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

Wot, Nott, Kakuri and the Hu Ba Hou

  Part One: The Fabled Crest

  Gerrard Wilson

  Copyright 2015 by Gerrard Wilson

  Wot, Nott, Kakuri and the HU BA HOU. Part One: The Fabled Crest

  Intro

  Prologue

  Chapter One - A Knock on the Door

  Chapter Two - Cereal That Tastes of Sawdust

  Chapter Three - Umahia

  Chapter Four - The Tree of Knowledge

  Chapter Five - The Old Boat

  Chapter Six - An Unexpected Guest

  Chapter Seven - The Fabled Crest

  Chapter Eight - The Catacombs of Oguta

  Chapter Nine - Cunning Disguises

  Intro

  We were not boy wizards, vampire’s assistants or even living skeletons, we were normal everyday people living normal everyday lives, with no inkling of the tremendous events that were about to unfold.

  Our adventure began with the arrival of a peculiarly small Christmas card, which sent us hurtling to the mystical land of Onisha, where Umahia, the Grand Mystic, asked for our help. He told us that he needed our help to fight, stop and ultimately defeat ‘Miafra, the evil,’ the mystic who had stolen his powers, the seasons, free will and all time. Umahia told us that we had powers, powers that up until then we had no inkling we possessed, which might, just might help us to defeat the evil man…

  We had no idea, no inkling whatsoever, that we were going to be attacked by Protectors atop Hound-Horses, fight a statue hell-bent on killing us, be betrayed in our sleep, and be forced to fight a dangerous beast called a Dragonsaur. No, we had no idea at all. If we had, we might have chosen not to heed Umahia’s call, leaving the land of Onisha - and the Earth - exposed to untold dangers…

  Prologue

  Rioghbhardan and Fikri

  Hello, my name is Nott and my best friend is Wot. We have been friends as far back as we can remember; we live on the same street, went to the same school and shared most all our childhood experiences together, we are and always have been the very best of friends. As adults, we spend most of our free time together, and could never envisage it being any other way.

  My name, my real name is actually Fikri, and Wot’s is Rioghbhardan. Neither of us ever liked these, given, names, and from an early age, we would play happily for hours on end, trying to choose new ones. Despite spending so much time in this preoccupation, we found it difficult to choose alternatives, names we felt more suited to. Begrudgingly, we accepted them, until one sunny summer’s afternoon when we got a bit giddy, playing, thinking about possible new ones. Acting ‘the cod,’ singing in unison, we said, “What’s in a name? I do not know! It’s not our aim to go on so, trying to find what’s best or not – what must be resolved, or not.” With those words still ringing in our ears, we suddenly stopped singing.

  “That’s it!” Rioghbhardan cried out. “From now on we shall be called What and Not!”

  I immediately agreed, though I changed the spelling slightly, proclaiming, “From now on we are WOT and NOTT, and that’s that.” Little did we realise these names were to remain with us throughout our childhood and well into our adult lives.

  As we grew older, we did not drift apart as so many childhood friends tend to do, if anything we actually grew closer. This does not mean we always got on well. Quite often, we would appear, to those watching us, more akin to enemies than friends. The reason for this is that we are entirely different people. Wot is a laid-back type of individual who will not be rushed into a quicker rate of knots than he is comfortable with – he gets the job done, but on his terms. This trait can sometimes drive me bonkers, because I have a quick mind with an uncanny ability (or so I am told) to work things out. I want to get things done as soon as is humanly possible and cannot understand why anyone would have any other way of behaving. This difference in personalities has always ensured that life is far from dull for the two of us.

  Physically speaking, Wot is a larger than life individual, whose favourite colours are earthy browns and greens; his clothes definitely reflect this taste. He always wears flared, cord trousers, whether they are in fashion or not, and a casual, polo neck shirt. Despite prematurely greying, Wot’s short-cropped hair compliments rather than takes from his appearance, but a series of loose wrinkles running horizontally across the back of his head, quite unique to him, have to be seen up close and personal, to appreciate their uniqueness.

  I am just over half Wot’s height, of a thin build, with black hair and moustache. My preferred items of apparel are a crisp blue suit, white shirt, black tie and my old trilby hat that I would never be seen anywhere without.

  …We were two friends living normal everyday lives with no inkling of the tremendous events that were about to unfold...