Nikolaos The Man Of Dreams ...and The Legend Of Santa Claus

Nicholas sighed, he had no desire to talk with a demon, but he recognized that necessity required a sacrifice.

"You will be the polar star that will show me the way to reach the kidnapped boys," he acclaimed.

"Sorry to disappoint you, my friend, but I have no idea what you are talking about!" was his sincere answer.

The giant once again showed off his intimidating look on the little creature, sure that he would have all his attention.

"First: I am not your friend. Second: you don't need to know more, just walk in silence and in front of me."

"Yes, but where to? Come on, I have the right to know something, don't I? I don't even know your name. By the way, what is your name? I am Pétros the Moor, in case I want to use an appellation other than: monster, demon, goblin..." I will enumerate.

Nicholas was not accustomed to mistreating people he considered inferior, but that was not a person, but a diabolical Krampus, and that raised a wall of contempt that was difficult to break down.

"Pétros is enough for me. Then I do not judge by the colour of the skin, but by the colour of the soul. Anyway, this is the world of dreams, the infinite roads that unravel can take you everywhere, including the way to Hell, and this is what we are looking for, to recover the kidnapped boys before they reach it. Finding the right path is almost impossible, but you, as a demonic entity, are naturally connected with that path: your nature will guide us without you realizing it".

For the first time, Pétros found himself speechless and continued to walk the path that magically formed under his feet.

"Nicholas launched the bishop on the plate of education.

The leprechaun looked banned the giant.

"Sorry?

"My name: Nicholas," he said dry without adding anything else.

A smile of satisfaction appeared on the face of the Krampus.

Every now and then, at the roadside, objects of the most disparate shapes appeared, which changed quickly depending on the perspective or intensity with which they were looked at. Monkey-shaped fountains erupted bananas that suddenly became flying cobs that croaked words backwards. Wavy palaces that grew out of all proportion until they were lost above the sky. Streets of coloured pebbles with junctions in every direction, including the sky and the subsoil, or ending in dark puddles.

Pétros walked regardless of where he went, letting his feet lead him, just as he had been told, and at every step the bricks were coloured bright red.

"This place is...crazy! It looks like the delusions of a madman!"

"In reality they are: your mind is unconsciously producing them, they are your fantasies, while I am only a guest."

"Incredible! Are you saying that if I concentrate enough and think about a wineskin, this could materialize?"

"It's risky to make explicit requests in dreams, you have to deal with your emotions: fears, anxieties, hidden desires..."

A large barrel materialized in the distance in the air, only to fall and crumble ruinously to the ground, sprinkling the road with wine, immediately sucked by a gutter that ended the work with a burp.

"Here is an example, if you had been more agitated the risk would have been greater and the fact that this place is a mental projection doesn't mean that we can't die".

The demon watched helplessly the wicked scene he was performing before his eyes.

"I doubt there is anything worse than the loss of an entire barrel of wine..." he found disconsolate.

Pétros' confidence was lost when he came across a fork in the road that led to a dark dirt path.

Nicholas, noting the indecision, thought to question him.

"Why did I hesitate? Is something wrong?"

"I don't know... I feel I must continue along that path, but at the same time I have unpleasant sensations, as if entering there was extremely dangerous, if not deadly..."

The big hand of the man fell amicably on the back of the small being, which for the movement advanced several steps forward and risked falling to the ground.

"Then it means that we are in the right place! Come on, let's take that road and keep our eyes open, from there on we'll get out of your mind and into the hellish meanders!"

"Hell...ish? Listen, I don't think I'm suitable for such a journey, after all, I've done my duty and you've found the way, so my presence should no longer be necessary and I..." he hesitated in fear.

"I still need you. You are an indispensable catalyst to get to our destination, so you will travel the road with me. Come on, move!" he was abruptly exhorted by the holy man.

This time the goblin received a less friendly and more eloquent push than the previous one, which spurred him on to continue in spite of himself.

The surrounding landscape was less surreal than the previous one, there was only a path that crossed a barren and barren area, rarely approached by shrubs and brushwood, immersed in a semi-shade that immediately gave little visibility, and then darkened until it became impenetrable as one looked away.

"You didn't bring flashlights with you, did you?"

"No. I only have my rod2."

Reading the misunderstanding painted on the face of the creature, he gave further details.

"The ribbon, the crosier...in short, the sacred stick!"

"Ah! Well, it would have been more useful to have at least a flashlight..."

The Bishop, sighing, tried to cut it short.

"I was in a hurry, I will remember next time, happy?"

"Oh, but you don't have to make me happy, I was just saying, and anyway we could borrow one from them." he pointed.

The man, alarmed, looked in the direction indicated.

"Here is the welcoming committee! I was just wondering when they would arrive." he exclaimed with the confidence of those who knew.

The leprechaun, misunderstood, showed off his best toothless smile.

"Fantastic! Finally, someone to chat with and not spell, this place was becoming a deadly bore!"

Nicholas clutched the crosier and put himself in a defensive position in front of the Krampus.

" Deadly is the appropriate word, if you will try to talk to him!" he informed him.

Now, beyond the torchlight, they heard the galloping of the hoofs as they galloped forward.

They had confirmation of this only when they glimpsed the black cloaks and the scarlet cloaks shaken by the wind.

"Black Sentinels!"

"Something tells me that they won't offer us a drink, will they?"

"As soon as we're within reach of their spears, they'll stick us like piglets ready for the spit. To them we are unauthorized intruders, to be neutralized without hesitation."

"Oh God, but how many are there?" observed Pétros, now that the proximity allowed for a rough estimate.

"A hundred...more or less."

"What? One hundred...you have a solution, don't you? Because you know very well who I am, and therefore you have foreseen what to do!"

"Let's say that for the moment I have an attempt at a solution...stay behind me, don't move, close your eyes, and don't open them until I tell you to do so..." instructed the Bishop, regardless of whether or not the little fellow had put the advice into practice.

The little one promptly obeyed, curled up as much as he could behind the red robe of the Bishop, closing his eyes with his hands, endlessly repeating all the scaramanic words he knew and forging new ones for the occasion.

While the knights proceeded in their frantic and incessant race, Nicholas counted the steps that separated them and prepared himself for the action that would save them or condemn them to a horrible end. Now it was possible to distinguish the features of their faces which, no matter how smoky, clearly expressed the evil that permeated everything in those lands. Mocking them with skeletal snickers, they already tasted the carnage they longed for. In their greed, they waved their brown weapons in the air, shaking them on the scarlet effigies imprinted on the shields and spurring the infernal mounts to accelerate the pace, while the man, with his impassive gaze, did not give in one step to the instinct of escape that would have won anyone else.

Then the right moment came. Nicholas lifted the stick in the air, whispered sacred invocations and vehemently thrust it into the ground. The earth trembled creating cracks that were lost on the horizon and a thunderous roar overcame every noise, while a dazzling light, radiating in the air, overwhelmed and swept away every rider, dissolving him in the ether like ashes dispersed by a storm.

Only man knew how long it lasted, because the leprechaun, enclosed in his imaginary isolation bubble, did not even respond to the various confirmations of ceased danger, forcing his protector to extreme measures. With immense satisfaction, he kicked the goblin's ass well placed, making him tumble until his head hit a stone placed between two boulders.

"Point! We should spread this game: leprechaun-ball!" the Bishop exulted sarcastically.

Pétros, apart from a few heartfelt complaints, was relieved that the man's plan had been successful. Having cleared themselves of dust, they set off again.

"Do you think we will run into other knights like those?"

"Certainly not black sentinels, but rest assured that we will encounter far worse creatures."

The answer was not the most reassuring.

The path ended in a narrow gorge that in case of danger would not have left to elusive actions. This worried Pétros.

"Uhm...I don't like it...I don't like it at all..."

"This time I fully agree, but we have no alternative, the only thing we can do is to hurry up and get out of here".

The words started a rumble behind them that was growing in intensity.

"It would seem like a kind of herd gone mad!"

"Run! Run! Whatever it is will soon overwhelm us if we don't manage to get out of here!"

The two of them began to run as much as possible in the hope of seeing the end of the deadly pass, turning from time to time to peek at the situation, but apart from the incessant noise, they were unable to see the appearance of the looming danger.

Only when their legs began to shake and their breath began to break, did they notice that their surroundings were changing. The high walls of the gorge, previously really close together, had now distanced themselves, allowing them to glimpse hope in an illuminated widening just a few steps away.

"Look! We are out!" said happily the Bishop.

Satisfaction was broken like an ear of corn trampled on, at the sight of the impassable cliff that presented itself before him. The deafening noise, though still far away, maintained a worrying and constantly increasing trend. The Krampus, in panic, clung to the Bishop.

"Oh mother! We are doomed! We are going to be smashed downstairs! Help me, I'm still so young to die!" he begged him.

"Take your little paws off me at once, or I'll swoop you in early!"

Nicholas began to scrutinize the surrounding environment in search of a quick solution, which he came up with a dangerously appealing idea. In the sky, croaking furiously, huge brown birds with long sharp beaks and featherless wings were circling. On the head they had a bone ridge and some hooks were coming out from the ends of the wings, while the tail, not particularly long, ended with an arrowhead bone.

The narrow slit red eyes and forked tongue of a snake gave the measure of their wickedness.

The holy man bent down to the ground and grabbed a pointed pebble, leaving the little goblin banned.

"And what would you like to achieve with that?"

"As a child I had little strength, but good aim..."

Loading the launch with the mighty arm, he evaluated the necessary time and the right trajectory to trace, then hurled the bullet towards the flock. The stone described an arc that, if in the ascent phase did not hit any target, in the fallout touched the face of a bird. It was enough to attract the attention and to unleash its warlike nature. Nicholas grabbed Pétros by the shoulders to wave him in the air like a flag. The little demon was first surprised and then, in desperation, he started kicking and screaming expletives, alternating them now against the Bishop and now against the raptor, who swooped down towards him with his mouth wide open in a single chilling scream. When the impact seemed imminent, Nicholas with a quick move through the animal to the side and knocked it down with a fist on the back. The painful beast crashed to the ground, providing an opportunity to grab and immobilize it. When the animal recovered from the momentary shock, it tried to react by struggling to catch its attacker, but the man's muscles continued to press down, preventing him from freeing himself.

Meanwhile the goblin, who watched the titanic struggle unfold, took a look at the road behind them and for the first time he could see clearly what was chasing them: a pack of enormous quadrupeds armoured with spines and equipped with terrifying horns, anxious to pierce them and then throw them into the void of the ravine.

"Whatever you have in mind, do it quickly! They're practically on top of us by now!"

In response the giant limited himself to a desperate gesture forcing with a last decisive effort the animal to surrender. The bird, exhausted, stopped fighting. When Nicholas realized he let go and relaxed his muscles a little too long contracted, enough to notice that there was no more time left.

"Hurry, hold on tight to my belt!" he shouted.

The leprechaun did not let himself repeat it and, clutching himself to the man with all his strength, closed his eyes praying for his salvation.

Nicholas gave a considerable pat to the ass of the beast, who had crouched down tame, awakening its wild nature. The reaction was immediate: the animal rose up and vibrating its huge wings, it flew free again, bringing with it, clinging to its legs, the two illegal immigrants.

The puffing herd arrived just as Nicholas and Pétros were detaching from the ground, so that the Bishop was forced to withdraw his legs in order not to be hurt by the long horns that were trying to pierce them from below. Nicholas, as if he had always been used to rule winged monsters and knew all their secrets, directed the beast to the other side of the ravine, tugging now one leg to turn.

The leprechaun, already anxious about the precarious position, became even more concerned when he met the other birds of the group, visibly annoyed.

"Ouch! Watch out for those! I wouldn't want them to think of us as unexpected snacks!"

In fact, the beasts, as they approached, tried to catch them several times, each time missing the target by a whisker.

Fortunately, Nicholas' improvised skills proved to be valid to avoid the more enterprising birds, while to discourage the more insistent ones, he had to resort to decisive kicks on the muzzles.

When they landed safely on the opposite side, Pétros staggered several steps before regaining his balance.

"We did it! Unbelievable!"

"I had no doubts as to the plan, I had more doubts as to whether or not I was going to let you devour yourself...you've done well, go on..."

"Sure! Perhaps, however, the chances of survival will increase if in the future someone doesn't use me as a little worm hanging on the hook!" the little creature complained furiously.

"How many stories, I had calculated all the details".

"Calculated? Damn you, I risked both a heartbreak and being caught and all served on a single plate! Next time, please calculate with your own skin!"

Chapter 3

The torrid heat that enveloped Nicholas and Pétros was more and more oppressive in every moment. This triggered a long process of complaints that evaporated in the bishop's indifference.

"Is there much more to be done? If we follow this way, we will arrive in liquid form, as long as we don't spill out on the ground dried up like jellyfish in the sun! This is one of those rare times when I would prefer fresh and clear water to wine... not good wine, of course, I would still think about that...".

"I always remain with the hope that your tongue will dry out before everything else...anyway, did you want water? There you are satisfied!" he pointed out, incredulously so for what he saw.

The road was interrupted in front of a large river shrouded in a thick blanket of fog which prevented one from seeing the opposite bank. The banks, although swollen with water, gave the impression of overflowing from one moment to the next.

The little creature rushed to drink to satiety, followed more prudently by man.

"Let us only hope that this water is not poisoned..."

"But what are you saying! It's exquisite, try it! And then who would ever poison an entire river of this size?"

"Have you forgotten that we are crossing an infernal region? Everything that surrounds us is hostile..."

A voice that seemed to come from beyond the grave intruded into their reflections.

"The water is not poisoned. The danger is that which dwells hidden within it..."

The two identified a figure hidden by the fog not far away. He was lying on a barge near a pier, the features of his face were obscured by a large cone hat, but the long, filamentous white beard made one assume that the boatman was an old man.

Nicholas approached the ferryman with suspicion.

"We need to get to the other side, can you help us?" he asked him without hesitation.

The figure first emitted a subdued giggle and then raised his head and looked into the eyes of the interlocutor.

"It depends on what you have to offer..."

The being was not a man, but a dried woody creature that stared at him through two dark and deep cavities. The beard was actually made up of myriads of threads woven and woven by insects similar to silkworms that moved creeping through the holes scattered on the talking trunk.

If the Bishop was surprised, he did not give him the least bit of notice. What was different instead was the reaction of the elf.

"And what freak of nature would you be?"

The being did not resent the insult and slowly moving his neck he stared at Pétros.

"I am the solution that you are looking for, but I have a price: I want the stick held by man.

The indignation exploded from Nicholas' lips.

"Forget it! This is a sacred symbol, ugly, putrid pile of wood! Ask me something else, and I will see to it that you are satisfied."

The Krampus, feeling himself backed by the giant, echoed.

"Yeah! Or give us a good reason not to make a bonfire with your roots and take your ramshackle boat. I'm sure that a nice bonfire would brighten up the environment!"

The menace did not break down the being at all.

"In that case, even if for a short while, you would clearly see both the ravenous beings jumping in the waters ready to devour you, and the insidious reels that in a few moments can swallow you into the deep abysses. Without my knowledge of the river you would never get to the other side. I have watched you well and you possess nothing, except the stick, that might interest me, therefore...".

Pétros decided to continue on the path of threats.

"I'll bet you I'll cut your arms into little sticks that are only good as toothpicks, until you decide to take us to the other side"?

The being lifted the long arms, which were submerged. When they came out of the water they showed their true nature: they were the oars themselves to move the ferry.

"Am I wrong, or did you use the word bet? Has it been a long time since I played aleae3 ? How about betting a passage? If you win, I'll take you to the other side without asking anything in return, if I win, I'll only take you in exchange for the stick".

The Krampus approached the bishop's ear to whisper his idea.

"We accept and leave it to me, master! With the dice I make real miracles!" he strutted his stuff.

"I am not your master! And then, do you realize what is at stake? I can't afford to lose the win, it's not just any old stick!"

"Yes, I understand that, but trust me, I never lose! Trust me, it'll be a joke, I have my tricks, and when I play, I just win!" he tried to persuade him while Nicholas watched him silently.

"Does the damnation of your soul concern the game?"

"Unfortunately yes. Let's say that the game component played a fundamental role... the fact is that I ask you to trust me!"

The security of the being convinced the Bishop to give in, also because time was running out and that was the only way to cross the river and reach the boys before it was too late. Then, if things had gotten really bad, he would have remedied it in another way. He certainly had no intention of complying with the absurd request of a demonic entity.

"All right, I accept, he will play for me," he declared.

The boatman simply nodded his head.

"Excellent decision, master! Well then, you've got a jumble of fireplace logs, what are the rules?" Pétros informed himself.

From one arm of the rower developed a secondary branch that generated another arm. From one of the woody nodules of the hand, dice were formed that rolled to the feet of the challengers.

"Mine. Three dice, two shots: the opening shot and the shot of fate. The first roll is preparatory and has no value, the second is the one that decrees the winner. Whoever gets the highest point wins".

Pétros mockingly picked up the dice and shook them in his hands ready to roll.

"The set design was a bit crap, but suggestive, however, it's all clear. If you don't mind I'll start..."

"One moment! To preserve the integrity of the game we will use the turricula!"

Also from the fingers, a small dark wood tower was formed decorated with an opening at the top, shelves tilted in the middle and an exit hole at the base.

The leprechaun remained forbidden for a few moments.

"Well, I didn't expect this, and it certainly complicates the matter a little...but it won't be a big problem...at least I hope so...let's do this, you do the honours: it's your first shot!

The being with phlegm picked up the dice and let them fall into the cavity of the turricula, which swallowed them ravenously, and then, after a series of jingling due to the collisions on the descent, spit them out on the way out.

"Six, four, four... it's your turn."

Pétros, before throwing the dice, tightened them in his fist, blew gently on them and invoked a past love as a good omen.

"Beautiful Planesia, my love, guide my gestures!"

The dice rolled inside the turricula and came out shortly afterwards to be promptly read by the entity.

"One, one, one. It's the Dog's shot: nothing you want will come true. It is not a good omen.

The Bishop's furious look was more than eloquent.

"Traitorous female! Don't worry, master, it was just a warm-up and then his shot is not as good as he wants to make it look, he foreshadows the advice to abandon the elaborate project!"

Without delay the wooden being made his shot of fate.

"Six, six, two: success, but not without difficulty. I made a good shot, you'll have to try harder than before if you want to beat me".

"Mind your own business, you peacock bonfire subspecies, or I'll use those ridiculous little legs of yours as ladles!" Pétros insulted him in order to make himself great, and then he continued his superstitious rituals.