Kris Kringle

“The king wants to speak with you.”

Kris was awoken from his sleep by the voice of the guard. He had been sitting down against the cold iron bars of his prison cell, which was located in the dungeon of the castle. It was a small dungeon, with room for only five cells. Kris and a man in the adjacent cell were the only prisoners.

Kris stood up from the stone ground, his muscles stiff and his body cold. He had not slept well that night, both because of the uncomfortable setting which he had to sleep in and the excitement from what had occurred earlier at the coronation. Kris had foresaw the fact that his actions would send him to prison, but he had not foreseen the great confidence he would feel in confronting Lord Renier. Kris was shocked by the reality that the whole experience of standing up to the most powerful man in the land had not frightened him at all. Even still, he was not feeling cocky or over-zealous. With a single word, Renier could have him executed. Whether he was afraid of it or not, death was never more than a minute away. Perhaps that is why the guard was summoning him this morning.

The guard unlocked the cell door and had Kris—still wearing Wenceslas’ robe—exit the prison and walk upstairs. Kris’ hands were tightly bound together with thick rope, and his wrists were beginning to ache from the tightness of it. The guard pushed him through the main hall of the castle and then through the inner courtyard where Kris had been just a month earlier. This time, however, he was headed to a new section of the castle, a place he had been told the servants were forbidden to enter. They walked between the two rows of sculpted bushes that resembled bizarre animal hybrids, which eventually brought them to two giant doors which led to King Renier’s wing. The guard brought Kris to a long hallway and knocked on one of the doors which had two guards standing on either side.

“Come in,” came Renier’s voice from inside the room. The guard opened the door, pulling Kris inside behind him.

“The prisoner, Your Highness. At your request,” the guard announced.

“Thank you,” Renier replied, staring out the window at the overcast sky. The sun had just risen but the heavy cloud cover kept the land in darkness.

Renier turned around. “You may leave us,” he said to the guard simply. The guard nodded and exited the room, closing the door behind him.

“Rain is coming,” Renier stated, sitting down at a large desk by the window that faced Kris, “I have always loved the rain. Something about it is very refreshing. Rain has a way of making everyone equally captive. You cannot argue with the rain. When it comes down, there is nothing you can do to stop it. Everyone under its influence must acknowledge its presence and—oftentimes—must change their course accordingly. And yet, even while there are those on certain days who may wish the rain to be gone, it is that very rain that is needed to sustain life. Some may call it bad or unpleasant, but in truth, the rain is good and necessary.”

Renier leaned back in the red armchair in which he was seated. “My reign will be the same,” he declared, smiling at his play on words.

Kris looked back at the king without emotion. “You can’t sustain life by taking it,” Kris replied softly.

“Sure you can!” Renier argued, suddenly standing back up from his chair, “The wolf kills the rabbit, the snake eats the mouse, the bird swallows the worm. This principle is engrained in nature, Kris: In order for life to be sustained, it must be taken. I am simply the snake, and my father—along with others—are the mice.”

“You’re more of a beast than a snake from what I know,” Kris said.

Renier flashed an evil grin as he walked up to Kris, so close that their faces were only inches from each other.

“How do you know this?” he asked in a subdued, but serious tone, “How did you find my father, and how do you know I am the one who attacked him?”

Kris stood still, refusing to answer.

Renier sighed. “Let me show you something,” he added, calling for the guards outside to open the door, “Perhaps after this, you will be more willing to talk.”

Renier walked down the hallway to another set of double doors. When opened, they revealed a wide stone staircase that led to a large dark basement. The torches on the walls were then lit, revealing the strangest scene that Kris’ eyes had ever beheld. There were several long tables, all overflowing with different containers and potions. Around the walls were cages of various sizes, all containing different types of animals—foxes, rodents, falcons, reindeer, and even bears. In the center of the basement stood an enormous contraption that—to Kris—looked like a strange kind of scale. It had two platforms at either end, connected together by a single beam. In the center of that beam shot out a hallow tower made of metal, with a small door located at its base.

Renier looked back at Kris who was following behind him on the stairs with a three-guard escort. Reneir laughed at the look on Kris’ face.

“You act as though you know exactly who I am and what I am up to,” Renier observed, “But now you are realizing that you actually have no idea what all is going on.” He gestured to the large contraption in the center. “Since I was a young boy, I have always been fascinated by the idea of combining multiple animals into one. Father says I would draw pictures of them—these strange mixings of creatures. I guess even at a young age I recognized the fact that some animals—like some humans— have traits that are superior to others. I was always intrigued by the idea of combining the best characteristics of different animals within a single creature—one who was truly advanced and unique. Over the years, with the help of many different sorcerers and witches, I began to experiment with this idea, seeing if magic could indeed create a better version of the animal that Mother Nature had produced.”

Kris approached the contraption before him and examined it with concern. “Have you been successful?” he asked Renier simply.

Renier grimaced. “Yes and no,” he admitted, “I thought we had produced the solution. In fact, so confident was I, that I even offered myself as a subject.” He looked at one of the platforms and shook his head. “But I learned the hard way that there are two different kinds of magic. A simple mind would merely label them ‘good’ and ‘bad’ or ‘light’ and ‘dark’ but I see it more as ‘weak’ and ‘strong’. The sorcerers I had employed were using this stronger magic. Strong, not just in the sense of its power and ability, but in its nature. ‘Dark magic’ is more like the rushing of a river. It cannot be controlled, at least not without great effort and minimal success. When harnessed, this kind of magic is indeed very powerful, but it can quickly become dangerous and unpredictable.”

Renier looked up at the tower rising from the contraption. Kris did the same and noticed that the roof above it was built to be retractable.

“Your… beast persona… It is the result of this kind of magic,” Kris observed.

Renier gave a small nod. “The river I tried to control swallowed me up and spat me out,” he confessed, “But my goal from the start had been to transform into a more powerful version of myself. And indeed, I had succeeded in the sense.” He looked down at his wounded hand. “Still, I began to wonder about this other kind of magic, the one which I see as weak but which others label as ‘good’.”

“Why would you seek this magic if you think it weak?” Kris asked with puzzlement.

“Oh no, not weak in its power. In fact, you could argue it is the stronger of the two,” Renier explained, “Weak in its nature, in its ability to resist the control of another. I could not handle the dark magic for it would not obey my command, but the other magic… the other magic is more easily persuaded, more obedient to the wielder.”

“Where do you find this kind of magic?” Kris questioned.

Renier once again approached his prisoner and smiled. “You tell me, Kris Kringle.”

Kris stood there with a furrowed brow, not knowing what the king expected him to say.

“You mentioned something yesterday when you so rudely interrupted my coronation ceremony,” Renier reminded him, “You said you had seen elves.”

Kris began to feel very uncomfortable. Though he was unsure exactly what Renier was getting at, he suddenly felt a deep concern for his friends in the forest.

“Yes, and then you mocked me,” Kris recalled.

Renier laughed. “Indeed, I did, but even then I could sense you were telling the truth. In fact, I was hoping you were. This ‘good magic’ that I seek is found most prominently in one race of creature—the elves. Now according to our history, these elves once lived among men but long since and forevermore separated themselves from us. Until, it seems, you and my father found them.”

Kris took a deep swallow, trying to prepare himself for the question he knew was coming.

Renier looked Kris directly in the eyes and spoke firmly.

“Where did you find them?”

Kris did not respond.

“Where are the elves!” he shouted.

Still, no answer was given.

Renier clasped his hands together angrily and raised them in front of his face.

“Very well,” he concluded with a voice that was soft but irritated, “You can choose when you will no longer talk, but remember that I get to choose when you no longer live. Perhaps another long night in the dungeon will make you reconsider your silence.”

Two guards carried Kris back up the stairs, with one staying behind in the basement with King Renier.

“You had said last night that someone saw him in the village?” Renier said to the guard.

“Yes, Your Highness,” the servant confirmed, “He was seen entering the home of Jack Frost, who delivers ice to the castle.”

Renier looked up at the doors through which Kris had just been carried away.

“Well then,” he decided, “See to it that this Frost makes a special delivery to the castle this afternoon. And then bring him to me.”