"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.
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.
"Here are the children! We have finally caught up with them!" rejoiced Nicholas quietly, so as not to be heard.
"It's about time...obviously now you have a plan to bring those two enormous things down, don't you?"
"Are you referring to the Golems? Nothing that a few well-aimed shots of my pastoral hasn't already destroyed".
"You mean you've faced similar monsters before and come out in one piece?"
"Actually the Golems I shot down were made of clay, while those look like ice, but I don't think there is much difference. What worries me is the hooded coachman. From here I don't understand how dangerous he is."
He squinted his eyes to better focus the image.
"So?" Pétros interrupted him.
"So we're going to make the most of the surprise factor. The Lord will guide our actions!"
In defiance of danger, the Bishop sneaked up on one of the Golems from behind and beat him with fast but strong clubs on his legs until he fell to the ground. The second Golem, as soon as he noticed him, went towards him and tried clumsily, but at the same time dangerously, to hit the man who managed to dodge the slow assaults. With the first of the giants out of combat and the other one who could not dodge the hammering,
Nicholas felt the victory in his hands. Pétros himself had become swaggering and sadistic by kicking the one on the ground.
"Take this! And this one! Come on, at the end of the day maybe I'll use your ears to refresh my wine!"
"Don't waste any useless time and go and free the boys!"
"The children! Sure, I'm going now!"
As he was about to make his way to the wagon, he felt a frozen grip grasping his ankles and making him trip.
"But what on earth..."
Pétros noticed that the fragments of the broken legs had gathered to form small Golems that were poaching him, while in the original one the limbs were growing back with an alarming hurry.
"Ouch, ouch! This is not good...absolutely not..." he stirred while Nicholas, intent as he was in the struggle, was unaware of the evolution of the situation.
"Will you stop babbling and go to the cage?" he took it up again.
"I would gladly do it if these stupid popsicles would let me go, and if...watch your back!" he shouted.
The downed Golem had completely recovered and was heading threateningly towards the Bishop who found himself surrounded.
"All right, I admit that the ice ones are much worse than the clay ones, but that doesn't make them indestructible!
The more the Bishop inflicted damage with fury, the more quickly the creatures regenerated, bringing discomfort to man. Even the little leprechaun found himself facing more and more mini golems that prevented him from approaching the children.
"At this rate they will overwhelm us! We must find a way to destroy them for good!"
A quick reconnaissance of the surrounding area, made an idea flash in Nicholas's mind.
"The coachman! During the battle he never moved, perhaps he is the summoner, we must eliminate him as soon as possible!"
With a desperate gesture Nicholas rushed close to his companion and freed him with a single blow of the annoying beings that were threatening him.
"Go, you are free!"
He found out too much about the move: so much so that he received a frostbite from the colossus on his back that he threw him far away. His strong constitution allowed him, even if with fatigue and wobbling, to get up and fight again. Surely with his determination he would have resisted long before collapsing, or at least he would have done everything to give the goblin time to stop the Summoner.
When the Krampus finally reached the chariot on the promontory, a deafening noise announced the formation of a large black vortex that was opening right in front of them. The hooded figure, until then silent, rejoiced.
"This is it! The portal has finally opened!
The face of the being, now in evidence, revealed itself familiar to Pétros, who felt the blood freeze.
"Pelznickel!"
When he invoked its name, the demon turned holding up two clay tablets engraved with arcane symbols.