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  “Our Last Christmas Together”

  Copyright © 2018 by Matt Mikalatos. All rights reserved.

  Cover illustration copyright © Matt Griffin. All rights reserved.

  Designed by Dean H. Renninger

  Edited by Sarah Rubio

  The author is represented by Ambassador Literary Agency, Nashville, TN.

  “Our Last Christmas Together” is a work of fiction. Where real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales appear, they are used fictitiously. All other elements of the story are drawn from the author’s imagination.

  ISBN 978-1-4964-6216-9 (Kindle e-book)

  ISBN 978-1-4964-6217-6 (ePub e-book)

  ISBN 978-1-4964-6218-3 (Apple e-book)

  Build: 2021-05-25 17:07:15 EPUB 3.0

  Many humans celebrate a winter solstice holy day called, variously, Christmas, the Feast of Lights, the Festival of the Incarnation, Nativity, Yule, or Noël. It is, depending on the humans in question, a time of fasting or feasting, solemn reflection or joyous celebration, a time for thoughtful gift giving or excessive, lavish spending. This is all in celebration of either a peasant child born thousands of years ago, or, depending on the humans in question, a celebration of magical beings who bring gifts through magical means.

  HANALI, SON OF VIVI; A SPEECH GIVEN TO ELENIL NOBLES TAKING HUMANS INTO THEIR HOUSEHOLDS

  Contents

  * * *

  Our Last Christmas Together

  “Merry Christmas!”

  Madeline Oliver struggled to open her eyes. It took her a moment to remember exactly where she was, and why. She found herself in her own room—they called it a solar—in the eastern tower of Westwind, with her former roommate, Shula Bishara, sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling brightly, her curly black hair framing her face. “Christmas? I only left home a couple months ago. It was September then . . .”

  “We do things differently in the Sunlit Lands.” Shula slapped Madeline’s knee through the quilt. “Or didn’t you notice the perpetual sunshine?”

  The Sunlit Lands. A couple months ago Madeline had been dying from interstitial lung disease, and now she could breathe and sing and dance again, thanks to the magic of this place. A magical person named Hanali had offered her healing in exchange for one year of service here, in the Elenil capital city, where the sun never set and white towers flew red flags and singing fountains filled every public square. She lived in the tower of a castle called Westwind. Outside the walls of the city the evil Scim, creatures of darkness and shadow, railed against the light of the Elenil.

  “I noticed,” she said, “I thought the Elenil had completely different holidays, like the Festival of the Turning. That’s coming up soon . . . they don’t celebrate Christmas, too, do they?”

  Shula laughed. “No. But they let us humans celebrate. Or at least, all the humans who care about it. There’s a kid who’s in charge of deciding when Christmas arrives because the Elenil calendar is so crazy. Then we have a party with a big white elephant gift exchange, and we sing Christmas songs, and we tell stories. So get dressed! We have gifts to find.”

  Jason Wu whistled merrily as he made his way through the city of Far Seeing, a hatchet in his hand and his golden-retriever-sized unicorn, Delightful Glitter Lady, trotting along beside him.

  “Mr. Wu.” The voice which called his name sounded cold and maybe disappointed. He recognized it at once as the Elenil who had brought him and his classmate Madeline here: Hanali, son of Vivi. He stopped and turned toward the voice, slipping the hatchet behind his back more from force of habit than from any real desire to hide it. Then he remembered that he wasn’t telling lies ever again, so he put the hatchet back in front, because hiding the hatchet felt like a little bit of a lie. But holding the axe in front felt weird, like he was going to start chopping people, so he put it over his shoulder like a lumberjack.

  The Elenil waded through the crowd toward him. Hanali had a special gift for over-the-top fashion, and today he wore a pale-pink silk jacket over long, flowing, royal blue pants. The Elenil were painfully thin, and they clothed almost every available bit of skin, including their hands. All Jason could see of Hanali was his face, which blossomed like some kind of silvery flower over the high-necked collar of his shirt. “Mr. Wu,” he said again.

  “Mr. Son-of-Vivi,” Jason said back. Weird that the Elenil didn’t have last names.

  Hanali’s face soured. He opened his mouth, as if he was going to correct Jason’s choice of surname for him, then seemed to think better of it. Instead he said, “Why, pray tell, are you traipsing through the center of Far Seeing with a hatchet in hand?”

  “Traipsing?” Jason asked. “I’m not traipsing! This is my normal walk.”

  Hanali sighed. “Very well. Why are you walking through the center of Far Seeing with a hatchet?”

  Jason looked around the street. “Is this really the center of the city? I thought that was closer to the archon’s palace. This is sort of the northeast section—”

  “Hatchet!” Hanali snapped. “Why do you have a hatchet?”

  Jason took a step back, surprised by the outburst. Delightful Glitter Lady put herself between Jason and the Elenil, taking on a defensive position. Which was both delightfully adorable and, Jason hoped, terrifying. Even a dog-sized unicorn should be able to hurt someone with that horn. He’d left his embiggenator in the stable at Westwind, or he would be able to turn the dial and make Dee the size of a full-grown rhinoceros. Or bigger! As for why he had a hatchet, well, he thought that was obvious. “I was planning to chop something down.”

  Hanali recoiled in horror. “Chop something down? In the city? My boy, you will do no such thing.”

  “It’s Christmas,” Jason said. Hanali just stared at him.

  Jason sighed. He usually thought Hanali was pretty smart, but sometimes he needed every little thing explained to him. “We need a Christmas tree.” He started walking again.

  “Ah,” Hanali said, falling into step beside Jason. “These Christmas traditions continue to elude me. They are so varied among you humans. Why do you need this tree?”

  “We put up an evergreen tree to remind us about eternal life. Then we put lights on it because . . . um. Because light has come into the darkness? I don’t know. Oh yeah, and a star on top because a star lit the way for some—shepherds, maybe?—to find out about the birth of Jesus. Then we put out milk and cookies for Santa Claus when he comes to bring gifts, except not where I live because Santa is lactose intolerant at our house.”

  “I see,” Hanali said, though it was obvious he didn’t. “Then you will do a white hippopotamus gift exchange.”

  “White elephant,” Jason said. The Elenil were terrible at identifying earth animals. In the last week he had heard Hanali refer to a horse as a “long-necked dog” and a rabbit as “the cat with the big ears.” Jason didn’t know why Hanali couldn’t call animals by the right names, but it always made him laugh.

  “Why is it called white elephant?”

  “I have no idea. Why do you expect me to know everything?”

  Hanali raised an eyebrow. “You are a human. Who else would I ask about human culture?”

  “Well, I don’t know what it means, except that it’s a weird anti-Christmas tradition we do around Christmas with our friends.”

  “Anti-Christmas?”

  “Yeah. Christmas is all a
bout family and generous gift-giving, and then we have this game we play where you bring one terrible gift and then everyone fights over the couple of good gifts and tries not to get the worst ones. It’s weird and basically the opposite of the Christmas spirit in every way, but there you go.”

  Hanali looked like he was considering this carefully. “So the best participants of Christmas would bring the best gifts?”

  “It’s not a contest,” Jason said. “But yeah.”

  “It is a holy day for celebrating family and gifts.” Hanali raised an eyebrow, as if daring Jason to tell him that he’d gotten it wrong.

  “Yeah. Also . . . hey, look there. I think I found our tree.”

  There was a sort of park off to the side of the main street, with tall, beautiful trees of all types growing in it. The blood drained from Hanali’s face. “That is the Aluvorean consulate. I will have no part in this. I am leaving for my home, and you should do the same. You are often unwise, Mr. Wu, but that would be sheer folly.”

  “Sheer folly is my middle name,” Jason said, and he trotted toward the trees.

  The party would be held that night in the courtyard of Westwind. Ruth Mbewe, the eight-year-old girl who seemed to more or less run the castle, was overseeing a meal, and had sent Madeline and Shula to the market with a list of last-minute needed items. The market was a bustling riot of colors and strange people and odd creatures. It wasn’t a special day for the market—Christmas was only for humans—but there were still a lot of people there.

  Madeline stepped out of the way of a woman riding what appeared to be some sort of ostrich, then moved to catch up with Shula, who was standing by a stall full of colorful fabric. She held up a bolt of purple cloth. “For Delightful Glitter Lady?”

  “She’d love it!” Madeline ran her hand over the material. “Could they make it into a blanket for her?” Jason and Dee had been sleeping in the stables, because the Knight of the Mirror allowed no magic in the castle proper. He didn’t allow full-sized unicorns in the castle either.

  “I think so.” They talked to the shop owner, who told them to return in an hour or so to pick up the finished blanket. Madeline and Shula explored the market in comfortable silence. They had become friends quickly. Shula had been kidnapped by the Scim for a time, but they were together again, and that terrifying separation had only drawn them closer.

  “You seem sad,” Madeline said. “You’re quieter than usual.”

  Shula tried to smile but didn’t quite succeed. “This is only my second Christmas since my family—” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Madeline knew that Shula’s family had died in Syria. Shula had left Syria to come here to the Sunlit Lands after that. Every human kid in the Sunlit Lands had a tragic story: disease like Madeline, or violence like Ruth, or loss like Shula. And then there was Jason, who had come along with Madeline out of loyalty, but he was the exception rather than the rule.

  Madeline put her arm through Shula’s. “I’m sorry.”

  Shula patted her hand. “No one else’s families will be here, either. But I miss them.” A tear fell down her cheek.

  “Holidays are hard,” Madeline said.

  “They can be.” Shula wiped her face with the back of her hand.

  “Why don’t you stay at Westwind tonight after the party? I miss having you as a roommate. We’ll throw an after-party sleepover. Former roommates only.”

  “I’d like that,” Shula said.

  “In the meantime, maybe finding something terrible for the white elephant exchange will make us both feel better.”

  Shula grinned. “Let’s buy Jason something terrible.”

  “I have a better idea,” Madeline said. “I know a gift we can give him that will be a gift for us, too.”

  Jason was precisely one hack into the tree trunk when he realized this would be harder than he’d thought. For one thing the trunk was easily three feet thick, and for another the tree was about twenty feet tall. He wasn’t sure how he was going to drag it back to Westwind. Not only that, but a green-skinned woman in nut-brown clothing had appeared beside him, her arms crossed in evident disapproval.

  “I need a Christmas tree,” he said.

  “This is a pine tree,” the woman replied. “We do not have Christmas trees.”

  “Christmas trees are pine trees, though.”

  “We do not have that variety.”

  “I mean, pine trees are Christmas trees.”

  “No. Not this one.”

  “You’re some sort of tree person, right? Are you a—what are they called—naiad?”

  “Dryad. And no. This is not a Christmas tree, and I am not a dryad.”

  “It’s not a Christmas tree yet, but it could be if we put on the lights and everything.”

  She seemed to consider that. “You may put lights on it if you wish.”

  “I have to cut it down first.”

  “Then how will you put lights on it?”

  “I’ll stand it up again,” Jason said. He really was getting tired of having to explain every little thing to these Sunlit Lands people.

  The not-a-dryad shook her head. “And why do you do this?”

  “To symbolize eternal life.”

  “You cut down the tree so you can stand it up. You kill the tree to symbolize long life.”

  Jason thought it through, then nodded his head. “Exactly.”

  “This is not a Christmas tree,” she repeated. “Now move along, or I will call the guard.” She held out her hand. “And leave the hatchet here.”

  “Aw, man.” Jason put the hatchet in her hand and trudged away from the woods. Delightful Glitter Lady, sensing his disappointment, leaned against his leg. “What am I going to do, Dee? Now I don’t have a Christmas tree, and I lost the knight’s hatchet. He’s going to kill me. If he can find a sharp object I haven’t already broken or lost.”

  A voice called his name—his Chinese name, not his English name. “Wu Song.”

  It was Baileya, a Kakri woman he had met more than once and who left him barely able to choke out a sentence most of the time. It wasn’t just that she was at least a head taller than him, or her sand-colored skin, or the flashing silver light of her eyes—it was also the fact that she could take that hatchet and hurl it across a field and chop a specifically targeted piece of grass in half. He had never met anyone like her, and he would be perfectly happy to never meet another new person again so long as he got to hang out with her instead. “Baileya,” he said. It was the only word he could manage to say.

  “Why so sad?”

  “There’s a big party tonight, and the tree people won’t let me cut down one of their trees.”

  Baileya grinned at him. “You tried to cut down an Aluvorean tree?”

  “I only got one chop in before they took my hatchet.”

  She laughed. “What sort of party is this that requires you to risk your life for a tree?”

  “Ah, it’s a Christmas party. Not like at home, though. I guess some kid is in charge of it, and he picks three people to tell a Christmas story, and there’s a white elephant gift exchange.” He shrugged. “It’s not even Christmas today as far as I know.”

  Baileya’s eyes had lit up at the mention of the stories. In Kakri culture, stories were used as currency, and she had come to Far Seeing to make her fortune. “Human stories?” she asked.

  “Did you want to go?” He asked it without thinking, and a wash of warm good feelings came over him as she gave an enthusiastic yes.

  “What sort of gift is this white elephant?” she asked.

  “You bring something to trade, that’s all.”

  “What will you bring?”

  “I saved up my pudding the last few days,” he said. Like everyone else, he had made a deal when he came to the Sunlit Lands. Madeline’s deal had been to get her breath back, and his had been a hospital pudding cup every morning for the rest of his life. Thankfully he had remembered to say chocolate, but he had forgotten things like making sure it was cold and includi
ng a spoon. But it was no big deal—he could use his fingers. Sure, it made Madeline nauseous to watch, but as he always told her, “Nature isn’t always pretty. This is the way human beings eat pudding in the absence of spoons.” Even when he ate without a spoon, other teens were jealous. There wasn’t any pudding in the Sunlit Lands except for his. They would like it as a gift. It would be one of those presents people fought over.

  “Tell me about this tree you need,” Baileya said. So he told her all about Christmas trees and Santa Claus and the flying deer and little toymakers. She was delighted by it all, and when he was done, she clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Wu Song. I have a solution to your tree problem.” She explained her idea, and he crowed with laughter.

  “Genius!” he said. “Let’s go!”

  Green and red banners hung from the windows of Westwind and decorated the stone walls of the courtyard. There were iron braziers with fires blazing, and even in the bright light of the Sunlit Lands they cast a merry glow. Ruth had set long tables and overseen providing traditional Christmas foods from her own home country—beef and goat, lamb and chicken, pounded yams, jollof rice, and a thick red stew. It wasn’t anything Madeline had ever eaten at Christmas, or any other time, but it smelled delicious and festive. They found Jason, his plate already piled high and his mouth full.

  “Merry Christmas, Jason!”

  “Merry Christmas!” he said, or at least they assumed that’s what he said around all the food in his mouth. Baileya stood behind him, her plate even more full than his. They all exchanged greetings and settled onto some of the low chairs that had been set around the courtyard.

  “Where’s Dee?” Madeline asked. “And Hanali? I thought he was coming.”

  “They’ll be here eventually,” Jason said, exchanging a mysterious look with Baileya.

  A lot of the human kids from the city had gathered in the courtyard, and there was a general feeling of festive enjoyment. Even the Knight of the Mirror sat on a chair, a tall mirror angled toward him so only he could see its face. A few Elenil were there, too, mingling among the humans, and of course Baileya, and even a few Maegrom, the little grey people who were said to live mostly underground. Madeline didn’t see any Scim, but she knew there were some who lived in the city . . . either captured warriors who had been made into servants of the Elenil, or the occasional homeless child who haunted the alleys around the market.