The Forsaken Lands

Golden were the fields of corn that lay before Kelrick. They had been blessed with a crop that would feed the whole of the east for years to come. He closed his eyes and lifted his chin, saying a silent thank you to Dodana, the god of prosperity. He felt the warm sun on his skin and took it as a gentle answer from the gods. They were pleased with him, and this was his reward.

He opened his eyes and noted the thunderclouds on the horizon. The people of Hapsplain would have to work day and night to get the harvest in and not waste any. He looked to the west and saw the great river in the distance, its gentle waters flowing like life itself, but like life, the river could change in an instant. If those rainclouds were anything to go by, the rainy season was coming, and the river would soon be impassable. When this happened, trading with anywhere on the west side of the river would be impossible, but that was where most of Algarle’s wealth was found.

A distant rumble turned his attention north to the Tornlan Mountains, in particular Mount Hunter. The great volcano filled the northern sky with black smoke. The volcano had painted its northern canvas black for as long as Kelrick could remember, but something today gave him pause. He could not put his finger on what was causing his sudden anxiety, but he gave one last thank you to Dodana before quickly heading towards the waiting villagers.

He was met with smiles as he approached.

"Come on, Kelrick. These fields won't harvest themselves," shouted a grey-haired man with a thick white beard.

"Well, you'd think they do, the way you work, Rankin," he replied, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile.

Rankin and the others laughed as they picked up their tools. "Well, let's get started then," offered Rankin, turning to the others. "You know the drill by now. My team will start this side, and Kelrick will start in the far fields, and we'll meet in the middle at the farmhouse with a harvest the gods themselves would be proud of."

"Praise Dodana," was the answering cry from those gathered.

They began to part and head to their designated places when Kelrick spoke. "Wait!"

Feet shuffled to a stop and turned back to face him. Rankin stepped forward. "What is it, Kelrick? We're wasting daytime."

"I don't like the look of those clouds," he said, pointing to the western skies. "I think we work the west fields first. The wind is blowing north to south, which should give us an extra day for the rest, but if that rain takes hold then we could lose crop in those fields."

"This is the way it has been done for a hundred years, Kelrick," Rankin replied, shaking his head. "The rains will hold off, mark my words."

The villagers with Rankin turned with him and picked up their tools. He barked out orders and soon they were moving into position.

"Come, Kelrick. We have fields to harvest," said a balding man with weathered skin. "Pay no mind to Rankin. Change is not a word he knows the meaning of."

"But we could lose the eastern field to the rain. There are far too few of us to get that crop in today, Johnas."

"The way I see it, that's not your problem. If we lose the crop, then Rankin will have to answer for it. We all heard your protest," Johnas assured him. "He's the elder; right or wrong, it's his decision. Come on, we'll just have to bend our backs double to get those fields in."

After a moment’s thought, Kelrick nodded and gathered his team and began the journey to the eastern fields.

The sun was still low in the sky when they arrived at the most eastern field. Sweat beaded on Kelrick's brow and strained the underarms of his tunic. They had not yet begun to harvest the crop, and his team were hot and tired, but there was a job to do and they would not rest until the corn was in the wagons. Kelrick took a nervous glance at the thunderclouds nearby. The wind had died off and the clouds now moved slowly across the sky. He breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they would get the crop in after all.

"Okay. Spread out and get started. A barrel of ale to the man who cuts the most corn," Kelrick announced.

"Or woman," came a voice from a small but muscular woman, young and blonde with an infectious smile, "and I mean to win."

"Well, Safron, prepare to be beaten by an old man," Johnas said through a smile of crooked teeth.

Kelrick felt the hair on his arms stand on end as he looked north. A black trail seemed to run through the corn, a shadow without a source. "Wait. What's making that shadow?"

The others moved to his side and looked in the direction he pointed. "There's nothing obvious that would cast such a shadow," Jash said, matter-of-factly, brushing off his unease with his youthful confidence.

"No. There isn't." Johnas' voice became uneasy. "Maybe something has killed the corn."

"I've been checking this corn for days, waiting for the right time to harvest," Kelrick informed him. "That was not there yesterday."

Nervous glances spread between them. What was causing this dark snake through the corn? Whatever it was, it was not natural. A faint rumble in the distance turned Kelrick’s attention to Mount Hunter. Could it be from the mountain?

"We should investigate before we start the harvest. If that corn is diseased or poisoned, then the whole crop could soon be infected," Johnas stated as he looked at Kelrick, his expression leaving no room for argument.

Kelrick nodded. "Okay, you heard him. Johnas, take Jash with you and investigate to the east. The rest of us will take the north."

His words were met with curt nods, and without hesitation the group split up and headed for their destinations. The heat of the sun no longer penetrated the anxious chill that had begun to settle in them.

A shiver ran down Kelrick's spine as he led his group north. The beautiful golden fields before them were marred by streaks of black, dying crop; the decay was slowly creeping further from the source, making the dark line grow wider. They moved the great ears of corn aside with their hands, before suddenly the corn they touched turned black. As they touched them, they broke apart and disintegrated into ash. A faint musky but foul smell filled the air around them.

The blackened ground was around ten feet wide; black ash lined the floor. Kelrick stepped through tentatively. "What happened here?"

"It looks burnt," said Safron, touching a nearby corn strand that crumpled at her touch, "but if this was caused by fire, it would have spread across the whole field."

At the very centre of the ash, Kelrick stopped and bent to the floor. There was a line of bare dirt, like a path that had been walked many times, but that was impossible—it hadn't been there yesterday. "There is something evil at work here. Something passed through here. Something did this. A person or a creature? Look!" He pointed to the bare earth.

"Then it's spreading. We need to cut this rot off somehow, before it affects the whole crop," a tall man declared. "We need to dig a trench back there. All this side is lost, but maybe we can salvage the other side."

"Giles is right!" Safron agreed. "We can't risk this crop."

A faint hum from the west told Kelrick that the rains had started. Whatever they were going to do, they had to move quickly. After a short moment of thought, Kelrick nodded. "Do it. Dig the trench."

They moved with purpose to begin digging when there was a call from deeper in the corn. "Kelrick. Come quickly."

"What is it?" he called.

"It's your daughter, Anna. We've found her!"

Confusion filled Kelrick's mind and his head went light. "What? Anna is at home." He remembered her smile as he promised he'd return with enough food to feed their people for many months, maybe years to come. She had helped his wife make him the lunch that sat in his pack. He reached for his back but felt nothing. His pack, wait, he'd left it behind by mistake.

A faint rumble vibrated under his feet. The voice called again with an urgent tone. "Hurry. She's unconscious."