by Andrew Day
always growing exactly as he had wished. And the end product was just the same, his to do with as he wished.
Suddenly the five creatures stood upwards, their mouths shaped into a mockery of a man’s smile.
“Harvester... you need us...”
The five years that followed were hard for all of the land. Many perished as the winters grew longer and colder, and after the plague, food for all was in short supply. All except for Zachery and his daughter.
As those around them struggled vainly to get the land to grow more than just weeds and vermin, Zachery and Danniella managed to grow the largest and richest produce to be found anywhere. They were successful to the point where they could extend the boundary of their land over that of Nathaniel’s after he died during a particular cold winter.
That same winter, Zachery’s health took a turn for the worse. He was struck by the same sickness as his wife had, and could barely find the strength to rise from his bed. They had not hired farmhands for the past five years, and it fell to Danniella to tend to the farm by herself. Somehow, to the amazement of others, the farm fared just as well under her care.
It was a beautiful spring day, when she found herself out in the fields examining the earth as her father had done. The ground had thawed, and was now ready for the first plantings.
Then came the sound of hooves approached from down the road. With a sigh, Danniella went to the gate to meet her visitor. Over five years, she had grown from a naive girl into a young woman, and naturally - with a male’s mind being what it was - she was not short for suitors.
Her visitor was Elias Guyye, son of the late Lord Guyye who had died the year before while out fox hunting. His body had been found with its neck twisted at an obscene angle next to the mutilated carcass of his horse. No one knew what had caused his death, but his son Elias had inherited all of his lands and was thrust into the role of liege lord much against his will.
“Good afternoon, fair Danniella,” Elias said in greeting. “It is a fine day today, is it not?”
“Yes, My Lord,” said Danniella. She had to respect his attempts, after all. “A fine day.”
“And how fares your father?”
She sighed. “No change, my lord,” she replied. “I’m afraid he won’t last the year.”
“Then you will grow the land by yourself?” Elias asked.
“It has thawed, and I’ll begin soon,” she said. “But as you may recall, My Lord, I have paid my tithes in advance.”
“Yes, I remember,” Elias said quickly. “If only others were as skilful with their land. But, I did not come to discuss the tithe.”
Of course not, thought Danniella.
“Excusing my bluntness,” continued Elias, “but what I wished to know is: what will become of you once your father... passes away.”
Danniella shrugged. “I’ll continue to tend to our land.”
“By yourself? Are you sure you would not rather...”
“I thank you for your offer, my lord,” Danniella said as politely as possible. “But this farm has been with my family for generations. My place is here.”
Elias shook his head sadly. “If that is your choice. If you change your mind... well, you know where I will be.”
“Yes,” said Danniella, hoping he would leave now.
Elias tipped his hat and left.
When the sun finally began to set, and her father had fallen into a dreamless sleep, Danniella sat on the steps of her house and waited. A few hours after night had fallen, they returned. After spending the winter hibernating beneath her land, the creatures had awakened and were coming to the house as they did every year.
They came and stood before her, five of them. They held the features of the animals they had fed upon when they were growing beneath the soil. Two were covered in a black down and had the same crow-like features as the birds they had devoured. One was furry, and rat-like, while another was large and had a snout like a pig. He was the largest, and had replaced Galahad by pulling the plough by himself.
And there was the leader. He was the most human-like and was the only one of the five who could speak clearly enough for proper communication. Danniella often wondered why the creature was this way. What poor fool had walked into their field unaware and had been devoured?
“Harvest Sister...” spoke the leader. “Is it time?”
“The ground is ready for the planting, yes,” replied Danniella as she stood up. She had long since stopped being afraid of the creatures. They were loyal to her father, and would not dream of hurting her.
“How is the Harvester?” the leader asked.
“He grows weaker,” she replied.
The creatures all bowed their heads. In their own way, Danniella realised, they would lament the loss of Zachery. He was, in a twisted way, their father as well.
“It is sad that he should die,” said the leader. “You should know... if the Harvester dies... our ties to him will end.”
“I know,” Danniella replied. “What will happen then?”
“If you fear for your safety... do not worry. Our loyalty extends beyond his death,” said the leader in the closest tone that could be called reassuring. “But there are things that we must do... and we must leave when our time here is up. Can we see the Harvester?”
“No,” Danniella said quickly. “My father does not wish to see you.”
The creature looked hurt, but only briefly. “If that is his wish. What does he bid for us to do?”
Danniella gestured to the several large sacks that she had stacked in front of the door. “Since our time together will be short,” she said. “My father wishes for you to plant some more Loyalty.”
“Of course. How many others do you wish to grow?”
Danniella thought about that. “I will need at least ten. And one will need to be... like you. Able to speak.”
A cruel smile crept across the creatures face. “Anything that the Harvester wishes.” He grunted and pointed to the sacks. The two crow creatures came forward and took them. “They will be planted by morning.”
The five creatures retreated into the darkness. Danniella stood by the door and stared into the night. She could just make out the five inhuman shapes moving about in her fields, ploughing the earth and sowing the seeds of Loyalty with great care. This would undoubtedly be the last season that the creatures would be there to help, they would leave as soon as their Harvester passed away, for what business Danniella could not fathom a guess. The creatures were evil, that much she was sure of, born from her father’s own cursed and lifeless land. Who knew what devilish pilgrimage they were brought to the world for?
But the more she thought about it, the more Danniella realised she did not care. Her only concern was for the future of the farm, and without the creatures there to help, the task of tending the fields would be next to impossible.
In the dark, the leader stopped and stared at the ground. From the earth came the few small movements of Loyalty, its seeds sprouting already. First came the tiny leaves and stems, probing the air for threats, followed closely by a small black pod that opened and closed like a gasping mouth, revealing rows of minute, needle like teeth. The pods would feed on anything that came near, but would hide back in the soil when day came, waiting in the earth for the inevitable crows to come feeding.
It did not matter what the creatures did, nor did where they chose to go. With any luck Danniella would soon have more, and then the task would become easier. And next season she could grow more, and they would work the land until it was the richest to be found anywhere. The days of hard work and toil for the pockets of some lazy aristocrat were over. The creatures were evil, but with them lay salvation.
And in all honesty, Danniella did not know how they had managed without them for so long.