A laager was spotted in the distance. That was the report given by one of the riders who reported back to him.
“Do they need assistance?” Jan asked, and the rider reported that Pietje had dispatched a couple of riders to scout closer. All they could do now was wait. Jan exchanged glances with Russell who was in the wagon with him, as well as the other men around them. Most of them came here to profit. Jan never revealed the matter about the gold to them. So they ought to be excited about a fight.
It seemed the trip sapped them of most of their energy, for they were neither energetic nor boisterous about the upcoming fight. They were lethargic and looked towards their superiors in dismay.
It seemed all that talk about fighting and looting was all talk. When it came down to it, no one wanted to fight. He sighed and waited.
Four pairs of riders were dispatched by Veldkornet Pietje as he considered it to be a matter of most importance. The rest continued riding around their wagon group, scanning their surroundings for any trouble.
Their horses trampled over the grass and leapt over the bush as they galloped closer and closer to the scene.
Cattle could be seen outside the laager.
Strange.
That was what all the men thought. When defending in a laager, the cattle ought to be in the centre within the laager, what were the cattle doing out there?
Their eyes scanned the herders of the cattle, and the dark skins revealed all that they needed to know. The sound of whistling could be heard, and the cattle turned to face the riders’ direction.
“Should we engage? Or send someone to relay it back to Pietje?” A rider asked, grasping his musket.
“I’ll go,” A rider suddenly announced before breaking away from the group, leaving the trio to continue advancing.
The elves' command of the cattle was inhuman, for no human could control cattle that well. They used cattle as a weapon of sorts. An elf whistled while riding one of the cattle and charged right into the laager. The cattle stampeded, rushing into the wagon, rocking it from side to side. A couple of shots were fired from the wagon, but the rocking made the shooter completely lose his sight of the target.
The closer they rode, they quickly found out that the elf did not belong to either Sotho or Zulu. It was Khoikhoi. But what kind of Khoikhoi? Were they the ones who escaped from their harsh Boer masters, and seized their masters’ weapons? Or were they wild Khoikhoi, who were spared from the Boers?
“No wonder my father told me to get a Khoikhoi servant, the way they handle the cattle is almost inspiring,” A Boer remarked.
Wild Khoikhoi fought using their cattle. And they use blowpipes containing darts. As well as iron spears, smithed from Khoikhoi blacksmiths. The Khoikhoi did not mine the iron but relied on the existing trade networks between the locals such as the amaXhosa, Zulu and amaBhulu. amaBhulu is what the natives call the Boers, which shows how they recognised their presence as part of the landscape.
“Help!” The farmers trapped in the laager shouted towards the riders, hollering with every air in their lungs.
Before any of them rushed forward, one of the riders commanded, “Do not rush out! It will take much time before the Khoikhoi can even knock down the laager. We can sit and watch. Worst come to worst, we shall fight.”
They stopped in their tracks, about 200 metres away from the cattle surrounding the laager. They watched as the Khoikhoi attackers watched the newcomers. They were afraid of the new humans entering the fray but watching the newcomers sitting on their horses watching them, they continued focusing on attacking the laager.
The Khoikhoi rode their cattle, smashing into the laager time and time again. The men inside opened fire in retaliation, but it was hard to shoot when the wagon shook with you, and when you were also afraid of the wagon topping over you.
The Boers looked towards one another.
“I don’t think I can continue watching like moegoes! It’s moerring time.”
They began riding close to the cattle herd, making the Khoikhoi focus their attention on the newcomers who decided to take action. Dismounting around 100 metres, from the herd, he aimed at the Khoikhoi and fired.
The shot struck home and knocked the Khoikhoi off the cattle.
Naturally, the Khoikhoi whistled to their cattle, and cause them to stampede to the Boers' way. Climbing up their horse, they rode away from the cattle. No matter how much the Khoikhoi urged their cattle on, the cattle were unable to catch up to the faster horses, and the distance between them grew exponentially.
“Elves attacking a couple of farmers in a laager. Lots of cattle spotted outside the laager, likely to be elven,” The rider from Pietje reported.
“Pietje has ordered all riders to join him to rescue the Boers from the elves. He will be heading forward, with or without your permission,” The rider rode alongside his wagon, waiting for his next words.
Jan sighed.
“What else can we do? We should rescue those Boers, and notify every wagon to do so. Lead the way.”
Pietje rode forth with the other 15 riders. Soon, they spotted the cattle reported by the messenger. Those cattle were far away from the laager and headed right in their direction. Their horsemen were fleeing from the stampeding cattle. The fleeing riders gestured at Pietje, shouting at him to flee.
Pietje ordered the men to follow along with the riders, and they joined them, to receive a status update from the riders.
“The attackers were Khoikhoi. We have soaked up their attention, so the farmers in the laager ought to be safe. But now, how will we fight off all of them and the cattle?
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‘How will they?’ Pietje thought about it. They could slowly pick them off, shooting at the Khoikhoi riders one by one. But that could take all day, and who knew what the Khoikhoi imprinted within their cattle, they could chase them till the cattle drop dead from exhaustion.
“The best way is if our wagons follow up, and open fire on them. That should get rid of the cattle, and their riders.”
And thus the riders rode up a hill, watching the cattle slowly climb up the hill behind them.
From the opposite side, their wagon group finally spotted where their riders ran off to. They saw the cattle massing by the foot of the hill, slowly making their way up. The men waved towards the wagons. Their tiny hands and bodies looked humorous from here, but Jan quickly realized what he needed to do.
“Looks like we need to test out our new artillery. Inform the other wagons to load their artillery, and slowly advance with the ox towards the cattle. I want to get as accurate as I could get with this shot.”
The lone rider shouted to the other wagons who followed Jan’s instructions. The ox began taking a steady pace forward, marching forward like Carthaginian war elephants.
The Khoikhoi and their riders noticed the new party flanking them from the other side. Growing a little worried, they wondered if they should flee, but decided to press their ascent on the hill anyway. Where could the riders escape? See them try to get past their cattle. They could quickly deal with this small group before focusing on these wagons.
The Boers on the hill made their last stand and took out their guns. Standing in a circle, they peered downwards as the cattle massed towards them. Pointing their muskets down, they opened fire.
The storm of thunder from the guns erupted, and smoke covered their eyes. They blinked, and a couple of cattle were sent collapsing onto the ground. The few who collapsed were soon overtaken by healthy, uninjured cattle. They worked on reloading their muskets.
The artillery was pointed right at the cattle and their Khoikhoi masters. Loaded with buckshot, they were entirely engineered to deal with the elven hordes that clumped together whilst fighting. If they were fighting against modern European skirmish infantry, then the artillery would not be very effective. But due to the backward nature of warfare in Elfrica, old tactics were extremely effective.
Boom! The first wagon opened fire, and Jan covered his ears as all the wagons let loose their buckshot all over the Khoikhoi herd.
The shot consisting of many smaller metal balls completely shredded any living thing in its grasp alive. Blood stains were left as the shot vaporized the once-living cattle and elves. Their howls of pain reverberated as the other artillery shots made their mark on the entire Khoikhoi group.
Red, the colour red painted the ground.
Releasing his hands over his ears, the Commando watched the devastation he wrought on the natives. A couple of limbs lay on the ground, remnants of whatever was left. He dismounted with the rest of the Boers, to survey the destruction they caused.
What was left of an elf, the upper body with its legs wrecked reaching out toward him. It opened its mouth, a drone came out. Nothing legible came out of its mouth. It stared towards him. He stared back. The Boer next to him shot the Khoikhoi in the head, putting it out of its misery.
That was only an example of what he saw of what was left on the battlefield. No doubt there were many they missed, more dead than alive. Yet they were still alive and they failed to put them out of their misery. To the elves that slowly bled out and perished, he was sorry he couldn’t have done it sooner.
“I’m so glad I’m not them.” The Boer remarked, reflecting on the carnage. He gripped his gun, which seemed to calm him somewhat from the sights they saw.
Everyone has an image that these trekkers were tough men who could deal with anything thrown their way, but they were human as well. Scary sights were scary sights to them also, they won’t admit it to you, however.
Before the group were the few families rescued from the Khoikhoi. They were nevertheless nervous. Anything could have happened to them. If they were a bunch of Back-veldt Boers, he could let the men do as they wish, and ravage their wives. But since they acted as Pretorius’ representatives in this region, he decided to conduct things more reasonably and logically.
But they took the initiative in starting the conversation, “Why did you slaughter all of our servants and cattle? I demand compensation!”
Jan was dumbfounded upon hearing the words coming from the farmer’s face. How was it his fault that the farmer got almost killed by his servants? It meant that the farmer failed to manage them properly!
Indignant, Pietje shouted, “Shut the fuck up maaifoedie! You ain’t receiving no cattle from us! You got yourself into this mess and we saved you. This is how you treat us? Voetsek!”
Behind the farmer, were his wife and children. Two young boys looked around the ages of 6 to 7, and two young girls around the ages of 8 to 9. They were huddling behind the woman, who grimaced upon seeing the large number of men her husband was dealing with.
“Alright, I see. Do you know what I see? I see an incompetent jukka that couldn’t manage his homestead and almost got his entire family killed. Now he looks for a scapegoat, so he could justify to himself that it wasn’t his fault. Sir, are you stupid? We have around 150 men here, and you want to pick a fight with us? Don’t you have more important things to do?”
The farmer’s face distorted and reach for his gun, but Jan’s men already raised their muskets at the farmer. The farmer lowered his hands away from the gun, backing down.
“Let me tell you something. I don’t know why you chose to farm by your lonesome. Maybe you were kicked out from a Veldkornet’s district or a Commando’s town, I don’t know. But if you aren’t I suggest trekking to Potchefstroom. Then, maybe you won’t have to worry about your treatment of your servants. Until then, have a good day.”
Turning around, Jan left the farmer and returned to the bloody mix of cattle and elves. Some men followed him, whilst others who were still wary of the farmer had their muskets pointed at him. All of them were pissed. It felt that they wasted energy on a fool. It might have been better to have them be slaughtered by the Khoikhoi in the first place.
“I don’t know what you all think. But I like to have respect for my foes, and I would like them to have the same respect for me. Gentlemen, start digging. We’ll bury this sight. There are young children around, better not let them see this.”
The men nodded in approval, and a laager was formed around the scene. Men got out their shovels and began digging. Most men didn’t bother trying to harvest the meat of the cattle. It was mixed with elven blood. It was tainted, and they didn’t want to know the taste of the elven blood. They dug a mass grave, a simple giant hole. And shoved all the remains into it. Blood stains were still on the ground, but they would be washed away with rain.
They then worked to bury the mass grave, shoving dirt onto the pile of flesh. When they were done, anyone could see the soil was recently moved, especially with the suspicious red paint on the surface. Yet at least the site was somewhat safe for work. It was still PG-16 though.
And yet again he received an experience he would never have done before, digging a mass grave. It felt as if he was a villain again. He slaughtered them all in one fell swoop and dug up a mass grave. Aren’t mass graves associated with war criminals? He scoffed.
Human Society probably never saw these elves equals to them yet. So, it wouldn’t be considered a war crime in this period. He hoped wouldn’t have to do it again, but to get the British out of South Elfrica, many more graves would have to be dug in the future.
They got back into their wagons, and the servants had their ox trudged forward. Jan watched as the servant in his wagon had his eyes trailing on that grave. His expression was one of great fear. He knew exactly what that Xhosa was thinking. What happened to that Khoikhoi could have also happened to me.
It was likely if the servants had any thought of opposing or rising to oppose the Boers, such thoughts were squashed from today’s incident.
The servant changed his glance to his musket. Now he did not hold a face of fear, but one of great determination. Aye, that is an elf who wanted to possess the boomstick he had.
The gun was the great equalizer in this continent. Without it, one will never be able to fight Europeans or their settlers. The natives can only rely on the environment to bring about favourable conditions. What favourable conditions? Rain. These weapons can’t fire as effectively in the rain. And it wasn’t like he could train Boers to fight in the rain. Ammunition was precious and expensive, plus these men were like medieval levies, who go home after the fight.
It would make more sense if he had a professional standing army. But here on the frontier, where could he get the spare manpower to have something like that? Every man is needed to be productive.