Wot, Nott, Kakuri and the HU BA HOU: Part Three - The Changeling Attack

Wot, Nott, Kakuri and the HU BA HOU: The Changeling Attack

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Part Three: The Changeling Attack

Gerrard T Wilson

www.crazymadwriter.com

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http://www.crazymadwriter.com/




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The Crazymad Writer


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Text copyright © 2010 Gerrard T Wilson

Gerrard T Wilson asserts the moral rights to

be identified as the author of this work.

Conditions of sale:

This book is sold subject to the condition

that it shall not, by trade or otherwise,

be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated

without the publisher’s prior consent in any form,

binding or cover other than that in which it is

published and without a similar condition

including this condition being imposed

on the subsequent purchaser.

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An unusually small Christmas transported Wot and Nott to the

magical land of Onisha, where Umahia, the Grand Mystic, told them

how Miafra had taken it over. Umahia asked for them to help him rid

Onisha of the evil dictator, Miafra. Having accepted the challenge,

Wot and Nott set off, determined to put an end to the despot’s cruel

rule.

Having eaten from the Tree of Knowledge and Wisdom, Wot and Nott

sailed across the Sea of Loneliness in a five hundred year old boat,

to Onisha proper, where they met a statue hell-bent on destroying

them. In their quest to save the land of Onisha, Wot and Nott

travelled further across it, fighting their way past a ferocious

Dragonsaur and battling the dreaded Protectors. When they found

the Temple of Wan, they set about repairing it via the Realm of the

Black Crystals.

Determined to rescue the land of Onisha from the clutches of the evil

Miafra, Wot and Nott must now find The Sacred Site of the Stones,

where the dreaded Protectors are holding Kakuri captive. They must

also fend off an attack by the deadly Chameleon Beetles...

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ContentsPage

Introduction: Introduction 5

Chapter One: The Flying Hat 7

Chapter Two: The Protectors are in Apata 19

Chapter Three: Running on Water 33

Chapter Four: The Hairy Fuselage of the Dragonfly 49

Chapter Five: A Massacre in the Forest 61

Chapter Six: Reconnoitring the Holy Place 71

Chapter Seven: Attack on the Sacred Site of the Stones 79

Chapter Eight: The Grotto 95

Chapter Nine: HU BA HOU 113

Chapter Ten: Kiliki and Company 123

Chapter Eleven: Changeling Attack 135

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Chapter One

The Flying Hat

Noticing the metal drum, the one he had offered Kakuri to use as an

alarm, Wot gave it an annoyed kick, saying, “That was no use, was

it?” He kicked it again. “I told her to use it as an alarm. I told her we

would hear it…we didn’t” Inspecting it, he pondered the many dents

upon its battered surface. “She must have been beating it like mad,”

he said guiltily, “to have made all of these dents.” Noticing

something a distance away, he walked over and picked it up. It was

the piece of branch he had given Kakuri to beat the drum with. “I

wonder how this got over here?” he mused.

“Perhaps she wandered off, exploring,” Nott suggested. Speaking

quietly, for his own consumption, he whispered, “Why on earth did

we leave her, so?”

Having begun a systematic search of the area, Wot did not intend to

leave a stone unturned, looking for Kakuri. He felt so guilty, having

left her alone and defenceless. She had not even recovered from her

ordeal with the turncoat Omoora. Wot quickened his pace,

determined to find her.

Nott also began searching. Although he could see signs of a struggle,

he was unable to work out how many people had been involved.

Spotting something tucked under a rock, glinting, reflecting the sun,

he stooped down. Peering into the space, he saw a golden coloured

object. It looked strangely familiar. Stretching a hand in, he reached

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for it. Hearing something, a loud clicking sound, he pulled his hand

back, in alarm. “Wot, come over here,” he said.

“Have you found something?” Wot asked.

With a finger pressed to his lips, for silence, Nott pointed under the

rock, gesturing for him to look into the space.

Bending down, peering into the space, seeing the golden coloured

object secreted therein, Wot said, “It’s the amulet!” With that, he

reached under the rock to retrieve it.

Nott, however, struck him hard on the arm.

“Why did you do that?” Wot asked, withdrawing his hand.

“Watch and listen,” he whispered. Grabbing hold of a stick, Nott

poked it into the space. The peculiar clicking sound he heard earlier

begun again. Edging away from the rock, they tried to work out

what it might be.

“Any thoughts?” Nott asked.

“It could be anything,” Wot answered. “Do they have snakes in

Onisha?”

“I haven’t seen any,” Nott answered. “That doesn’t mean they aren’t

any.”

“Hmm,” said Wot, pondering what they might do.

Time was against them, with Kakuri still missing, speed was all-

important; they had to think quickly.

Pointing to the metal drum that he was still holding, Nott said, “I

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have it!”

“You do?”

“Yes,” he said, returning to the rock. “Come over here, I need your

help.”

“What do you want me to do?” Wot asked uncertainly.

Pointing to the rock, Nott replied, “Pick it up.”

“Pick it up? It looks very heavy! What about that thing,” he asked,

“hiding beneath it?”

“Don’t be such a coward,” Nott chided. “Pick it up and leave the rest

to me.”

Thus, put in his place, Wot set about lifting the rock.

Come on, then, get to it,” said Nott, urging him on.

“Are you sure you know what you are doing?”

“Yes, of course I do,” he insisted.

“It looks so heavy… I don’t think I can do it...”

“That’s a load of rubbish, and well you know it. Come on, pull

yourself together, Kakuri is depending on us!”

Remembering Kakuri gave Wot the strength and impetus he needed.

Taking hold of the rock, he said, “Are you ready?”

“Yes, go for it,” Nott answered.

Lifting the rock to waist level, Wot said, “Do you see it, the thing,

whatever it is?”

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“I do. I can see it,” Nott replied, seeing the golden coloured talisman.

“Grab it, take hold of it!” said Wot. “This thing is heavy!”

Reaching for the amulet, Nott was gobsmacked by what happened

next. The amulet, accompanied by the same clicking sound they

heard earlier, flew away from him. In addition, a new, buzzing sound

began. To say Nott was confused would be an understatement – he

was both baffled and terrified by it.

“What on earth is going on?” Wot asked, struggling under the weight

of the rock, from above.

“It’s flying about all over the place!” Nott cried out in alarm. “Get it

away from me. GET IT AWAY!”

Losing his grip on the rock, Wot dropped it. Landing hard, the rock

pinned Nott beneath it. “What’s happening?” he shouted. “Help me!

help me!”

Seeing the flying amulet, clicking and buzzing noisily, making a

beeline for him, Wot tried to fend it off. However, despite his best

efforts the aerial talisman persisted, flying about his head in ever

decreasing circles.

Pinned helplessly beneath the rock, Nott said, “Can you give me a

hand, Wot? I can’t get up!”

Leaning down, lifting the rock off him, Wot said, “There you are,

Nott. Are you okay?”

“I think so.” Seeing the flying talisman circling his friend’s head, he

said, “What on earth is it doing – and how is it able to do it?”

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“At least it’s stopped buzzing,” said Wot. “It was giving me a

headache.”

“It’s stopped buzzing alright,” Nott answered, “because it’s flying

away!”

Although the amulet was flying away from them, it appeared in no

hurry. Meandering lazily, this way and that, the amulet was acting as

if it did not have a care in the world. Although sauntering lazily, like

a butterfly in a sunny garden, it still managed to evade their attempts

to catch it.

While pushing his loose fitting fur hat up, from out of his eyes, Nott

suddenly had an idea. Taking it off, giving it to Wot, he shouted

excitedly, “Use it – use my hat, like a net! You will have more

chance of catching the amulet, so.”

Accepting the hat, Wot said, “That’s a good idea, and it might just

work.” With that, he set off after the troublesome flying talisman.

Nott tried to keep up with his friend and the flying amulet, he really

did, but talisman and pursuer, moving about so erratically, made it

impossible.

Swinging Nott’s hat with all the speed he could muster, trying to

secure the troublesome amulet, Wot thought he had caught it. The

magical talisman, however, evaded his attention with ease.

Undeterred, Wot chased after it through a nearby group of trees.

Despite trying repeatedly to capture the amulet with the fur hat, Wot

was unable to do it. Watching it flitter about, he wondered if it just

playing games, teasing him, while on an entirely different agenda.

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The flying article suddenly changing direction headed directly

towards Wot. With hat at the ready, he hunkered down waiting to

pounce. The closer the amulet approached, the greater Wot felt the

urge to pounce, but he waited, he waited. When it was so close, he

could see every detail of the amulet, Wot jumped. With arm

outstretched to the limit, he swung the fur hat, cutting a swathe

through the still air, securing the amulet within it furry embrace.

Puffing and panting Nott finally caught up. He was so excited, he

tried to speak, but the words failed. Breathing in deeply, catching his

breath, he said, “You played that like a pro! You should be a

basketball player!”

Smiling, too tired to answer, Wot needed to rest. The hat and its

contents, firmly under the control of his right hand, were going

nowhere until he said so. The prospect of going nowhere, however,

had little or no effect on the clicking sounds emanating from the

amulet. If anything, they were growing louder. Was the amulet

annoyed that Wot had caught it?

When they had rested enough, Nott said. “Okay, old buddy, let’s take

a look-see beneath that hat of mine.”

Tentatively lifting a bit of the hat, Wot peered under. Pushing the hat

quickly back into place, he, peculiarly, said nothing.

“Well?” Nott asked. “What did you see?”

Wot tried to tell him, to describe what he had seen beneath the hat,

but the words simply failed him.

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Losing patience, Nott barked, “For God’s sake, tell me!”

“Are you sure?” Wot asked, eying the hat suspiciously.

“Yes! Tell me, show me!” Nott barked again.

Lifting the hat, Wot showed him what lay hidden beneath it.

“Where is it?” Nott asked, scratching his head, confused. “That’s not

the amulet, it’s another fur hat!”

The disappearance of the amulet, then the appearance of a second hat

confused the two friends no end. Suddenly hearing something, Nott

said, “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“Listen.”

“I can’t hear anything.”

“LISTEN, will you!”

Cocking his head over to one side, listening, Wot asked, “What am I

listening for?”

“The same clicking sound we heard before.”

Tuning into the sound, Wot said, “Oh, that clicking! Why didn’t you

say so?”

Picking up the new hat, daring to see what it had (or not) beneath it,

Nott was shocked to the core when it flew out of his hand. Moreover,

to add insult to injury, it was getting away from them. Shouting

colourfully at it, they chased the hat across the sandy terrain.

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Although it was flying haphazardly, the hat proceeded in the general

direction of the rock beneath which they had first spotted the amulet.

Offering a suggestion, Wot said, “How about I carry you on my

shoulders? From that position you will have a far better chance of

catching it.” Nott readily agreed to this – anything to avoid all the

running about he was doing. If there had been anyone there to see it,

Nott sitting atop Wot’s shoulders, chasing after a flying hat, trying to

catch it with another one, they would have been in stitches, with

laughter.

During the next few minutes, they tried so hard to catch up with their

flying objective. Nott shouted directions, “Left a bit, go on, a tad

more, okay, I think I can get it now. It got away! Go over to the right.

Hurry, lest we lose it! Come on!” Wot soon realised what a mistake it

had been, suggesting such an arrangement. Above, thriving in his

newfound height and mobility, Nott wondered why he had not

thought of it himself – and earlier.

After near on thirty minutes, running, following the flying hat all

over the place, it finally came to rest on the bare branch of a tree. It

was only then did the friends realise, understand what they had

actually been following. You see, when the hat landed upon the

branch, it took on the colour and appearance of it. However,

silhouetted against the clear sky, they could see its true nature. It was

not an amulet or even a fur hat; it was a large, incredibly fat beetle.

Feeling incredibly stupid, having wasted so much time running about

after an overgrown insect, the two friends laughed at their innocence.

The beetle, over a foot in length, had large, strong mandibles that

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clicked alarmingly whenever they approached it. It was also fat,

certainly not built for speed, and beautiful in an odd sort of way. Wot

wondered if it had a colour of its own, other than that copied from

whatever it touched. As the branch swayed in the gentle breeze, the

beetle’s wing cases opened, revealing short stubby wings that

flapped fast, trying to steady it. “I wonder what type of beetle it is,”

he asked inquisitively. “Have you any idea, Nott?”

“I wouldn’t have a clue,” he answered dryly. “Why don’t you name

it?” he asked sardonically.

“Hmm, that’s a good idea.” Nott had only been joking; he never

thought for one minute that his friend would take him seriously.

Engrossed in the idea, Wot said, “Perhaps I will call it a changeling

beetle; that has a nice ring to it, or…the beetle of transformations.

No. I have an even better idea; I will call it a chameleon beetle. Yes,

I like that.” It was only then did he notice Nott, with hands on hips

staring at him. “Which of them do you like best?” he asked, trying to

deflect his embarrassment.

“It’s a great idea,” Nott answered condescendingly.

“A great idea? It is a name, not an idea,” Wot snapped.

“Whatever.”

Wot did not bother to continue the discussion. It was quite evident

that Nott had no interest in his naming of the insect. However, he

was sure that Kakuri would listen to him, when they found her...

The reason why Nott had been so abrupt was quite simple; he was

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vitally concerned as to the whereabouts and safety of Kakuri. It was

his way of dealing with it. Another thing concerning Nott was the

whereabouts of the real amulet...

Rising from the branch, the fat beetle, hovering lazily above it,

appeared in no hurry to make good its escape. The two friends

watched it intently. Flying towards the rock beneath with they had

first seen it, the beetled descended, landing close by it. Scuttling

noisily across the last few inches, it disappeared beneath the rock.

“Where was that rock,” Wot asked, in a moment of sheer inspiration,

“before I lifted it?”

“Search me,” Nott replied. “Was it over there?”

“No! No! Come on; the exact spot.” Wot insisted.

Nott really did want to help, but he had absolutely no idea as to the

rock’s original position. Letting out a whop of joy, Wot said, “I

remember, Nott, I remember where it was! Over there, close by that

bush!”

“Why are we doing this?” Nott asked, agog.

“The amulet!” Wot answered. “It’s because the Amulet of Oxmosis is

there!”

“The amulet?”

“Yes!” he replied. “Come on, keep searching!”

“Can you clarify that?”

“The amulet was under that rock, along with the beetle. I am sure of

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it!” And it’s still there! We were chasing an illusion of the amulet

while the real one was waiting for us to find it. Come on, it’s around

here somewhere. The sand must have covered it. Start digging!”

Kneeling, the two friends dug into the loose, sandy soil with their

bare hands. It was smooth and warm to the touch, not a stone in

evidence. Although they dug in ever-widening circles, the amulet

evaded them.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Nott asked.

“Yes, I am positive.”

“Then why can’t we find it?”

“I, I don’t know. I can’t understand it... It has to be here, it must be

here!”

Shifting his weight from one knee to the other, trying to get more

comfortable, Wot felt a stab of pain in his right knee. “Ow! That

hurt,” he groaned. “Something jabbed me.”

“Start digging,” Nott ordered. “It’s the amulet!”

His fingers finding, touching cold metal, Wot retrieved the object of

their desires. Raising it high, he said, “I present to you The Amulet

of Oxmosis! That sure was a stroke of luck.”

“There was no luck there, old buddy,” Nott answered. “It was all

down to you. You found the amulet, fair and square.”

Although this embarrassed Wot, it made him incredibly happy, for

they had finally completed their task. Inspecting the magical

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talisman for signs of damage, and for possible clues as to the

whereabouts of Kakuri, the Outlanders went over it repeatedly.

However, apart from the superficial damage they had done to it

earlier, there was no clue as to where Kakuri might be.

Placing the talisman around his neck, Wot said, “It will be a brave

man who tries to take this from me.”

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Chapter Two

The Protectors are in Apata

“What do you think happened to Kakuri?” Nott asked.

“I see it like this,” said Wot. “She saw some person or persons

approaching her. Assuming they were hostile, she hid it. She put up a

brave struggle, though, but in her injured state, she was no match

against them. After that Kakuri’s assailants took to a place

unknown.”

“That’s terrible,” gasped Nott. “What can we do to help her?”

“We have two options, old friend,” Wot answered, rubbing his tired

face. “The first is to follow their tracks. However, that will not be

easy, for the terrain is constantly changing. Our second option is to

secure the help of the Orlu.”

“The Orlu?”

“Yes, the Orlu. I know this was not an option, earlier, but since the

return of the chi to the people, I guess Miafra will have other, more

important matters on his mind than watching the goings on of the

little people. Don’t you agree?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so.”

“Would you like to call them?” Wot asked.

“No, I think it’s best if you attend to that. It’s more your

department.”

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Sitting cross-legged upon the ground, Wot composed himself,

clearing his mind of all unnecessary thoughts, searching for the

words he needed. Finding them, he said…

“People of the Orlu,

We need your help this day,

It’s not for food and sustenance,

But information right away.

We have lost our own Kakuri,

She has gone, disappeared somewhere,

Can you find out where she has gone?

So we can rescue her, so fair.”

Amidst a rush of tiny feet, the Orlu emerged, setting out a fine meal

before the startled Outlanders. Looking at each other, in sheer

disbelief, neither of the two friends dared tell the little people their

efforts were uncalled-for.

When the Orlu had finished setting out the meal, they rushed away,

all except one.

“Thanks for the meal; it looks great,” Nott said diplomatically.

“You’re welcome,” the diminutive man answered.

“My name is Nott and this is my friend Wot.”

“Hello, Wot and Nott,” the Orlu answered. I am Mezu, the Prime

Orlu of this region.”

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In front of such a small man, Nott looked positively tall. “Can you –

the Orlu – help us against Miafra?” he asked.

“You do realise we are here to serve sustenance, not to take sides?”

Mezu answered, ticking him off.

Nodding, Nott said, “We do. Our request was not for food, yet you

answered – why?”

“Since the beginning of time we never interfered, this is our place in

Onishian society!” Mezu explained. “Why should we deviate from

this path, now?”

Tired of talking, cutting to cut to the chase, Nott said, “Will you help

us, yes or no?”

Taken aback by his abruptness, Mezu lost for words. Regaining his

composure, he said, “I must confer with the others...” With that, he

ran off into the bushes. Within the bushes, members of the Orlu

discussed the situation fast and frantically. Moments later, amidst a

blaze of furiously fast feet, Mezu returned. “Yes, we will help you,”

he said, “but only because of the extreme situation pervading our

land. You have already helped the people. They are regaining their

wills and their minds. We know how much you have suffered during

the short time you have been in our world.” Gazing thoughtfully at

them, he said, “We can give you information. We can help with

communications, but that is all…the rest is up to you.”

“That is all we need,” said Wot. “Tell us where we can find Kakuri,

and we are away.”

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“You’re welcome,” Mezu replied. Over the next few minutes, Mezu

explained how The Orlu in the southeast of Onisha had spotted

Kakuri. He told them how she was seen her with her captors,

Protectors, passing through Apata, probably on the way to Onisha

City. On hearing mention of the dreaded Protectors, shivers of dread

ran down the Outlanders’ spines.

“It’s no wonder she hid the amulet, if the Protectors were here,” said

Nott. “We must free her, Wot, and as soon as possible.”

Thanking Mezu, the two friends bid him goodbye.

“You’re welcome,” the little man replied. Then he ran away.

Because the hound-horse was gone along with Kakuri, Wot and Nott

were a long way from their destination with no means of transport.

“Can you work out the best route?” Wot asked.

Closing his eyes, Nott allowed words, pictures – anything that might

be of help to enter his consciousness. He saw men in uniform,

hound-horses, darkness, names and places, fire, lightning, and the

flying Dragonsaur. “Could it be possible the Dragonsaur survived the

twister?” he asked warily, thinking about what he had seen. “It could

be winging its way towards us as we speak,” he said, allowing his

imagination to get the better of him.

“Come on, now,” said Wot, trying to calm him. “Tell me everything

you saw.”

Sifting their way through the jumbled messages, the Outlanders

worked out the following…

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1. The men in uniform and the hound-horses were the

Protectors and their mounts.

2. The darkness was Miafra.

3. The names and places were the way forward.

4. The fire and lightning puzzled them completely.

5. The flying Dragonsaur scared them almost to death.

6. Lastly, the journey ahead daunted them, but they knew

they had to complete it.

Happy to have worked it out, the compatriots set off for Apata.

“I might not understand all that I saw back there,” said Nott, “but I

do know that if we keep to the lowlands out journey will be easier.”

Glancing at the landscape, he added, “This area is wild. I don’t think

we will come across anyone around here.”

The sandy terrain was soon far behind. Finding themselves amidst

deep fertile soils fed by a constant supply of life-giving water from

the cold mountain streams, the Outlanders’ mood lightened. Because

the grasses were growing so high, Wot carried his diminutive friend

once again upon his broad shoulders. Sometimes the grasses were so

thick Wot found it impossible to see the way ahead. At these times,

Nott, sitting high on his shoulders, was a godsend, directing the way

forward.

As the thick, lush growth brushed past him, Wot found it incredibly

difficult to see where he was placing his feet. At times, he stumbled.

“Do you remember,” said Wot, “how I asked if there were any

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snakes in Onisha?”

“Yes, I do. What about it?”

“This must be the perfect terrain for them,” Wot whispered. “You

know, with all this grass everywhere.” After a contemplative pause,

he said, “I could be bitten by a snake at any moment! What will we

do if that happens?”

“I dread to think, old buddy,” Nott answered. “You can rest assured,

though; I won’t be sucking out any poison!”

Hearing this, Wot slowed his place. Despite his concerns, however,

nothing larger than a mosquito bit him. Little by little, the Outlanders

progressed through the tall grasses.

Finally, eventually, the tall grasses gave way normal, low growing

varieties. Arriving on the shores of a lake, much larger than the one

at Oguta, the friends marvelled at its peaceful solitude. The lake was

so large they found it impossible to see the far side. The one thing,

however, the two lakes did have in common was the same incredibly

black water.

“When you were seeking the best route, Nott, didn’t you see this?”

Wot asked, gazing across the expanse of water.

“No,” he answered. “I had no idea that anything like this was

barring our way. I’m not perfect, you know!”

“I’m not complaining, old friend,” said Wot. “In fact, I am delighted

we have found it. After all that dusty grass I passed through, I could

do with a wash.” Entering the lake, clothes and all, Wot splashed

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about in the cool black waters as if he had not a care in the world.

Lying on his back, the thick inky waters easily supported him. “This

is lovely,” he mused. “I could stay here forever.” Closing his eyes he

drifted into restful slumber.

After a short but restful sleep, Wot awoke, ready for the challenges

ahead. Returning to the shallows, lying on warm, wet sand, squirting

inky black water from out his mouth, he said, “Get in, the water’s

lovely.”

“No thanks,” Nott replied, “I’ve had more enough water for a

lifetime. I will sit here, happily watching.”

Because it was beginning to get dark, the next item on the agenda

was to find a place to rest for the night. Overhead, thousands of large

bats flew past. Every now and then, one or two of these creatures,

upon seeing something of interest below, swooped down to

investigate. Some returned skyward, but others remained on the

ground, having presumably found rich pickings.

“I wonder where they are going?” said Wot.

“I think it’s best if we don’t know,” Nott answered. “Though,” he

continued, “I have a sneaky feeling we are going to find out... Come

on, let’s find somewhere to sleep.”

Hearing this, Wot chuckled. The only thing Nott had done to make

him so tired was sit atop his shoulders, admiring the view. “Okay,

I’m coming,” he answered, “but I warn you, I am so tired I could

sleep standing up. We had better find somewhere quick or you will

be searching on your own.”

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As they searched along the banks of the lake for a place in which to

bed down for the night, the Outlanders thought it only a matter of

time until they found something suitable. Suitable places, however,

were thin on the ground, desperately thin. After what seemed like an

eternity, searching, looking, a voice said, “Psst.”

“Who is it?” Nott asked, turning round.

“Psst,” the mysterious voice called out again.

“Who is it?” Wot asked, fearing it might be Protectors.

“How should I know?” Nott snapped. “I just asked the very same

question!”

The sound of a twig snapping underfoot signalled the appearance of

a little man, a familiar little man named Mezu.

“Hello, Mezu,” said Wot, relieved that it was he. “I didn’t expect to

see you so soon.”

“Hello,” he replied. “I didn’t expect to be here either. Things have

moved on apace since we last talked. We, the Orlu, had to get this

information to you, for so much depends on it!”

“How did you get here?” Nott asked.

“That is a good question, my friend,” Mezu answered, “a very good

question indeed.”

Although Nott waited politely for Mezu to continue, to answer his

question, the little man remained peculiarly silent. “Well,” said Nott,

“are you going to tell us?”

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His thought focusing, Mezu said, “How I got here is not important.

What is important is how you are going to use the information I have

brought.” Hearing this, Nott’s ears cocked. Mezu continued, “I have

already told you how we, the Orlu, do not want to be involved in this

fight. It is not our way. However, circumstances have changed. We

want Onisha saved from the tyrant, and if that means helping you, so

be it.”

“The information?” Nott asked impatiently “What is the important

information you have come all this way to tell us?”

“Have patience, my friend,” said Wot. “I am sure Mezu will tell us

when he is good and ready.”

“Thank you,” said Mezu, “We, the Orlu, have heard that Miafra is

amassing his Protectors, at Apata, where Kakuri is being held. She is

the bait for the trap, and the trap is for you! Miafra wants you

terminated. If you try to free her, it will mean almost certain death.

You must go on without her – you have no other option.”

This news stunned the Outlanders. They had already come to terms

with the fact that their mission was becoming increasingly

dangerous, but to hear they will almost certainly die if they go on

was something else again. As the fading light ushered in the hours of

darkness, Wot and Nott sat there, silent, worried for the future.

They never did find a place to rest, to sleep that night. After hearing

what the little man, Mezu, had told them, sleep was the last thing on

their minds. On the shore of the lake, as the light of day finally

faded, replaced by darkness as inky black as the waters before them,

- 29 -


they wondered if they would ever find (and save) Kakuri...

30th December

Next morning, the sun rose into clear blue sky, another wonderful

start to another beautiful day, and another reminder of how easily the

Onishians had been taken-in, fooled by Miafra.

Waking up to the smell of a lovely fried breakfast, courtesy of the

little Orlu, Nott said, “That smells great, Mezu. Have you seen

Wot?”

“Yes, he rose a while back. I said hello to him but received no

answer. I got the impression he wanted to be alone, to think things

through.”

Nott readily accepted this; he knew Wot’s idiosyncrasies to a tee.

Tucking into his meal while it was still hot, he said, “These hash

browns are great.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Where are the others?” he asked, looking about him.

“There are no others,” he answered. “I prepared it myself. I am the

only Orlu in this region.”

“Where are they?” Nott asked, puzzled to hear this.

“They are on their way to Apata, to fight Miafra.”

Shocked at how fast things were moving, Nott said, “I must go tell

Wot. Which way did he go?” Mezu pointed to the right. Gulping

- 30 -


down the last of his tea and popping a sausage into his mouth, Nott

set off in search for Wot.

“Wot! Are you here?” Nott called, trying to find him. “Can you hear

me, Wot?” Despite searching far and wide, Nott was unable to find

Wot.

Returning to Mezu, who offered him another mug of tea, Nott said,

“I couldn’t find him, Mezu. I hope he’s alright.”

“I am sure he is fine,” the little man answered. “He needs time to

think things through. He’ll return soon, don’t worry.”

Accepting the mug of tea, Nott said, “Thanks, Mezu, I’m parched.”

Drinking his tea, he said, “You know, Mezu, I have been thinking,

wondering…”

“About what?”

“When did this change of heart amongst the Orlu actually happen? I

thought you had no intention of getting involved, no matter what.”

“You know we are here to serve whoever calls us,” the little man

answered. “That is how it has always been. It is our place in Onisha,

and we are happy to do it. However, if things continue as they are

going, soon there will be no one left to serve, except for Miafra that

is. The people, who have suffered so much, who are regaining their

minds, their free will, their Chi, are beginning to question how

Onisha got into such a dire position. The same thing applies to those

your friend freed from the dark place, the Limbo between worlds –

they too are in the process of organising an insurrection. We, the

- 31 -


Orlu, have come to the conclusion it is time to make a stand against

the power of Darkness that are gripping our land.”

“I am happy to hear that,” Nott replied. “I have some doubts,

however, as to the merits of you entering into direct confrontation

with Miafra.”

“How can you say such a thing?” Mezu asked, taken aback to hear it.

“Well, you are so small,” Nott explained. “Miafra could wipe you

out with the wave of an arm.”

“If he did that to me,” said Mezu, “I would be replaced by another

then another, and then another. We are many; we are like the ants,

small yet also so powerful. Our speed and our number are our

strength. We also have other ways, our ways.”

Although Nott believed there was more to the Orlu than simply

providing food and drink, he thought it an incredibly big difference

from creating food and drink, to fighting evil. “What are your

ways?” he asked, intrigued.

“We provide food and drink,” Mezu answered.

“I know that.”

“Haven’t you wondered where it all comes from?”

Scratching his head, thinking about it some more, Nott said, “I

thought your tremendous speed somehow hurried up the cooking

process.”

“Hmm, I thought you would have given it more thought and

- 32 -


consideration than that.”

Peeved, Nott felt like returning a snide remark, but due to the

seriousness of the situation, he held back.

“Our speed is in the delivery and presentation of the food and drink,”

the little man explained. “We use other powers to create the fare –

these are our ways.”

Nott, however, was still puzzled.

Explaining it simply, Mezu said, “If you want to know which way to

go, you listen to your inner self, you heed the words, the pictures you

receive - this is your gift, Nott. You are using the power of Onisha

that is all around us. In the same way, Wot uses his words, his

rhymes. We, the Orlu, use this power to produce food and drink.

Now do you understand?”

“Now that you put it like that, I suppose I do,” said Nott. “I never

gave it much thought. I was so happy to receive the refreshments I

thought no more of it.”

“Does this make a difference as to how you see our plans?”

“To be perfectly honest,” said Nott, “I can’t see how producing food

by magic will help you overcome that madman, Miafra.”

“Our abilities go a great deal further than simply producing food and

drink, my friend. We can use our powers – in other ways. Up until

now, we have never needed to do this. Our wish has always been to

serve, but times have changed...”

“You are beginning to scare me,” Nott whispered.

- 33 -


“We are also scared, Nott.”

Changing the subject, Nott asked, “Where on earth has Wot got

himself to?”

- 34 -


Chapter Three

Running on Water

While Nott was scurrying about, trying to find Wot, he was sitting on

the beach only a short distance away from him. Secreted beneath the

shade of a tree, he needed to be alone, to try to work things out. You

see, during the night many dreams, thoughts and imaginings had

entered his brain, his mind, some foreboding, others happier,

reminding him of better times before he had ever heard the name

Miafra. Withdrawing one of his Christmas slippers from out of a

pocket, he stroked its soft fabric. “Although they are brand-new,” he

whispered, “they are almost worn-out.” Spotting a rip, he tried to fix

it. A mournful tear of regret fell, splashing over it.

Under no illusion of the terrible dangers lying in wait for them,

trying to secure the safe release of Kakuri, Wot realised their chances

of pulling it off were, at best, slim. To have any real hope of success

he needed to formulate a plan, a magical mystical plan. Sitting,

enjoying the warm sun, he searched for the words they desperately

needed. Soon, the words, streaming fast and furious, entered his

brain. They were coming so fast he was unable to keep up with them.

His brain felt as if it was exploding. Then it finished, the stream of

words entering his brain stopped. As a green sparrow flew past

- 35 -


overheard, withdrawing his book from out of his shirt pocket, Wot

wrote down the following…

Water Black water walk water run

Dragonfly flying dragon dragonfly

Humpback dog hound-horse humpback hound-horse

Apata stone rock

Grotto rock Apata.

“This isn’t a Mystical Rhyme,” he groaned. Puzzled as to why such

words had come to him, he tried for other, better ones. No more

came. “Perhaps I can re-arrange them,” he surmised. He tried to do

this with little success. The words were useless. Giving up, returning

along the shoreline, he rejoined his friends waiting for him.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” Nott asked, relieved to see him again.

“There is still plenty left in the pot. Oh, and the hash browns are

really good.”

It was only then did Wot realise how hungry he was. The mere

mention of hash browns sent his saliva glands into overload. Tucking

into the wonderful breakfast, he washed it down with lashing of

piping hot tea. Although Mezu and Nott wanted to hear all about

Wot’s time alone, they waited patiently for him to finish eating.

Wiping the plate clean with the last remnant of fried-bread, Wot said,

- 36 -


“Thank you, Mezu. That was a smashing breakfast.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

“WELL?” Nott barked. “Are you going to tell us, or do we have to

wait here all day?”

“Sorry, old friend,” Wot answered, “I was gathering my thoughts.”

“COME ON! Tell us what happened!”

“I needed time alone, to gather my thoughts…to plan our next

move,” he explained. “I tried to formulate a Mystical Rhyme, to help

us...but was unable to do it…the words eluded me.”

In a quieter voice, Nott asked, “No ‘rhyme? How is that possible?

You always have ‘rhymes!”

“Not this time, old friend…”

Hearing this, Nott was at a loss for words.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have anything,” said Wot, in a more

upbeat tone.

On a roller coaster of emotions Nott asked, “What do you have?”

“I have a jumble of words. I have been trying to work out their

meaning.”

“Words?”

“Yes, words. I am sure they will help us...if we can understand their

meaning, that is.”

“These words,” said Mezu, “tell us them.”

- 37 -


Opening his book, reading them out, Wot paused at the end of each

line before going on to the next. When he had finished, he said, “I

told you they weren’t rhymes, mystical or otherwise. Any ideas as to

what they actually mean?”

“Can I see it, the book?” Nott asked. Wot passed him the book.

Reading the words, Nott tired to make sense of them. However, after

reading them several times he was none the wiser. As a last resort, he

tried reading them fast and furious. Smiling excitedly, he said, “Wot,

Mezu! I, I think I have it! Listen...

Humpback dog hound-horse humpback hound-horse.

That’s it, if my assumption is correct...”

“And what might that be?” Wot asked.

“I’m assuming there is such a thing as a humpback dog!”

“Well, there goes that theory,” Wot said gloomily. “Whoever heard of

a humpback dog?”

“I have,” said Mezu, raising a hand. “They are a popular pet, here in

Onisha.”

“Really?” Wot asked.

“Yes, really.”

“Okay, then,” said Nott, “Humpback dog, hound-horse, and

humpback hound-horse. This is how I see it; first you have

humpback dog, right?”

“Yes,” they replied.

- 38 -


“Then hound-horse – we know what they are and who controls them.

Lastly, we have humpbackhound-horse. This is what we must create!

Moreover, when we have done it, the humpback hound-horse thing

will help us. Any questions?”

“Your prognosis requires a very active imagination,” said Wot. “But

since neither us has anything better to suggest, I think we should go

along with it. If you are right, Nott, and we can somehow create this

humpback hound-horse thing, I am sure it will be of enormous help

on our journey. Meanwhile, let’s continue with the rest of the

words.”

Trying his luck on the next set of words, reading them fast, like Nott,

Wot said, “It’s easy, listen,

Water Black water walk black water water- run.

Water black is the black water of this lake. Water walk is how we

crossed the water in Oguta. Water run is how we can cover the vast

expanse of this lake, by running across it!” Wot paused as he

contemplated the implications of his words. Continuing, he said,

“There must be a knack, a trick, to running on water.” Glancing at

the book he read the next set of words.

“Dragonfly flying dragon Dragonfly.

We know what they mean; it looks like Dragonsaur will be

returning.” He studied the words further. “Dragonfly is repeated. I

wonder… Does this mean it transforms, returns to its original form

of a dragonfly, and if so, why? Unable to make any more sense of it

than that, he suggested they return to it later.

- 39 -


The last two lines were a mystery to the Outlanders. Coming to the

rescue, Mezu said, “I think I can help.

Apata Stone Rock

Grotto Rock Apata.

Apata is where Kakuri is being held,” Mezu explained. The next

words, Stone and Rock, refer to the Sacred Site of the Stones. This is

a place shrouded in mystery.” Deadly serious, Mezu continued,

“Some have suggested it was the place where the last emperor called

down the powers of Darkness. Since then everyone avoids it... It is a

dangerous place.”

Considering the next words, Mezu said, “The word Grotto refers the

Sacred Site of the Stones. Legend tells us, deep beneath the stones

lies a grotto, a magical and mysterious place.” Listening, Wot and

Nott hardly blinked, so mesmerised were they by Mezu’s vivid

descriptions.

“Lastly, we have Rock and Apata. I think it is repeated here so as to

emphasise how important it is.” Stroking his chin thoughtfully, he

said, “Perhaps this is the place in Apata where Kakuri is being held,

in the grotto, and if so it is an incredibly dangerous place to try a

rescue attempt. You will need all the help you can get.”

“There is one thing we do have in our favour,” Wot said

encouragingly. “We have the Amulet of Oxmosis.” He held up the

shining talisman, showing it to Mezu.

“But on the down side, Nott chipped in, “we have only one use of it

- 40 -


remaining.”

“I know,” Wot answered. “But it’s better than nothing.”

With most of the deciphering done Nott decided it was time to set off

again. “We have a long way to go,” he said, pointing across the huge

expanse of lake. “I think it’s about time we got cracking.” Turning to

Mezu, he said, “Mezu, do you have any suggestions as to how we

might do this running on water malarkey?”

Folding his arms, scratching his chin, thinking long and hard about

it, Mezu, lifting a hand, his index finger pointing directly at Nott,

said, “We, the Orlu, never go near water, black or otherwise. We

have no need to. We have our own ways… This running on water is

something I heard of long ago, so long I had almost forgotten about

it. I think some Onishians, a few, can still do it...if they feel so

inclined. That is all that I know. I don’t have a clue as to how you

can actually do it.”

Despite having had his fill of water, Nott put on a brave face, saying,

“That leaves us with no option other than experimenting for

ourselves. Come, Wot, let’s give it a go.”

“I am away,” Mezu said unexpectedly. Although Wot and Nott had

supposed he was going to accompany them to Apata, they fully

appreciated that he, like the rest of The Orlu, had plans of his own.

Respecting his decision, they bid him goodbye. Then, in the blink of

an eye, the little man was gone.

“It looks like it’s just you and me, old buddy,” said Nott.

- 41 -


“It appears so.”

“Come in, the water’s lovely,” Nott laughed. With that, they entered

the inky black waters.

In the same way as before, in Lake Oguta, the waters easily

supported their weight. Walking in water, Wot and Nott headed for

the far side of the lake. However, it was a slow and tedious process.

It would take them an eternity to get there. They had to work out –

and quickly – how they could run on the water.

“Wot, remember when you lay on the water, how it supported your

weight?” Nott asked.

“Yes?”

“Didn’t you think it odd that you didn’t float away?”

“It never entered into my mind,” Wot replied, in all truthfulness.

“Does it matter?”

“It might.” His brow creasing, Nott pondered the implications – and

possibilities – of using his gift of perception, trying to work out how

they might do it. Several minutes later, he said excitedly, “I’ve got

it!”

“You have?”

“Yes, come on, we need skis!”

Skis were the last thing Wot had expected him to say. However,

rummaging along the shoreline, he helped him looking for some.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Wot spotted something. High

- 42 -


up, away from the banks, almost totally concealed by grass, he saw a

white painted picket. Clambering his way up the slippery banks Wot

made his way to the beckoning beacon. The fence surrounded a

small a enclosure, the purpose of which eluded him. “It’s old,” he

said, “but the palings seem sturdy enough.” Waving, he called Nott,

“I’m over here.”

“Have you found something?” Nott asked when he arrived.

“Have a look,” said Wot, presenting the fence to his friend.

“Hmm.”

“The palings!”

“I know,” Nott answered. “I was thinking, wondering how best we

might use them.” As he walked around the enclosure, touching the

old strips of wood, giving them a tug here, a tap there, Nott satisfied

himself they were up to the job. Offering a smile, he said, “They will

do.” Pointing out the six sturdiest palings, Nott told Wot to remove

them. When Wot had removed all six paling, Nott said, “Follow me.”

Standing adjacent a flat-topped rock, Nott asked for one of the

palings. Rubbing it lengthways over the top of the rock, he made one

side of the paling smooth to the touch. “I want you to do the same

with the rest of these palings,” he said. Without question, Wot set

about preparing the remaining five pieces.

With so many new and exciting ideas entering his mind, Nott was

elated. Stretching out a hand, he said, “Give me a loan of your

poncho.”

- 43 -


Handing it over, seeing Nott tearing it into thin strips, he said, “What

are you doing?”

“When you have finished with those palings,” he answered, “follow

me down to the water, then you’ll see.”

By the time Wot had finished smoothing the palings, and joined Nott

at the shoreline, he watched, mortified, as he tied two palings onto

his feet with strips of the torn poncho.

“Remember when I asked you why you didn’t drift away in the

water?” Nott asked. Wot nodded. “I think I’ve worked it out. I think

it is because the water has a skin to it. It’s this skin,” he gently poked

a finger onto the water, denting it, “that supports our weight. That is

why you stayed put. I believe this skin will enable us to run on the

water.” He poked the water, denting it again. “Is that clear?”

Poking the water, feeling the skin, Wot wondered if it was strong

enough to support their weight while running across it. “Don’t we

need speed to use skis?” he asked.

“Of course,” Nott replied. “That goes without question.”

“But how can we mange it?” he asked, totally confused as to how

they might do it.

“Have faith, old buddy, it’s all in my plan.”

Perched on his skis Nott looked incredibly fragile. However, what he

lacked in robustness he more than made up for in courage. Watching

him enter the water, Wot held his breath, thinking he might sink, or

- 44 -


at least fall over.

Balancing on his skies, Nott said, “It was easy; a piece of cake!”

Nott’s celebration, however, was short lived. Losing balance, he

toppled over into the inky black water.

Hooting with laughter, Wot slapped his sides in merriment.

“If you think you can do any better, friend, you show me how,” said

Nott, spitting out some black water.

“Okay, I’ll give it a go,” Wot answered, wiping the tears of laughter

from his eyes. Inspecting the remaining four palings he asked, “Why

do I have four?”

“That, you big lummox, is because of your size! And, believe me,

you will need them!”

Attaching the skis to his feet, Wot found it very hard going. You see,

because he had four pieces of wood, he had to attach them, side-by-

side, two to each foot. After several unsuccessful attempts trying to

do it, he had a brainwave. Turning them sideways, pointing the skis

outwards, instead of in front of him, he soon had it done. Wading

into the murky black waters, skis, he looked a right Charlie.

“You look a right berk, you really do,” Nott sniggered. However,

watching his friend enter the water, seeing it easily support his great

weight, he stopped sniggering.

Moving around in the water, the ends of the skis jutting out at an

acute angle, while his feet, bending its skin, almost disappearing

beneath it, Wot laughed at how easy it was. “I’m doing it!” he

- 45 -


whooped gleefully.

Laughing, trying to stay upright, it took the two friends several more

minutes, with as many duckings, before they managed to balance

properly upon their skis. Finally, they were ready to try running on

water.

“Now that we have mastered the genteel art of staying upright,” said

Nott, “we need to gain speed. If my assumptions are correct it will be

a lot easier than balancing.”

“I sure hope so,” said Wot.

“Me too,” he replied.

Preparing to demonstrate how he envisaged them doing it, Nott

readied himself for the off. Returning to dry land, Wot parked

himself on the beach, waiting and watching with interest.

“Are you ready?” Nott asked.

“As ready as I will ever be.”

“Here I go, then,” he said, making a crude attempt to skate upon the

murky waters. With arms outstretched, trying to stay upright, it was

an ignominious start, barely faster than walking. However, Nott

persisted and his speed gradually increased.

“You’re doing fine,” said Wot, “but you need to go a lot faster than

that.”

“I know, I know!” Nott answered. “Keep watching, I’m not finished

yet!”

- 46 -


Heading far away, to the left, Nott made ready to run. Tucking his

head in, taking a deep breath, he set off. Taking longer and longer

steps through the inky black water, his speed began to increase.

Without warning, as the drag on his skis suddenly stopped, he raced

along the water so fast he could hardly believe it. At such a speed,

crossing the water was almost effortless. ‘I like this running on water

business,’ the thought. Looking back over his shoulder, seeing the

water churning up in huge waves behind him, he sped ever faster.

Shooting past Wot in an explosion of light, colour and inky black

water, Nott hooted in satisfied laughter.

Delighted by what he had achieved, shooting back and forth along

the shoreline, Nott’s confidence grew. “This is child’s play,” he said

boldly. Changing direction, he headed towards the centre of the lake.

Giving it his all, Nott’s speed increased exponentially, and he

laughed in wild excitement.

Losing sight of his friend, Wot became worried for Nott, but when

he saw him returning, his relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief.

Ecstatic that he had managed to do it, to run on the water, Nott forgot

about where he was heading, the rapidly approaching shoreline. He

tried to slow down, to stop; he really did, but had not yet mastered

this particular art. He watched, horrified, as the shoreline got closer

and closer...

Diving for cover as his friend raced towards him as fast as a bullet,

Wot watched, gobsmacked, as Nott exited the water, shooting high

over the banks. Whoosh, he zoomed over his head, heading fast

inland, and disappeared into the distance.

- 47 -


The instant Nott left the inky black water, the power he had

generated while running upon it, diminished. Flying above the trees

and bushes, he landed ungainly, sorely, amidst the tall grasses.

Catching up, Wot found his bruised and battered friend lying amidst

the broken remains of the palings. Smiling from ear to ear, Nott said,

“Wow! That is what I call excitement! Wow!” Hearing this, Wot

laughed at the good of it. Although Nott had the wind knocked out

from his sails, the tall greases, acting as a cushion, had saved him

from serious injury. Overjoyed by the result of his first attempt to run

on the water, he wanted to tell Wot all about it.

Having other, more important things on his mind, Wot interrupted

him, saying, “Come on, we are wasting time. We have a fair lady to

rescue.” Helping Nott up, he said, “We have need of more palings.”

With that, he set off to the fenced enclosure.

“Hey, wait for me!” said Nott, running after him.

After securing some more palings, the Outlanders quickly prepared

them, and then returned to the shoreline. Although Wot’s skis were

attached sideways, they did not interfere with his attempts at running

on water. In a surprisingly short time, he too had mastered running

on water. Turning their backs to the safety of dry land, they set off

across the huge expanse of water.

Because of his unconventional ski setup, Wot found himself drifting

from side to side. Each time he got too close, Nott hollered, “Give

me space!”

- 48 -


While they were going in a straight line, their progress was almost

effortless, and they relaxed, enjoying the run. This scene of

tranquillity, however, soon ended. Ahead of them, blocking their

path, an island appeared. Spotting it first, Wot had only moments to

act, to avoid it. Veering towards Nott, he tried to warn him. “Get

away from me,” Nott griped, “lest we smash into each other!” With

only seconds to spare, Wot pulled away, barely avoiding the island.

Seeing Wot veer far away from him, Nott was extremely puzzled.

Returning his sighs forward, seeing the island coming up fast upon

him, he tried to avoid it. However, he had left it too late, far too late.

“Oh no,” he bemoaned, “here I go again!” Careering up the beach,

shooting fast through the air and over the bushes, Nott landed upon

the dark waters at the far side of the island. Running over to him,

Wot said, “That was some stunt you performed, there!”

“It was all in my plan,” Nott replied, lying dryly.

The rest of their journey across the lake was uneventful. Reaching

the far side of it, seeing the lay of the land, the two friends realised

they were entering an entirely different place…

- 49 -


- 50 -


Chapter Four

The Hairy Fuselage of the Dragonfly

Maintaining a distance out from shore, Wot and Nott tried to come to

terms with the sight before them. The washed-out appearance of the

previous landscape was resplendent in comparison to that which they

now saw.

“It’s dead,” Nott whispered.

Shocked by what was seeing, Wot said nothing.

“Apart from grimy grey, black and browns, there are no other

colours,” said Nott. “It looks as if a bushfire went through the entire

area.” It was true; all of the vegetation, trees, shrubs, bushes and

grasses looked as if something had burnt them.

“It appears so,” Wot answered. “Nevertheless, I’d wager my last

dollar that Miafra had something to do with it.” Gazing along the

shoreline, he said, “There is no one about. Come on, let’s get to dry

land, my feet are killing me.”

On dry land, the burnt-out appearance of the landscape most

certainly gave the impression that a forest fire had passed through

the area. However, on closer inspection, the burnt-out look puzzled

- 51 -


Wot. Touching, feeling the grass, he realised that although it was

incredible dry, fire had not touched it. The same thing applied to the

leaves on the trees and the bushes. “There’s hasn’t been a fire

through here,” he concluded. “Something altogether more different

has done this.”

“Do you really think Miafra had a hand in it,” Nott asked, “and if so,

why?”

“Why does any dictator do what they do?” Wot answered.

Stroking a dismally grey tree trunk, Nott said, “It’s a scorched earth

policy, that’s what it is. He must know the Orlu are on the march. He

wants to make our passage as hard as possible. He is trying to starve

us into submission. Wot, I’m scared!”

“Calm down,” he replied. “You are letting your imagination get the

better of you. It might just be a show.”

“A show?”

“Yes, to show us what he can do, if he feels so inclined.”

“Can do?”

“Yes! I think it’s a statement, a warning.”

“Is that what he’s doing, toying with us?” Nott asked.

“Perhaps.”

“It might be a game to him,” Nott continued, “but it’s not for me.

Mark my words, Wot, that man will get his comeuppance.”

Changing the subject, Wot said, “How about us looking at those

- 52 -


words again, the ones we never finished working out?”

“Yeh, that’s a good idea. They might help us.”

Opening his book, Wot began reading...

“Dragonfly, flying dragon, dragonfly. Any ideas, Nott?” he asked.

“No, I’m stumped.”

Suddenly, a familiar sound caught their attention. Looking skyward,

seeing the Dragonsaur flying above them, they gasped in fright. It

was as if the mere mention of its name had brought the creature back

into existence. Because it was so high, the Dragonsaur had not yet

spotted them. They were in with a chance, but they had to move fast,

very fast. Searching, trying to find something, anything they could

hide under, Wot and Nott tried to escape it prying eyes. Finding

nothing, they crouched low, keeping absolutely still, hoping it did

not see them.

When the creature had passed, Nott said, “That thing could return at

any moment. We must do something!”

Reading from his book, hoping to find inspiration within, Wot read

the words again,

“Dragonfly flying dragon Dragonfly.”

Pointing skyward, he said, “That thing, the Dragonsaur, was created

from a dragonfly. Perhaps, I can create a Mystical Rhyme to reverse

the process. That’s what these words mean,” he said, pounding his

book, “I am sure of it!”

Readily agreeing – anything to lessen the chances of them having

- 53 -


another face-to-face with the flying beast, Nott said, “Do it, do it!”

“Okay,” Wot answered. “Keep an eye on it, though, until I get my

thoughts together.” With that, he turned over the page of his book,

licked his pencil and began writing…

All too soon, however, the sound of large leathery wings flapping

above them signalled the return of the beast. Crouching down low,

Nott hoped to avoid its gaze.

Deep in thought, Wot never even heard it.

As the Dragonsaur flew past, Nott was so petrified it might spot him

he even held his breath, lest it might hear his breathing. ‘A second

fly-by without incident,’ he said, breathing a sigh of relief when it

had passed. Guessing it was carrying out some sort of surveillance

operation, he hoped for a similar length of time until it returned.

Oblivious to his friend’s concerns Wot continued to write into his

book. With his thought constantly drifting to the missing Kakuri, the

words came painfully slow. One thing in his favour, however, was

the fact that he already had an idea for a third verse, a fact that he

had deliberately omitted to tell Nott. You see, it was a gamble, a

gamble with no guarantee of success. Licking his pencil, crossing out

some words, replacing them with others, Wot continued to craft his

Mystical Rhyme…

Making a sooner than expected return appearance, the Dragonsaur

flew overhead without noticing anything unusual below. Breathing

sigh of relief, Nott relaxed again. “That gives us another few

minutes,” he whispered. His cosy feeling, however, was shattered

- 54 -


when the beast, turning about, began to descend.

Completely unaware of the impending danger, Wot continued with

the Mystical Rhyme. At the other end of the emotional spectrum

Nott’s heart pounded so fast, he feared it might at any moment jump

out from his chest Looking up, he watched the Dragonsaur

descending, descending. Trying to pinpoint the location of its prey,

the Dragonsaur flew ever lower. It was like a dog sniffing out a rat.

Time was again their enemy – had it finally run out for the

Outlanders?

Landing, tasting the air with its forked tongue, the beast smelt its

prey. With tongue spitting, fine-tuning their exact location, the

Dragonsaur zeroed in on the two Outlanders…

At the last possible moment, Wot stood up and began reading from

his book…

“The hand of evil made you,

It urged you on your way,

To do his bidding; evil things,

You never had a say.

What is made, can be undone,

Changed back to earlier form,

A simple insect, brown and plain,

I command it; you have been warned.”

- 55 -


Although the Dragonsaur was less than a yard from its prey, feeling

the full force of the Mystical Rhyme, it stopped dead in its tracks.

“The more I use these ‘rhymes the more they seem to gain in

strength,” said Wot, greatly impressed by the results.

“Look!” said Nott, pointing at the beast. “It’s changing!”

As the magic of the Mystical Rhyme continued, the Dragonsaur was

indeed changing. Right there, before their very eyes, it began to alter,

to change into something altogether more different. The large, strong

form, which had characterised it so much shrank, softened,

metamorphosed into the dragonfly they had first seen, descending

from the branch of the tree.

Reading the third and last verse of the Mystical Rhyme, Wot said,

“I am not yet finished with this rhyme,

You must now grow some more,

To be a help in this our task,

Fly, dragonfly, some more.”

With those words spoken, the most spectacular changes of all began;

growing, hardly noticeable at first, then faster and faster, only

stopping when the creature was standing a full ten feet in height

before them. Unlike before, however, its colour was a gleaming,

wonderfully bright translucent blue, the very same as the dragonflies

of Ogbo Island. Its wings, sparkling in the bright sunlight, shone

brilliantly. Standing silently, the giant insect awaited its orders.

Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, Wot said, “Marvellous! It worked

- 56 -


perfectly!”

Clapping his hands, whooping with joy, Nott said, “That’s fantastic,

Wot. You are becoming a regular magician, you really are. Oh, and

thanks for saving my skin back there.”

“You’re welcome,” Wot replied, just like an Orlu.

Inspecting the huge insect, Nott said, “I do have to ask you

something, though.”

“And what might that be?”

“Is it safe? And if so, what are you planning to do with it?”

“Trust me, it’s perfectly safe, and, yes, I certainly have plans for it.

We still have a long way to go. Time is of the essence. A spot of

flying might help us along.”

“Flying?”

Pointing to the insect, Wot said, “That is our means of flight.

Though, we do have a little problem.”

“And just what might that be?” Nott asked suspiciously.

“Working out the best way to sit on such a thing, of course?” he

explained, laughing.

approaching the insect, Nott said, “There’s only one way to find out

– You are sure it’s safe?”

“Yes, of course it is.”

Taking his word for it, Nott tried to work out how he might board it.

- 57 -


The insect, bending its legs, lowering its body, offered him safe

passage onto it. Well I never!” said Nott, climbing onboard. Sitting

atop the insect, behind the gossamer wings, he said, “Well, what are

you waiting for?”

“I’m coming up,” Wot replied, climbing the insect, and then sitting

behind him.

The shebang, Wot and Nott seated atop the giant insect, resembled a

First World War two-seater biplane. Unlike a biplane, however, this

instrument of flight had no controls, and its fuselage was hairy.

Looking over his shoulder, Nott asked, “How do we start this thing?”

Grinning, Wot answered, “Watch and see.” With that, he recited

some words.

Despite hearing them, Nott found the words baffling.

The insect, having no such problems, its gossamer wings bursting

into life signalled their imminent departure. For a second or two it

hovered stationary, then flew fast away in an exceptionally straight

line. In fact, the whole journey was a series of straight lines, which

caused the two friends some considerable motion sickness whenever

it changed direction, but it sure beat walking.

Flying low over a huge expanse of marshland, they left the burnt-up

landscape far behind. Their flying height, no more than twenty feet

above ground level, gave the impression they were travelling much

faster than was actually the case. Because the marshy expanse had

little to offer by way of interest, Wot and Nott relaxed, enjoying their

- 58 -


zigzag flight as best they could.

After flying for more than an hour, the insect stopped and hovered

stationary above the marsh. Yawning, the two friends wondered why

it had stopped.

“Why has it stopped?” Nott asked, yawning.

“I don’t know,” Wot answered, shrugging his shoulders.

Descending, the insect landed on the limb of a dead tree

“Shall we get off?” Nott asked.

The insect turned its head towards him as if in agreement.

“Yes, I think we should,” Wot answered.

Climbing down Wot told Nott to do likewise. When they had

climbed down from the insect, they were flabbergasted to see it take

off and fly away from them.

“What on earth is it doing?” Nott gasped, imagining the insect had

deserted them.

“It will return when it’s ready,” Wot answered. “It’s a break in the

journey, that all. Let’s enjoy it.”

“You really think so?” Nott asked, his brow creasing with suspicion.

“Let’s have a look-see, to reconnoitre the area,” Wot suggested.

After exploring the immediate area, the friends realised they had

landed on an island of good ground amidst the vast expanse of

marshy wetness. Within this island, there was a surprising variety of

- 59 -


plants and shrubs, many of them fruiting.

“Look at this,” said Wot, picking some fruit off a tree.

“That looks familiar,” Nott replied. Inspecting it, he said, “It’s a

fizzing fruit, like we had in Ogbo Island. Are there many of them?”

he asked.

“As many as you want, old mate,” Wot answered, pointing to the

tree. It was laden with fruit.

Plucking one, Nott tore off a piece at its top and began squeezing it,

directing its wonderful juice into his upturned, open mouth.

“Perhaps that old dragonfly wasn’t so bad after all,” he said, securing

another ripe fruit.

There were many other fruits on that island, also nuts and even some

vegetables, all of which received a tasting by the Outlanders. The

last item they tried, a small nondescript nut no larger than a pea,

proved the most curious. You see, what it lacked in size it more than

made up for with flavour. Inside its easily opened shell was a small,

drab looking nut. It was only when placed in the mouth did its

special uniqueness make itself known, a heavenly ambience

besotting the taster. Wot and Nott had no idea why this was so, but it

sure made them feel good.

The sound of huge, fast beating gossamer wings heralded the return

of the dragonfly. “That’s a relief,” said Nott, plucking some more

nuts, for later.

Landing on the same branch, the insect waited patiently for its

- 60 -


human cargo. When Wot and Nott had climbed aboard, it stared at

them with its large, bug eyes.

“Who would have thought,” said Nott, “an insect eyeballing me?”

After speaking to the insect, Wot told his friend to make ready for

flight. Its wings beating fast and furious, the dragonfly, rising

skyward, flew away from the island in a very straight line.

“What language was that, Wot?”

“Dragonfly, of course.”

“Are you pulling my leg?”

“No.”

Looking over his shoulder, ready to give Wot a mouthful, for jesting

so, Nott saw that he was already deep in thought. Letting it go,

resting, Nott had never felt so relaxed in his entire life. It was

marvellous.

While flying over the vast expanse of swamp no other earth islands

came into view. The insect’s flight pattern of a series of straight

lines with abrupt changes in direction caused Nott to feel

increasingly sick, especially so after eating so much fruit and the

like. Holding on tightly, he prayed that their flight soon ended.

Enjoying the rush of the wind in his face, Wot admired the

wonderful view. ‘It’s a pity,’ he thought, ‘the insect doesn’t fly any

higher. If it did, we might have been able to see Apata, ahead.’ Even

though they were unable to see Apata, they were rapidly approaching

it, and the trap lying therein...

- 61 -


The nearer they got to their destination, the more changes in course

the insect made. At first, this puzzled them, then realising it was to

avoid all areas of human habitation, they thanked the dragonfly for

having the foresight to concealing their whereabouts.

The barren, marshy land giving to green pastures, bordered by low

boundary walls signalled the end of their journey. It was in the

middle of one such pasture the insect finally set down. As it stared,

unblinking at Wot and Nott, they accepted that their flight was

indeed over. They barely got off it before the dragonfly, rising

skyward, flew away in an ever so straight line.

- 62 -


Chapter Five

A Massacre in the Forest

Abandoned by the dragonfly, standing in the wet pasture, the two

Outlanders lifted their soaking wet feet, in disgust. The pasture, a

small field surrounded by low walls, planted with a grass like crop,

fascinated them. Although the tips of these plants were yellowing,

beginning to fade and fall over, obviously due to neglect, they were

incredibly green.

“The locals haven’t been doing much farming around these parts of

late,” Wot remarked. “I suppose that’s down to our old friend

Miafra...” Watching Nott trying to keep himself dry in such muddy

conditions, he laughed.

“There is no need to laugh,” Nott barked.

“Sorry, mate,” he apologised. “Come over here, I’ll lift you out of

this water.”

Sitting atop his friend’s shoulders, Nott said, “Thanks, this is the best

way to travel.”

- 63 -


“Don’t get too comfortable,” Wot warned, recalling his traipse

through the tall grasses.

Reaching the boundary wall, Wot placed Nott upon it. These walls,

no more than a foot in height, were actually at ground level, the

pastures between them dug out, to allow the water to enter. This was

why they were so green.

Stepping onto the wall, Wot asked, “Which way is it?”

“It’s that way,” Nott answered confidently.

As they passed along a myriad of thin walkways bordering the green

pastures, Wot and Nott avoided all contact with the locals. You see,

they were still unsure as to who they could trust. Yes, they were

fighting for the same thing; freedom, but because Miafra’s influence

was so strong they erred on the side of caution.

The closer they got to Apata the more human activity the Outlanders

answers saw. Calling a halt, Nott said, “Do you think The Orlu are

anyway near?”

“They might be,” Wot answered.

“Try calling them.”

“Okay, here goes; Orlu, friends, bring us fast, two cups of water to

break our fast.”

Suddenly, a little person holding two cups of water appeared. Eying

them approvingly, he said, “Take it, the water.”

Although put out by his gruff manner, accepting the water, Wot said,

- 64 -


“Thanks. We are in a bit of a pickle.”

“You’re in a pit of a pickle?” the Orlu barked angrily. “Don’t you

know there is a war on? We haven’t got time to be running about,

fetching cups of water, willy-nilly, way out in the middle of

nowhere!” Suddenly seeing them with new eyes, his demeanour

rapidly changing, he asked, “Are you Outlanders?”

They nodded. A smile creeping onto his face, he said, “You must be

Wot and Nott! I heard so much about you! We have all heard so

much about you! Can I please shake your hands?” The Orlu was so

excited he was unable to contain himself. Whizzing about, trying to

make amends for his previous bad behaviour, he told them to sit

down. Producing a tablecloth, he laid it upon the ground. Taking the

cups, he replaced then with tall, crystal glasses, full to the brim with

icy cold water.

“He’s trying to make amends,” Wot whispered. “It’s okay, little man,

it really is,” he said, feeling sorry for the Orlu.

“It is?”

“Yes, yes,” he replied. It’s our fault. We had no business asking for

water. What is your name?”

“It’s Rurum,” he answered, bowing to them. “You arrived here

sooner than we thought. We are still amassing our numbers,” he

explained. “We are not yet ready to fight, however, we will do

anything you ask of us, anything.”

“Thanks, Rurum, it’s appreciated, it really is,” said Wot.

- 65 -


“What a strange name, Rurum,” said Nott. “How on earth did you

get it?”

“Strange?” he replied, perplexed by such a statement. “It’s a

common name here in Onisha. It means he who is pure of heart. And

my parents gave it to me, of course.” Put in his place, Nott said

nothing more on the subject.

“Can we call you again,” Wot asked, “if we have need of you?”

“Call me again? No! I am staying with you,” he insisted. “Follow

me.”

“Where to?” they asked.

“To our camp, of course,” he answered. “It’s not far from here.

Come!”

Leading the way, Rurum escorted the Outlanders deep into the forest.

The little man easily avoided the low branches. However, the same

thing was not the case for Wot and Nott, who had to slow down

considerably to avoid them. Emerging into a large, shady clearing,

they breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing so many Orlu assembled there,

they gasped in surprise. There were little people whizzing about in

all directions. Rejoining their ranks, Rurum ran about so fast he

disappeared from sight within the hubbub of activity. The Outlanders

had never seen anyone moving so fast. The commotion finally

slowing heralded the appearance of a familiar and welcome face.

“Mezu, is it really you?” they asked.

Smiling, he said, “Wot, Nott, how are you? You certainly made good

- 66 -


time.”

“We’re fine, Mezu,” they answered.

“We had some help from a dragonfly,” said Nott.

“A dragonfly?”

“Yes, I will tell you all about it, later.”

Bidding them sit, Mezu said, “I hear you are looking for help.”

“We are,” Wot answered. “Can you help us to get to Apata? We need

to make a reconnaissance mission, there.”

“This entire is Apata,” the little man informed him. “But I know

what you mean; you want to go to the Sacred Site of the Stones. And,

yes, we can bring you there, though it will have to be under the cover

of darkness. It’s far too dangerous to attempt it in daylight. Tell me

some more....”

Later, when all the talking was over, Mezu ordered a grand meal.

Entering the clearing, some Orlu placed large round table cloths on

the ground, then the feast upon them. However, Wot and Nott hardly

touched it. They had other, more important things on their minds

than food. As far as they were concerned, feasting would have to

wait until after the completion of their mission.

Feeling for them, Mezu said, “There is plenty of time before we set

off. Go rest for a while. Sleep. The journey will be hard-going; you

will need all of your strength and energy, then.”

- 67 -


“That’s a good idea,” said Nott, “I could do with some shut-eye.”

With clumps of grey moss for pillows, the two friends, laying upon

the earth for a mattress, drifted into the sweet caress of sleep.

Awakening with a start, seeing the Orlu milling about all over the

place, Wot and Nott knew something was wrong, terribly wrong.

“What’s happening?” Nott asked.

“I think the encampment is under attack,” Wot told him, trying to

make himself heard above the terrible din. Although he tried hard to

see Mezu, he found it impossible to spot him amidst the fracas.

Spotting something entering the clearing, the Outlanders’ hearts

skipped a beat, for it was a Protector, sitting proud and erect atop a

hound-horse. In no hurry, exuding an air of self-prophesised

superiority, he entered the clearing, followed closely by another and

another and another.

“How many of them are there?” Nott whispered, frightened for his

life.

“I don’t know,” Wot answered, watching them intently.

“There could be hundreds of them,” said Nott, allowing his

imagination to get the better of him.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Wot whispered. With that, they

slipped away from the clearing unnoticed.

Wot and Nott were incredibly lucky having slipped away unnoticed,

- 68 -


the Protectors, following a kill now ask questions later strategy, were

taking no captives. Herding the frightened Orlu, trapping them in

nets like so many frightened fish, they clubbed them to death. The

speed of the little people was no match for the military prowess of

the Protectors. It was a massacre. They trashed the encampment.

However, although this part of the Orlu was finished, it was one of

many. The struggle to rid Onisha of Miafra would go on.

When they had travelled far enough away from the clearing to feel

safe from pursuit, Wot and Nott stopped. Catching their breath, they

discussed what they had seen, witnessed. Although the Orlu were

defeated, it was imperative their surveillance mission went ahead.

The information they hoped to glean from it was vital if their attempt

to free Kakuri was to have any hope of success. However, without

the help of the Orlu, the always-obliging Orlu, it would be a harder

and much riskier task to achieve.

In the same way as Wot’s Mystical Rhymes were growing in

strength, Nott’s gift of insight was also increasing. He knew the way

forward, to Apata, without question. Finding out, though, about the

security set-up at the Stones was an entirely different matter. It would

have been a tall order for a group of experienced soldiers to deal

with, let alone two weary Outlanders. Determined to succeed, they

set off...

The closer they got to their destination the rougher the lay of the land

became. They wondered how the Protectors had managed to make

their way through it as far as the clearing, and with hound-horses to

boot. Suddenly, as luck would have it, they came across a track

- 69 -


hacked-out of the forest, a track large enough for a hound-horse and

rider to pass along.

“This is how they got through,” said Nott. Studying the handiwork,

he added, “An awful lot of labour was needed to do this. They must

have some extra resources!”

Miafra and his Protectors most certainly had extra resources. At that

very moment, less than a mile away at the Sacred Site of the Stones,

the entire population of Apata, a supply of forced labour, were

catering to his every need. With the population of an entire

community enslaved by him, things had taken a turn for the worse...

A twig suddenly cracked, then another. Hearing it, the Outlanders

were speechless with fright.

“Psst.”

They said nothing.

“Psst.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Nott whispered.

“I sure am,” said Wot. “Someone else must have survived the

massacre.”

“Who do you think it is?” Nott asked.

“It’s us,” a weak voice called out. Waving, calling for their

assistance, Rurum appeared from amidst the dense foliage.

“It’s Rurum,” said Nott, “with Mezu slung across his shoulder. Come

- 70 -


on Wot. They need our help.”

“Rurum, we thought you were...”

“Dead?” the little man asked.

“We thought you were all dead,” Nott admitted. “But you aren’t!

You are alive! How are you?” Turning his attention to Mezu, he said,

“Mezu looks terrible.”

“Mezu is badly injured, he needs help”

“Don’t worry, Rurum,” Wot assured him, “Mezu will get all the help

that he needs.” It was only then did they notice the blood dripping

from Rurum’s leg.

“You‘re both injured,” said Nott. Taking charge of the situation, he

said, “Wot, you take Mezu and look after him. Rurum, lie down so I

can investigate your injury.” Obeying without question, the Orlu lay

on the ground.

Positioning Mezu into a comfortable position beneath a bush, Wot

inspected his injuries.

“You have lost a great deal of blood,” said Nott, inspecting Rurum’s

wound. “You have a deep cut in your leg. How did you get it?”

“One of the Protectors did it,” he answered. “He swung his club at

me. Catching me by surprise, he impaled me on one of its spikes. He

lifted me high into the air, and then casually tossed me away, leaving

me for dead. He will pay for what he has done; they will all pay for

what they have done.” Listening to him speaking, with hate in his

voice, this change in the Orlu shocked the Outlanders.

- 71 -


Using the remains of Wot’s homemade poncho as a bandage, Nott

attended Rurum’s wound in a thorough and caring way. After making

him as comfortable as possible, he said, “You must rest up for a

while.”

Attending Mezu, Wot realised his condition posed a dilemma. Apart

from several large bruises and a few cuts, he sported no sign of any

physical injury.

“What happened to him?” Nott asked.

“I found him lying on the ground, he was barely conscious,” the Orlu

replied. “Before he passed out, though, he told me one of the

Protectors smashed him hard with his shield as he rode past. Not

content with that, the Protector returned, hound-horse and all, and

trampled him almost to death. After telling me this, he lost

consciousness. Will he be okay? He must be okay!”

“We will make him as comfortable as possible,” Wot answered. “He

needs rest. You both need to rest.”

Closing his eyes, Rurum said, “Thanks Wot. Thanks Nott.” With

that, he fell fast asleep.

“Neither Mezu nor Rurum will be anyway near well enough for

trekking through the forest tomorrow, let alone today,” Nott

whispered to Wot.

“You’re right,” Wot answered. Thinking about it, he said, “Perhaps I

can make something to carry the blighters.”

Thus, it came about; the role of the Orlu reversed, they receiving the

- 72 -


attention, and the Outlanders happy to oblige.

Chapter Six

Reconnoitring the Holy Place

Wot and Nott awoke first; there was no fry-up for breakfast, only a

couple of fizzing fruits and several of the drab nuts. Although they

had enjoyed eating the nuts, before, they gave them a miss.

“Are the Orlu awake?” Nott asked, gazing over.

“I think Rurum is,” Wot replied.

“I am,” said Rurum, butting in. Sitting up, he said, “I feel much

better after that sleep.”

“I am so happy to hear that,” Wot answered. “You still need to rest,

though; your wound will need more time than that to heal.”

“We Orlu are fast healers,” Rurum replied. Lifting his leg, unwinding

the bandage, he showed them his wound. It had almost disappeared.

Seeing this, the Outlanders were gobsmacked. “I suppose we should

have expected it,” said Nott. “The Orlu do everything fast.”

- 73 -


“You certainly look better,” said Wot, “but you still need to rest until

the mending has completely finished. As chance would have it,” he

said jokingly, “I just happen to have something that will help.”

Showing him what he had made while they were sleeping, he said,

“You can travel in this, also Mezu.”

Seeing it, Rurum was gobsmacked; staring at the contraption, an

open-topped box made of palm fronds, with some straps attached, he

was lost for words.

“What do you think?” Wot asked, holding it higher.

“That’s a very nice contraption,” the Orlu replied, eying it

uncertainly.

“How did Mezu sleep?” Wot asked, diverting the curious attention

his creation was attracting.

“He slept soundly. His breathing is regular. That is a good sign,”

Rurum answered. “But he still sleeps. That is a bad sign. He should

have recovered by now....” he said, his voice trailing off.

“Do you think he is well enough to travel, in this?” Wot asked,

tapping the box.

“If I sit next to him, and keep an eye on him, to ensure he is okay,

yes, I think we can risk it – we must risk it.”

After inserting wads of soft moss into the box, to cushion it, Wot

placed it on the ground close by the Orlu. “The moss will act as a

buffer against any bumps,” he said, helping the Orlu into it.

Remembering breakfast, he said, “Do you fancy a bit of fizzing

- 74 -


fruit?”

“Or one of these?” said Nott, showing Rurum the nuts they had

found earlier.

Seeing the nuts, Rurum asked, “Have you eaten any of those?”

“Yes, is there a problem?” Nott answered.

“There might be... How many you have eaten.”

“It was only a couple, yesterday,” Nott explained. I felt great after

eating them!” he said, remembering it vividly.

“And so you would,” said Rurum. “Those nuts are soporifics!”

“Soper – what?”

“It’s a strong tranquiliser.”

“No wonder I felt so relaxed,” Nott answered. “Shall I ditch them?”

“No, save them,” he replied. “They might come in useful.” Nott put

them into a pocket, for later.

With Mezu and Rurum tucked carefully into the box, the backpack,

the adventurers set off once again. Although they had indented to

reconnoitre the Sacred Site of the Stones by night, the situation had

changed. Time was against them, they simply had to go on and risk it

by day.

From the top of that ridge, said Rurum, many minutes later, “you

will see the Sacred Site of the Stones, below. But I warn you, many

eyes will be watching out for you.”

Sliding his arms out of the straps, carefully placing the carry box

- 75 -


onto the ground, Wot said, “Rurum, you stay here with Mezu.”

Crawling silently up the hill, the Outlanders approached the ridge.

Nearing its top, they heard noises emanating from the other side.

Tentatively peering over it, shocked by what they saw, Wot and Nott

gasped with unease. “There are many of them,” Nott whispered.

“How can we ever hope to penetrate that lot unnoticed, and pass into

the Grotto?”

“Have faith, old friend,” Wot replied, “have faith in your ability.”

The Sacred Site of the Stones actually consisted of several huge

boulders. Wot recorded their exact positions. In fact, he remembered

the position of everything he surveyed. The two largest boulders,

sitting side-by-side, at least forty feet in height, had watchful guards

perched atop them. Several others boulders of lesser size lay

scattered randomly about the area, all with vigilant eyes located atop

them. Leading into this assembly of stones was a track, which

curved, winding its way towards a small opening at the centre.

Several guards stood to attention, there.

Pointing to it, Nott said, “That is the entrance to the Grotto.”

Three ramshackle sheds to the left of the site, and an equally

ramshackle stabling area to the right caught Wot’s attention. The

stabling area, made of roughly hewn posts topped with corrugated

iron sheets, held the Protectors precious hound-horses and bales of

fodder. Two water butts, one at each end of the dilapidated structure,

sat beneath rickety down pipes. “Flimsy, very flimsy,” Wot mused.

Having seen enough, he signalled for them to withdraw, to return to

- 76 -


the Orlu.

“Well, how did you get on?” asked Rurum, the instant they returned.

“Not bad, not bad at all,” Wot answered confidently.

Nott, however, was confused; he had seen only obstacles. Changing

the subject, he asked, “How’s Mezu?”

“He awoke a few minutes ago,” Rurum told him. “He asked for

something to eat. I gave him the last fizzing fruit. Having eating it he

dozed off once again.”

After they had withdrawn down the hill, far enough away to be safe

from prying eyes and ears, Wot spoke to them. He said, “My plan is

your plan. There are some parts of it, however, that I have not yet

fully worked out... It is with these parts that I am now asking for

your input, your suggestions... Back there,” he said, pointing up the

ridge, “are people who will not hesitate to kill us. We are not that

ruthless, though…unless they force us to do it. If it is at all possible,

we must avoid any further killings. Is that agreed?”

Hearing this, the eyebrows of his audience rose. Ignoring their

reaction, Wot continued, “The track we saw leading into the Stones

goes all the way down to the Grotto, where Kakuri is held captive.

Unfortunately, there is a lot of activity, guards, in that area. We need

a diversion, something to draw their attention away from it. As it so

happens, I think I know what we can do!”

“What is it?” Nott asked impatiently.

“There is a stabling area over to one side of the Stones. It is packed

- 77 -


full of hound-horses. This might easily be set alight. Moreover, if

that were to happen the guards would have to save them. That should

offer us a chance of slipping into the grotto unnoticed.”

Soaking in his every word, Wot’s audience of two were spellbound.

“A word of caution, though,” he warned. “The guards atop the two

largest Stones will almost certainly see what we are doing, so also

might those close by the entrance. There lies a problem. Any

suggestions as to how we might overcome these?”

His audience, however, had absolutely no idea how they might do it.

“Any thoughts?” Wot asked hopefully.

Waving a hand, Rurum said, “I have an idea. Though, I don’t know

how good it is...”

“Please tell us,” said Wot.

“Well,” he began, “I was thinking about those nuts, the ones Nott

showed to me, earlier. By the way, I omitted to tell you their name.

They are sleep-sleep nuts. I think I can make use of them – to make

gas!”

“Gas?” Nott asked, quite in surprise.

“Yes, sleeping gas, that is,” he answered. “If I get it right, the gas, we

can use it to knock out the bothersome guards. Let me explain,” he

said. “These nuts are powerful, so powerful most Onishians avoid

them like the plague. You see, when they fall off the trees, they dry

quickly, incredibly quickly. It is all too easy to crush them underfoot,

into dust. This dust, if raised by the wind, can be dangerous. Its

- 78 -


effects range from mild relaxation, to sleep, all the way through to

death, for anyone unlucky enough to inhale it.”

Shocked to the core that someone who spends so much of his time

making people happy could have come up with so sinister a

suggestion, Wot and Nott were lost for words.

Eventually, Nott spoke, he said, “How do we protect ourselves from

it, the gas?”

“We will have to make masks,” the Orlu replied. “We will only need

them for a short while, a cloth mask across the mouth and nose will

suffice.”

“Okay,” said Wot, “I think we should give it a go. Can I leave it up to

you, Rurum, to do the necessary preparations?”

“Of course,” he replied.

“Take care when you prepare it, though. We don’t want any

casualties before we have even begun.”

“The gas won’t reach all the way up to the guards atop the largest

Stones,” Nott reminded him. “We will have to use the amulet when

dealing with them.”

“I was hoping to save that for later, in case of an emergency,” Wot

answered. “But you’re right. We have no other option other than

using it.”

With the plan taking shape, the time of reckoning was fast

approaching. All that remained was to fine-tune the details and

choose the right moment to strike. Finally, the right moment to strike

- 79 -


was deemed 2.30 pm, after lunch, when the heat of the day was at its

peak. The next time they crept over the ridge it would be to do

battle…

As 2.30 pm drew ever closer, all eyes focused on Mezu. Having

regained consciousness he left them in no doubt that he wanted to be

a part of the action.

“How do you really feel?” asked Rurum, erring on the side of

caution.

“I’m fine, I really am!” he replied. “I got a terrible trampling, I

realise that, but I have rested... I am well again. You can’t keep a

good Orlu down, Rurum, you know that!” Looking them straight in

the eyes, Mezu continued, “I want to get cracking, to help.”

“Alright, you can help,” said Wot, “but be careful!”

When the time had almost arrived, they went through (for the

umpteenth time) each person’s assigned duties, trying to etch them

indelibly onto their brains. The plan had to go like clockwork; there

was no room for error.

“The gas; is it ready?” Wot asked.

“Yep,” Rurum answered, proudly displaying his homemade bombs.

“How many have we got?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Where are the gas masks?”

- 80 -


“You should know, you made them,” said Nott. “There are over

there, on the ground,” he said, pointing at them.

“Thanks, Nott,” he answered, picking them up. The masks were in

fact made of the same type of fronds Wot had had used to construct

the carry box. “One for each of us,” he said, handing the masks out.

The last thing on the agenda was camouflage. Daubing their fingers

into the muddy earth, and then smearing it across their faces, they

were finally ready for action!

“Have you got the torch?” Wot asked.

“Yes,” it’s fine.” Because they had only the one lighter, they

prepared a torch they would light before they separated.

2.30pm. Time for the off. The band of four stealthily made their way

up the ridge. Keeping an eye on everyone, particularly Mezu, Wot

led the way over it, into enemy territory. The scene below was

relaxed, far different from earlier, the heat of the day doing its job

well...

- 81 -


- 82 -


Chapter Seven

Attack on the Sacred Site of the Stones

Slipping and sliding their way down the far side of the ridge, Wot,

Nott and the two Orlu reached the bottom unnoticed. After lighting

the torch with his lighter, Nott handed it to Wot. Separating, Mezu

and Wot headed for the ramshackle sheds, while Rurum and Nott

made a beeline for the dilapidated stabling area.

Crouching, hiding between the piles of fodder stacked in the stables,

Nott carelessly spooked one of the hound-horses. “Shush,” he said,

trying to calm it, “shush.”

“Are you ready, Mezu? Wot asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied.

Waving across to the others, Wot signalled for the battle to begin…

Creeping behind the first building, Mezu and Wot gathered armfuls

- 83 -


of dry kindling. Piling it against the structure, they set it alight.

Moving to the second building, they repeated the process, likewise

with the third.

On the other side, in the stabling area, offering Rurum his trusty old

lighter, Nott asked, “Are you ready, Rurum?”

“Yes,” he replied, “I am ready and willing.” With that, he whizzed

off, heading for the far end of the stables.

Whizzing around the stables, lighting the bales of straw stacked

therein, Rurum set fire to it. Panicking, the startled animals sought a

way out. The bright flames, however, spreading fast and furious,

barred their exit. Shooting up into the roof, the flames ate into the

dry timbers, warping the corrugated iron covering it. Below, the

flames, spreading fast across the straw covered floor, encircled the

hound-horses.

Hearing the commotion, the guards rushed out from their quarters.

More guards, streaming out from under the Stones, joined them

fighting the fires.

By now, the three dilapidated sheds were blazing fiercely. Seconding

their helpers, the people they had enslaved, the guards, whipping and

beating them, ordered the startled people to quench the raging fires.

Filling buckets with water, throwing it over the sparkling flames, the

people tried to quench the fires, they really did, but it was useless, it

was more than useless. The best they could hope for was to quench

the burning grasses to one side the stabling area, allowing the hound-

horses free exit.

- 84 -


High atop the largest two stones, guards stood fully alert for signs of

the intruders. Suddenly, a huge explosion erupting in one of the ram-

shackled sheds diverted their attention for a fateful few seconds. A

few seconds was plenty of time for the band of four to slip under the

Stones. Seeing their opportunity, they took it, passing silently

through the abandoned entrance.

Outside, pandemonium ensued; the roof of the stabling area having

collapsed trapped guards and hound-horses within. Men screamed.

Animals whinnied.

Inside, beneath the Sacred Site of the Stones, none of this mattered.

Except for the sound of the crackling, flaming torches, lining the

walls everything was quiet. In silence, the band of four, donning their

masks, made the gas bombs ready for detonation.

Rurum had done a thorough job when making the bombs. Having

crushed the nuts into a fine powder and mixing it with sand (for extra

weight and mass), he poured the concoction into paper bomb cases

made from pages requisitioned from Wot’s book of poems. With

bombs at the ready, Wot, Nott and the two Orlu ventured further

beneath the stones, searching for the Grotto and, ultimately, Kakuri.

“Can you hear something?” Nott asked, cocking his head over to

one side, listening.

“Hear what?” Wot asked.

“I’m not sure...” he answered. “I think it sounded like feet...”

“I will take a look-see,” said Rurum, holding a bomb at the ready, in

- 85 -


case he needed it. “Check your masks,” he warned. With that, he

whizzed off, disappearing from sight.

POP, the bomb exploded somewhere ahead of them.

Returning, Rurum said, “You were right, Nott. There was someone

there, and a big-un at that.” Removing his mask, he said, “He was

lying in wait around the corner, but I sorted him out. Come on, it’s

safe to go on.” Following him around the corner, they saw a large,

burly guard lying on the ground.

“Is he dead?” Nott asked, gingerly poking him.

“No, not at all,” the Orlu replied. “He is simply asleep. The bombs

work a treat.” Leaving the guard sleeping peacefully, the band of

four ventured further into the unknown...

As the track under the Stones led deeper and deeper, the air grew

colder and colder. The feel of the place was bad. Although the Sacred

Site of the Stones had been a holy place since the beginning of time,

because the last emperor had desecrated it, and because Miafra had

interfered with it, it felt entirely unwelcoming.

Revelling in his new role, Rurum blazed the way forward. Suddenly

stopping, signalling for silence, he said, “There is another

guard...ahead.” With a bomb in each hand, he crept stealthily

forward.

As the Orlu crept forward, he noticed a trickle of water running

alongside the path disappear into a crack in the wall. Pointing to the

crack, he gestured that was the way forward. This confused the

- 86 -


Outlanders no end. Realising what he was saying, Mezu approached

his compatriot. Talking in sign language, the Orlu hatched out a plan.

Although watching with interest, Wot and Nott had absolutely no

idea what they were saying, let alone planning.

Speaking in sign language, Mezu tried to tell the Outlanders what lay

ahead and what they needed to fix it. Wot and Nott, however, were

still none the wiser. Reaching out, trying to grab hold of the Amulet

of Oxmosis, Mezu made it patently obvious what he was after.

Slapping him hard on the wrist, Wot denied him the magical

talisman. Although taken aback that he had done such a thing, Mezu

persisted, trying to secure the amulet. Eventually realising that the

little man was not going to give up trying to get hold of the amulet,

Wot handed it to him, hoping, for all their sakes, that he knew what

he was doing. Gesturing for them to get down, Rurum and Mezu

were all action.

“They’re certainly back to the full speed,” Nott whispered to Wot. It

was true, the Orlu were whizzing about the confines of the

passageway so fast they looked as if they had been doing it their

entire lives.

Holding the Amulet of Oxmosis between them, the Orlu knelt

opposite the crack in the wall. Wondering if they had prepared a

Mystical Rhyme good enough to energise it and get the job done,

Wot saw the amulet burst into life, emitting a beam of pure light that

bore down on the crack. From where he was crouching, Wot felt the

tremendous force of the beam. As to the effect it was having on the

two little men holding the amulet, he could only guess.

- 87 -


Although engulfed by smoke and dust the Orlu stood firm as the

powerful beam continued its work. Slowly, slowly the wall began to

glow, from blue, to red, and orange to pink until it was glowing

white-hot. The huge effort required to keep the magical talisman in

place began to show on the Orlu. Sweat, beads of perspiration

trickled down their small faces, their hands quivered and shook from

the enormous strain, but still they held firm, determined to see it

through to the end. It seemed like an eternity yet lasted no more than

a few minutes, a few short minutes, which had aged the two little

Orlu by years.

Without warning, the wall made of stones exploded, shattering in a

million pieces. A piece of the wall striking him hard in the face, Nott

yelled, “Ow! That hurt!”

When the dust had settled the Outlanders surveyed the results of the

Orlu’s work. It was a scene of utter devastation. Yes, there was a hole

in the wall, so also in the ceiling and the floor. Where they had last

seen the Orlu kneeling, holding the amulet, there was a pile of

rubble. Looking into the hole blasted through the wall, they saw a

guard lying either unconscious or dead.

“We’ll worry about him, later,” said Wot, “after we have found Mezu

and Rurum.”

Tearing with their bare hands into the fallen stones, rocks and

assorted debris, the friends searched for the missing Orlu. It was hard

going, tremendously hard going, trying to dig through it. Nothing

was going to stop them, though, from finding the missing Orlu,

nothing.

- 88 -


“Wot, I can see something!” said Nott. “I can see fingers – and

they’re moving!”

Pushing him aside, Wot removed some more rock, revealing a hand

with small, wriggling fingers. “It’s Mezu!” he decreed. “I’d

recognise his ring anywhere!” Carefully extricating the Orlu from

the pile of rocky debris, they watched as his senses slowly returned.

Coughing, wiping the dust out of his eyes, Mezu asked, “How is

Rurum? Is he okay?”

“We don’t know, we haven’t yet found him,” Wot answered.

Pointing, Mezu said, “He was there, next to where I was standing.”

Digging into the debris, he said, “We’re not losing any more Orlu,

not even one!”

It took another ten minutes, a tiring ten minutes, until the sight of

another small hand became visible. Sadly, this time it was not

moving. “Get him out!” Mezu hollered. “Get him out!”

After carefully extricating him from the debris, the Outlanders

placed Rurum onto the floor. Looking, gazing dejectedly upon the

frail figure, Mezu wailed, “He’s going to die!”

Seeing the amulet sticking out from the debris, Wot placed it around

his neck. “A fat lot of good this was,” he grizzled. “I’ve a good mind

to send it back to its custodian.” Fingering the ornate metalwork, he

said, “Hmm, I wonder…”

“What?” Mezu asked, hoping for a miracle.

“I just had a thought… Perhaps we can still use this.”

- 89 -


“How on earth did you come to that conclusion?” Nott asked. “We

have already used it three times, and well you know it.”

“Perhaps,” Wot went on, “when the Orlu used it...maybe, just maybe

it had no bearing on our allotted uses of it. They didn’t use a

Mystical Rhyme to energise it, remember?”

“Mezu,” said Wot, low and serious.

“He is a good man,” cried the Orlu, “my brother-in-law....” Wiping

away the tears, he said, “Yes, what do you want?”

Almost too frightened to ask, in case he did more harm than good to

the distraught little man, Wot said, “Can I ask you about the amulet?

It is important!”

Wiping his runny nose, Mezu said, “The amulet? What about the

amulet?”

“How did you use it?”

“We used it in the same way always use amulets,” he answered. “We

can use all amulets, here in Onisha. Mind you, we have only limited

use of them. Everyone here knows that!”

The two Outlanders, however, were most definitely not everyone in

Onisha. A smile creeping onto his face, Wot said, “That means we

still have our third allotted use!”

“Yes,” said Mezu, “you do.”

“The power of the amulet,” Wot explained, “added to the right

Mystical Rhyme, might, just might save your brother-in-law.”

- 90 -


Staring incredulously at him, Mezu said, “Do you really think you

can do it, save him?”

“Yes, Mezu,” he answered. “In fact, I believe I have a very good

chance of pulling it off. If there is one thing I have learned during

my time in Onisha, it’s to believe in the impossible, for it just might

happen.”

“But, but how will you do it?” he asked.

“With some peace and quiet,” Wot answered, “for I need time to

think, to get my thoughts together.”

A few minutes later, kneeling in front Rurum’s seemingly lifeless

body, Wot held the gleaming Amulet of Oxmosis above the injure

Orlu. Reciting his Mystical Rhyme, he said,

“Unmoving body, lifeless now,

Departed Orlu from the here and now,

Spirit rejoin, return again,

Arise to life our little friend.”

Humming, the amulet burst into life. Particles of light resembling a

fine golden rain began falling from it, descending onto the Orlu’s

body beneath it. As the magical rain saturated the damaged body, his

friends watched, waited, wished and prayed that it worked, that it

saved him.

Minutes later, after the golden raindrops had ceased falling, the

sound emanating from the amulet also stopped. Returning the

- 91 -


charmed talisman around his neck, Wot studied the body lying so

still below him.

Opening an eye, looking left, right and then left again, Rurum asked,

“Why are you looking at me like that? Anyone would think you have

just seen a ghost!” They were all so happy to see him alive and well,

they burst into laughter.

“Help me up,” he said, embarrassed with all the attention he was

getting. Still laughing, Wot helped Rurum to his feet.

The laughter, however, was short-lived. Hearing something, a

gurgling sound, Nott whispered, “What’s that?” Creeping

surreptitiously towards the blasted out hole in the wall, he peered

through it, then stepped into the chamber beyond. With bombs at the

ready, Wot and the Orlu, stepping through the hole, entered the

chamber beyond.

Inside, the air was cooler, the smoke of their breath clearly visible.

Apart from the guard lying on the floor, the chamber was empty.

There was not even a door. Apart from the trickle of water

accumulating in a shallow pool at the centre, the room was devoid of

all detail.

“Where did it, that noise, originate?” Wot asked.

‘That’s odd,’ thought Nott, inspecting the trickle of water. ‘It’s

running into this recessed area, yet doesn’t overflow it.’ Stepping

into the water, accompanied by the same gurgling sound he heard

before, he promptly disappeared from sight

- 92 -


Having missed the entire episode, the others, noticing that he was

missing, wondered where he had gone. “Where is Nott?” asked

Rurum.

“He didn’t go back through the hole,” said Mezu, “I would have seen

him.”

“Then where is he?” Wot asked.

“I heard a noise,” said Mezu, “like water going down a drain.”

“Like water going a drain, you say?” said Wot, his grey cells alive

with activity. Making his way into the centre of the room, to the

recessed area, he found the trickle of water beginning to refill it.

“This was three-quarters full a minute ago,” he said. “Where did the

water go?” he asked, scratching his head. “I think there is more to

this receptacle than meets the eye,” he said, stepping into the water,

and then vanishing from sight.

“I thought you would never work it out,” Nott griped, the instant Wot

materialised alongside him.

“Where are we?” Wot asked, noticing the same trickle of water

exiting the room they were now in.

“As I see it,” Nott explained, “we are in a concealed room. I don’t

think it’s the Grotto, though. I believe this is where the last emperor

called down the powers of Darkness, don’t ask me how I know this,

Wot, I just do. I don’t like this place one bit,” he went on. “The

sooner we get out from it the better.”

Amidst a watery splash and the same gurgling sound as before, Mezu

- 93 -


and Rurum appeared. “Ah, it’s good to see you,” said Nott. “We are

now complete.”

Taking an immediate dislike to the place they found themselves in,

the Orlu said, “Let’s get out of here, and quick!”

Following the trickle of water, the band of four exited the room…

Outside, in the dimly lit passageway, the air was cold. Somewhere

ahead of them, they heard the sound of people talking. The track

underfoot was dry, shiny black rock having replaced the damp soil.

The water, the same slow trickle of water, however, continued

alongside it.

Stopping on a landing above a large open area, the band of four

gazed down. The space below, made of the same shiny black rock,

coerced the trickling water into one of its corners. Concealed by the

shadows, they watched the water flow into an opening within the

same corner.

“Is that the Grotto?” Nott asked, pointing to it.

“Could be,” Wot answered. “What do you think?” he said, asking the

Orlu.

“It must be,” they replied.

Although so incredibly close to their goal, the Grotto was still out of

reach, for, below, a number of guards and Protectors, sitting around a

table, rested. Luckily, they seemed to be unaware of the commotion

outside. That, however, could change at any moment.

- 94 -


“How many bombs do we still have?” Wot asked.

“Plenty,” Rurum replied. “I still have twenty-two of the little

beauties.”

Two Protectors stood guard at the entrance to the Grotto while

another four men, sitting on roughly made benches alongside an

equally rough table, played cards. The remaining two guards, sitting

on the bottom step of the stairs, barred the way down.

“Rurum, we need you,” said Wot. Pointing to the Grotto entrance he

said, “I want you to explode a bomb in front of each Protector

guarding it. Do you think you can do it?” Rurum nodded

enthusiastically.

With three bombs at the ready, one in each hand and the third, spare

one, slipped into a pocket, Rurum whizzed down the stairs so fast the

guards sitting on the bottom step hardly noticed him.

“Where did that breeze come from?” one of them asked.

“Dunno,” the other guard replied.

Exploding the bombs in front of the unsuspecting Protectors, Rurum

carried out his task to the letter. Inhaling the fine dust, the men fell to

the floor, unconscious.

Seeing this, Wot signalled for their attack on the guards sitting at the

bottom of the stairs to begin. Hearing them charging down, the

guards stood up, clubs at the ready. Throwing the first bomb,

watching it find its mark, Wot made ready with another. The second

guard ran up the stairs, ready to club them to death. A bomb,

- 95 -


however, striking him squarely in the chest, sent him crashing down,

asleep before he reached the bottom. Luck was with them, things

were indeed going well.

With clubs at the ready, the remaining four guards charged towards

the stairs. Lobbing a bomb at the first two, Wot smiled satisfactorily

as they collapsed, unconscious. Punching the air, whooping with

excitement, Nott lost his balance. Tumbling unceremoniously down

the stairs, he landed at the feet of the remaining two guards.

Grabbing hold of Nott, pressing a razor sharp dagger against his

throat, the first guard said, “Don’t make a move, or he gets it! Drop

everything, then walk down the stairs – AND SLOWLY.”

Dropping their bombs and gas masks, Mezu and Wot made their way

down.

From his position in the far corner, Rurum watched, horrified, to see

the deviation from their intended plan. He had to do something, and

do it quick. Luckily, the two guards giving orders so belligerently

from the base of the stairs had not yet noticed their fallen comrades

outside the Grotto entrance. This offered Rurum a chance, a small

chance of helping his comrades. Withdrawing the third bomb from

his pocket, he waited and watched...

Stepping down from the stairs, Wot and Mezu cast their eyes to the

floor, dejected.

“Get over there, dogs!” the first man ordered, pushing them

brusquely towards the wall.

- 96 -


“And you, traitor,” the other guard ordered, striking Mezu hard with

his club, almost knocking him over.

Watching this from his place of concealment, Rurum was fuming.

Tightening his grip on the third bomb, he waited and watched some

more, biding his time for the right moment to strike...

Directing their captives further into the corner, the guards pushed,

shoved and kicked them with contempt. “Turn around, dogs,” said

the first guard. “Hide your shameful faces!”

Turning round, facing the wall, seeing the rusty iron rings and even

rustier chains attached to them, Wot realised their fate; chained to the

wall with no hope of escape. “Listen,” he said, “we have no quarrel

with you.” The guard, however, striking him hard with his club,

knocked the fight out of him.

Rurum had to act – he knew it, but his friends were so close to the

guards, he hesitated. If he acted now, and threw the bomb at them, it

would overcome his friends as well as the guards. In the end, he

decided to chance it, for if he did not act, the guards would chain

them to the wall and all would be lost. Running fast across to them,

Rurum hurled his bomb at the floor. Exploding with a POP, the bomb

released its dangerous contents. Inhaling the dust, guards and friends

began to lose consciousness. Grabbing hold of his compatriot,

Rurum whisked Mezu away from the gas cloud. Returning for Nott,

Rurum tried, he really tried to help him away from the gas cloud, but

the Outlander, having inhaled too much gas, fell in a heap onto the

shiny black floor.

- 97 -


Struggling to remain conscious, Wot felt his legs buckling beneath

him. Helping him away from the gas cloud, Rurum was unable to

move the heavy Outlander more than a couple of feet. Plucking off

his mask, he gave it to Wot. This unselfish act, however, left Rurum

vulnerable to the gas. Holding his breath, Rurum sped away to clear

air.

In the corner, breathing pure air once again, the Orlu watched and

waited as the clean, filtered air entered Wot’s lungs. They also

watched the two burly guards who had somehow remained standing

throughout their ordeal. One of them, striking out with his club, tried

to secure Wot’s mask for himself. The gas, however, having done its

job excellently, finally sent him crashing to the floor, unconscious.

The remaining guard collapsed soon afterwards.

Struggling to his feet, coughing up gas, Nott said, “Thanks, Rurum,

you are a regular Superman, you really are.”

“Is everyone alright?” Rurum asked, embarrassed that he was the

centre of attention.

“Yes,” they answered. “We are all fine thanks to you.”

When the gas cloud had dissipated, they checked to ensure the

guards were still out for the count. Satisfied, they entered the Grotto

proper...

- 98 -


Chapter Eight

The Grotto

Inside the Grotto, it was surprisingly small. It was more akin to a

little room than a grotto. Surprisingly, charms and trinkets adorned it.

These objects – so many of them – differed vastly in appearance;

some made of gold, encrusted with diamonds and rubies. The aura

emitting from these was of hope. Others, however, dark and sombre

in appearance, sported little by way of decoration except for some

cryptic writing and obscure images etched into them. The aura

emitting from these was of desperation.

“Look,” said Nott, pointing, “the water…it’s coming into the

Grotto!” Moreover, he was right, the water, trickling in through the

entrance, passed under their feet, then disappeared in a corner of the

Grotto. “Aren’t grottos supposed to be where springs well up, not

disappear into?” Nott asked.

- 99 -


Studying the water, Wot said, “Hmm…you might have something

there.”

“If the water is going the wrong way,” said Nott, “would I be right in

assuming it might be due to the last emperor, or Miafra, or even them

both?”

“Go on…” said Wot.

“When this was a holy place, a force for good, not evil,” Nott

explained, “the stream welling here sent its associated goodness out

into Onisha. However, when the powers of Darkness touched it, they

altered its reason for being, reversing it, causing it to suck out the

goodness, the Light from the land. After the first emperor was

defeated, the Grotto lay forgotten, but the evil set into it remained,

waiting for someone – Miafra – to find it. That is why Miafra rose so

easily through the ranks of the Brotherhood of Mystics. Knowing of

this place, he used its Dark powers.”

“What can we do to stop him?” asked the Orlu.

“That’s a good question,” said Nott. “I think it is best, however, that

we wait until we have found Kakuri before going that rout.”

“But where is she?” they asked.

Nott, however, had no answer to that, no answer at all.

“Can I say something?” said Wot.

“Be my guest,” Nott answered, happy to be out of the limelight for a

while.

“I think she is in there.”

- 100 -


“In where?”

“In there,” Wot explained, pointing to the corner, into which the

water was flowing.

“How can she be in the corner?” Nott asked, thinking his friend was

losing some marbles of the grey matter kind.

“She is behind it,” Wot answered. “I can feel it. I don’t know why, I

don’t know how, but I am positive that Kakuri is behind it. Miafra is

evil; he thrives on the power, the forces of Darkness,” he went on.

“He wants to remove all that is good in the land – we know that.”

His audience listened, mesmerised. “At some point during his

investigation into the power of Darkness, Miafra came across this

stream. It was only ticking over, though. To use it to his full

advantage, he needed a catalyst, to speed up the process.

“A catalyst?” Nott asked.

“Yes, a catalyst. Let me continue, will you?”

“Okay, sorry.”

“Kakuri was the means, the catalyst,” said Wot. Although his

audience appeared confused, he continued. “As evil draws evil, so

also does good. Miafra placed Kakuri here, behind this wall, at the

source of the stream, the very spring that one emanated goodness

across the land, but now takes it in. He is using her goodness, her

purity – her very soul to draw all that is good out of Onisha. With her

inside, trapped within the hidden part of the Grotto, Miafra has

dramatically speeded up the entire process. Time is running out...we

must free Kakuri!”

- 101 -


Approaching the corner of the Grotto, Wot began pulling and tugging

at the heavy stones, trying to move them. The first three came away

surprisingly easy. “This is easy,” he proclaimed, putting his back into

it. Unfortunately, the further he progressed, the harder it became.

“This is no good,” he complained. “It will take all day to break

through. There must be an easier way.”

Sticking his hands into his trouser pockets, mulling it over, Wot felt

his Christmas slippers therein. Withdrawing one, he looked

affectionately at the battered article. Suddenly, in a flash of pure

inspiration it came to him. “I’ve been looking at this all wrong,” he

said, “We don’t need brute force. We need words. I should have

realised it before now.” Showing them his battered slipper, he

continued, “This slipper...it reminded me.”

“Okay, I can see by the look on your faces that you don’t understand

what I mean,” said Wot. “Nevertheless, it’s simple – it really is!

Slipper reminded me of slip. That’s it; we slip our way into the

hidden part of the Grotto. It’s as easy as that! A simple Mystical

Rhyme is all that we need. What do you think?” he asked.

“Great minds work in strange ways,” Nott answered dryly. “We have

only to create a Mystical Rhyme, and hey presto we slip into the

hidden part of Grotto?”

“Yes. Do you have any better ideas?” he asked defensively.

“Okay, do it,” said Nott. “You did ask for my opinion, though.”

Thinking fast, because at any moment the guards and Protectors,

above, might find them, Wot searched for the words for his Mystical

- 102 -


Rhyme. Tentatively raising a finger, he said,

“On our quest, we are four – and how!

Trying to restore Onisha so proud,

We must free Kakuri from her prison bonds,

Behind the Grotto, in the space beyond.”

Above, voices shouted and hollered angrily. His words faltering, Wot

continued...

“To enter into this unknown place,

Is now our plan, our saving grace,

To slip and slide right through the wall,

Where waters of life, reversed, do fall.”

Appearing at the top of the stairs, Protectors and guards rushed down

two steps at a time, heading for the Grotto entrance.

“Now would be a good time to do it,” Nott suggested.

Wot continued…

“All at once we must now leave,

This place of dark, of men’s pure greed,

Transport us to the point beyond,

Face-to-face with Kakuri, our friend.”

At the very same instant, the Protectors and guards entered the

Grotto, the magical charm burst into life, dissolving the Outlanders

and Orlu into a strange watery substance. Merging with the trickling

- 103 -


stream, Outlanders and Orlu disappeared from sight through the hole

in the wall.

It was a strange feeling, being as one with the stream. Emerging on

the far side of the wall, reforming, Wot asked, “Is everyone alright?”

“We think so,” the Orlu replied, inspecting each other.

Feverously running his fingers over his entire body, making sure that

everything was back where it should be, Nott said, “That was some

experience! I think everything is okay, though.” Remembering

Kakuri, he asked, “Where is she, huh?”

Looking around, seeing no sign of her, Wot studied the trickling

water seeping under the wall. Making its way to the centre of the

room, the water disappeared, apparently into nothingness. Puzzled

by this, Wot scratched his head, thinking about it some more. With

questioning eyes, he waved his hand back and forth above it.

“What are you doing? Nott asked, bemused at his strange behaviour.

“Can’t you see there’s nothing there?”

That argument, however, cut no ice with Wot. His grey cells,

thinking laterally, told him Kakuri was there with them. “Kakuri is

here!” he insisted, waving his hand through the still air, “But she is

veiled from view. Although we cannot see or touch her, she is here.

Listen,” he said, “Miafra has cast her away. Her life means nothing

to him.”

“If that is indeed so,” said Mezu, with an air of puzzlement, “How

can we free Kakuri if we cannot even see her?”

“We can see her,” Wot answered, “if we think sideways. Think about

- 104 -


how Onisha and Earth occupy the same space, with only one of them

being visible at a time. Though invisible, the other is still there.” Wot

continued, “If that is possible, so too is my prognosis that Kakuri is

here, with us. Miafra has altered the dimensional aspect of this

space. We have to reverse it, his spell. Only then will Kakuri be free.

We need a catalyst to bridge the gap between realities.”

“Another one?” Nott asked, then immediately regretting having said

it.

Ignoring him, Wot said, “Like the Christmas card that brought Nott

and I to Onisha, it will bring Kakuri from her hidden bondage, to

us.”

“What can we use for it, the catalyst?” Nott asked.

“Empty your pockets,” Wot answered.

Emptying his pockets, although embarrassed that his friend was

rummaging through his personal belongings, Nott remained

unusually silent.

Finding nothing of interest, Wot turned his attention to the Orlu.

After sifting his way through their meagre possessions without

finding anything of use, Wot despaired that he would ever find

something suitable. Gazing at the Christmas slipper that he was still

holding in his hand, he said, “That’s it, my slipper!” Smiling, waving

it high, he said, “These slippers have a foothold in this world – I

should have realised that. They have also been in direct contact with

Kakuri, when she wore them, larking about, while on the mountain.

It seems like an eternity ago...”

- 105 -


With the catalyst in hand, all that Wot needed to do was say the right

words. Supporting the battered object with his outstretched, open

hands, he said,

“I hold the object in this my hand,

A bridge ’twixt places within this land,

I request and plead that I might see,

The fair Kakuri then set her free,

Replace her with this object old,

And close the door in this place so cold.”

They waited and watched with baited breath, then slowly, ever so

slowly something began to happen. Instead of disappearing into

nothingness, the water, rising vertically, formed into a column.

Changing, altering, shifting, the column of water took on the form of

a person, an incredibly familiar looking person – Kakuri. Reaching

out, daring to touch her, an unseen force hurled Mezu hard against

the wall.

“Wait!” Wot warned. “Don’t touch her, not yet! It’s not finished!

Look, look at the slipper!” he said. “Kakuri and the slipper must

swop places.” Staring at the battered article Nott and the Orlu waited

for them to trade places. Slowly, progressively the slipper began to

fade. “The transformation had started,” Wot whispered.

At the same time as the slipper began to fade from sight, its weight

increased. Using both hands, supporting the fading article, Wot

struggled to support the rapidly increasing weight. Suddenly, for one

- 106 -


brief instant, slipper and fair maiden were occupying the same space.

Unable to support it for a second longer, Wot’s arms, his entire body

gave way. Landing hard on the floor, he gazed up at the face of the

stunning Kakuri. Smiling, he whispered, “You are a sight for sore

eyes, Kakuri, you really are!”

“And so say all of us,” piped in the Orlu and Nott.

Helping Kakuri to her feet, hugging her as if he might never let go,

Nott said, “It’s great to have you back, Kakuri. I am sorry, so sorry

we left you back there, alone.”

“Thanks,” she replied. “Thank you all for saving me. From the

bottom of my heart, I thank you.”

“Ah, it was nothing,” said Nott, embarrassed.

“But how did you find me?” he asked.

“It’s a long story, Kakuri,” said Wot. “We’ll tell you all about it,

later.”

Trying to shake off his embarrassment, Nott asked, “Are you

alright?”

“I’m fine,” she answered. “I don’t understand how, but from the

moment I was put away in that space, my injuries were made good.”

Gazing at the Orlu, she asked, “Who are these little ones?”

Offering his hand, Rurum said, “My name is Rurum, and I am at

your service.”

“And what about you?” she asked, studying Mezu, with interest. “I

am Mezu, Prime Orlu of Wan region,” he proudly replied. “I have

- 107 -


heard so much about you, Kakuri, and all of it good. I have so many

questions I want to ask you.”

Interrupting, Nott said, “There will be time, later, for questions. We

must get out of this place. Returning the way we came is certainly

no option, I might add.”

“Can I offer a thought?” asked Kakuri.

“Yes, of course,” he answered.

“When I was brought here, although I was groggy from the effects of

a drug they administered to calm me, I watched everything, thinking

it would help my escape if I happened to break free. Look, look over

there,” she said, pointing to the wall at the rear of the chamber. “It

has a series of cracks running through it. Perhaps we can break

through. I know it’s a long shot, but it can’t be any worse than here,

can it?”

Kakuri’s suggestion was the only choice they actually had. The

cracks in the wall were about to receive some unexpected attention…

Little hands, big hands, fat hands and thin hands, scraping

relentlessly upon the shiny black rock of the wall tried to make good

their escape from the chamber. Little by little, bit by bit, Outlanders,

Onishian and Orlu made steady progress through the ever so hard

wall. After removing a particularly large piece of stone, the band of

five peered through, to the offer of freedom via the excavated hole in

the wall. Stepping through the hole, into a dark tunnel, they picked

their steps carefully. Lighting his trusty old lighter, Nott illuminated

the way forward…

- 108 -


The ground underfoot was dry, incredibly dry. In the distance, a

chink of daylight beckoned them on...

“It’s daylight!” Rurum cried out, so happy to see it.

“Thank heavens for that,” said Nott. “But what is that smell, it’s

positively dreadful!” Their attention fixated on the speck of

brightness beckoning them on, no one answered him.

Having reached halfway along the underground tunnel, it widened

slightly, allowing them to stand erect. The inky blackness, however,

seemed to go on forever. Ears cocked, noses twitched, senses

heightened with fear, fear of the unknown, of what might be lurking,

waiting to get them somewhere within it.

Although they were approaching the beckoning light, they were,

afraid, so afraid they might never reach it. They wanted to run, as

fast as their legs might carry them, but they did not, they were too

afraid to chance such a thing. Suddenly, from out of the inky

blackness, the sound of a thousand leathery wings taking flight sent

shivers of fright down every one of their spines.

“Bats!” Kakuri cried out. “Run!”

In a frenzy of bodies, wings, dust and fear, the not so merry band of

travellers, with crazy-mad bats following closely behind, ran towards

the daylight and beyond…

Something leathery and cold brushing against him sent Wot into a

panic. Roaring, waving his arms wildly, trying to rid himself of the

offending bat, he caught hold it. The bat bit hard into his hand.

Roaring even louder, Wot flung it away. Striking the side of the

- 109 -


tunnel, the stunned bat fell to the ground where the panicking

runners trampled it underfoot.

Another bat, swooping down upon Kakuri, pecked her viciously on

the head. Withdrawing her knife, she stabbed the bothersome

creature. Mortally wounded, it fell to the ground where, like the first

one, it died a horrible death.

Rurum, however, was not so lucky. One of the creatures, catching

hold of him within its powerful claws, whisked him away. “Stop it!

Stop it!” Mezu cried out. “It’s got Rurum!”

Reaching the end of the tunnel, daylight engulfing them, the excited

cacophony of Outlanders, Onishian, Orlu and bats breathed a sigh of

relief.

“Is everyone else alright?” Wot asked, his eyes following the

renegade bat, with Rurum dangling helplessly beneath it, fly high

away.

“Yes, we’re fine,” Mezu answered for everyone. “But what about

Rurum?” he asked. “Where is it taking him?”

“Not far, I’d guess,” Wot answered, eying the nocturnal creature

intently.

“What do you mean?”

“The daylight,” Wot explained. “Bats don’t like it. They will return –

including the one that has Rurum – to the tunnel as soon as they

can.” Shifting his gaze from the offending bat, to the highflying

colony, he said, “Look, they are regrouping already. The only thing

those bats are interested in is how they can return to the darkness and

- 110 -


safety of the tunnel as quickly as possible.” The bats were beginning

to circle round…

Mezu, however, unable to see it in quite the same light, watched,

horrified, as the offending creature spirited his relation in the other

direction. “Look at it,” he cried out. “It’s flying away with him!”

Although the renegade bat was flying in the opposite direction,

cutting a slow swathe through the air, it was beginning to circle.

“Have patience,” said Wot, trying to calm him. “Rurum will be back

in our midst before you know it.” To Mezu, this was an extremely

confident statement, considering Rurum was dangling so

precariously above them.

Five minutes passed without any change to the bats circling

behaviour. Ten minutes passed, still without change. Mezu was

beside himself with worry. Suddenly, without any warning, the bats,

changing direction, headed away from them.

“They’re going the wrong way!” Mezu bemoaned. “You were

wrong, Wot, they’re flying away!” he wailed.

At first, the bats did appear to be going in the wrong direction.

However, when they had almost disappeared from sight, changing

direction again, they aimed for the tunnel they had so ungainly

exited. Flying at full speed, thousands of large, wild, leathery bats

flew en-masse towards the safety of darkness…

“Get out of their way!” Wot warned, ducking behind a rock close by

the tunnel entrance. Crouching low, setting his sights firmly on the

approaching bats, he set his plan into motion, his daring plan to

- 111 -


rescue the Orlu. He waited...

Ever closer, the flying, nocturnal mammals rushed towards the

tunnel entrance. The sound of so many large leathery wings flapping

madly, crazily, filled the still air. Funnelling into the small entrance,

every bat (with one exception) vied for safe passage through to the

darkness. They were quick, incredibly quick, passing into the tunnel

and safety. Wot, however, waited patiently, quietly, for the last one to

arrive, for the right moment to strike.

The renegade bat with Rurum still dangling beneath it, following its

comrades, headed for the cover of darkness. Wot had to be quick,

lightning quick if he was to have any hope of succeeding, rescuing

the Orlu. He would get only once chance to save Rurum, only the

one before bat and Orlu disappeared into the tunnel for good. Wiping

his sweating palms, his heart pounding, pounding, he made ready to

strike...

Springing into action, jumping high into the air, Wot grabbed hold of

the renegade bat just as it entered the tunnel. The momentum of bat

with Orlu dangling helplessly beneath it was so great, so powerful he

almost lost hold of it. However, gritting his teeth, Wot held on for

dear life. In a wild, raging fury, the creature bit hard into his hand.

Blood gushed from the wound. Wot held on, though, despite the

intense pain he held the bat tightly. Nothing would prise it from him

until the Orlu was safe, nothing.

Trying to free itself from the Outlanders tight grip the animal

struggled ever more wildly. In sheer desperation, the bat, releasing

Rurum, attacked Wot with all of its might, injuring him some more.

- 112 -


Releasing the bat, Wot flung in into the tunnel. Kneeling beside the

freed Orlu, Wot said, “It might have taken me a while to save you,

little mate, but I saved you back in the end.”

“Phew! That sure was some ride!” Rurum replied. “Thanks, you

saved my life.”

“Are you okay?” Mezu asked, running across to his brother-in-law.

“Yes, apart from a few scratches I am fine,” he replied.

Emerging from their places of hiding, Kakuri and Nott ran over to

Rurum. “It’s good to see you,” said Nott.

“It really is,” Kakuri added.

Hugging his brother-in-law, Mezu was so happy to see him after his

frightening ordeal.

Looking around, to see where they had emerged from the tunnel,

realising it was behind the Sacred Site of the Stones, Wot relaxed.

“We still have a good way to go before we get to Onisha City,” said

Nott. “That is our final destination, where Light or Darkness will

ultimately prevail,” he added grimly. “Before we set off, however,

we have some outstanding business to attend to.”

Lifting the amulet and chain off his shoulders, Wot said, “We most

certainly do.”

“We must return the Amulet of Oxmosis to its Minder, at the

Catacombs of Oguta,” said Nott.

Handing it to him, Wot asked, “But how can we do it?

- 113 -


“I don’t know,” he replied, “but we must return it, a promise is a

promise.” Accepting the talisman, he said, “I will be sad to see it go,

though. I got used to it. I thought Umahia might have contacted us

again before we gave it back...”

A Chameleon Beetle flying lazily past, spotting them, circled the

group, and then landed upon the Amulet of Oxmosis. They watched

in amazement as its appearance changed to that of an amulet.

“This is omen, a sign!” Nott proclaimed excitedly. “This is our

means of returning the amulet! With the right words from our

resident poet, the amulet, courtesy of beetle courier, will be winging

its way towards the Catacombs of Oguta.” For a second his thoughts

wandered, and then he said, “I hope its Minder is okay about the

damage it incurred, though.” All this time, while he was talking, the

Chameleon Beetle remained motionless.

Holding a finger to his lips, calling for silence, Wot said,

“Beetle with us, beetle strong, beetle changing all day long,

We ask you this, to return the charm, the Amulet of Oxmosis.

Chameleon beetle, our little friend, shifting colours, we do send,

Bring this to the man who waits, who guards its place of rest.

Do this errand, do it now, do it for Onisha, proud,

Return it now, return it NOW, with our heartfelt thanks.”

In its amulet disguise, the beetle rose from the ground, with the real

amulet dangling by its chain beneath it. After circling them twice, as

if bidding them farewell, the beetle set off in a northwesterly

- 114 -


direction.

“You’d swear that thing can understand every word we say to it,”

said Nott, watching insect and amulet disappear into the distance.

Chapter Nine

HU BA HOU

Impatient to get going, Nott said, “Onisha city is ten miles due south.” Slipping off a shoe, and then emptying a stone out from it, he said, “That’s an awful long way to walk. My feet are killing me. We really do need something to help us. Has anyone any suggestions or ideas?”

Stumped for ideas, Kakuri and Wot said no. After whispering excitedly to each other, the Orlu, however, said they had an idea, a suggestion.

“What is it?” asked Nott.

“Remember, the words?” they asked.

“The words? Which ones?”

“The ones in the line…about the hump back hound-horse,” they told him. You worked it out! You were supposed to get back to it! What if a hump backed hound-horse was supposed to be our means of travel?” they asked.

- 115 -


“Hmm, you might have something there,” he answered, a smile creeping onto his face. “Yes, that could be it,” he continued. “Do you think you can make such a creature, Wot?”

After weighing up the pros and cons of attempting such an endeavour, Wot said, “To do such a thing, I will first need a hound-horse and a humpback hound. Unfortunately we don’t have such creatures at our disposal.”

Hearing this, the faces of the two Orlu fell.

Stroking his chin, thinking about it some more, Wot said, “Wait, I have an idea. Perhaps I can call these creatures. Yes, that’s it, I will summon them!”

Hearing this, the Orlu nodded in agreement.

“This is possible, I am sure of it,” said Kakuri. “This is how my father spoke, when I was young. He told me to follow your heart in love and your instincts in all things Mystic.”

All eyes fixed upon Wot.

“Alright, I will give it a go,” he said, “but, remember, this will be the first time I have attempted such a thing. Heaven knows what will happen if anything were to go wrong.”

Happy and relieved faces watched as Wot walked over to one side where he sat down, to gather his thoughts. For several minutes, he remained silent and motionless, seeking inspiration, for the words he required for such a thing. However, after ten full minutes, he felt no more enlightened. “I am sorry,” he said. “The words have eluded me.”

On hearing this Orlu were devastated. Nott was despondent. Patting Wot on the back, Kakuri said, “You tried.”

“But I have failed,” he answered, looking deep into her eyes. “I have

- 116 -


failed miserably.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” she told him. “You are still new to this. Perhaps, it is a time for me to help, to show and to prove that I can be proficient in the old ways?”

Wot and Nott already knew Kakuri had a keen interest in the old ways, the Orlu, however, found it fascinating to hear such a thing. Unlike Wot, Kakuri sought no place of solitude to gather her thoughts; she simply closed her eyes, casting her mind back to the days of her childhood, and happier times. Soon, words, ways and memories flooded into her mind. Remembering, she understood how vital, how necessary the old ways really were. Gazing temporarily into the future, she saw the reason for being; to share this knowledge amongst her fellow Onishians. When she opened her eyes and spoke, it was with a conviction neither Orlu nor Outlanders had before seen. “I will summon the animals,” she said, “and I will do it now. Are we all agreed?” she asked. All heads nodded.

“Hump back hound and hound-horse come,

Come before us, come here now,

The daughter of Suru calls, you must come!”

Kakuri had no idea why she felt impelled to include her father’s name within her Mystical Command. Later on, however, his name was destined to be an integral part her future role in the land of Onisha. “That’s it,” she said. It’s not exactly a rhyme, though.”

Amidst a flash of white light, accompanied by an almighty thunderclap, the animals they sought dropped out of the sky. Standing nervously before them, hound-horse and humpback hound assessed their new and unexpected surroundings.

“That’s a weird looking dog!” Nott exclaimed. “Its shape is all

- 117 -


wrong!” Gawping at it, he added, “It’s more like a camel than a dog. I’ve seen better looking pigs.” Casting its gaze at upon him, the offended animal snarled viscously. Edging away, Nott his behind Wot.

“I’ve done my part,” said Kakuri, stepping away from the newly arrived animals. “It’s now up to you, Wot.”

“Thanks, Kakuri,” he replied, approaching the animals. They stared curiously at him. Extending a hand, he attempted to pat the hound-horse, to show he meant it no harm. The animal, however, drew away nervously. Undeterred, Wot whispered some calm, soothing words. Slowly, gradually the animal inched towards him, allowing him to pat it.

“One down and one to go,” Nott whispered.

Reaching towards the humpback hound, Wot pulled away fast as it barked and snarled viscously at him. To gain its trust and confidence, a different strategy was called for, one in which he required the help of his friends. Calling them closer, Wot instructed everyone to sit in a circle around both him and the dog. Although watching suspiciously the animal held its position.

“Go along with everything I do,” he told them. “Then it might, just might work.”

Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, Nott asked, “What exactly do you have in mind?”

“I want you to be the bad guys,” Wot told him. “I, on the other hand, will be the good guy. I want you to shout at this hound, and hurl abuse at it. Only one at a time, mind you. ”

“You must think we are bonkers!” Nott griped. “That thing will eat us all up if we do such a thing!”

- 118 -


“You must do it!” Wot reiterated. “It’s the only way I can think of to gain its trust!” Turning to Kakuri, he said, “Go on, Kakuri, you first.”

With absolutely no hesitation, Kakuri let rip at the hound, hurling abuse at it. “Hey dog!” she shouted. “You are such an ugly mutt! Yes, I mean you!” she continued, feigning attack. Barking viciously, the hound, dripping saliva, considered its options.

“Well-done, Kakuri,” said Wot. “Now you, Nott,”

After his first encounter with the hound, Nott was reluctant to begin. Sitting cross-legged in front of it, he stared worriedly into its face.

For the animal, however, that was more than enough provocation to raise its shackles. Letting rip with a volley of barks, snarls and ferocious growls, it sent Nott packing. Satisfied with Nott’s performance, turning his attention to Rurum, Wot, said, “Come on, little man, it’s your turn now.”

Rurum happily obliged, and for someone so small he put in a surprisingly loud performance.

Praising his efforts, Wot said, “That was good, Rurum, it really was good.”

“Now you, Mezu,” said Wot.

Giving it his all, Mezu let rip at the humpback hound until it was barking incessantly.

“Thanks, everyone, that was great,” said Wot, above the almighty sound of the offended animal. “I have one more thing to ask of you, though. After that, the hound will be ours.”

Hearing this, Nott raised a suspicious eyebrow.

Continuing, Wot said, “I want you to make one last, combined attempt to rouse it.”

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Seconds later, they hurled a barrage of shouts hisses and verbal abuse at the unsuspecting animal. When he thought it had suffered enough, Wot signalled for the barrage to stop. Speaking softly, tenderly to the confused animal, he said, “Come on, you can trust me.” The animal, however, eyed him suspiciously. Wot continued, “I’m your friend. Nobody is going to hurt you. I will make sure of that.” As he inched closer, the hound, lowering its head, growled ever so deeply. “There is no need for that,” he whispered. “We are going to be friends, best friends, you and me.” Speaking softly, reassuringly, Wot edged ever closer. Reaching out, touching the hound, he finally patted it. Seeing the animal staying calm, they all breathed a huge sighs of relief. It was plain sailing from there on. The hound, lapping up the attention bestowed upon it, wagged its tail happily.

Explaining his actions, Wot said, “I thought the good guy/bad guy routine was the best way of gaining its trust. Thank you, everyone, for such a fine performance.”

With animals at the ready, Wot said, “We must place them together, side by side. That is the reason why I had to gain the hound’s trust. Any questions?” he asked.

“Won’t the hound-horse be afraid of the hound, being so close to it?” Nott asked.

Smiling, Wot answered, “That is where you and Kakuri can help.”

“And what might that entail?” he asked, curiously concerned for his wellbeing.

“Come on, say you will help,” Kakuri urged him.

“Alright, I will do it,” he said, though harbouring some doubts as to what it might be.

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“Kakuri, I want you to hold the hound-horse,” Wot instructed. “Nott, I want you to sit atop it. Together, you should be more than capable of keeping it calm adjacent the hound.”

Taking the reins, holding it steady, Kakuri said, “Up with you, Nott.”

Climbing the hound-horse, sitting atop it, Nott watched with concern as his friend led the hound alongside. On seeing it, the hound-horse got a spot of the jitters. Holding on tightly to the reins, Kakuri kept it in position. Sitting atop, talking quietly to the panicky animal, Nott whispered, “Easy, boy, easy.”

Stepping away, bidding Kakuri to do likewise, Wot began his Mystical Rhyme:

“Two animals standing before us,

Minds and hearts beating as one,

Join them together, we ask this,

Into a new creature, standing alone.

A humpback hound-horse, we seek now,

To take us across country, so far,

To stop the madman, Miafra,

And to save Onisha, so fair.”

A mist descended, enveloping animals and their minders. Sitting atop the hound-horse Nott waited patiently for it to lift, to see if the words had worked…

Slowly, slowly the mist began to dissipate. Straining his eyes, trying to see in through it, Wot gasped quite in surprise when he saw the

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results of his effort. The words of the Mystical Rhyme had indeed created a new animal, and what a strange animal it was. The humpback hound-horse was enormous, and ugly to boot. More than ten feet in height and twenty feet in length, it was a formidable creature. Sitting atop it, his head still shrouded in mist, Nott had absolutely no idea that it was so strange.

As the mist cleared, Nott was able to see down to the ground. Seeing Kakuri standing so far below him, he said, “Hmm, that’s odd.” Trying to make himself more comfortable, he shifted position. It was only then did he realise, have any idea of the monumental changes incurred by the animal he was sitting atop Nott stared in sheer disbelief at the biggest, ugliest creature he had ever seen. “How on earth do you expect me to get down from here?” he asked. “I’ll need a ladder – and a tall one at that! You have really done it this time, Wot!”

“Stay up there, old friend,” Wot told him. “We are coming up to join you.”

“From this position I can’t do anything but that,” Nott griped, holding on tight, lest he fall off.

After a quick powwow, below, they decided a ladder was indeed called for. Offering to make one, Mezu and Rurum whizzed away at great speed, searching for the items required. Returning a few seconds later, they set about constructing the ladder. As the ladder took shape, Nott occasionally made suggestions as to how they might proceed with its construction. Accepting his advice good-heartedly, the Orlu continued to craft it

When the ladder was finished, Kakuri and Wot leaned it against the huge creature. Seeing it, the humpback hound-horse took an immediate dislike to it. Shuffling nervously from side to side, it tried to escape the worrisome article. Trying to reassure it, Nott spoke

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soothe, calming words. The creature readily listened to him. Patting its broad back, he spoke some more calming words. After that, the hump back hound-horse made no further objections to the ladder. Soon, they were all seated comfortably atop it, ready for the off.

Positioned up front, the Orlu held onto the creature’s thick, lumpy neck. Seated directly behind them, Nott used its hump as a backrest. Kakuri sat behind the hump. Wot sat behind her.

“I still can’t understand why we couldn’t summon more hound-horses, instead of creating this thingamajig,” Nott whispered backwards to Kakuri.

“Hush, it might hear you and take offence,” she scolded. “The line; the words told us to do it this way,” she said. “There must be a good reason why.”

Leaving it at that, Nott turned his attention to another, more pressing matter. “Who is going to drive this thing, anyhow?” he asked. Turning its head, gazing back at him, the creature gave him a disapproving look. “No offence intended,” he said, eyeing it worriedly.

“Kakuri, will you drive?” he asked.

“I would be honoured,” she replied, asking the Orlu to pass her the reins. Taking control of the animal, pointing it in the direction of Onisha city, she said, “Away, my friend.” With that, the largest and ugliest animal in Onisha set off for the city…

Although heading in the right direction, and resting their feet in the process, their progress was undeniably slow. A brisk walk would best describe it. Frustrated by their slow progress, Nott said, “Is this the best you can do, huh?” Turning its ugly gaze towards him, the animal let out a raw so loud it sent shivers of dread running down his spine, then rising, standing on its hind legs, it roared once again before

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setting off at full gallop.

As the speed of the ungainly creature increased so also did the bumps and jolts endured by those sitting atop it, become. Holding on for dear life, the Orlu wished they had chosen to run alongside. However, although the ride was uncomfortable, they were making good progress. As the daylight faded, their thoughts drifted to the struggle that lay ahead, the final battle between Light and Darkness.

It was on the outskirts of Onisha City when the humpback hound-horse finally slowed. Somewhere ahead, they heard people talking. Ignoring the voices, Nott said, “Can I get off? I have a terrible cramp in my leg.” No one said yes. Listening to the conversation, they were far too worried to answer.

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Chapter Ten

Kiliki and Company

Tapping Kakuri on the shoulder, Wot asked, “Is it Protectors?”

“No,” she replied, straining to listen. “They are Onishians, normal

everyday people, at least I think they are.”

Hearing this, he relaxed somewhat. Wot’s comfortable feeling,

however, came to an abrupt end, when people – and so many of

them, streaming out of the darkness, encircled their animal.

Numbering at least fifty, these people, though watching their every

move, stared with absolute incredulity at the amazing animal before

them. Armed with a variety of weapons, from pitchforks and

slingshots, to clubs with jagged pieces of glass set into them, all the

way through to lengths of timber fashioned into cudgels – even

garden spades, they both curious and deadly serious.

Watching them uncertainly, the band of five were unsure if they were

friend or foe. The motley group encircling them watched with

reciprocal thoughts. A minute passed, and then another and another;

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the stalemate seemed to go on forever. After five minutes had passed,

waiting, watching, listening, staring down one another, Nott felt like

screaming. Breaking the stalemate, he said, “Have you had a good

look, then?”

This remark took his onlookers quite by surprise. A rotund woman

with black curly hair emerged from the group. Pointing a finger at

Nott, she said, “For a small person you have great courage. I admire

that.”

“Thanks,” he answered. “I had to say something, the suspense was

killing me.”

Resting her hands on her hips, she laughed heartedly. Nott laughed

along with her. Soon, everyone had joined in, laughing merrily.

“You are alright!” said Kakuri. “You minds are your own!”

“Yes, they certainly are,” she answered. Studying them, she said,

“Am I correct in thinking you helped, you and your merry band?”

“It was mainly down to these two,” Kakuri told her, pointing to Wot

and Nott.

“My name is Kiliki,” the woman said. “I am the spokesperson for our

little group. It seems we have a common goal, the removal of

Miafra.” Studying them further, she said, “You are a strange

collection; two Outlanders, two Orlu and an Onishian woman. Word

of your tremendous efforts has spread far and wide. Come, dismount,

join us for refreshments, we have much to discuss.”

Two hound-horses emerging from out of the darkness sent the band

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of five into a panic. Their riders, however, normal everyday

Omissions, waving benignly, made it clear they were friendly.

Directing their steeds alongside the humpback hound-horse, they

invited them to step across, then onto the ground.

After shaking Kiliki’s hand, then hugging her warmly, Nott

introduced the others. In turn, Kiliki introduced her ragtag group to

them. Having done that, calling for refreshments, she bid them sit.

The Orlu initially felt awkward that she had asked them to partake in

a meal, instead of providing it. However, settling down, they

graciously accepted her offer.

During their wonderful repast, Kiliki said, “That sure is an

impressive animal you have there. What exactly is it?”

“Wot created it,” Nott proudly informed her. “It’s a cross between a

hound-horse and a humpback hound.” Seeing how interested she

was, he continued, “At full gallop, though, it’s a bit hard on the

bottom. Would you like name it?” he asked, having taken a liking to

her.

Flattered, Kiliki took a sip of water from her glass as she thought

about it. Clearing her throat, she said, “I shall call it a HU BA HOU,

that’s short for hump back hound-horse, you know.”

“That certainly has a ring to it,” Nott answered. “So be it, from now

on it’s a HU BA HOU.”

The naming of the animal thus over, it was time to talk serious.

“How are things progressing?” Wot asked. “Are the people

rebelling? Are they rising up against Miafra? Can we depend on their

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help?”

“A moment, please,” Kiliki replied, discussing it with some of her

closest acquaintances. Returning her attention to him, she said,

“Although it has been a painfully slow process, the people are

regaining their wills, their minds. Moreover, they are rebelling – but

not everyone. You still cannot know whom you can trust, not yet.

However, you can depend on us, our group of fifty-five brave men

and women. There are many other such groups scattered across

Onisha. We have some contact with them.” Gazing affectionately at

Mezu and Rurum, she said, “The Orlu are good allies. They are more

organised than we are. If a message needs to be sent, the Orlu can get

it through.”

Hearing such news of their compatriots cheered Mezu and Rurum no

end. After the terrible defeat they had suffered, doubts had been

creeping into their minds as to the future of their race. Knowing they

had regrouped, however, making the best use their abilities was

indeed good news.

“To achieve your goal of defeating Miafra, you must pass through

the Timeless Gates guarding Onisha city,” said Kiliki. “These gates,

however, are formidable; it will be no easy matter to breach them.”

“I might just have an idea,” said Wot, “how we can do it.

“How?” Nott asked.

“It’s something that’s been nagging me for a while,” he answered.

“Although hound-horses would have sufficed, the Mystical words

told us to create the HU BA HOU.”

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“And?” said Nott, wanting to hear more.

“Kiliki, when you said the HU BA HOU was an impressive animal,

it set me thinking...”

“And?” she answered, urging him on.

“I realised that it, the HU BA HOU, was the answer, the means by

which we can breach them, the Gates.” He could see how sceptical

they were, but he persisted nevertheless. “When I am finished with

this fine animal, when we are all finished with it,” he said, “the HU

BA HOU will be the biggest, strongest, meanest battering ram that

ever lived.”

Gaining access to the city, however, was only a small part of the

struggle to defeat the lunatic, Miafra. Onishians, Orlu and Outlanders

needed all the help they could get. At some point, soon, they had to

contact Umahia, to tell what they were planning.

The urgency of preparing the HU BA HOU, to make it a living,

breathing battering ram to beat all others, sent Wot’s grey cells

racing again. “Kiliki,” he said. “Although the HU BA HOU is a

formidable creature, it needs something, armour, to protect it while

breaching the gates.” Walking around it, he pointed out the most

vulnerable parts. “Clothed in armour,” he said, “HU BA HOU will

be unstoppable.” Rubbing his chin, mulling it over, he asked, “Who

can make such a thing?”

“My people can,” Kiliki confidently told him. “Though,” she said

less confidently, “it will take some considerable time to do it.”

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On hearing this, Wot’s face dropped.

Interrupting, Mezu and Rurum said, “The Orlu can do it. The Orlu

can easily do it. Creating and shaping metal is child’s play for us.”

“That’s great,” said Wot. “I will leave it up to you, so. Oh, by the

way, we still have to decide who will be riding it. Because of the

danger this will entail, a volunteer is needed.”

Having already decided that person was her, Kakuri said, “I

volunteer. I will ride it.” Knowing how dangerous it was, nobody

tried to stop her.

Kakuri organised the HU BA HOU and the breaching of the Gates.

Racing away, Mezu and Rurum set off to find the local Orlu to help

them create the armour plating for the formidable creature. Kiliki set

about getting her ragtag group ready for the off

“Nott, we must contact Umahia!” said Wot. “It’s imperative he

knows where what we are planning!”

“I bet he already does,” Nott answered. “Remember, he has ways of

doing things were can only guess at.”

Satisfied, at least for the time being, Wot concentrated on the

impending assault on the city. Explaining his plan, he said, “We must

make full use of our resources, including the Orlu for

communications. When the HU BA HOU is armoured, we will

assemble outside the Timeless Gates. The instant it breaches them,

we must enter the city, ready for anything. With the element of

surprise on our side, we have a good chance of pulling it off. No

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matter how powerful Miafra is, he cannot be everywhere at once.”

Lifting his head, gazing up at the stars, he said, “To have the best

chance of success, Nott, we must make this attack as multifaceted as

possible. This will allow us an opportunity to slip into the shadows,

unnoticed.” After thinking about it some more, speaking quietly,

softly, he said, “After that, we will be on our own; us against that

madman, Miafra. Are you okay with that, Nott?”

“Of course I am!” he answered strongly.

Continuing, Wot said, “We will carry out a covert operation to the

very centre of the city, as far as the Dome of the People and,

ultimately, Miafra. I hope Umahia will have joined us by then.”

Suggesting they have a back-up plan, in case anything happened to

go wrong, Nott said, “It doesn’t have to big, just large enough to get

out of any trouble...”

Hearing this, the suggestion that something might actually go wrong,

caused Wot to fret. He had not contemplated a setback, or even

defeat. “Another plan, you say?”

“Not a big plan,” he reiterated, “just a small one, something to help

us if we happen to need it, that’s all.”

“Another plan, you say?” Lifting a finger, a glimmer of satisfaction

creeping onto his face, he said, “I think I have just the thing.”

“What is it?”

“It is a long shot, mind you,” Wot answered.

“What is it?” Nott asked him again.

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“The dragonfly.”

“The dragonfly? What dragonfly?”

“The one we flew on, of course. I can summon it, and ask it to

remain at-the-ready, in a safe place somewhere close. Then, if we do

happen to get into a sticky situation, it can help us.”

“Hmm.” said Nott. “It’s not exactly what I had in mind, but I

suppose it will do.”

As the different strands of the plan finally came together, a feeling of

purpose and intent coalesced amongst the diverse group of allies.

With the morning soon to be upon them, rest was essential, for the

coming day was going to test their endurance to the limit. As they set

about finding a place in which to sleep, each person wondered if they

were going to survive the new day.

“Wot, have you seen Kakuri?” Nott whispered through the darkness.

“No,” he replied. “I have not seen here since she set about helping

Kiliki. Are you worried that something might have happened to

her?”

“No, not really,” he answered. “She is among friends. Go to sleep,

we have the mother of all days ahead of us.”

As the minutes ticked past, in a land poised between Light and

Darkness, a lone Onishian, standing guard with the ugliest of

creatures, the HU BA HOU, spent the night talking to it, telling it

about the wonderful things he intended to do, after the new day...

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Deep within the city, pacing his sanctum, Miafra had no time for

sleep. “I am tired of those interloping Outlanders,” he growled.

“They have interfered one time too many. They ignored my warning;

they will now pay the price.” His pace quickening, his razor-sharp

mind formulating a new way of destroying the troublesome

Outlanders, he said, “I underestimated them, I will not be so foolish

again.” Sitting on his throne, he said, “Guards, I have need of you!”

Entering the room, two guards approached Miafra. “Heed my words,

listen carefully,” he said. “You must do exactly as I say. Is that

clear?”

Nodding energetically the guards replied, “Yes, Emperor.”

“I want you to bring me half a dozen Changeling Beetles. Well, what

are you waiting for?” he bellowed. “Go, lest you feel my wrath!”

(Wot’s first attempt at naming the insects had actually been correct,

but he preferred to call them Chameleon Beetles, nevertheless).

Scampering out of the sanctum, the guards, running fast along the

corridor, wondered where they were going to find the said beetles.

“Fools, I have to contend with fools!” Miafra grumbled. “Soon, very

soon, however, I will have no use for such Neanderthals. When I

have destroyed Umahia and taken his powers, I will be invincible; I

will then need no one at all!”

Pouring out a goblet of red wine, he said, “As this wine disappears

from the goblet when I drink it, so too will the blood of my enemies,

draining from their puny bodies, disappear.” Wiping a few drops of

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wine from his mouth, and then crushing the goblet in his leather-

gloved hand, he tossed it aside. A grandfather clock in the corner of

the sanctum, ticking, marking the passage of time – or not – caught

Miafra’s attention. Approaching it, studying the hour hand screwed

onto the ledge, he said, “Time is not a constant, they say? Hah, when

I am finished that is exactly what it will be – constantly gone!”

When the guards returned, they knocked, then cautiously entered the

sanctum. Placing a large wooden box upon the floor in front of

Miafra, they presented the fruits of their labours. Inspecting the box,

caressing it with his gloved hand, he released the catch, lifted the lid

slightly, and then craftily peered under it. Watching him do this, the

guards edged nervously away from Miafra. “Are you still here?” he

asked. “Out of my sight, be gone.” Relieved, the guards exited the

sanctum.

Opening the lid fully, staring into the box, Miafra saw nothing, only

its bare interior. Unfazed, inserting a hand into it, he grabbed hold of

a beetle and removed it. Clicking loudly, the camouflaged beetle

vented its anger towards Miafra.

Paying absolutely no attention to its protestations, Miafra inspected

the beetle. The Chameleon beetle, its appearance quickly changing,

took on the appearance of a glove, the same as the one holding it.

Staring at it, Miafra said, “I, Miafra, emperor of this Summerland,

command you to go and destroy the Outlanders!” Realising the

camouflaged beetle, he watched the glove circling the room. After

getting its bearings, it exited the sanctum through an open window.

Miafra laughed satisfactorily as the glove disappeared into the night.

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Returning to the box, Miafra opened its lid for a second time, Taking

hold of another beetle, he repeated the same words as before, then

released it. Impatience getting the better of him, he opened the lid for

a third time, allowing the remaining beetles to fly out to freedom.

However, it was freedom on his terms. Commanding them, he said,

“Go; destroy the Outlanders once and for all!”

Returning to his throne, Miafra called, “GUARDS!” Two guards

entering his sanctum warily approached him. “Wine,” he ordered,

“more wine for your emperor.” One of the guards scuttled away to

secure the wine. Turning his attention to the second guard, Miafra

said, “I want music, fine music to celebrate my forthcoming victory.”

The poor man, too frightened to ask how he was supposed to provide

the music, was lost for words. Sensing the guard’s dilemma, teasing

him, Miafra said, “So, you defy me?”

“Emperor, I am confused,” the guard whispered, almost too

frightened to speak

“Confused? Confused by what?”

“The music,” he answered. “Do you want me to make it?”

“So, you are now a musician,” Miafra laughed teasingly. Toying with

him further, he said, “Make your music.” Although the guard was

petrified, complying with his emperor’s request, he began to sing.

“Sing louder,” ordered Miafra.

Singing louder, the guard sang a song of a young man’s first love, a

love so pure, so right, heaven must have made it. However, its time

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was short, the cares and worries of the world all too soon

overwhelming it. He sang, telling his emperor how the man and the

woman, separated by work, by time, drifted slowly apart until they

finally lost contact. He sang about how the passing of time had done

little to dent the love in the man’s heart for his beau.

When the guard had finished singing, Miafra beckoned him to come

closer. Obeying his emperor, he stood nervously in front of him.

“You have a heart, my friend,” said Miafra. “Is this song about you

and your beau?” he asked. The guard nodded nervously.

Just then, Miafra showed a part of him never before seen. Showing

compassion, he said, “You should always follow your dream, young

man. Do you really still love her?”

“Yes.”

“Go,” he said, pointing to the door. “Go and find her, find your true

love. Go, before it’s too late, go!”

Hardly believing his luck, the guard ran out of the sanctum with all

the speed he could muster.

Returning with a bottle of wine, the first guard was puzzled that his

comrade was gone. Knowing better than to ask what had happened to

him, he opened the bottle, pouring a fresh goblet of wine for his

emperor. Accepting it, drinking the sweet liquid, Miafra smiled,

thinking about the Chameleon beetles winging their way towards the

troublesome Outlanders...

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Chapter Eleven

Changeling Attack

When the Chameleon beetles appeared, the ever-watchful HU BA

HOU noticed them first. Roaring, it raised the alarm. Catching the

first beetle foolish enough to approach it, the HU BA HOU tore it to

shreds with its razor sharp teeth. Dripping orange blood, the hapless

insect fell to the ground quite dead.

Despite attempting to catch the remaining beetles, the HU BA HOU

was unable to get anyway near them. The beetles having learned a

valuable lesson from their fallen comrade remained tantalising close

yet out of reach.

“They are only Changeling Beetles,” a naive person called out.

Another one said, “It’s a false alarm! The HU BA HOU has cried

wolf.” This however was a mistake, a big mistake...

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Landing on the back of a young man, the first beetle, putting its

powerful mandibles to immediate use, opened his skin, pumping

poison deep into his veins. With a blood-curdling scream, the man

fell to the ground, dead before he touched it. Realising the beetles

had somehow changed from the harmless insects they were,

Outlanders and Onishians reassessed the situation.

“Don’t let them get any way near you,” Nott warned.

Hovering above, circling, one of the beetles, selecting its next victim,

made a beeline for Wot. Ducking, he managed to evade it. Grabbing

hold of a branch, fighting back, he lunged at it. The beetle, however,

easily evaded the branch. Circling Wot several times, the beetle

made him feel so dizzy, trying to keep up with it. Suddenly aiming

for Wot, it landed square on his back. Its razor sharp mandibles,

cutting his skin open, began to make a deadly incision.

Grabbing hold of the branch, Nott beat the fat insect with all his

might. The beetle, exploding thick orange slime, breathed its last.

“Thanks,” said Wot, “I owe you one.”

Winking affably, Nott answered. “They won’t get you that easily, old

buddy.”

Spotting two beetles fast approaching Wot and Nott, Kakuri hollered,

“Watch out!” Her warning, however, came too late. The deadly

insects landed on them.

Dashing across, wrenching the first beetle from Wot’s back, Kakuri

crushed it underfoot. Turning her attention to the second one on Nott,

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she lunged at it with her knife. The beetle, however, abandoning him,

flew at Kakuri. Jumping aside, she managed to evade the deadly

insect. Returning, the beetle intended to teach Kakuri a lesson, a

deadly lesson. Although she was well able to avoid the troublesome

creature, Kakuri was no match for its stamina, its uncanny ability to

keep on going. As she began to tire, Kakuri wondered if this was

how it was going to end for her, death by beetle. Then it struck her, a

thought. ‘What if I played dead? I might fool it long enough to gain

the element of surprise.’ It was a gamble, a long shot, but she had to

take it, for there were no other options left.

Dropping hard to the ground Kakuri lay on her back, motionless, as

if she was dead. Seeing this, having no idea what she was doing, Wot

and Nott gasped in shock. The beetle, hovering hesitantly above her,

uncertain as to what it should do next, stalled. Seizing her

opportunity, Kakuri thrust her knife up and into the beetle’s belly.

Mortally wounded, the beetle, oozing thick orange slime, fell to the

ground quite dead. Wiping the slime off her knife, Kakuri poked the

insect with it to make sure it was dead.

There were now only two Chameleon beetles left. Although some of

the Onishians were distracting them, the beetles were after the

Outlanders. “We must destroy them,” said Nott. “But it gets harder

and harder to do it.”

“We must follow Kakuri’s example,” Wot answered, “and catch them

off-guard.”

“That’s easier said than done.” Nott griped.

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“If we could kill them both at the same...” Wot mused.

“What if,” Nott suggested, “I was use my lighter?”

“Your lighter?”

“Yes,” he answered, showing it to him. “Do you remember,” he

asked, “when you materialised those animals?”

“I do. What about it?”

“Do you think you could materialise a bunch of dry grass, or hay?”

“I don’t see why not.” Wot answered.

“When you have done that,” Nott explained, “I will get under it,

waiting for the beetles to find me. With the help of my trusty old

lighter,” he said, patting it, “I think I can finish them off.”

“It’s an ambush,” said Wot.

“Yes,” Nott answered. “At the last possible moment, I will set fire to

the grass, then, WHOOSH, the whole caboodle, beetles and all, will

go up in flames.”

“It’s a good idea,” said Wot, “but it’s far too dangerous to try it

alone. If anything were to go wrong, you would end up either burnt

to a crisp or as dead as a Dodo. We will do it together,” he insisted.

Bidding Nott to sit down, Wot asked, “Is your lighter ready?”

“Yep, its fine.”

“Good. Give me a moment, for I need to find the words.” The words

came quickly to Wot. When he was ready, crouching down low next

to his friend, he said,

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“Grasses, need we,

Hay and sward,

Dry for tinder,

Instead of sword,

To light a fire,

To maim and kill,

Destroying Chameleons,

And Miafra’s will.”

From out of the night sky, an entire haystack, falling to earth, struck

the hard ground (and the two Outlanders) then burst apart. Coughing,

spluttering, spitting out hay, the Outlanders fought their way out

from the haystack.

Later, jumping up and down, trying to catch the beetles’ attention,

Wot shouted, “Hey! We are over here! Yes, I mean you!” Having

caught their attention, he joined Nott under the haystack. “Are you

ready?” he asked.

Pressing the mechanism of his lighter, to have flame at the ready,

Nott was horrified when it failed to ignite. “Oh no!” he cried out.

“Not now!”

“What’s wrong?” Wot asked, eying the approaching insects, with

concern.

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“It won’t work!” he told him.

“It won’t work?”

“No!”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t know. It’s never failed me before!”

“Try it again!” Wot insisted.

“I am,” he answered, trying yet again to ignite it.

The beetles, clearly visible through the mound of hay, were flying

closer and closer. Beads of perspiration trickling down his worried

brow, Nott he tried desperately to ignite the wick atop his lighter. At

the last moment, as the deadly insects landed upon the haystack, it

emitted a spark. “Almost there,” Nott whispered, stroking the

mechanism another time. A small flame perched precariously atop

the wick. “Burn brightly,” he whispered, offering it the hay. “When

the hay was burning nicely, he said, “Let’s get the hell out of here,

Wot.”

Exiting the haystack, the Outlanders scrambled to safety. The

Chameleon beetles, however, were an entirely different affair. As a

circular wall of flames erupted from out of the haystack, it trapped

them within. In a desperate bid to escape the flames, the insects took

off, hovering uncertainly above them. However, the flames, growing

larger and higher by the second, consumed them.

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Daybreak; the day of reckoning had finally arrived.

“My troop is just about ready,” said Kiliki to Wot.

“Excellent,” he answered.

Joining them, Mezu and Rurum plus many other, recently arrived

Orlu said they too were ready for the off.

Behind the scenes, some of the Orlu were engaged in the activity

they were most comfortable with – preparing a hearty meal,

breakfast. The wonderful aroma drifted around the encampment.

Mouths watered, stomachs growled. Smelling the wonderful aroma,

Wot said, “I am so hungry I could eat a horse.”

“Me too,” replied Nott, his stomach growling like a HU BA HOU.

Appearing from the undergrowth, the Orlu whizzed around the

clearing, laying out breakfast on tablecloths spread neatly upon the

ground. “Well, what are you waiting for?” one of them asked. “Tuck

in, it’s good.” Hearing that, everyone sat, tucking into the fine meal.

Tapping the side of her glass with a spoon, to get everyone’s

attention, Kiliki said, “Let us remember our fallen comrades, those

who were crushed by Miafra. Let this meal be a celebration of the

life they gave, and the life they wanted.” Standing, with mugs, cups

and glasses raised, everyone drank heartedly to the memory of their

fallen compatriots, and success. Having done that, they returned to

their wonderful repast.

Finishing his meal, Wot let out a burp. “Sorry,” he said, embarrassed.

“I don’t think you enjoyed that,” Nott wryly remarked.

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“Are you joking?” Wot answered. “It was fantastic!” Spotting

Kakuri, calling her over, he said, “How is the armour plating coming

along?”

“Thanks to the newly arrived Orlu,” she told him, “it’s almost

finished. They can sure work fast. Do you want to have a look-see?

They are putting it on him.”

“I would love to,” he replied, following her to a concealed area

shrouded by greenery. Pushing his way through the bushes, he

gasped, in awe, at the scene before him. Clad in sheets of shiny

bright metal, the HU BA HOU stood proudly in the early morning

sun. Whizzing around the huge animal, the Orlu, adjusting here and

fine-tuning there, ensured the armour was a perfect fit.

“It appears to be accepting the armour in good heart,” said Wot.

“It is now,” Kakuri answered. “When they started putting it on,

though, he got a bit hot under the collar.” She patted a leg of the

magnificently odd creature. Continuing, she said, “You know, if it’s

said in the right way, most animals in Onisha understand what’s said

to them.”

“I have begun to realise that,” Wot replied. “I had better bet back to

the others. Are you coming?”

“No, I want to spend some time with the HU BA HOU,” she told

him. “I want to be sure it fully understands everything I say to it. The

HU BA HOU must completely trust me before we set off. We must

be as one. Go; I will see you later.”

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“Okay,” he replied. “See you later.” Retracing his steps, Wot found

Nott deep in conversation with Kiliki.

Seeing him, Nott said, “Sit down and join us Wot. Kiliki was just

telling me she is worried for the day. I told her not to be worried, that

everything will be fine. I told her about your gift, the way you have

with words, and the enormous help your Mystical rhymes have been.

“He’s right, Kiliki, I do have a way with words,” Wot answered.

“However, you are absolutely right, showing concern,” he went on.

“Miafra is powerful; we have no idea what he has planned for us.”

If Wot intended to instil confidence into Kiliki, he failed abysmally.

However, he did make it abundantly clear they had to focus entirely

upon what they were going to do, taking nothing for granted.

Thanking him for the advice, Kiliki set about assembling her troop

for the off…

TO BE CONTINUD

Wot, Nott, Kakuri and the HU BA HOU

Part Four: The Face of Their Enemy

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That’s it for now, all the best from the crazymad writer.


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Wot, Nott, Kakuri and the HU BA HOU: Part Three - The Changeling Attack

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Transcript of Wot, Nott, Kakuri and the HU BA HOU: Part Three - The Changeling Attack