by D. J. Tyrer
in Issue 146, March 2024
The tall, lean youth who had arrived at the musha of five huts on the scrubby hillside had given no name save Ini-ndoga, ‘I Alone’, to the men who led him to sit upon the dusty red earth before the hut of the village elder.
As he exited the hut to squat with arthritic difficulty before Ini-ndoga, the old man almost laughed at the spear-bearing youth and his almost-sullen attitude and travel-stained kaross, but could not deny that there was a spine of iron within him and, instead, said: “Perhaps you alone are the one who can help us?”
“Help you? How could I help you? And, why would I want to?” He looked away as if the conversation bored him. “I came into this world alone and shall pass through it alone. Your problems mean nothing to me.”
The old man sucked on his teeth for a moment, then said, “You may care nothing for us and our problems, but you may care for rewards.” He nodded towards the thorn-fenced danga filled with cattle further down the hillside. “Three fine cattle will be yours – if you can help us.”
Ini-ndoga considered for a moment. “Three cattle… it must be some problem.”
“Wealth is nothing,” said the elder of the village, “if it is stolen from you or if you are not alive to enjoy it.”
“Raiders?” the youth asked.
The old man shook his head. “No.” For a moment, he was silent, then he glanced heavenward, as if drawing strength from the clouds, and said, “We are tormented by a river tokoloshe, some cruel and twisted nzuzu. It hides in the reeds by the river bank and snatches the unwary, whether a thirsty cow or the foolish youth who should be watching it or a woman fetching water. Since it made its home here, we have gone from a musha of nine huts to just five. If this goes on, we will have to abandon this place and attempt to seek out some new home…”
“I can see your problem,” said Ini-ndoga with a somewhat-amused tone.
“If you can rid us of the tokoloshe, three cattle shall be yours.”
“Very well. You have a deal.”
Unlike the scrubby hillside with its thorny bushes and patches of spiky grass, the land near the river was lush with plant life. There was a damp, heady scent that filled his nostrils and caused Ini-ndoga to breathe deeply in pleasure.
Had he not seen a thirsty zebra snatched in the jaws of a crocodile and dragged into the churning waters of just such a river, he wouldn’t have believed there was any danger. But, even acknowledging that, he couldn’t bring himself to imagine some evil tokoloshe resided in such a lovely place.
No, he told himself, if anyone had died here, they were taken by a patient crocodile or fell in and drowned.
He walked down to the river’s edge, to where it was fringed with a dense growth of reeds, his weapon held loosely in a semi-ready position. Perhaps he could spear a crocodile and earn his prize that way.
Then he paused, having seen something shiny glint just on the edge of the reeds.
Curious! Ini-ndoga leant forwards, trying to get a better view of it, then stepped closer, testing the reed-concealed bank with his spear shaft so that he didn’t fall in.
He wasn’t certain what it was, but it glistened beautifully, brighter than the scales of a freshly-caught fish, and he was certain it must have great value.
He reached out for it…
There was a sudden flash of movement and the glinting thing leapt into the air and he saw it was attached to some sort of length of twine that snapped towards him.
It struck his arm and he felt a stickiness.
Only reflexes honed by years of avoiding danger, allowed him to snatch away his arm before the rest of the length could wrap around it. He cried out, pain tearing at him, for in doing so, the sticky twine had torn away a piece of his skin, leaving a bloody gash upon his arm.
The length of twine whipped back into the reeds and he thought, for just a moment, that he saw some shadowy man-like figure scuttle away like a spider. There was a splash and whatever it was vanished into the hidden waters, gone before he could heft his spear and throw it.
Ini-ndoga cursed himself for his foolishness – the elder had been right… some strange tokoloshe did haunt the river.
Well, he would not be a fool twice…
Ini-ndoga returned the next morning when the boys of the musha took the cattle down the hill to drink.
“Beware any shiny trinket you might see,” he told them. “Gesture for me if you see anything glinting.”
One of the boys did, indeed, wave him over and pointed out just such a thing.
The youthful warrior smiled a grim smile to himself and readied his spear with one hand before reaching out for the shiny object with the other. Amongst the reeds, he could see the grey-blue shadowy form of the tokoloshe.
This time he was ready when the length of twine twitched up towards his grasping hand and he pulled back his arm even as he released his spear in a mighty throw.
The spear flew straight and struck the tokoloshe, piercing deep into it, but Ini-ndoga’s cry of triumph was cut off as the being seemed to vanish, replaced by droplets of water that fell amongst the reeds like rain.
He stared, uncertain. Had he slain it? He knew he would receive no reward until he had the answer.
The answer came the next morning when one of the cows was dragged into the water.
“It was no crocodile,” said the boy who had been watching the herd.
“It seems,” said the elder with a rueful tone, “that you were unsuccessful…”
“But,” said Ini-ndoga, “I shall be…”
He rose from where he sat before the elder’s hut and stalked away, expression clouded. It seemed that the bite of iron couldn’t kill the tokoloshe. He needed something more.
One of the women had told him, over a bowl of sadza, of a muroyi who lived in a cave in the hills. Such people were reputed to know many strange things and if anyone knew how to deal with a tokoloshe, it would be her.
So, he set off into the hills, following narrow trails left by the passing of buck and leopards, until he spotted a wispy column of smoke which led him to a young woman cooking stew in a pot before a cave entrance that was draped over with animal hides.
Ini-ndoga laughed and the woman looked up.
“What do you want?” she asked, warily, her hand twitching towards a small bag that hung from her neck. “Do I amuse you?”
“I’m sorry. I was looking for an old hag, not a beautiful young woman.”
She snorted, but allowed her hand to drop back to her side. “You were looking for a muroyi.”
“Yes.”
“Then, you have found her.”
He laughed again. “Never have I heard of one who looked like you. Besides, the woman in the musha by the river said the muroyi had dwelt out here for many, many years.”
The young woman gave another snort. “So, you never considered we might begin our careers when young?”
He shrugged. “I have never considered anything much about muroyi at all.”
She shook her head, then stood and crossed to him, and ran her hand across his bare chest.
“Why don’t we begin again? What is your name? Mine is Akanaka.”
“Ini-ndoga,” he replied. Now, it was his turn for wariness. He had heard tales of muroyi bewitching men…
As if reading his mind, Akanaka laughed and said, “Do not fear me. I compel no man to do anything he does not wish to.” She watched him for a moment, then glanced away, before turning her gaze back upon him and continuing in a brusque tone, “Now, you came here looking for me – what can I do to help you, Ini-ndoga?”
“I have need your wisdom.”
She nodded and gestured for him to sit and he crouched opposite her, declining the offer of stew, and began to tell his tale.
“A river tokoloshe? I had sensed something new, but it was far enough away that it gives me no bother. Still, though it and I have no quarrel, I might perhaps be able to tell you how to defeat it.”
“But,” he looked at her, “at what price?”
Akanaka sighed. “Yes, there must always be payment… Wait here,” she rose and crossed to the cave entrance, pulling one of the animal hides out of her way, “I must seek answers.”
She slipped inside and did not return for some time.
“Are you well?” Ini-ndoga asked as she stepped back out into the sun. The young woman’s face appeared lined as if she’d not slept in some time.
“Well enough. Now, I have your answer.”
“But, what is the price? You never told me.”
“Oh, do not feel troubled, young warrior, it shall cost you nothing of your power or pride.” A weak smile appeared upon her lips. “Indeed, the tokoloshe shall pay for its own defeat; I shall explain how in a moment, for I trust you not to renege upon payment.”
“If it is as you say, I shall not,” he replied, earnestly.
“Such a creature,” she said, “cannot be defeated by mortal means, for it is a being of water. But, water is an enemy of earth and fire. Stones may constrain and dam it and flames may boil it. Through earth and fire shall you defeat this tokoloshe.”
“How?”
She reached into the small leather bag she wore and drew out a red pebble which she proceeded to drop into the embers of the fire upon which she had been cooking stew.
“Allow it to imbibe the heat…”
After a moment, she snatched it up and handed it to him. It was cool to his touch.
“Throw this at it. Strike it in the head and it shall be destroyed and in its place a white flower shall fall. Bring the bloom to me as payment.”
He nodded. “I shall.”
One last time, Ini-ndoga stalked the river bank until he saw the tokoloshe’s lure.
This time, he ignored it and sought out the hidden creature. Spotting it, he threw the stone with an unerring aim at its forehead.
The tokoloshe shrieked as the pebble struck it and there was a flash of flame and it was gone.
Drifting gently to the riverbank fell a single tiny white flower. The youth snatched it up.
It was done. He would have his cattle and Akanaka would have her bloom.
Ini-ndoga looked at it, so small and delicate in his hand, and wondered just what a muroyi would want with such a thing, then shook his head. Perhaps best to collect his reward and think not about such things.
©March 2024, D. J. Tyrer
D. J. Tyrer is the person behind Atlantean Publishing and has been widely published in anthologies and magazines around the world, such as Tales of the Black Arts (Hazardous Press), and issues of Broadswords and Blasters, Journ-E, Tales from the Magician’s Skull, and previously in Swords and Sorcery Magazine.