Wot, Nott, Kakuri and the Hu Ba Hou - Part One: The Fabled Crest

by Gerrard Wllson

  Chapter Four - The Tree of Knowledge

  Wot also landed with a thump, but because he is so much larger than Nott, it was a much heavier landing. In fact, it was so heavy he almost crashed through the floor, as the floorboards split and cracked beneath the enormous impact.

  “Err, Nott! Can you give me a hand?” he asked. “I seem to be stuck, and these floorboards are ever so sharp. One of them is sticking in my...”

  “Oh God!” Nott groaned. “I hope this isn’t an omen of things to come! You are here less than a minute and are already in a mess, needing my help.”

  “What on earth have I gotten myself into?” Wot mumbled as Nott tried desperately to remove him from the splintered boards.

  “Earth is one place you most certainly are not,” Nott replied, as he struggled to separate his friend from the floorboards, and the undignified predicament he found himself in. “And it’s vitally important to always remember that – your life may depend on it!”

  “Thanks, old friend,” said Wot, removing a particularly troublesome splinter from his derrière as he spoke.

  “Oh, by the way, it’s good to have you here.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Nott.”

  As he showed Wot around the old house, Nott called, “Umahia! Wot’s here!” However, he was not there. Descending the stairs, Nott continued with the tour of the house. He showed it to Wot with as much pride as if it was his, he even apologised for the bad taste in wallpaper. Wot replied, telling him that he thought it was nice. After giving him a rather bemused look, Nott looked out the back door window, and was relieved to see the garden had reappeared. “Now that we are well and truly back in Onisha, I think we should go outside and look for Umahia,” he said. “Come on, he might be in the garden.”

  Outside, in the garden, the wonderful old world cottage-garden, Wot and Nott found themselves remembering their childhood days, when they had played a garden such as this.

  “This is magnificent,” Wot exclaimed. “Who looks after it?”

  “I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea,” Nott replied. “We aren’t here to look at the flowers, you know. Come on, we must find Umahia!”

  Wot hardly registered his friend’s reply, so mesmerised was he by the wonderful spell of the garden, a spell far too strong to resist. Suddenly he felt one of his a poems coming on, so taking out his little book, he wrote down the following…

  “World of rhyme and sorcery,

  The time is running short,

  Restore all as it was before,

  Lest all shall become morte.”

  Wot looked at the rhyme, scratching his head in bewilderment at the strange words he had written. Like his previous poem, they appeared to make no sense at all. Closing the book, he slipped it back into his shirt pocket, for later. That was when he noticed how far Nott had gone on ahead of him. “Hey, wait for me!” he shouted.

  When he caught up with him, Wot saw that his friend had already found Umahia. They were both sitting comfortably under a plum tree, chatting, paying little or no regard to his late arrival. The tree was old, certainly much older than the house. It had a gnarled trunk, with many ugly gashes and marks upon it, like so many battle scars it had endured. It was packed full of fruit – large fat plums and all of them ripe for the picking. Umahia was already eating one. Its juice ran freely down his chin. Overhead, the steady buzz from the wasps, which had also discovered its generous bounty, emphasised the heat of the day.

  “Welcome, Wot, welcome back, Nott, my two Outlanders friends,” said Umahia. “I have so much to tell you. Pick a fruit, sit down and rest yourselves. Save your strength, you will need it for later.” They each plucked a large, ripe plum and sat down joining the old man beneath the tree’s welcome shade.

  During the next few hours, sitting beneath the ancient tree, Umahia and the two friends talked about many things. Umahia told them much about Summerland (Onisha), explaining how the main physical difference between it and Earth was that Summerland consisted of only one main continent (plus a few, lesser islands). The Outlanders also learned about the inhabitants’ way of life, which although so similar to that of Earth was yet so different. A way of life governed as much by the laws of Rhyme and Mysticism as by the laws of physics. They also learned that, although Onisha occupies the same physical place as Earth, it is in a different dimension.

  “That’s why it’s so easy for us to journey between the two worlds, if one has the necessary knowledge and inclination to do so,” said Umahia. “This was done frequently, in the distant past, and is one of the reasons why there are so many similarities between our two worlds.” Umahia explained, “In the days of King Arthur, Rhyme and Mysticism were as important on Earth as in Onisha. Why, your very own Merlin was an honorary member of the Brotherhood of Mystics,” Umahia added encouragingly.

  He also explained how the shared, chosen paths of Onisha and Earth had ended, when those on Earth turned their backs on the ancient ways, the old ways. “You relied more and more on the ways of man, and mans’ devices,” he said. “It has now got to the stage that nearly all of the mystical knowledge humankind once held dear has been lost. You deviated. You chose a different path. Unlike ours, your path was in the direction of material wealth, gained oftentimes with no thought as to the consequences to humankind or indeed for the world in which you reside.”

  The two lads listened glumly as Umahia continued, “After the Brotherhood of Mystics had been killed, Miafra came out from The Citadel of Composure and spoke to the people. Using his considerable charismatic charm he convinced them that it had been a sad, but necessary step in their voyage of self-realisation, their voyage to a world of eternal summer, to a world where all would be equal, to a world of consistency – to Summerland.” For a few moments, Umahia’s thoughts drifted, drifted back to happier days, happier times, then he said, “Miafra proclaimed that day to be a day of celebration. He renamed the Citadel of Composure as The Dome of The People. This was yet another ploy to keep them onside, and so convincing was he in his rationale no one questioned his actions. Why would they? He was their idol! He was their saviour! He was Miafra, Lord of all he surveyed.”

  In awed silence, the two Outlanders listened as the story continued to unfold. “In this journey to The Promised Land – to Summerland, Miafra swore that he would guide and protect everyone, to ensure that it become a reality for one and for all. It was only then did he tell them that for his plan to succeed he had to be no less than Emperor. He wanted to become Emperor. He longed to be Emperor. He had to be Emperor. In achieving this position, he would gain all the Mystical Powers, which had for so long eluded him. What Miafra failed to tell them was the simple fact that these powers were so great, so absolute they corrupted any mortal man, no matter how well trained and versed in the mystical ways, absolutely. Miafra conveniently ignored this truth, he ignored the simple fact these powers had been the main cause of all the wars that had raged on Onisha, culminating in the worst one five hundred years ago. That is the reason we abolished this position,” said Umahia. “For the good of the land and the greater good of the People, the Brotherhood of Mystics banned it. They hid, secreted away, concealed all written information appertaining to it. Miafra, however, convinced the people that the Brotherhood had no right to deny them their rightful path to Paradise. He told them that when he received these powers all would be possible for him and for them. He said, with him being Emperor, they would all be living in a utopian paradise.”

  Umahia felt tired, but he continued, “In his quest to attain this goal Miafra looked for information on the old, ancient ways. He searched for books, books long hidden and banned. He was patient, he was persistent, and in the end he found where they had been secreted, where they had been hidden; in the deepest, darkest depths, the very bowels of the Dome of The People (The Citadel of Composure), where nobody should have ever seen them again
.”

  Over a period of time, and all alone, with just a faint light to illuminate the ancient words, Miafra studied every detail of these ancient texts. The books, the manuscripts, the parchments were old, so old; some crumbled as he turned their pages, others simply turned to dust at the slightest touch. However, he persevered in his quest, and from the hidden pages, the banned pages, he learned of the pure power he would gain if he were ever to be crowned Emperor. He also learned that in order to gain such power and position he could not enforce, himself. He had to observe the Old, Ancient Ways, which meant it had to go to the nation, for a Peoples’ Vote. They had to vote him in, only then the inauguration follow, by means of an investiture. Armed with this knowledge, Miafra put on his charismatic face…”

  Umahia plucked another large plum from a low branch, and then carried on with his tale…

  “In order for him to put his plan into motion Miafra summoned the elders of the towns and villages to the newly renamed Dome of the People. He told them this gathering was a meeting in which all of the elders, who now represented the people on his behest, could present their ideas and visions of the way forward, in their new Summerland. In reality, its sole purpose was to enable Miafra to use his considerable charismatic charm to mesmerise and convince them into accepting his vision as the only way forward. He had no doubts whatsoever that he would succeed. All that he had to do was get them assembled in the Dome, where they would be like putty in his hands, agreeing to his every suggestion.

  “Couldn’t anybody see through him?” Wot asked.

  “Yes, some did,” Umahia, answered. “A few brave souls questioned his motives, but he banished them to a Dark Place, a limbo between worlds, where they are still languishing. All this happened at a frightening speed, and six months ago to this very day Miafra was finally crowned Emperor. I knew it would be so. It was the will of the people against his – no contest.”

  Umahia paused, staring at the remaining portion of succulent fruit, “Before that fateful vote, I had already fled into exile, to the island of Ogbo,” he explained

  “Is that where we are?” Wot asked, quietly.

  “Yes, it’s the only place where we can speak in safety. There are other ways, but they carry greater risks, I will tell you more about these later. This island has been a secret since the dark days of yore, when last we had an Emperor. It is on no map, it never has been. It has a natural form of protection. A magnetic barrier deep within the rock veils us from his prying eyes and senses, but only to a point. While I am here, on this island, as long as I refrain from using what powers I still have remaining, Miafra should not be able to find me. But the more I use them, the greater will be the chance of him finding me.”

  Umahia shifted his position, trying to make himself more comfortable, and then said, “When Miafra was crowned Emperor his powers and knowledge were increased ten-fold. He finally had the means that he had always wanted to achieve his ungodly ambitions, and he wasted no time in creating the most powerful Mystic Rhyme imaginable. This fateful Rhyme had a three-pronged intention; the first to stop time, the second to drain the willpower of the people – their very chi (thus creating a world of slaves for his personal use), and the third and most ambitious part was to drain my powers, transferring them into himself. In no time at all Miafra had his Rhyme worked out. He was now ready to use it.

  This time he did not hide in the darkest depths of a holy and sacred building to read it – no! It was on a wonderful June evening, at the late hour of ten o’clock, the sky was still light (this does not happen here anymore), when he casually walked out from the Dome of the People and began speaking. He was so confident, he stood there as bold as brass on the top step and recited his evil words to one and to all. There was no fanfare, no announcement. Some people strolling past stopped, wondering what he was doing. As they listened to Miafra’s dark words, shivers of dread ran down their spines. He said...

  ‘Darkest powers of darkness grow,

  Darkest night, darkest sight,

  Time slow down, time be mine,

  Till time, it is no more.

  Darkest powers of darkness grow,

  Darkest night, darkest sight,

  Remove their light, give me their might,

  Their wills be only mine.

  Darkest powers of darkness grow,

  Darkest night, darkness my right,

  Bleeding strength, taking his rhyme,

  One to prevail and the other to die.’

  No sooner had the last word left Miafra’s lips did the heavens above show their disapproval. Storm clouds gathered, lightning crackled and the skies opened, soaking the onlookers who scuttled silently away. Miafra, hardly registering nature’s disapproval, smiled. He returned inside and then rested…”

  Umahia could see that he was burdening the two Outlanders with an awful lot of information, but if they were to have any chance of succeeding they had know exactly what they were facing. He began again. “For a while all seemed good for the people in this new world, this Summerland. The sun rose at the same time each day, it was never too hot or cold, everything seemed to be just as Miafra had promised. However, as time passed, people noticed that things were not as they had once been. It became increasingly harder to differentiate between the days of the week and the weeks in the month – they all seemed to be the same! Other things, like dates of birthdays, anniversaries and so forth, began fading from our memories. No one could understand why this was so. In fact, no one even talked about it, for whom could they talk to, without Miafra or his minions hearing?”

  “For two or three months nothing was said about this, no complaints were made (at least not in public), then, by the time people were starting to question it more seriously, other larger, more fundamental changes had begun. The holiday months of July and August had passed without anyone giving it a second thought; they had simply continued their daily work routines, without noticing. Later on, at Halloween – it is really big here – everyone totally forgot it. There were no seasons anymore, they had all merged into one long summer. We had no special days, no public holidays; we had nothing to celebrate. Somehow, the people’s perception of reality had radically changed. We saw time as a constant; our perception of it had been altered.” Umahia’s mind’s eye drifted back to those days, and he said, “Our world had been jinxed by a Rhyme so powerful, a Rhyme so strong it changed, altered the very fabric of time for the benefit of one individual – Miafra. In effect, time in Onisha had ceased to be. Yes, the sun rose with each new day, but it was not a new day, it was in reality the very same day we had just finished. I should have tried something – anything to stop him…”

  “I could see this happening so clearly. A few others could, but their numbers diminished on a daily basis, as the influence of Miafra grew and their minds dulled. Miafra no longer had to threaten the people with sudden death or banishment to the Dark Place if they did not do his bidding. In their altered state of consciousness they were open to any suggestion he made, and willing to carry it out religiously.”

  “Not content with this, Miafra surrounded himself with guards, protection against anyone who might still dare question him. Within the army he formed, he set up an elite force of guards from the highest ranks of his most loyal officers, and then he appointed a select group of Governors – his eyes and ears, to administer the provinces of Summerland. With this in place, he was in control – total control. His perception of reality was the reality the people had to endure, a reality they accepted without question, being little more than his slaves. This was the true New World Order envisaged by Miafra, a world so very different from the one he had promised.”

  “From the outset, despite being concealed on this island so far away from his power base, his climb in station to Emperor has affected me. I felt it from the first utterance of those words, on the fateful June evening, atop those steps. I knew I was losing a part of myself; that my powers were draining. They were diminishing, then, and they still are
. Luckily, they are not draining as fast as he had wished. That is my one trump card, the one small hope that I cling to. Wot, Nott; we are in a race against time, or time and life as we know it will be no more. If no one stops Miafra, I am certain his ambitions will not end in Onisha… He knows full well that Earth is there, like these fruit, ripe for the picking."

  “It sounds as if he is unstoppable,” said Nott, glumly. “What can we do against someone as powerful as he?”

  Umahia sat there in silence, chewing his plum. Each plucking another, Wot and Nott joined him eating the tasty fruit. They sat together, eating, thinking and pondering as the evening slowly drew in…

  It was almost dark when Umahia next spoke. Wot and Nott jumped in surprise when they heard him. You see, they had been away in their minds, to many strange places.

  “Sorry! Can you say that again?” Wot asked. “I must have dozed off for a minute or two. I can’t understand what came over me.”

  “Hmm, what did you say?” Nott mumbled, trying to wake himself up. Suddenly jumping up, looking very frightened indeed, he asked, “Where are we, what happened?”

  “Its alright old friend,” said Wot. “You were dreaming, we both were dreaming.”

  Yawning, Nott said, “It that what is was – a dream?”

  Umahia nodded.

  “But it was so real,” he replied. “I was in this cave. It was very dark… I was not alone. Something was there, watching me – it was horrible! Am I glad you woke me up?”

  “Don’t worry, it’s quite normal to sleep and to dream after eating from the Tree of Knowledge,” said Umahia.

  “The tree of what?” asked Nott.

  “The Tree of Knowledge and Wisdom, to be precise,” the old man replied. “It is talked about in our myths and legends… Some believe in it, some do not. Perhaps it is better that way. It fruits continuously all year long, and those who eat from this tree will have their mind opened, so the legend claims. Good will come if the person’s intentions are noble, but woe to the person who eats of the tree if their goal is solely for their own betterment.”

  The lads, looking at each other quite worryingly, had no idea what they might say in reply to such a remark, sat there, in near to total darkness, awaiting Umahia’s next words. When he began speaking again, it was even quieter than before. Perhaps, if he spoke any louder, they thought, the wrong ears might hear and all would be lost. Even though Wot and Nott could hardly see Umahia, they felt that he had changed, somehow. They also felt strangely altered themselves, more confident. Perhaps there was something of truth in the tale of the plum tree after all, they thought. As the light faded into nothingness, they listened ever more intently to the old man’s words...

  “I have already told you that Miafra’s incantation was divided into three parts,” Umahia continued. “The first was against time itself, the second against the people, and the third aimed directly against me. It must also be in the same manner that we make our counter-attack, in three parts.”

  The lads’ ears cocked on hearing this.

  “The first thing you must do is find the Amulet of Oxmosis,” he told them. “There will be dangers, many dangers along the way, but when you have secured it in your possession, it will be of a great help to you.”

  “Are you kidding,” Nott cried out. “We won’t last five minutes, out there on our own. We have never been here before, let alone know how to get around it. As if that was not enough, we are strangers here, we will stick out like two sore thumbs!” Wot tried to hush him, but Nott continued, saying, “I wish I was at Fabled Crest, to ask the Stone of Directions what to do next.”

  “I have never heard of that place, Nott,” Wot said, mystified by what he was saying. “Where is it?”

  “Why, it’s across the sea, of course, in the Green Valley of Cross River – everybody knows that!”

  Still puzzled, Wot questioned him further, “Across the sea? What sea?”

  “The Sea of Loneliness, of course.” It was then Nott realised the ramifications of what he was saying. “I know where we are!” he chortled. “I know what’s on the far side of this plum tree! I could bring you all the way to Onisha City, to the Timeless Gates guarding it. I know this land so well I could transverse it quite easily!” Looking at Umahia, Nott asked, “How can this be?”

  Umahia’s gaze lifted to the branches directly above them. Nott immediately understood – this information had come from the Tree of Knowledge and Wisdom.

  Feeling somewhat puzzled, Wot asked, “If the tree has given Nott this knowledge, where does that leave me?”

  Umahia replied, “You already had the power before you arrived… you have always had it. But know you this; the fruit of the tree has opened your eyes, your ears and your thoughts.” Despite hearing these words, Wot still felt puzzled. Umahia continued, “Of all the poems that you have written, recite the first one that comes to mind.”

  After scratching the back of his head and then wiping his nose, Wot raised a hand, saying, “The first one that comes to mind is Old Blue.”

  “Go on,” said Umahia, “Recite it.”

  Clearing his throat, Wot began…

  “Blue was my dog, my faithful friend,

  For ten years we walked together,

  He –”Stopping dead, mid-sentence, Wot’s jaw suddenly dropped, for there, as large as life, in the form of a smoky blue cloud was his dog Blue. Rubbing his eyes in sheer disbelief, he stared at it again. It was Blue, no mistake about it. Tears welled up in his eyes. “I loved that dog…” he said. “He died three years ago… He was the best dog I ever had!” Wiping away the tears, Wot turned to Umahia and thanked him repeatedly for the wonderful vision of his old dog, and second best friend.

  “When the words come to you, and you write them down, you think they are merely poems,” Umahia explained. “But you don’t always understand the meaning of them, do you?” he asked. Wot nodded his head in agreement. “Some are just what they seem, simply poems, but others very much more than simple rhymes. You now have the power and wisdom to differentiate between the two. Here, in Onisha, all rhymes are mystical, and if you so wish you can see them as easily as you can hear them. For an Outlander, you have the rare power to understand words – use it wisely, because so much depends on it.”

  Clasping his hands behind his back, Umahia continued, “You both are a team, one helping the other, adding to the other. The sum is bigger that its parts. However, you still have so much to learn if you are to stand any chance of defeating this evil man. Come, let us go inside, the day has passed, its time to rest.” With that, Umahia made his way into the house. The two friends followed closely behind. It had been a long and extremely interesting day.