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

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.

Chapter 4

Nicholas and Pétros, moving away from the beach, found themselves in a completely changed environment, shrouded in a bitter cold in the middle of an unexpected snowstorm.

"Now there is also the snow on the beach, you can't see a damn thing! Master, I don't know how much longer I will last in this cold! But how long until the goal is reached? I don't even understand if we're going around in circles".

"Get it over with this master, or I swear to you that I'm leaving you here! We cannot stop: we would freeze in an moment! But you're right, we must be careful not to lose our way and to understand if we're going in the right direction".

By sticking the crosier in the snow, Nicholas carved a furrow that was not covered by the new snow and remained clearly visible even from a distance.

"And you are only doing this now?" complained Pétros.

"Next time, instead of rambling on about it, you come up with an idea!" the Bishop replied, disappointed.

"Have you given him a name? All famous swords have a name," asked Pétros, pointing to the winner.

"Ah, yes? In what book did you read it precisely? If you know how to read."

"I know how to read my name, and I know how to do a lot of things that would amaze you..." Pétros pointed out in a raucous manner.

"And in any case it is not a sword, but a sacred stick, and the wood with which it is made...it is even more so than you can imagine!

"But you wield it like a weapon."

"Only in necessity. If you want a name we could call him: the exterminator of chatty goblins and cheaters."

"Hey, you offend me! I may be chatty, but I'm not a cheat!"

"Really? And the dice game?"

"Skill! With turricula it's almost impossible to cheat!"

"Exactly, almost..." emphasized the Bishop.

"Apart from the fact that I immediately realized that that creature was infamous and treacherous, we didn't have much choice..."

The Bishop put his hand on his mouth to shut him up, carried him to the shelter behind a rock and whispered.

"This is it... look down there at the bottom."

In the distance, above a promontory, you could see a cart pulled by animals carrying a large metal cage. Inside, one could make out the three children crouching and cold, while outside, standing guard, were two giants who looked like ice. The caravan was mysteriously standing still waiting.