The Elf Archive - Book Two of The Magi Charter

The Elf Archive

Jordan David

Copyright 2019 Jordan David,

All rights reserved.

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ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0870-5

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The Magi Charter

by Jordan David



The Elf Brief

The Elf Archive

The Elf Coup

The Elf Accord

The Elf Legacy

The Elf Resistance

The Elf Directive

The Elf Sojourn

- Contents -

Chapter 1

Shades of Gray

Chapter 2

Holiday Sunset

Chapter 3

Cider Eggnog

Chapter 4

The Inquisitive Elf

Chapter 5

Old Acquaintances, New Acquaintances

Chapter 6

No Rest for the Busy

Chapter 7

What Snow Hides

Chapter 8

What’s in A Dream

Chapter 9

Nurse Evergreen

Chapter 10

Wet & Wild Games

Chapter 11

Where the Owls Are

Chapter 12

Unexpected Surprises

Chapter 13

Selma’s Secret

Chapter 14

Comes the Letter

GLOSSARY



Chapter 1

*

Shades of Gray

His hands were wet and freezing cold. So cold they had become numb. The young man had given up and stared bleakly at the raging fire methodically consuming his uncle’s house. His own home too; had been for as long as he could remember. He looked about hoping someone would assist him in putting out the fire. But he was alone, or as good as.

It was late in November. A frost already covered the ground this night, the first snows would come any day now as the hard Russian winter closed its fist around the town of Selma. The warmth of the fire did feel good in a way, but that small comfort came at a heavy price. Uncle Dimitri’s house had been in the family for generations. The roof over the garage where Uncle ran a meager mechanic shop collapsed with a metallic screech of protest. Everything was a total loss.

The young man wandered out into the street. The house sat some ways back from the road, their residence nowhere near the other houses and buildings of the town. In a way, its isolation symbolized the family’s own. His parents and sister had fled the country when he was too little to remember or understand. Uncle Dimitri was all the family he had, or did until a few weeks ago, when the elderly man had been arrested and taken away.

What’s wrong with you! he shouted at the handful of people gathered in the distance. Help me!

But he knew no help would come. Somewhere in the distance, the sirens of the fire trucks echoed through the streets, but he knew they were in no hurry. They would arrive just in time to put out the smoldering shell. After all, none of the other homes were in danger. He turned back to watch the house, wood popping, glass panes bursting… nothing much of a recognizable home was left.

He sank to his knees in the yard. The hose was still running, a plastic bucket laying on its side. He considered for a fleeting moment another attempt to fight the blaze with the hose. With all he’d been through this night, even his body was deserting him now. Why...?

A hand clasped his shoulder. You know why, Mikhail. A teenage boy said reassuringly.

Yes, he did. But that didn’t make him feel better. It made him angry. His family had always been the outcasts. They refused to join the communist party, choosing instead to get involved with underground democracy movements. That’s why his parents had to flee. That’s what Uncle told him. As for himself and Dimitri, they kept to themselves as much as possible. Uncle never did anything to attract the attention or incur the ire of the authorities. But that was not good enough. Joining the Party was not an option, not if you expected to live a decent life. Not if you were a good comrade.

This year had been particularly bad. In the years following Mikhail’s coming of age to officially join the Communist Party, he’d managed to avoid it, much to the chagrin of the town. He dragged his feet, made excuses for not getting to it. The more abuse he took from schoolmates and harassment from the authorities only strengthened his resolve to follow his parents’ footsteps. Mikhail begged his Uncle to tell him all there was to know about what his parents had done. Where they fled, how to find them... But Uncle Dimitri was an old man and years of drinking had taken a toll. His mind was not what it once was. Often, he could not remember Mikhail’s parents’ names or his infant sister, who they took with them when they fled. Uncle was never able to explain how it was Mikhail had been left behind. If there was an answer to those questions in the house, it had just gone up in smoke.

He did not know why this year had gone so badly. Perhaps the town had simply had enough of the two misfits on the outskirts. Business had slowed to virtually nothing for his Uncle’s shop. They barely scraped together enough money for food. Mikhail earned a meager wage working a magazine stand for that thief Gustov, and in his spare time had been stockpiling firewood for the winter. That was the only good thing about living here, it was near the big forest.

This was no accident. He told the teenager.

No. The boy agreed. Come, Mikhail, this would be a good time… to go.

Mikhail turned from the fire and studied the teen. Odd that this boy was the only person who just happened to be here this night. Perhaps he was responsible? But why did he try to help put the fire out? It dawned on him that if it were not for Zima Svet, he would’ve had no warning… he could easily have perished. He shivered uncontrollably as the wind picked up.

Zima Svet was an unusual teenager. He was not very tall despite claiming to be fourteen. The boy wore blue jeans, wet and dirty from the fire battle. He had an oversized black coat and thick muffler hat. The cold wind did not seem to bother him, and despite the fire, the boy was as calm and clear spoken as if they were at the seaside.

Go where? Zima Svet had talked before about wanting to hire Mikhail for a special job. But that was unlikely. As unlikely as the boy’s name. It meant Winter Light in Russian. A most unusual name. So were his clothes. He always wore the same clothes. Blue jeans were hard to come by in Selma. Mikhail had been asking around town if anyone knew this teenager, but no one ever did. Zima Svet always wanted to talk about a job, but never got specific. Especially when it came to that job’s location. Mikhail suspected it was a trap. A setup… he’d agree to take the job, then be arrested for trying to leave the country without permission. It was just what the authorities needed to put him in prison. But it was Uncle Dimitri that was in prison…

Uncle… what about Uncle? Mikhail whispered. What indeed? The loss of the house and shop was sure to kill the old man, that is if prison did not.

Zima Svet looked back sadly at him. The boy said nothing. His eyes said it all. Mikhail shivered with the wind and wiped the tears away with frozen fingers. I can’t let them get away with this. I’ll do… I’ll… something!

You must pick your battles, Mikhail. Nothing else can be done here. Zima Svet told him. But there is a place where someone with your talents is needed. Come.

Mikhail stared blankly at the house. What was he to do? There was nowhere for him to go. No friends in this town would take him in. No family he knew of. No job, no money, and now no possessions. Zima Svet promised a job and a new place to live. It was a trap, had to be... What did it matter now? He had no other options and nothing else to lose. With a shiver, he pulled himself up off the ground. The fire trucks were coming into view far off down the street. The trucks were rolling along at a leisurely pace.

Zima Svet led him around in a wide girth around the flaming structure and made for the forest. A few yards from the fire and winter’s cold bite enveloped Mikhail. He wondered how far they had to walk before the trap was sprung. Well, he thought darkly, whatever police car they put him in was sure to be warmer than the woods.

Here, Zima Svet said handing him a ball of something. Eat this.

Even though Mikhail was expecting a trap, he was so cold and exhausted he took the ball and nibbled a bite off it. Powdered sugar… some sort of cookie. He gladly ate the whole thing. Where are we going, Zima? I hope it’s a long way from here, Siberia came to mind…

It is, the teenager replied watching Mikhail eat the cookie. You’ll feel a little dizzy soon, but tomorrow you’ll wake up and forget all about tonight’s… unpleasantness.

Good, Mikhail yawned. I don’t want to remember anything! Adrenalin must be wearing off he thought. Zima Svet took him firmly by one arm and steered him deeper into the trees. The fire was dying down but still illuminated the woods enough to see by. Something silvery, or maybe misty was floating between the trees. A rounder swirling… something. The boy kept Mikhail walking right into it, and they vanished.

* * * * *

Mistletoe Green sat in his chair waiting patiently for the information to arrive this afternoon. Not that he was impatient, certainly not. The purple hat elf was never impatient, so long as things went according to plan… his plan. Drumming his fingers on the desk absently he looked around the small office while considering his next move.

The office was small like himself but still managed to be imposing. Perhaps it was the meticulous arrangement of the furniture or the lack of any sort of clutter. The only items in the office were the desk, chair, and two large file cabinets. The walls were stark white. Not a single decoration, not even a pen upon the desktop. The only color in the room was that of the file cabinets; one red, its twin green. Visible only to himself the desktop had a glass top underneath which a computer screen glowed softly. The glow cast a pale light upon the elf’s skin, making it appear even paler and his red hair even redder.

Periodically he glanced down at the monitor to the clock on its screen. This was not the first time he had eagerly awaited special information from his handpicked assistants. It would not be the first time they failed to deliver either. A minor inconvenience, unavoidable really. In this game, delays and failures were more common than success. The former head of the FCD sighed. Time was on his side… he hoped.

The office was not much different from his old one. As the former head of the First Contact department, he had enjoyed a much larger office. Necessary for the addition of a meeting table and multiple chairs. Meetings which he organized were rare now and never required more than one or two subordinates. Here the only chair was his own. The smaller space proved to be most useful. Elves did not drop by to chat, and those who just had to see him got their business done quickly. A lack of seating was no doubt an asset to a busy elf. Yes, this office suited Mistletoe just fine.

Since Santa Christo’s departure, a wave of changes had swept through the North Pole. At first, the former FCD head feared all was lost. More than two hundred years of work had nearly been undone when he and Christo had gotten into an argument that fateful night. They disagreed over the policies regarding the elves’ memories. Santa Christo had threatened to scale back the FCD dramatically, even put the whole thing back under the control of the Elf Services department where the FCD had originated. Mistletoe was barely able to avoid that disaster by suggesting a change in FCD management. He even volunteered to step down.

Thankfully that appeased the outgoing Santa. Mistletoe had to relinquish power, but that turned out to be a blessing in disguise. He wondered, not for the first time, what had changed Christo’s mind about long-standing policies. But he knew… not something… someone. All those years molding and guiding the Santas and shaping North Pole policy and rules… and it was all nearly undone by one young elf.

The merest beginnings of a sneer began to curl his mouth at the thought of that certain elf. But his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp rap from the door. Two elves ducked into the office shutting the door behind them. The tall lad of fourteen was Bitter, and his partner was a short, plump lass of twelve named Sweet.

You’ll like this, said Bitter putting a notepad before Mistletoe on the desk.

The red-haired elf read over the pad quickly, sifting through several pages of writing. The two elves waited expectantly for his reaction. They had been gone for almost a week on this latest trip. Both were dressed warmly; each had a backpack stuffed with various supplies. If they were tired, they did not let it show. Hardy elves, these two were used to spending long periods away from the North Pole. One of the many reasons he considered them his favorites.

Mistletoe grinned as he read. Oh yes… Yes, this is excellent work. This will surely come in handy.

We got the impression they were looking for him. At least, they certainly had not forgotten him. the lass Sweet volunteered.

And it’s our duty to help, yes? Mistletoe mused, quite pleased with himself. You’ve done well and have earned a break. Resume your regular work. When the time is right, this information will be put to good use.

Bitter and Sweet thanked him and left. Getting up, Mistletoe opened the red file cabinet. Taking out a rather thick file he placed the note pages within. Of all the files on elves, this was the largest and most familiar to the former FCD head. Now all he had to do was wait. Sooner or later that certain elf would face the inevitable and this new information would serve to hasten his departure from the North Pole.

Returning to his desk, Mistletoe reflected on the day’s success. It’s funny how good things happen when you least expect it. The changes Santa Nicolas had implemented had been in place nearly five years. He used to worry profusely that the rule changes regarding elf memory were going to be disastrous… yet so far had been uneventful. He hoped Santa Nicolas’s new program allowing elves to train in other departments would be most disruptive… it had not, much to his disappointment. But that disappointment was short lived for surprisingly that very change in policy had proven to be Mistletoe’s greatest advantage.

Although the red and green cabinets were of the same size, by far the red contained more files than the other. It was long, painstaking work to determine if an elf was trustworthy enough to be moved to the green files. In that cabinet, his trustees had been dispersed throughout every department in the North Pole. And there they waited while he bided his time. Mistletoe was a patient elf… he would wait… time was on his side.

* * * * *

The old sleigh barn was abuzz with activity of four old Santas. This was the busiest part of the year, as they prepared for the festivities of the summer solstice. Worktables that took up a large chunk of the barn’s floor space were covered with wooden boards, tools, paint buckets, and decorative ribbons and cloth.

Although the barn was full of its namesake sleighs, the old men’s duties included all manner of maintenance and construction projects the North Pole required. Building sleighs was their specialty, and several major events of the solstice made use of that skill, but by and large, sleighs did not monopolize their time.

During the period of the summer solstice in mid-June, one could experience endless days at the North Pole. The sun would not fully set here until late September. To celebrate the peak of summer that marked the halfway point in the year before Christmas Eve, the elves took time from their work to enjoy the festivities of the Reindeer Games. A weeklong series of events for which the former Santas were preparing the booths that would be set up on the Green beneath the Great Christmas Tree. The Games consisted of contests, races, and displays of skills put on by elves and reindeer alike. Some events included tests of single elfin expertise, others pinned elf against elf, while the most popular were those which both elves and reindeer teamed up for.

The solstice celebration and Reindeer Games had been an annual tradition for as far back as anyone could remember. However, recent changes that Santa Nicolas had implemented since coming to the North Pole had helped to revitalize the games. Today the old men were going over the last of the booth parts pulled out of storage. They were discussing what order each should be assembled and if any touch-up paint or repairs were needed.

Pare Noel was the second oldest of the men and tended to take on the role of leader. He was best at organizing the work and seeing that things got done. I know you promised Bell her booth, but that’s not possible. She must wait like the other elves, he told his longtime friend.

Kristof Lucia frowned but didn’t pursue the matter. Normally the old men kept out of the way of the elves and had little interaction with them. But these last few years had seen more visitors to their sleigh barn, which brought more requests for special projects. During the Reindeer Games this time of year it was hard for the old men not to make special promises to some elves.

Juvenescent, the oldest of them had been told the same thing last week after an elf had requested a new custom booth. That was out of the question. There was no time or materials for a brand-new booth, especially on such short notice. He grunted his disagreement with Pare Noel while slamming boards and hammering loudly. That was his way… not one for words, Juvenescent let his work speak for himself. Always louder than was strictly necessary.

If you break that booth, you’ll mend it! Pare Noel shouted at Juvenescent.

The other two men kept at their work. Babbo Natale, the youngest of them was indifferent and stayed focused in his own area. Kristof, despite being reprimanded, managed to chuckle at the feud. Juvenescent had always been the most headstrong of the group. After several minutes of nonstop banging and clatter, Pare Noel had had enough.

Be you make so much noise? The Factory is complaining! I…

Pare Noel cut off abruptly as the other men halted their work. All four were startled to see who had appeared in the sleigh barn. It was not every day they saw her, and it may well have been the first time she had been inside the barn. She wore a pale blue dress unlike any the other elf lasses wore. But then she was hardly like the other elves. Tall and slender a lass of sixteen or seventeen she could easily be mistaken for a human woman.

Good morning! Mother Elf greeted them. I trust you good Santas have the summer solstice preparations well in hand.

Naturally, Pare Noel was first to speak. We do… oh yes indeed. We will be ready on time as always.

Mother Elf smiled warmly. I never doubted it, Pare. Santa Nicolas’s efforts have reinvigorated elf interest in the games anew. Have you noticed?

Have we? You could say that, aye. Juvenescent grumbled as nicely as he was able.

Ha! It’s getting so we can’t step outside without some elf or three following us around with special requests! Kristof exclaimed.

Is that so? said Mother Elf. They are excited. And you all have done so much for them.

The four men mumbled their appreciation, then looked to one another not knowing what to say or do next with their prestigious visitor. But it was not Mother Elf’s way to make anyone feel uncomfortable. She had come with business in mind.

I am afraid I must impose on you gentlemen. I need to speak with Babbo Natale in private if you please.

The four looked confused. Babbo Natale looked at Mother Elf blankly, avoiding the questioning looks of his companions. Certainly, certainly, Pare Noel replied. Come on lads, we need to go inspect the promenade. Double check the booth placement for the new setup this year. Let’s get to it.

The three men hurriedly grabbed up their tool belts and made their way out of the sleigh barn, navigating the meandering path through the plethora of sleighs. Babbo Natale retreated to the living area where the men had a kitchen, stone fireplace, and four beds in a large open area. Near the fireplace were four chairs, each one different in style and color and just as old as its owner. Here he seated himself in a big black leather chair which had seen better days.

Mother Elf followed, quietly gliding across the floor. She took a chair next to him and calmly settled herself. How have you been, Babbo?

The man was staring into the fire but eyed her cautiously. Fine,

She nodded expecting nothing less. This will be a difficult year for the North Pole,

Babbo did not make a sound, merely staring back at the woman wide-eyed.

Regretfully, I bring the tiding we have stood watch for all this time. It has found you.

Babbo did not reply, a look of sadness covered his face as he turned back towards the flames. A long minute of silence went by before he spoke. Are you sure?

Yes. It will come for you.

But it’s been so long. I thought…

No, Babbo. Mother Elf spoke firmly yet with compassion. You have hidden here for far too long. The time draws near for you to face your mistakes.

Babbo’s long mustache drooped with his face. He had been expecting this. But to hear it from Mother Elf made it that much harder. She sensed his distress.

"It is not my intent to upset