free, but it would not let go. The sword fell from my grasp. 

The other hounds were circling me. I bellowed in rage and agony. Then, the fay woman was there. She had taken up the sword I had dropped, and sliced it down on the hound that held me. The beast yelped and its jaws released my arm. Blood welled up from rents in my sleeve. 

The faerie, red-stained sword held in both hands, stood between me and the two remaining hounds. The one she had struck was wounded but still lived. It whined and limped away from the furious fay. I looked to see my father still fought with the baron’s other servant. They traded blows, neither one able to gain the advantage. 

“Fools!” Baron Hesse shouted again. The wicked nobleman drew his own longsword and spurred his horse. I cried out a warning to my father, to no avail. I could only watch, helpless, as the baron’s blade bit into my father’s neck.

I screamed, and ran to my father as he collapsed. In the few seconds it took me to reach him, a pool of blood was already spreading across the cold earth. Tears welled in my eyes as I cradled his head.

“Promise me…” whispered my father with his dying breath, “you will always be Gunter the Strong…”

“I promise, father,” I cried. 

“Ah, the ‘mute’ speaks,” mocked Baron Hesse. “A Christmastide miracle!” The nobleman laughed cruelly as he held aloft his murderous sword in triumph.

Once more, there was the sound of yelping dogs. I looked up, and through freezing tears I saw the faerie standing over two dead hounds.

“Baron Hesse,” said the fay woman in a voice that seemed to shake the air with supernatural power, “you speak of miracles blithely. So you shall see a true one this day.”

As she uttered her next words, the faerie flung the sword to the ground and raised her hands over her head. “For slaying a man more noble than you could ever be, I call down upon you the vengeance of winter’s Horned God!”

The baron roared laughter. “Whatever else you may be, woman, you are no witch! You may have escaped my castle by mysterious means, but you have no power that can thwart my designs.”

The men-at-arms had regrouped, and looked to their master for orders. “Take her, kill the son, and burn the hovel,” sneered the baron.

Before the men could take another step, a hideous howl emanated from the forest. No earthly creature could have uttered it. A black miasma began to roll out of the trees, as if the shadows under the eaves of the wood had come to life.

“In the name of Christ,” Baron Hesse gasped as he watched the living darkness creep toward him. His horse began to rear up, and the nobleman struggled to stay in the saddle. 

“Christ ignores your prayers, murderer,” the fay woman intoned. 

A hulking shape began to form in the crawling shadows. The thing that stepped from the dark mist stood taller than any man I’d ever seen. It was covered with coarse black hair. Goat-like horns curved back from its forehead. Its face was a mockery of humanity, with flaming red eyes, distended jaw, and cruel fangs instead of teeth. A too-long black tongue lolled from its gaping maw. The body was human, except for the talons that tipped the gnarled fingers. 

“It is Satan Himself,” screamed one of the men-at-arms as he tried to run from the horror. The monster lunged, impossibly fast, and caught the man in its clawed hands. His screams became shrieks before ending abruptly. 

“It matters not the name you give the Horned God,” the faerie’s voice was now louder than a raging storm. “Your doom remains the same.”

The creature turned on the second man-at-arms. Baron Hesse was transfixed by the sight of his retainers’ grisly demise. The nobleman’s horse reared again. The baron crashed to the frozen earth, one leg snapping loudly as he landed on it.

The Horned God stalked toward the injured nobleman, its claws drenched in blood. The baron began to scream as he pulled himself along the ground, trying to escape his grim fate. The beast dragged the still bodies of the men-at-arms behind it. It reached out to Hesse, and the baron’s cries became more frantic and pitiful.

I watched, still crouched over my father’s body, as the Horned God grasped the baron’s fine doublet and lifted the man as if he were a babe. Hesse continued to scream as the monster threw him over its shoulder. The thing then turned back to the forest, and in three great strides it vanished into the trees, taking the nobleman and his dead retainers with it. As the wailing of Baron Hesse faded into nothingness, the creeping mist vanished as well. 

An unnatural stillness fell upon the world. I could hear only the beating of my heart. My hands and clothes were sticky with my father’s blood. The cold, which I had forgotten during the visitation of the creature, returned with a vengeance.

A gentle hand touched my shoulder. I looked up to see the faerie standing over me. She wept, and her voice was choked by her sobs as she spoke. 

“Gunter, forgive me for the sorrow I have brought to you. I did not mean to repay your kindness with such despair.” 

Her words brought fresh tears to my own eyes. I shook my head. “You are not to blame. It was the baron’s evil that ended my father’s life. Your faerie magic has saved us.”

“I am not one of the fay,” she said, kneeling next to me. “My name is Helga. I am mortal, like you. A practitioner of the Old Ways. If it was not Yule, I could not have called the Horned One to punish those wicked men. In these days, he stands as the dark reflection of the spirit of Saint Nicholas.”

In the depths of my still-fresh grief, I could only nod at her words. The woman who called herself Helga regarded me with such pity, I was wracked by renewed sobs. She held me for a time as I wept, then gently urged me to my feet. Together, we wrapped my father’s body in the wolf furs, and placed him in a wagon so I could bring him to the village. 

As I harnessed one of the dead men’s horses to the wagon, I noticed Helga preparing the stallion that once belonged to Baron Hesse. I knew then she meant for us to part ways.

“My lady, come with me to the village. I am simple, and cannot explain what has happened here today.”

Helga smiled at me, and I was struck by her beauty once again. “Gunter, you are wiser than you know. You are your father’s son. Your inheritance is the nobility and bravery of a knight. As for me, I must move on, for I have a duty to uphold the Old Ways. But know that you have saved me from a cruel fate at the hands of a true monster. For that, I bestow upon you the blessings of the season.”

Helga brushed my forehead with cool fingers as she spoke. 

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