Читать книгу Nikolaos The Man Of Dreams ...and The Legend Of Santa Claus - Armando Lazzari - Страница 13

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.

"Be that as it may, there is only one woman who has never betrayed me and who will help me to win: Mother, your son is calling for your support!

The three dice, thrown in unison with an elegant movement, were channelled into the ebony structure by going through the three inclined planes and then they appeared on the doorway, slowly showing each one the face chosen by destiny.

"The stroke of Venus: six, six, six! Take this and take it home, a pile of sawdust gone bad!"

Nicholas himself was incredulous about the result.

"Yes! I knew that Mother would not abandon me!"

The Krampus staged a ridiculous ballet in honour of the result and in contempt of the being who contemplated the point silently, without betraying any emotion.

"I admit the defeat. I will ferry you without compensation, get on."

The Bishop was constrained to take by force the goblin who did not stop dancing.

The river, as big as it was, looked almost like a sea and the boatman skilfully moved the boat avoiding dangerous eddies. From time to time large dark silhouettes jumped out of the water and then plunged back into the abyss with powerful thunders. When the shore was seen in the distance, the boat stopped, leaving the two perplexed. The explanation came with the emergence of some clawed hands that, anchoring themselves to the raft, tried to surrender, while the boatman, stretching his wooden tentacles, had immobilized Nicholas and tried to take away his crosier. From the water, in addition to the webbed hands, also the scaly busts of the beings who were trying to get on board emerged. The heads were those of green fish with large mouths equipped with long and ravenous teeth. A dark slime covered with light-coloured sticky slime dripped from the snout.

Pétros kicked the creatures' snouts, preventing them from getting on board.

"This could also be a fun game, the difficult thing is to find lots of ugly heads ready to be broken!"

"Do something! This vile creature is trying to steal my crosier!" rebuked the Bishop.

"If you haven't noticed, I am doing something too! A little patience and I'm coming..."

The boat, tugged by aquatic beings, waved dangerously.

"The Pastoral is the only chance we have left before those things chew us up!" emphasized the Bishop.

Grasping the concept, screaming, the pixie jumped directly onto the root wrapped around the stick.

"You wretched, scrappy player, let go of the bone!"

With his teeth he began to gnaw the wood until, with a firm tug, he was able to tear it permanently. In doing so he lost his balance and found himself tumbling towards the edge of the boat, risking falling into the waves. Luckily, or skill, he managed to grab the bishop's leg just in time, remaining hovering with his legs immersed that debated furiously in terror of being devoured by the abyssal monsters.

"Ah! Hurry up! I don't want to become a stump!"

"Hold on tight without fidgeting, I'll take care of it now!"

Grabbing the stick with both hands, I will strike a single precise blow to the head of the boatman, detaching it cleanly and sending it far away in the waves.

"I'm sorry, but you asked for it."

The roots that imprisoned his ankles suddenly unwound, giving him freedom of movement.

Nicholas grabbed the panting pixie and returned him unharmed to the centre of the raft, while repeatedly thanking him. Then he noticed five threatening fish heads resurface.

"Get down as low as you can, I'll teach you a good shot for your new game!"

With a single blow, rotating the stick 180 degrees, he hit all the facing beings in the face, pushing them back.

"Damn, in my game you would have surely won! Now do you have any idea how to get to the other side?"

"To tell the truth, yes... ready for the grand finale?" Nicholas winked at him.

As he lifted up the wingman, he dropped him deadly on the surface of the water. At first contact there was a glow, followed by an explosion that generated a tidal wave.

"Hold on tight!" he shouted.

The powerful thrust pushed them on the waves with the speed of an arrow.

The air blew impetuously on their faces, distorting them funny, pulling hair and cheeks backwards and channelling itself between their teeth to freeze them. At the same time, sneaking into their half-closed eyes and clothes, it generated adrenaline shivers throughout their bodies, thrilling them like never before, until they arrived on the opposite shore.

The raft finished its run on the ground, sticking into the ground and shattering into a myriad of pieces.

The two were thrown out with violence, but fortunately they ended up on a soft sandy beach.

Intact, they brushed by the sand that had slipped in a little bit everywhere and they recovered from their sense of bewilderment.

Pétros was the one most enthusiastic about the incredible crossing.

"Wow! That stick will never cease to amaze me!" he commented, staggering again.