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

by Gerrard Wllson

  Chapter Seven - The Fabled Crest

  28th December

  When they awoke next morning, Kakuri was gone. Her blanket was in the corner of the hut once again, folded neatly as if it had never been used it. Had she left? Had she taken them in? Was she really a spy? These questions, and more, raced through the two comrades’ minds. Surely, they were wrong! Surely, she was on their side!

  Wondering where she could possibly be, Wot and Nott stepping outside made their way down the little hill. Strangely, the closer they came to the bottom of the hill, the stronger the aroma of cooking wafted into their nostrils. It sure smelt good, so good they were under its spell. Following their noses, veering left and then the right, avoiding the trees of the forest, the two Outlanders searched for the source of this wonderful aroma. As they continued, ensnared by its spell, its aromatic embrace, they approached the banks of a stream. Sitting in front of a small fire, they found Kakuri cooking breakfast. On a stick, cooking nicely over the bright flames, were three fish.

  “Morning,” she said. “I thought I would see if I could catch us some breakfast. I believe it smells good, what do you think?”

  The two friends felt so embarrassed. How could they have imagined she was a spy? How could they have been so hard on her?

  “It has me mesmerised,” said Nott.

  “They smell like fish from heaven.” Wot added.

  “Come on, sit down and try some,” she said. “It’s good.”

  “What type of fish are they?” Nott asked enquiringly.

  “It’s Smeli.”

  “Smelly?”

  “Yes, Smeli.”

  “I think I will give it a miss, if you don’t mind,” said Nott, turning his back on the fire.

  “Why?”

  “Perhaps its name would give you a clue,” he said, still facing away from her.

  Then she tagged what the problem was, and she laughed. “No, no, no, it’s not SMELLY; it’s SMELI fish, go on, TRY IT. It’s wonderful!” Sliding one of the fish off the stick, she offered it to him. Looking at it suspiciously, Nott pinched a small piece from out of its belly, and tasted it.

  “Mnnn, that’s really good,” he said, taking the fish in both hands, enjoying the tasty treat. Taking a large bite from out of its belly, he asked, “Can I be so bold as to ask why it has been given such a weird name?”

  “It’s not weird to us,” she replied. “Smeli is an Onishian word. It means good to eat.”

  “Oh.”

  Having already helped himself to one of the tempting fish, Wot said, “This is the best tasting fish I have ever had. And look,” he said, delving a hand into it. “The bones come out all in one piece, not one of them left behind.”

  Kakuri laughed, “What a strange pair you are.”

  While enjoying their meal they asked Kakuri why she had decided to make breakfast. She told them that although the little people, the Orlu, had always been there to help; all Onishians knew it was not in their interest to forget how to do things for themselves. Now, in this time of change, when memories had dimmed, she had reaped the rewards.

  After they had finished, the three companions set off, proceeding deeper into the greenwoods, three friends trying their best to right three wrongs.

  By noon, the wooded landscape had given way to hillier, open countryside.

  “See over there?” said Nott.

  “Where?” Wot asked.

  “There, see that black stump, over yonder?”

  “Yes, I do. Can you see it Kakuri?” he asked.

  “Yes, it’s quite small.”

  “That is where we change direction” said Nott. “From that marker we head northeast for another three miles until we meet the Blue River.”

  Those instructions, however, were easier said than done, because from there on the terrain became increasingly more hilly and difficult to traverse. Despite these difficulties the band of three plodded on without hesitation, up one hill and down again, and then up the next. It was hard going, feeling more like thirteen miles. No one had any energy left for conversation.

  While they were enjoying a welcome rest atop a particularly large hill, Wot gazed out across the countryside enjoying the view. Suddenly he jumped up, shouting, “THE RIVER! The Blue River, I can see it! It’s down there, below us, look, look through those trees, can you see it?” He was so excited he could not understand why the others were taking so long to see it. “See the colour of the water!” he continued, barely able to contain his excitement. “It’s so blue!”

  Straining their eyes, trying to see what all the fuss was about Kakuri and Nott looked in the direction of Wot’s wild pointing fingers, and they also saw the incredibly Blue River.

  “You’re right, Wot,” shouted Nott, “God – it’s so blue. We are really getting somewhere now!”

  The excitement was infectious. Soon all three were giddily running down the last hill, towards the inviting blue waters below. On reaching the Blue River, they ran headlong into it, splashing about wildly, laughing and hugging each other, the waters refreshing their travel weary souls.

  After many wonderful minutes relaxing, enjoying the blue coloured waters, the three fiends lay on the grassy banks of the river, enjoying the warm summer sun. When they had rested, Nott said, “Now, all that we have to do is follow this river until it merges with the Green River. From there, we should be able to see the Fabled Crest, where the Stone of Directions awaits us.” With happy heart, refreshed spirits and rested bodies, the band of three set off once again.

  The next part of the journey was much easier, following the flow of the river and enjoying the wonderful countryside. Being so close to the water dragonflies were everywhere, though these were much smaller than the ones the two friends had seen on Ogbo Island, and paler in colour. The butterflies were also of a smaller size. The only birds they saw were light green coloured sparrows and grey hued parrots. The dragonflies, which buzzed over the water, never came anywhere near Wot, but he kept an eye on them, just in case.

  It did not take them long to reach the convergence point of the two rivers, and when they did it was a remarkable sight. You see, in as much as the Blue River was incredibly blue, the Green River was respectively green. It was like a freshly sown lawn, just as it comes to maturity before its first cut. As if that was not a spectacular enough site for the three friends to see, the display put on when the two separate volumes of water met and combined was mind blowing. The blue and the green waters twirled, intertwined, played together as if they were two coloured ribbons drifting, a slow and merry dance. In all of this playing, intertwining, neither the blue nor the green waters lost their unique independence. They formed a plait of sorts, a loose alliance where neither volume of water lost its identity, progressing onwards, seaward, shifting back and forth to the rhythm of the flow.

  “If this land, which has obviously faded so much under the onslaught of Miafra, can put on such a show,” said Wot, marvelling at the spectacle he was witnessing, “I wonder how brilliant it must have been before his interference began?”

  Suddenly, there it was, on top of the next ridge – The Fabled Crest itself. Nott spotted it first. In his excitement, he let out a cry, “Thar she blows!”

  The Fabled Crest was in fact a collection of large rocks atop the next ridge. There was nothing particularly special about it. To be perfectly honest, if it had not been for Nott declaring it was so, Kakuri and Wot might have kept on walking, missing it entirely.

  Looking up at it, The Fabled Crest appeared no different from the other hills they had so recently climbed. However, as they got closer, they realised that it was going to be a much harder climb altogether. The reason being its flanks consisted of loose shale that gave way to the slightest pressure.

  “Come on, let’s get cracking,” said Nott, urging Kakuri and Wot on. Despite the obvious difficulty facing them, Nott set off up the hill like a pro. However, after only a few minutes of climbing, the true nature of the task facing him sank
home. It was incredibly hard going, trying to climb the loose shale, and quite frequently for each step taken upwards he slipped back one, two and sometimes three. Frequent rest breaks were necessary, though the view presented at each one more than made up for the effort exerted to get there.

  “I could sit here forever, watching the two rivers plaiting,” said Kakuri, who obviously had never seen them before. “Look, see how they twist and dance as they follow the river valley on their eternal journey to the sea.”

  “I wonder how the two waters, green and blue, react when they enter the sea?” said Wot, also admiring it. “Do you suppose they form another, more intricate plait with the sea water, or do you think they finally disperse? Oh well, we will probably never know.”

  Setting off first after the rest break, Kakuri began climbing the hill like a woman possessed. Soon she was far ahead. Approaching the top, she called down to the others, “Hurry up, slow coaches.” With that remark, she lost her footing, fell onto her back and began sliding fast down the slope. Directly below, seeing her coming, Wot reached out and caught hold of her, stopping her undignified descent.

  “Thanks,” she said, “I thought I was passed the worst of it. Oh well, here I go again.” Although bounding up the hill once again, this time she was decidedly more cautious in her approach.

  When Wot and Nott finally reached the top, peering over the ledge, they saw Kakuri sitting on a grassy area, looking quite disappointed.

  “What’s the matter?” Nott asked.

  “It’s a bit of an anticlimax,” she said. “There’s not much to see, except for that upturned old rock.”

  “That old rock is the object of our search,” replied Nott, with full conviction of his case.

  Kakuri was right; Fabled Crest was certainly nothing to write home about. It was flat, bordered on one side by large boulders, the ones they had spotted, earlier. The other three sides were sheer drops to the ground far below. At the centre of this uninspiring, grassy area was an upturned stone that reminded the two Outlanders of milestones, on Earth. This one, however, was in a much better state of repair. The stone, three four in height, was a thin pyramid shape. Unlike a pyramid, the top was flat, tapering down to the front.

  “This old rock,” Nott spoke out again, “will tell us where to find the Amulet of Oxmosis.”

  “How?” asked Kakuri.

  “I really don’t know!” he answered obliquely. “I was so busy with other things I never gave it any more thought.” Circling the stone, he examined it further. As he circled it, he looked almost like Sherlock Holmes, but without the looking glass and definitely with the wrong hat. Walking away from it, perhaps hoping to get some inspiration from a distance, Nott pondered his predicament. After a few minutes, without getting any inspiration at all, he returned to the Stone of Directions and studied it anew. Finally, after inspecting it for a full half hour, Nott strolled over to Kakuri and Wot, saying, “Well, that sure beats me, there’s no writing on it, no marks, nothing – nada.” Lifting his hat and then wiping his brow, Nott let out a long sigh of frustration, “I have absolutely no idea how we can get directions from that old thing.” Walking away from them, to one side of the Crest, he sat on a rock, in silence.

  Wot held off while Nott had been scrutinising the stone, but now that his small friend had finished, he took full advantage of the opportunity it offered. Moving in close, hoping to make the break-through in deciphering the mystery, he studied it in minute detail. Sadly, after studying it for almost an hour, he also admitted defeat. Scratching his head, puzzled as to how they might glean the information they sought from it, he said, “Sorry, I can’t make head or tail of this Stone.” As he strolled across the top of the Crest and sat beside Nott, he said, “We could do with an instruction book.”

  “Mind if I take a look?” asked Kakuri.

  “Be our guest,” the two Outlanders replied, waving her on.

  Kakuri knew it would be pointless to study it detail, because the two lads had already done that, with no results. Approaching the task from a different perspective, she sat cross-legged in front of the stone, allowing her thoughts to wander all the way back to her childhood days. Wot and Nott watched with interest. Recalling her family life, how things had once been, she resurrected memories, long time ago memories, when her parents had her stories of the old ways. She also recalled how they had explained the importance of keeping them alive. He mother had constantly told her never to abandon such things, and never to follow man’s example on Earth.

  Suddenly, from out of the blue Kakuri recalled a fable, a myth her father had told her of about the Lost Nugget. This nugget was said to have powers of perception and guidance. She had imagined at the time that it was a nugget of the gold. Now, however, she thought perhaps it was not. Perhaps, the Stone of Directions and the nugget were one and the same. Her pulse quickened. Could this really be so? Jumping up, she shouted, “I know how to do it! I KNOW! I REALLY KNOW!”

  Wot and Nott almost fell off their rocks with excitement, and running over to her, they asked, “How, tell us how?”

  “Well, it’s like this,” she replied, barely able to contain her excitement. Patting the Stone of Directions, she said, “This Stone, this very Stone is the Lost Nugget – I am sure of it! And if I am right, all we must do is to ask it a question!”

  “Hold on, have I missed something?” said Nott. “I thought this was the Stone of Directions,”

  “It is! They are one and the same!” Kakuri replied, her arms flailing wildly with excitement. “Shall I give it a go?”

  “Please do, Kakuri,” Wot answered, inching closer.

  “Right then, here goes,” she said. After taking a deep breath to compose herself, she looked directly at the Stone, asking, “Where is the Amulet of Oxmosis?”

  There was no reply. As the band of three stood there, waiting in silence, the wind howled over the top of the Crest.

  Never a quitter, Kakuri asked it again, but this time she first introduced herself and her two compatriots. For a second time, however, she received no reply; all that she heard was the sound of the wind, blowing, blowing. This is useless, she thought as she stood there, despondently waiting for something to happen. Although watching her intently, Wot and Nott breathed not a word.

  “Okay, okay!” she cried out, feeling the tremendous pressure to perform. “I will try it again!” Coughing, clearing her throat, she said, “Let’s see...if I accept the fact that this Stone can actually hear me, the reason why it is not answering me is because it does not like what it is hearing. Perhaps, I must prove that we are who we say we are and genuine in our cause. This might take a while…”

  Kneeling in front of the Stone, Kakuri leaned back so that her bottom was resting on her heels, to make herself comfortable. Speaking quietly, she told it everything about them, from the beginning of their adventure to the moment they crawled over the top of the Fabled Crest. If she got to any part that she was unsure of she asked the lads for more details. Then, as she was approaching the end of her story, something finally began to happen… She heard a noise, faint at first, gradually increasing in volume. It was a grating sound, the sound of a rock being dragged along a stone floor. Her ears cocked. Was it really coming from the Stone of Directions? It was so loud Wot and Nott could hear it quite clearly. Eyes glued to the Stone, never shifting from it, Kakuri watched in sheer disbelief. The Stone was growing arms! Appendages, of a sort, were sprouting from it!

  Edging closer, trying to what all the fuss was about, Wot and Nott were shocked to the core when they saw what was happening. They shouted, “Look, its growing arms!” It was true; arms – and so many of them – were growing, extending from the old Stone. They were not arms in the human sense of the word. No. They were extensions of the Stone itself, and when they had finished growing, they had all the appearance of so many stone arrows pointing out from it.

  “Has it told you which way to go?” Wot asked.

  Stepping away, Kakuri re
vealed her dilemma; the arms were pointing all right, but in every conceivable direction – even upwards. They were of no use at all!

  “Well,” she said ever so sarcastically, walking away from it. “That will help us a lot!” having lost patience with the strange Stone, she went over to one of the rocks the lads had been using earlier, sat down and lowered her head into her lap.

  Mulling over the situation, Wot thought he might have the germ of an idea to move things on. Rambling casually across to the Stone, he made ready to have a quiet chat with it. As this one-way conversation progressed, the pointing arms, one by one, merged back into the Stone.

  At first, Nott was relieved to see this happening, then fearing the worst, he shouted, “Are they all disappearing?”

  On hearing this, Kakuri also approached it, and all three travellers stared intently at the retreating arms. They watched in wonderment as each arm metamorphosed to the stone. However, after watching this happen for well over fifteen minutes, two of the stone arms were still there. Admitting defeat, Wot despairingly said, “There are still two of them left, I have failed,”

  “Two is better than fifty,” said Nott, genuinely trying to lift his friend’s flagging spirits.

  “But they are pointing in opposite directions,” Wot bemoaned, “and I have no idea which is the right one!”

  “You have certainly not failed,” Nott replied. “There are only two of them left, and in anyone’s language that is better than hundreds.” Nott’s lightning fast brain buzzing most excitedly, his eyes sparkling with interest and his grey matter jumping into overdrive, he said, “I have an idea, give me a minute to chew it over, first.”

  A minute later, approaching the Stone, Nott had worked out exactly what he wanted to say to it. He knew the words, the words it must hear, so he said, “It goes without question, Stone, that we shall return the amulet as soon as we have finished with it. We hereby promise to return it to its resting place, ready for the next person who has need of it.”

  No sooner had he finished these words did one of the arms merge into the Stone. The other one began to grow exponentially. In addition to growing in size, it changed shape, resembling an old style wooden signpost, the type that was once common in England, in days old. This signpost, however, was definitely not made of wood. Words began to appear on it, directions to the place where they would find the Amulet. In large formal letters, it read, ‘The Catacombs of Oguta, ten miles north.’

  Below, in smaller writing, it said, ‘It is there you will find the Amulet of Oxmosis. Beware; beware of the danger, not ghosts of the dead, but of the spirit who guards.’ No sooner had they finished reading the inscription the arm disappeared back into the Stone, leaving it exactly as it had been on their arrival.

  “Right,” said Wot, in a decidedly more upbeat tone than before, “I believe that is north.” Stepping down onto the slope, he began the long slide to the bottom. Kakuri and Nott, taken off guard by his sudden departure, tried to catch up.