“Large cattle herd spotted in the North. Veldkornet Pietje has assigned another pair of riders to confirm the report,” The man riding abreast of his wagon hollered.
Jan nodded, and the servant guiding the ox along gestured towards the rider, who galloped away.
It reminded him of the old World of Warships when playing as an Aircraft Carrier. He had to dispatch planes to scout the areas around him, except, the riders were the scouts. Veldkornet Pietje managed the riders, sending information from time to time. But the information wasn’t entirely accurate. If this was a video game, then the information would be objectively accurate.
However, the information he received is given by other humans, who cannot give objective information. A blurry image in the far horizon could be said to be a mountain or a hill. As Carl Von Clausewitz put it,
“War is the realm of uncertainty; three-quarters of the factors on which action in war is based are wrapped in a fog of greater or lesser uncertainty. A sensitive and discriminating judgment is called for; a skilled intelligence to scent out the truth.”
Luckily, Pietje also did not take the reports at face value and dispatched riders to confirm the sight. Soon enough, a rider rode abreast to his wagon that was slowly pulled by the ox.
“False alarm. The rider mistook the trees as cattle!” The rider hollered.
Jan signalled to the Xhosa servant, who gestured at the rider on his behalf. The rider galloped away.
If there was such a large herd of cattle, then wouldn’t there be a fearsome tribe herding that cattle? Much of the area they trekked was depopulated by Shaka Zulu’s conquest. The natives called it Mfecane. It gave the Boers much land to settle on, but the natives were still there, so the two fought over the limited resource pools in certain regions.
Anyway, the riders gave many false alarms since they were still mainly in Boer territory. Various ranches and townships were spread out as they left from Pietermaritzburg to Howick.
Howick had little settlement, as most chose to settle nearby Pietermaritzburg. A few enterprising Boers settled the area, and merchants were selling their goods to the constant passing of wagons heading to Pretorius’ district.
Howick was a simple town, with a large lake filled with freshwater. The Elfrican wildlife made their lake their home, and it was lush with the flora and fauna. The flamingo stood on top of the waters, staring at the humans watching them.
They took a break here, letting the horses and ox rest. Pietje organised the men together to view the Howick falls. A large body of water gushed over the cliffs straight into the pool at the bottom. Many men were overtaken by the stream of water while trying to cross the river above the falls.
The constant falling of water was therapeutic, and Jan stood there, closing his to listen to the waters crashing down below. The men scampered around and they met with a Zulu sangoma. The elf’s strange headdress had the men back off and reach for their muskets. But the Zulu raised its hands in peace, having no wish to fight. The commotion roused Jan from his contemplation, and he opened his eyes to see the Zulu newcomer.
“Ahh… the Boer who set up shop by the bay area. You match the description given by Nokuthula. The least Boer of the Boers,” The sangoma spoke in Elfrikaans, although it was hard to understand him due to the sound of the falls obscuring much noise.
“What are you here for?”
“KwaNogqaza, Place of the Tall One. It is not a place you Boers ought to be. Those who think that they are above nature will fall into this place. It is a dangerous one if you’re not a sangoma.”
Jan frowned.
“Tell me what is this sangoma you speak.”
“The Boers would call us Shaman or medicine men. But I must warn you, our medicine has adverse effects on humans. Your last resort would be coming to us to seek aid.”
Jan waved his hands to the falls before him.
“What’s so special about this land? That you must come all the way here. The falls are beautiful, but what else?”
“Inkanyamba slumbers in the pool. No man makes it out alive of the pool once they enter the pool. Inkanyamba is a giant serpent with the head of an equine. It is not to be trifled with. If it rouses, great storms will befall the land.”
Jan took some time to imagine a snake with a horse head. The mere concept was foreign that his mind went blank. The best way he could visualise it was chopping off the heads of a horse and a snake, and swapping their heads from their respective body parts.
“Have you seen Inkanyamba?”
The sangoma wisely nodded, but said nothing, keeping his lips sealed.
Any of his men walking near the pool immediately backed off once they heard the tale from the Zulu. Any thoughts of playing in there also disappeared. This was a magical land, Inkanyamba might exist. If this was the old magicless world, he would take the Zulu’s words with a giant grain of salt. Then again, some believe the Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot or a Megalodon still exists even if the odds are zero.
That brought up the second question. Could Inkanyamba be weaponized? His head might be big, as big as Napoleon’s upon thinking such a thought. A mere human using such a creature as a weapon would be ludicrous to the sane. Those storms are nifty, even if excessive rain would prevent the Boers from relying too much on their firearms. Then they will have to fight in melee, and the elves will win from such a conflict. Yet, if there were any ships landing troops, it was a sure way to get them wrecked.
“Does Inkanyamba accept any favours asked of it?”
The Zulu shook his head.
“Inkanyamba might wish to do so. But it is temperamental, it will not listen to the wishes or wills of beings like us. All we can do is offer prayers and hope for the best.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“How will you know if Inkanyamba acts?”
“Our ancestors would appear in our dreams and tell us not directly most of the time. But we will know, and I will interpret their message and pass them to others.”
Jan closed his eyes and felt the passing breeze. Opening them, the elf left the Boers alone and went to conduct his prayers. The Boers looked towards him, wondering what they should do next. Should they harass the elf or leave him alone? He returned a glare asking them what they were looking at him for, and marched off leaving the elf be.
No matter how tempting the supernatural was, he rather stick to the comprehensible real world. And the Boer farmers thought likewise and followed him.
There was nothing much to see other than zebra or wildebeest grazing by the river. They grazed by the far end, far away from human habitation. The men did some hunting, trying to gun some of these animals down, and successfully shot down a zebra. The rest fled away. And that’s when the second group open fired on the runners, bringing down another.
A Boer leaned by the Zebra and stuck a pose, grasping the Zebra’s head. A man snorted and did the same on the second zebra.
“You all look like idiots. Haven’t your mothers told you not to play with your food?” Pietje commented and shoved those men off the zebra. He and his men began carving it up. Zebra steak was on the menu for tonight.
As the men trekked, the Drakensberg mountains were always in sight on the horizon. South Elfrica contains steep slopes that surround the central plateau that faces downward in the direction of the oceans. The Eastern side is known as the Drakensberg mountains, and it marked the boundary between the Free States and the Natal region.
The Dutch settlers during the VOC era were amazed by the heights. And they gave it the name Dragon’s Mountains, for it seemed the mountains could have contained dragons. Some men missing during the ascent, which further enflamed such rumours. These ideas were not shared by the local natives, however. The highest point is known as Ukhhlamba in Zulu, whilst it is known as Maluti in Sotho. It means, Barrier of up-pointed spears. The rugged appearances of the mountains, with steep-sided blocks and pinnacles, gave rise to that name.
But when one swivels their head in the direction of the Free States, the mountains became softer and rounder. An ascent was not as harsh. It was difficult to drive up a mountain, now imagine making a wagon go up.
Fortunately, they are heading in the Transvaal region, so they trekked forwards, keeping the mountain in sight. The great escarpment guided them, for as long as it stayed in their sights, they would not be lost.
They stopped by another town. Most of the sites they passed through were settled by numerous Boers and their Commandoes. After all, most families had to pass through the same route on the Great Trek. Some decided to settle where they were, where the land was plenty, further away from Pretorius’ land, where the first farmers snatched up most of the land.
Mooirivier, as the Duch called it, or pretty river. Its name was deserving, for, unlike the rough rivers that trekkers usually had to ford, the Mooirivier was calm and peaceful, letting trekkers easily ford it. And with the water body so close by, multiple farmers saw it as a great opportunity to claim the verdant lush fields. It was full of grass for their cattle.
The Zulus called it Mpofana, ‘young eland’. And like the name, lots of eland antelopes could be found grazing nearby. Up ahead by the Zulu frontier, they could see merchants bringing over cattle to trade with the nearby farmers. None of the farmers did seem alarmed by their presence. There was nothing to fear, trade was desired by both species after all. Worst case scenario, there was always Pretorius down the road to back them up.
A Dutch Church makes its presence known. It seemed Sarel and his followers had constructed one. Most of the men, deeply religious, made their way inside and spent some time conducting prayers. Not wanting to be left around, Jan followed them.
“Hello, sir. How can we help you?” The angel on the other end spoke up.
“Tell me about Inkanyamba.”
The furious clicks and typing of the keyboard could be heard from the other end. Grumbles could be heard about how little information they had was heard on the other end. There was also the sound of commotion from others on the other side. Could it be, that it was a giant call centre on the other end?
“I have very little on file. It is not within our jurisdiction. My advice is to ask a Zulu sangoma if you wish to find out more.”
Jan frowned.
“Alright then, let me ask, there are many Christian dominations in this world. Do you serve all of them, or are you the Dutch Protestant branch?”
“How do I explain to your technologically backward heads? Hmm…” Whoever on the other side of the line mumbled out loud. He was pretty sure whoever was on the other side was no angel at this point.
“Well yes, we do serve all faiths. We serve specifically the Dutch Protestant branch. I was transferred over to this branch when I heard some human nailed some paper on a door in Europe. Most of us were. You won’t be able to understand what I’m saying, so be satisfied that I’m giving you an answer at least.”
“Then tell me. What are you exactly? Are you aliens? Call centres. Keyboards. Mouses clicks. It sounds exactly like a call centre. I know cultivators exist in this world, so are you all in another realm?”
Silence greeted him from the other side.
Click.
No response.
It would be interesting if they were cultivators. Some of them in the Chinese novels powered up through faith, it would not be surprising they made use of this to power themselves in other realms. Still, so many questions, and no answers.
Another town in the Natal Midlands, Estcourt. Located on the confluence of the Bushmans and Little Bushmans River, humans could be seen with what seemed to be Khoikhoi servants. Their skins weren’t too dark, nor were they too light. The sound of clicks they used to communicate with one another as they herded the cattle for their Boer masters. Cattle grazed on hills. There were a lot of them. If he was the chief of an elven tribe, he would be tempted to raid them for their cattle.
Pietje acted as a tour guide of sorts, and the men followed behind him as he brought them to a cave. Other Boers were in there, looking at the walls. Rock art was depicted on the walls. Humanoid creatures, which were more stick than man, grouped on the wall. As they strolled past the wall, non-elves could be seen. Elves hunting, elf-animal hybrids.
“I don’t know much about those strange elf-animal hybrids. But an Englishman told me in Natal that it was likely one of their medicine men.”
“Who made this?” The Boer asked in Elfrikaans.
“San. You won’t see any of them here now. Shaka got rid of them all. I don’t know how old it is, at least decades old at this point,” Pietje shrugged and they spent some time admiring the art.
Although most can’t read or write, art is universal. And they could appreciate it. But like schoolchildren sent to an art museum, they quickly got bored and left.
“They have so much cattle here… I am so tempted to steal them,” A Boer remarked.
“You stupid? If it was elves then who cares. But these are men like us. I’m going to laugh if you get shot while trying to steal.”
All these numerous towns on the way were fallback points that Jan made in his mind. They haven’t yet reached Transvaal and were still in Natal, so they were relatively safe. But he kept them in mind in case of an elven ambush. Other Boers passed through the roads, and their relations with the natives were questionable at best. One bad incident and they may mark every Boer as the enemy.
Lastly, after a couple of days, they were on the outskirts of Natal, a small town known as Van Reenen. Named after the first settler Frans van Reenen, he greeted the large party Jan brought along with him. Most Boers travel by family, so a large party attracted a lot of attention.
“Welcome to the outskirts of Natal. This here is known as Van Reenen. Heading to the Free States or Transvaal? I know a pass that could get you through the Drakensburg.”
Frans looked towards Pietje, who seemed to be the leader of the party since most of the men gathered around him.
Pietje looked towards Jan, who spoke up on his behalf.
“Another time. We’ll be heading to the Free States this time. To Potchefstroom.”
“I see. Pretorius, ain’t someone you want to follow huh? Anyway, numerous Basuto Chiefs are nearby. They don’t fall under Queen Moshoeshoe, so you might be attacked. I don’t they won’t attack you considering the size of your party. But I say this to every man who passes through here.”
Frans grinned.
“Better yet. You could settle down here. Not too close, or not too far away from Pretorius. Pretorius doesn’t have much reach here. So, if you were attacked, you could ask Pretorius for help. I will assure you I can be a good Commando in managing you all.”
Jan shook his head.
“That is not possible, sir.”
He didn’t elaborate further. And they took a short break, before passing the Natal region into the Free States.