET MY CHAMPION,” called Kringle.
Alexander waited for the dwarf to step forward. Instead, Kringle pulled an iron bell from his waist.
“KRAMPUS, YOUR MASTER BIDS YOU COME!” called Kringle.
The room shook and grew cold. A miniature blizzard blew into the hall, extinguishing fires and knocking over revelers. In the center of the floor, the blizzard coalesced into a demonic form. Horns protruded from his forehead and fangs filled his maw. He was dressed in blood soaked rags. Chains were wrapped around him. Small tinkling bells were attached to the chains, making a faint jingle as he walked. His hooves froze the space on which he stood into ice. He looked at Alexander and laughed. It was a musical laugh, which made it all the more sinister coming from the demonic visage.
“DO NOT BEGIN TO THINK THAT I DO NOT KNOW ALL THAT TRANSPIRES WITHIN MY REALM, CRIMSON OVERCOAT,” said Kringle. “I WISH FOR SPORT THIS EVE, AND YOU WILL PROVIDE IT. FIGHT!” he said as he leaned back on his throne and sipped from his large stein.
Krampus giggled as he leapt into the air and arced toward Alexander. Chains of carved bone flew from the basket on Krampus’ back. Alexander blurred across the room and the chains followed. Alexander reached for the next seconds of the future only to be met by visions of terror. Children screamed as they were pulled from their homes by the demon. Frantic screams mixed with jolly laughter followed every course of action. Alexander stumbled at the psychic onslaught and the chains bound him.
Krampus swung Alexander in a long arc and smashed him into the floor. The demon pulled the chain again, whipping Alexander against the wall. The rafters shook and the dwarves cheered. The elves remained silent.
Before he could be tossed about again Alexander regained his footing. He wiggled his hand free, pulled his ray gun, and shot the demon in the face. The chains went slack as the creature roared in pain. Alexander turned up the power to full and fired again. The blast lit the entire room in white light. Where Krampus stood there was a crater in the floor.
The elves cheered, but Alexander remained cautious. He touched the future and saw that he was still blocked by the demon’s influence. He smelled brimstone and heard a whistling sound in time to drop to the ground as the demon teleported on top of him.
Krampus stomped on Alexander’s forearm. The bones cracked but he kept his grip on his gun. Alexander reached into his belt and pulled the cold iron hammer from his belt. With one smooth motion he struck Krampus and broke his leg.
The demon leapt off of Alexander’s arm howling in pain. The skin smoldered and smoked where the iron struck his skin. Alexander grinned and charged the creature, hammering away at the demon. Chunks of burning flesh flew off after each blow. Krampus clawed and kicked and bit, but Alexander kept hammering away. Alexander fought through the pain as he beat the creature to death.
“ENOUGH!” cried Kringle, “I DECLARE CRIMSON OVERCOAT, CHAMPION OF CLAN AMARYILLS TO BE VICTOR, AND ALL CRIMES AGAINST MY THRONE DISMISSED! SUCH IS THE MERCY OF THE YULE KING!” declared Kringle.
The elves and even some of the dwarves cheered. Alexander limped to a chair and sat down.
“YOU ARE NOT FINISHED YET, CHAMPION,” said Kringle as he rose from his chair. “YOU SHALL CONTINUE TO PROVIDE SPORT THIS EVENING.”
“I’m done. I don’t want to sit on your lap. I want to go home,” said Alexander.
“YOU ARE THE STRONGEST CHAMPION TO ENTER MY REALM IN HUNDEREDS OF YEARS, AND MY BLADE YEARNS FOR BATTLE. MY SERVENTS SING PRAISES OF YOUR STRENGTH AND VALOR. LET ALL THOSE HERE WITNESS THE POWER OF THEIR LORD AND MASTER AGAINST THIS WORTHY AND HONORABLE OPPONENT!” cried Kringle.
He unsheathed his sword and whip and took to the floor. Everyone rose to their feet and cheered except for Alexander.
“TAKE THE FLOOR, CHAMPION! FEW HAVE HAD THE HONOR THAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO RECEIVE!” said Kringle.
“I punched out a drunken Santa in a bar once for groping a nice young lady. That’s good enough for me,” said Alexander.
“YOU HAVE NO CHOICE,” cried Kringle. The god rose to his full height and attacked.
It was like fighting a force of nature. Alexander had fought supervillians, real nasty destroy-the-world types, in his bygone days. This reminded him of those fights. No time to think, just act. Kringle was a whirlwind of destruction. Every direction that Alexander looked to the future he saw the winter god waiting for him.
Fighting was a no-win option. Alexander pulled his gun out and set it to overload.
“Merry Christmas,” said the bloodied Alexander as he threw the ray gun at Kringle. The explosion was a brilliant rainbow of color. Kringle was thrown back. Alexander triggered his rocket belt and shot through the smoke vent in the roof.
The rockets were a short term option. They were not for long distance travel, and would burn out soon. He set his goggles to scan for alternative transport. It detected an energy surge in the stables. Alexander laughed at his dumb luck. He shot to the stables and landed in a puff of snow. He was met with snorts and hoof beats of eight massive reindeer.
The stable boy looked at Alexander for only a moment. He then motioned for him to come inside.
“You saved my mother from the Trolls. I am forever grateful. I can feel Kringle’s wrath from here. You must leave this realm before he ends you,” said the young elf.
“Then help me hook this team up,” said Alexander.
The elf moved with the rapid supernatural efficiency of his people. The reindeer were not tiny, nor were they jolly. But they exuded magic. Alexander pulled out a electromechanical compass from his belt. He adjusted the dials and levers, and got a bearing.
“Thanks,” said Alexander as he took the reins of the sled. He grabbed the whip from the bench and snapped it over the team. They stood still, stamping at the ground.
“Do I really have to do this,” said Alexander, knowing the magic needed to escape. He could hear the call of hunting horns and the baying of hounds. He didn’t have long.
“Alright. Now Dasher! Now Dancer!, Now Prancer and Vixen!, On, Comet, On Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen!” cried Alexander as he cracked the whip again. The team took off with a shot, out of the stable and into the air. The lights of the North Pole receded below him. The cries of the hunt below him faded as he took to the skies. He checked his compass and followed the bearing it gave him.
The needle flew back and forth as the course home changed. He went over the treetops, scraping the snow off the pine trees. The speed was incredible. He tried not to think about the fact that he had just sled-jacked Santa’s reindeer and sleigh.
The needle on his compass was set to a single point. The totem in his pocket beat a steady tone as he approached the mundane world. The team landed and slowed to a stop outside a small copse of trees. They refused to budge further.
“Thanks for the ride,” said Alexander.
“You’re welcome,” replied Donner. “It was our pleasure,”
Alexander shook his head and checked the compass needle. He followed the winding course it charted through the trees. Trees grew dense and the snow stopped. The ground was wet and sandy. Alexander came to a fence. He slipped into the mundane world without fanfare. He leapt the fence, went to his bike, and drove home.
At home, he found a message waiting on his work cell phone. It was from Gretchen, the only one who ever called him on that number. He dialed
Alexander took his place at the table with the Amaryllis clan next to Holly. The rest of the merry throng filed in, all taking their seats. Some of the dwarves noticed Alexander and cursed him, but he couldn’t hear them over the cacophony. Being mature, he scratched his head with his middle finger and pretended to ignore them.
When everyone was seated, Black Peter rose and slammed a staff on the floor. The sound was massive and the room fell silent.
“All hail the Yule Lord, Master of the North, Lord of the Hunt, Kris Kringle!” cried Black Peter.
In a flash of fire from the fire in the center of the hall, Santa appeared.
Kris Kringle was not what Alexander expected. For one, he was tall, at least among the assembled throng. He wore a red fur-lined cloak. His features were sharp, and his beard and mustache were close cropped. He had a sword and whip connected to his thick leather belt. What Alexander first thought were fur leggings were his legs. His lower half were white hair ending in black hooves. Leather chaps covered the front of his legs. A set of mighty antlers curved out of his forehead, and a crown of garland sat upon his brow. He was built like bricklayer, strong undefined muscle with a slight belly pooch. Calling him fat would be a mistake.
“LET THE FEAST BEGIN!” he bellowed, shaking the hall with the power of his voice.
“Holy crap,” muttered Alexander. Even with everything he had seen he was still astonished. Christmas at the North Pole was getting crossed off his bucket list.
Despite his anxiety, Alexander ate like a horse. It was the best food he ever had, and there was no shortage of it. He listened to the songs sung by the elves, and even to the epic poetry the dwarves performed. His sharp senses were overloaded by the experience and he had to focus to clear his head. The whole party was ephemeral and he was starting to lose touch with reality, something he could not afford. He reached into his pocket and thumbed his totem. It was beating fast like the heart of a small animal, a sign that he was being enchanted or otherwise ensorcelled by other dimensional powers. He flicked the toggle on its side, and a burst of energy shocked him back to his senses hard enough to throw him from his chair.
“Are you alright?” asked Holly.
“Fine,” said Alexander, lying.
Alexander put on his goggles and adjusted them to try and block out the intensity of the feast. It helped enough to clear his head up in time for the real festivities. Tables were cleared and moved from the floor. Risers were assembled and the crowd took their places as Kringle announced the beginning of the trials. There were three that evening, the final being Alexander’s.
Kringle sat on his throne and watched as the first combatants took the floor. One of the dwarves’ captains, a grizzled and scarred dwarf named Crushtar served as his Champion. The first battle was over as quick as it started. The elf charged Crushtar who allowed himself to be stabbed by the elves short blade. It bent and broke as it struck his stone like skin. The dwarf grabbed the elf by the skull and squeezed until pale blood ran out of his ears. He dropped him to the floor in a heap. The entire crowd roared in approval. Christmas was a rough time of year at the North Pole.
The second battle lasted three seconds longer than the first. This time Crushtar crushed the elf’s ribcage with a head butt. It was ugly, but Alexander saw enough to calculate a winning strategy against the brute. He was set so far in his ways as to be predictable to a fault.
Alexander’s time had arrived.
“I CALL FORTH THE COMBATANT OF CLAN AMARYILLIS TO ASSERT THEIR RIGHT TO TRIAL BY COMBAT ON THIS CHRISTMAS EVE!” bellowed Kringle.
Alexander stepped out into the room. It was silent for a moment. He was decked out in full superhero gear. His brass goggles glowed with an inner light, concealing his eyes. His hair and sideburns were free and flowed in the breeze that circulated the room. His coat was open enough to give him access to his ray gun and tool belt. At his waist were two small rocket mounts, allowing him to fly for brief periods.
“I, Crimson Overcoat, stand as Champion for Clan Amaryllis,” he said. It was nostalgic but he did his best to keep focused.
“STEP FORWARD AND MEET MY CHAMPION,” called Kringle.
Alexander waited for the dwarf to step forward. Instead, Kringle pulled an iron bell from his waist.
“KRAMPUS, YOUR MASTER BIDS YOU COME!” called Kringle.
The room shook and grew cold. A miniature blizzard blew into the hall, extinguishing fires and knocking over revelers. In the center of the floor, the blizzard coalesced into a demonic form. Horns protruded from his forehead and fangs filled his maw. He was dressed in blood soaked rags. Chains were wrapped around him. Small tinkling bells were attached to the chains, making a faint jingle as he walked. His hooves froze the space on which he stood into ice. He looked at Alexander and laughed. It was a musical laugh, which made it all the more sinister coming from the demonic visage.
“DO NOT BEGIN TO THINK THAT I DO NOT KNOW ALL THAT TRANSPIRES WITHIN MY REALM, CRIMSON OVERCOAT,” said Kringle. “I WISH FOR SPORT THIS EVE, AND YOU WILL PROVIDE IT. FIGHT!” he said as he leaned back on his throne and sipped from his large stein.
Krampus giggled as he leapt into the air and arced toward Alexander. Chains of carved bone flew from the basket on Krampus’ back. Alexander blurred across the room and the chains followed. Alexander reached for the next seconds of the future only to be met by visions of terror. Children screamed as they were pulled from their homes by the demon. Frantic screams mixed with jolly laughter followed every course of action. Alexander stumbled at the psychic onslaught and the chains bound him.
Krampus swung Alexander in a long arc and smashed him into the floor. The demon pulled the chain again, whipping Alexander against the wall. The rafters shook and the dwarves cheered. The elves remained silent.
Before he could be tossed about again Alexander regained his footing. He wiggled his hand free, pulled his ray gun, and shot the demon in the face. The chains went slack as the creature roared in pain. Alexander turned up the power to full and fired again. The blast lit the entire room in white light. Where Krampus stood there was a crater in the floor.
The elves cheered, but Alexander remained cautious. He touched the future and saw that he was still blocked by the demon’s influence. He smelled brimstone and heard a whistling sound in time to drop to the ground as the demon teleported on top of him.
Krampus stomped on Alexander’s forearm. The bones cracked but he kept his grip on his gun. Alexander reached into his belt and pulled the cold iron hammer from his belt. With one smooth motion he struck Krampus and broke his leg.
The demon leapt off of Alexander’s arm howling in pain. The skin smoldered and smoked where the iron struck his skin. Alexander grinned and charged the creature, hammering away at the demon. Chunks of burning flesh flew off after each blow. Krampus clawed and kicked and bit, but Alexander kept hammering away. Alexander fought through the pain as he beat the creature to death.
“ENOUGH!” cried Kringle, “I DECLARE CRIMSON OVERCOAT, CHAMPION OF CLAN AMARYILLS TO BE VICTOR, AND ALL CRIMES AGAINST MY THRONE DISMISSED! SUCH IS THE MERCY OF THE YULE KING!” declared Kringle.
The elves and even some of the dwarves cheered. Alexander limped to a chair and sat down.
“YOU ARE NOT FINISHED YET, CHAMPION,” said Kringle as he rose from his chair. “YOU SHALL CONTINUE TO PROVIDE SPORT THIS EVENING.”
“I’m done. I don’t want to sit on your lap. I want to go home,” said Alexander.
“YOU ARE THE STRONGEST CHAMPION TO ENTER MY REALM IN HUNDEREDS OF YEARS, AND MY BLADE YEARNS FOR BATTLE. MY SERVENTS SING PRAISES OF YOUR STRENGTH AND VALOR. LET ALL THOSE HERE WITNESS THE POWER OF THEIR LORD AND MASTER AGAINST THIS WORTHY AND HONORABLE OPPONENT!” cried Kringle.
“TAKE THE FLOOR, CHAMPION! FEW HAVE HAD THE HONOR THAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO RECEIVE!” said Kringle.
“I punched out a drunken Santa in a bar once for groping a nice young lady. That’s good enough for me,” said Alexander.
“YOU HAVE NO CHOICE,” cried Kringle. The god rose to his full height and attacked.
It was like fighting a force of nature. Alexander had fought supervillians, real nasty destroy-the-world types, in his bygone days. This reminded him of those fights. No time to think, just act. Kringle was a whirlwind of destruction. Every direction that Alexander looked to the future he saw the winter god waiting for him.
Fighting was a no-win option. Alexander pulled his gun out and set it to overload.
“Merry Christmas,” said the bloodied Alexander as he threw the ray gun at Kringle. The explosion was a brilliant rainbow of color. Kringle was thrown back. Alexander triggered his rocket belt and shot through the smoke vent in the roof.
The rockets were a short term option. They were not for long distance travel, and would burn out soon. He set his goggles to scan for alternative transport. It detected an energy surge in the stables. Alexander laughed at his dumb luck. He shot to the stables and landed in a puff of snow. He was met with snorts and hoof beats of eight massive reindeer.
The stable boy looked at Alexander for only a moment. He then motioned for him to come inside.
“You saved my mother from the Trolls. I am forever grateful. I can feel Kringle’s wrath from here. You must leave this realm before he ends you,” said the young elf.
“Then help me hook this team up,” said Alexander.
The elf moved with the rapid supernatural efficiency of his people. The reindeer were not tiny, nor were they jolly. But they exuded magic. Alexander pulled out a electromechanical compass from his belt. He adjusted the dials and levers, and got a bearing.
“Thanks,” said Alexander as he took the reins of the sled. He grabbed the whip from the bench and snapped it over the team. They stood still, stamping at the ground.
“Do I really have to do this,” said Alexander, knowing the magic needed to escape. He could hear the call of hunting horns and the baying of hounds. He didn’t have long.
“Alright. Now Dasher! Now Dancer!, Now Prancer and Vixen!, On, Comet, On Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen!” cried Alexander as he cracked the whip again. The team took off with a shot, out of the stable and into the air. The lights of the North Pole receded below him. The cries of the hunt below him faded as he took to the skies. He checked his compass and followed the bearing it gave him.
The needle flew back and forth as the course home changed. He went over the treetops, scraping the snow off the pine trees. The speed was incredible. He tried not to think about the fact that he had just sled-jacked Santa’s reindeer and sleigh.
The needle on his compass was set to a single point. The totem in his pocket beat a steady tone as he approached the mundane world. The team landed and slowed to a stop outside a small copse of trees. They refused to budge further.
“Thanks for the ride,” said Alexander.
“You’re welcome,” replied Donner. “It was our pleasure,”
Alexander shook his head and checked the compass needle. He followed the winding course it charted through the trees. Trees grew dense and the snow stopped. The ground was wet and sandy. Alexander came to a fence. He slipped into the mundane world without fanfare. He leapt the fence, went to his bike, and drove home.
At home, he found a message waiting on his work cell phone. It was from Gretchen, the only one who ever called him on that number. He dialed