ItÂ’s a popular misconception that the persona known as Santa Claus is a portly white haired gentleman with a fondness for red suits, long beards and jovial laughter. While on a superficial level several of these characteristics are true, they are little more than tidbits of a more incredible story, spanning generations and blending realities between the mortal world of man and the worldsÂ’ of magic.
Nicholas Augustus Claus is an incredible man. Renowned in our world as the face of Christmas he is lesser known as the founding Chairman of S.A.N.T.A. INC, an equally incredible company. S.A.N.T.A. Inc.Â’s the oldest, and it remains the most prolific toy production and delivery company in existence. ItÂ’s a multi-world conglomerate thatÂ’s listed on the Fortune 500 of the E.L.F.T.E.C., with a brand thatÂ’s recognized on five major worlds.

Renowned as the founder of mass production and transport logistics, S.A.N.T.A. Inc. is a magnological revolutionary whose democratic work structures have set the basis for employee relations throughout the civilized worlds, yet despite its notoriety S.A.N.T.AÂ’s workings remain a mystery on our planet, meaning its name remains inextricably linked to the jolly fat chairman, whose image is franchised to department stores about the Earth.

Where Nicholas came from is the subject of conjecture, for little is known of his history prior to his establishment of The Workshop at the North Pole. Why he chose such a location was a mystery. It was as remote and hostile a location as could be chosen on a world regarded by most as insignificant and remote. Certainly, it offered benefits through its tax free status, which made his accountants happy, yet it offered little by way of facilities or transport links to the S.A.N.T.A. Inc. workforce, which made the decision more perplexing.

Nicholas had his critics. They laughed at him when he asked for finance. They criticized his vision. Many heÂ’d regarded as friends refused him when he sought their help: they just didnÂ’t believe; how could they? They didnÂ’t know about the gateway, about the ElvesÂ…

ItÂ’s a little known fact that the North Pole houses a gateway. ItÂ’s a multidimensional portal that acts as a link between the Earth and the magical worlds of dragons, elves, and fairies.

Used correctly, a gateway can be an amazing tool. It filters the natural magic that accumulates about the poles, distilling it from its raw, erratic form into a positive energy that S.A.N.T.A. Inc. has learnt to harness. When I say that S.A.N.T.A. learnt to harness the energy, well, that isnÂ’t quite true for it was the Elves that learnt to harness the energy. Nick befriended the Elves and together they worked in harmony to make S.A.N.T.A. Inc into what it is today.

Or so it was until nowÂ…

A disgruntled group of Elves has launched a hostile take over bid for S.A.N.T.A. Inc, placing NickÂ’s position as Chairman, as well as the future of Christmas itself is in jeopardy! Still worse, if they succeed, they will gain control of the Gateway, which could mean the end of the Earth, as we know it!

Just days before the crucial vote and Nicholas has mysteriously disappearedÂ…

Could he really have lost interest in S.A.N.T.A. Inc. and in Christmas, or has something more sinister occurred? Will he make it back in time for the vote and for Christmas, which is just days away?

PROLOGUE

Time: 11:40p.m.

Date: 24^th December 2008

Location: Llangollen, North Wales.

Herbert Mastingly balanced precariously on the point of the mansionsÂ’ shale roof that perched, lonely like a nest, upon the mountaintop. Swaying with the wind, Herbert adjusted the radar antennae until it arced, scanning the winter sky like a fishermanÂ’s net cast between Andromeda and Pleiades. Juggling a small bag of tools he withdrew a small screen, which he nurtured to his chest. With the flick of a switch it beeped, registering a fluorescent pebble that crawled across the screen. Herbert smiled wickedly, now he was happyÂ…

The ice made the climb precarious. He’d slipped several times on the ascent from the lower level to the upper-level roof, and that was the easy part! From the attic window to the lower level it was tricky. Summersault–half-pike-twist-traversal to the first level. Climb down to the base of the upper roof - crawling, crawling - until the ledge, where snow accumulated and the gutters froze with chilling ice. He slipped: wobbled dangerously… before reaching the ladder with a desperate lunge. "Phew!" Herbert paused briefly to catch his breath, then continued his slow ascent ‘til he rested on the chimney. His mitten hands still frozen, he cupped them to the screen absorbing the minuscule heat from its fluorescence.

"MuahahahÂ…Happy Humbug!" HerbertÂ’s laugh echoed across the valley.

"MuahahahÂ…Happy Humbug!" a voice replied from far beneath where a strange figure danced within the hearth of a grand fireplace, sending clouds of soot spewing out the chimney.

"Malakai!" Herbert spluttered.

"Yes Master? Yes Master?"

"Stop it!"

"Yes Master! Yes Master!"

Malakai was a strange figure of a man, and if you were to look at him youÂ’d think instantly of a Pixie or perhaps an Elf, yet nobody ever made that connection for it was his eyes that drew attention. They were large and round, like luminescent yellow saucers, and they never seemed to blink, which made your eyes water if you looked into them too long. He had shiny black pupils that wobbled mesmerically as he spoke. And the more he spoke, the more those eyes would capture you, and youÂ’d find yourself agreeing with anything and everything he said. Malakai used this trick to great effect, which explains his meeting with Herbert, just one day earlierÂ…

* * *

It was the 23^rd December and Herbert was seated alone at the bar of the Penitent Pony, cursing his absent-minded relatives whoÂ’d forgotten, once again, to invite him to Christmas dinner. "ChristmasÂ… Bah humbug!" he mumbled into his drink.

"Bah humbug!" a voice replied.

Herbert looked about him at the bar, which was empty except for the publican who polished the spirit bottles with an old rag.

"Excuse me," said Herbert. "Did you say something?"

The publican looked at Herbert with a vacant expression and shrugged his shoulders. "Another pint sir?" he asked.

"Humbug! Humbug! Humbug!" repeated the voice.

"You said it again!" said Herbert.

The publican flashed Herbert a tight-lipped smile then placed the beer upon the bar. "Two-pound-twenty thank you Sir."

Herbert collected his beer then turned to find his seat, when he tripped and fell to the floor. He looked up to find himself eye to eye with a wrinkled old man.

Herbert picked himself up from the floor and reached to help the man to his feet when their eyes metÂ… Time stopped and the world seemed to freeze as he looked into those eyes. They grew larger, drawing him closer as he followed their whirlpool movement. He heard the sound of distant incantations and it seemed as though his mind was swimming through an infinite sea until he heard the distant sound of clicking fingers. Click.Click. He was at the door of Mastingly Manor, where he had the sudden urge to prepare the guest bedroom for the old man, who followed in his wake.

Herbert woke the next morning with a clouded head. "To much beer. Such strange dreams!" he groaned as he wandered down the stairs to for breakfast.

For most people the preparation of breakfast is a simple task. Toast, eggs, bacon, coffee, orange juice; add a toaster, a fry pan and a cooker - Et voila! Breakfast is served. Herbert was not like most people, you see, he was an inventor, an extraordinary inventor!

HerbertÂ’s aim was to take basic tasks and make them simpler by converting them to binary instructions. He fed these into his computer, BUD, who commanded the amazing devices, which ran about Mastingly Manor.

A series of 1Â’sÂ’and 0Â’s darted about the room at supersonic speed as Herbert flicked a switch. "Brr, Brr, Brr," BUD hummed as he woke with his cybernetic version of a yawn. "Good Morning Sir," said Bud.

"Hmm, " Herbert replied.

"A pleasant sleep I hopeÂ… Shall it be a cooked breakfast?"

"Extra bacon," said Herbert, as he buried his nose in the morning paper.

In the background, a small army of cogs and gears whirred as they began to spin, the conveyor hummed and the cooker switched itself on while a fry pan lowered itself to the hotplate. The cappuccino machine gurgled while Herbert continued to read, oblivious to the frantic activity.

Two sausages made their way across the bench top, dropping into the fry pan where they sizzled beside fried eggs that flipped themselves at the appointed time. The toaster popped, sending two pieces of toast flying through the air to land on HerbertÂ’s plate. The kitchen smelt of frying bacon as the BUD continued his cheery banter. "TodayÂ’s forecast is for early fog to clear by mid-morning, to reveal a partly cloudy day with a top temperature of five degrees Celsius," said BUD.

"The stocks," said Herbert.

"Starting in New York. The top movers overnightÂ… ADT up 40, Unisco up 35, CBA downÂ…"
"Humbug," said a voice.

Herbert looked toward the BudÂ’s monitor. "What did you say?" he asked.

"CBA down 20 points following newsÂ…"
"Humbug!" the voice repeated.

"You said Humbug!" said Herbert.

If it is possible for a computer to look confused and to shrug its shoulders then that is exactly the effect conveyed by BudÂ’s pause. "CBA down 20 points following," he continued.

"Humbug?" screamed Herbert, his chubby red face glowing with fury as he punched the table.

"Humbug it did!" said the old man from across the table.

"Whhha? Whaaaa!" said Herbert.

The man was washed and dressed in HerbertÂ’s oversized flannel dressing gown. He picked at HerbertÂ’s monogrammed slippers as placed his feet onto the table.

"I said humbug!" said the small man with a grin.

Herbert looked on in furious amazement. "I thought you were a dream!"

"A dream? A dream indeed! Are you telling me you donÂ’t remember our deal?" asked the man with a grin.

"Deal?"

"We had a deal, and IÂ’m sure youÂ’ll remember if you try," he said as he stared into HerbertÂ’s eyes, which, like his, they began to spin. Like a whirlpool they spun faster and faster. Herbert stopped mid-sentence, transfixed as a section of his mind awoke and suddenly he remembered a long, involved conversation with the man. "Yes," Herbert said slowly. "We talked about a plot. A plot to kidnapÂ…"

CHAPTER 1

Time: 5:20p.m. GMT

Date: 24^th December 2008.

Location: The Workshop, North Pole.

Nicholas A Claus sat heavily into the rich leather chair, selecting his finest port tobacco, which he rolled into a ball and pushed into his red wooden pipe. He reclined, placing his heavy leather boots onto the desk then he flicked his thumb, which caused a steady yellow flame to appear. He placed his thumb to the pipe and drew back slowly until puffs of sweet smelling smoke filled the room.

It had been another busy year. According to the latest census, the population had increased at eight-per-cent worldwide, forty-per-cent of that from Asia and Africa. Growth rates slowed throughout the United States, Australia and Europe, yet eight per cent meant twenty-four million more people. Twenty-four million more presentsÂ’ to be produced and delivered - a challenge indeed!

Nicholas puffed gently at his pipe as he synchronized the palm-pilot. He downloaded _The List_, prodding the screen to ensure the hyper-links were working. The tracking systems were the first to come on-line, followed by the GPS. He waited for temporal distortion monitor, which flashed as it ran a self-diagnostic. It _pinged_ in unison with the cloaking device, which meant everything was in order. Nick ran one more systemsÂ’ check, just to be sure, before switching it off and placing it back in its cradle. Shuffling across the room, Nick stood before a mirror, where he sighed as he slapped his rosy red cheeks and adjusted his shiny leather belt. "Ho! Ho! Ho!" echoed through the room as he placed his hat to his head, which jingled as he walked back over to his desk. He pressed the switch to the intercom. "Malakai, Is everything ready?"

"ItÂ’s Norbert Sir."

"WhereÂ’s Malakai?"

"I donÂ’t know Sir, havenÂ’t seen him all day."

"Hmm," sighed Nicholas, shaking his head. "He wanted to talk to me before the meeting. HeÂ’s made me late!"

* * *

Nicholas walked slowly through the ice-covered corridor, into the boardroom, which quieted as he entered. The directors at the main table stood as he took his seat. A slow polite applause started from the audience following the announcement: "The 1023^rd annual general meeting of S.A.N.T.A. Inc. will commence in five minutes."

The boardroom was impressive. For most of the year it was crimson: filled with chandeliers, mirrors and serious portraits that stared down from its walls. On Christmas Eve the room transformed. A wall was removed, which linked it to a high roofed auditorium with seating for two thousand. Spotlights blazed over the stage, leaking light over an eager audience.

They were a mixed bunch. Shareholders and members of the press mostly, although at the rear, near the entrance, a group of workshop elves made the most of the complimentary drinks. They sang carols in barbershop harmony while Norbert shot annoyed glances at their manager, attempting to quiet them. Nicholas chuckled softly as he leaned over to Norbert. "‘Tis the season to be jolly!" he whispered.

The members of the Board sat impatiently under the bright lights. They shuffled papers and played with their microphones as the cloak tickedÂ…

In the center sat the Chairman of the Board. _Nicholas A Claus_ said his golden nameplate. He fanned himself with a card, waving and winking whenever anyone from the audience called for him to smile. _Flash. Flash_. Went the cameras each time this happened. The seats to either side of Nick were empty. They bore silver embossed nameplates declaring their owners to be _Malakai_ and _Norbert_. Beyond them sat the remaining S.A.N.T.A. Inc directors - ten wizened elves with sparse silver hair. Wrinkled and regal: somber and sober, like judges at a bench.

At the rostrum stood Norbert, NickÂ’s right hand man. His large, pointed ears wiggled with anticipation as he ordered his papers into a neat stack. He ran his long thin fingers through his thin silver hair and adjusted his gold monocle as he cleared his throat to gain everyoneÂ’s attention.

"Hmmm hmmÂ…If there are no objections, I will call this meeting to order. Is everyone present and accounted for?"

"Malakai sends his apologies," said a voice.

NorbertÂ’s head turned to Daneel, a rotund, nervous elf with a twitch who waved a piece of paper in his hands. "HeÂ’s given me his proxyÂ…And a little something else," he mumbled into the microphone.

"Noted in the minutes," said Norbert, whose wrinkled hands scribbled as he spoke. "If there are no objections, I will announce this meeting open. The first item on the agenda is the ChairmanÂ’s report. Mr. ClausÂ…If you would do us the honor?"

Nicholas rose from his seat. He walked slowly across the stage to the rostrum where he adjusted the microphone match his height. Despite the bright red suit and the jolly laughter, Nick was an imposing figure. Standing well over six feet tall, with a wide-heavy frame, he dominated the rostrum, which barely reached his waist.

The stage lights dimmed and the spotlights converged upon him. Small television cameras flitted through the air, surrounding him like moths about a flame - they captured his image, beaming it to billions of households throughout the worlds.

NickÂ’s rosy red cheeks glistened under the spotlights. A happy tear appeared in the corner of his eyes and he began to shake. It was just a little to begin with, but it grew so that his whole body became like jelly as he shook with laughter and he held his stomach as happy tears rolled down his cheeks. "Ho, ho, hoÂ…Merry Christmas!" he bellowed.

The audience was silent. Stunned. They had seen it all before yet each time this happened it never ceased to amaze them. Gradually the audience began to chuckle. One by one their stunned eyes softened – as if by magic - so that their silence turned to a polite chuckle, then into a roar of laughter and moments later the entire audience had doubled over in hysterics and were writhing in their seats. The workshop elves began a chorus. "We wish you a merry Christmas. We wish you a merry Christmas. We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year," which echoed through the auditorium.

Nick looked out into the audience. He had them where he wanted them - under his control. He took a notebook from beneath his robe, which he placed upon the rostrum. He licked his thumb turning the page to his speech, written in his neat cursive style. He bent over to the microphone:

"Welcome dear friends, welcome, to the 1023^rd annual general meeting of Santa Inc. I am Nicholas Claus, your humble Chairman," he began.

Behind Nick, unseen within the darkness, Daneel reached into a pocket and retrieved a small, intricately carved crystal, which he pushed onto the table. Deep shades of emerald green, ruby red and royal blue reflected from its tiny surfaces, making it glisten under the bright lights. The audience stared at Nick, listening to his speech so they did not notice the slight hum sounding as the crystal started to spin. Narrow beams of light scattered as its speed increased. Slowly, inch by inch, it began to levitate above the table. As it rose, its beams scanned the auditorium. One by one, the spotlights _fizzed_ then _popped_, leaving the stage in a progressive state of blackness except for the crystal, which hung in mid-air.

A luminescent cloud gathered it and the audience gasped as one as a shape began to appear...

"ItÂ’s been another successful year at S.A.N.T.A. Inc., and I would like to thank each and every one of you for your supportÂ…" Nick continued until the audiences restlessness became too much and he slowly turned about.

The cloud was starting to dissipate. At its centre the crystal spun furiously, projecting a bright light upward toward the roof. An object began to materialize within the light. Something small and wrinkled, with sharp pointed ears and large, saucer like eyesÂ…

"Malakai! What is the meaning of this?" Nick whispered.