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
