containing the creature was on the ground. There were no stones or other weapons in sight, so Danniella stamped on the plant with her foot and crushed it. There was a sickening crunching sound, and blood spurted out of the plant like an open wound. Then Danniella heard a shrill scream of pain and anguish, and fled from the field.
She did not tell her father of what had happened, but from the wordless glances they exchanged they both knew that something was not right.
That night, Danniella dreamt that while she slept, a figure stood by her window and stared in at her. At first she thought it was Sydney, but soon the figure became that of the creature in the corn, only now fully grown. It snarled, and when she saw its inhuman teeth dripping with blood she awoke with a cry of horror to find nothing but darkness beyond her window.
Finally the day of the harvest had arrived.
Zachery and Danniella stood side by side, gazing at the tall stalks of corn swaying gently in the breeze. He examined an individual plant carefully: its stem and leaves were a healthy green, and its ear was a perfect yellow, with no trace of red to be seen.
He sighed and lifted his scythe to begin the reaping. He brought it down in an arc that sliced the first lot of corn skilfully. Danniella came forward to collect the fallen crop, and Zachery moved to cut the next lot.
Harvesting was usually long and hard, especially since they could no longer afford to hire any farmhands to help them. But as Zachery lifted his scythe again, the wall of corn before him suddenly fell down, as if their roots had just released their grip in the earth. As they watched in surprise, the entire field tumbled onto the ground like a stream of dominoes, and lay on the ground where it could be easily collected.
Zachery and his daughter stared in awe at the sight of the field, completely flattened as if by a raging storm. But they both knew the truth. The crop somehow sensed it was to be harvested, and in its devotion decided to make Zachery’s job easier.
Danniella stood with a shocked expression. “What do we do now?” she asked in an unsteady voice.
“We collect the crops. Just like we are supposed to,” Zachery replied as he put down his scythe.
They gathered the entire crop in less than a day. There was more corn than they could have possibly hoped for, enough to pay off Lord Guyye and the Hooded man and still have plenty left to sell. The next day they loaded their old wagon with as much corn as they could and took it to Lord Guyye’s manor.
The lord did not seem as pleased as he should have been. He watched as his farmhands helped Zachery unload the corn from the wagon, wearing an expression of disappointment.
“This is my tithe,” Zachery explained. “There is enough for several seasons, so there is no reason for you to come to my land anymore.”
Guyye snorted. “We’ll see, farmer,” he said.
Besides the small percentage that they saved for the hooded man, the rest of the crop they took to town and sold. Zachery did not wish any of the plant to be consumed by him or his family. The peasants of town, however, had been hit hard by the previous plague of rats and were more than happy to purchase corn for the cheap price Zachery offered.
One man in particular decided to sample the product before he purchased it. Zachery and Danniella watched anxiously as he took a bite out of one corn and chewed thoughtfully.
“Very nice,” he decided eventually. “A strange, meaty aftertaste though.”
Danniella let out a sigh of relief and gave him a sack full.
When they arrived back on the farm, they found the hooded man already waiting for them.
“It seems your crop grew even better than I could have expected,” he said. “So now I must collect my end of the bargain.”
Zachery loaded the man’s wagon with many large sacks of corn. When he finished, the man looked over his produce happily. “Much, much better than I could have expected,” he said. “Tell me, farmer, have you spared much thought for your future harvests? I think you and I-”
“The business between us is now finished,” snapped Zachery. “Now get off my land, and do not return.”
The man shook his head, disappointed. “How rude,” he said in a hurt tone. “And to think I have helped you far more than you could possibly repay me for.” He turned and stared at Zachery, and for the first time the farmer could see the man’s eyes. They were completely black and lifeless. “You see, my friend, the harvest is not yet finished.”
With that, the man whipped the reins and his horse set off with a quick pace. Danniella watched him go with a sick feeling in her stomach.
“What did he mean by that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” replied Zachery. “I’m sure he was just bitter. As far as I’m concerned, this madness is over.”
That night they had the most relaxing meal in months. The dark feeling of uneasiness that Zachery had felt hard pressed to shake had finally lifted, and he ate his meal in peace.
As they decided to turn in for the night, a loud braying noise came from outside.
“Is that Galahad?” Danniella asked in concern.
“I think so,” said Zachery. “But what would frighten him like that?”
They went out to their small stable, where Galahad was backed into a corner, braying loudly in fear. Danniella went to the horse and tried to calm him down. For some reason he would not go anywhere near the doorway.
“What has gotten into him?” wondered Zachery. He listened, and above the sound of the horse’s cries he could just make out another sound, like someone digging through dirt. “Stay here,” he ordered Danniella, and went out to investigate unsure as to what to expect.
He walked through his empty field in the dark, his steps muffled by the soft ground. He had worked this land his entire life, but now he felt as though it no longer belonged to him. In the blackness he finally made out the cause of Galahad’s distress.
In the centre of the field, a large mound of dirt was growing upwards. It throbbed and pulsed, as though something below was struggling to escape. As he watched in horror, a hand finally broke through the ground and clawed madly at the air.
Zachery rushed back to the stable and grabbed the first thing he could use as a weapon. He took a pitchfork and ran back out to the field, ignoring Danniella’s questions. When he returned, he found that the thing in the ground was already half out. Even in the dark he could make out its features: its face was like a cruel parody of a man’s. Its eyes were black, and a single lock of mangy, black hair ran from its scalp down its back.
The creature snarled in irritation as it struggled from the earth. Finally it broke free, and fell on its hands and knees panting for breath. Zachery snapped from his trance, and summing all of his courage approached the creature with his pitchfork held out menacingly.
He was barely two paces away when the creature finally noticed him and sat up snarling. Zachery stopped dead and pointed the pitchfork at the foul creature.
“I don’t know what you are, or from what hell you spawned,” he spat. “But if you don’t leave this place I will send you back!”
The creature growled and stood up. It was taller than Zachery was, its long arms hung down to its knees, and its claws and sharp fangs glinted in the moonlight. It spoke, its raspy voice driving deep into Zachery’s heart. “Is... that... so?” it asked, laboured as though it struggled with the words.
To his growing sense of dread, Zachery realised the ground around him was again throbbing upwards. He could make out four more bulges forming in the earth.
The creature noticed his momentary distraction and stepped forward snarling. Then it stopped as it saw his face in the moonlight. “The... Harvester...” it cried out. It expression changed from one of hate to one of fear, and it dropped its gaze to the ground. “I... did not... recognise...” it said meekly. “Forgive...”
“What devilry is this?” Zachery snapped. “What in God’s name are you?”
From the ground crawled out four more forms, each was different in shape but all were as foul and
inhuman as the first. They stopped at the sight of Zachery and bowed their heads, averting his eyes.
“Answer me!” shouted Zachery.
The first creature looked up, almost shamefully. “We... are yours...” it said slowly. “You... grew us. You are our... creator. Our... Harvester...”
“Stop calling me that!” snapped Zachery. “I should kill you all.”
The creatures around him fell to their knees, still looking to the ground. “If that... is what you must do...” hissed the first creature. “We are yours.... To do with as you wish...”
Zachery raised his pitchfork up, ready to bring it down onto the creature and end its life. But he could not. For all of its foulness, the creature was so pitiful.
“Leave,” he commanded. “Go, and never return!”
“Freedom?” whispered one of the others.
“If that is thy wish... Harvester,” said the first. “But... we are yours... to do with as you want. And we... could help you...”
“I don’t want your help,” said Zachery.
“But... Harvester...” it begged. It dug its hand into the dirt and held up a handful. “The ground is foul... but we can help, Harvester...” It looked up at him with pleading eyes. Then it smiled, its fangs showing. “We can help... and you need us...”
All this time, Zachery had believed he was growing crops. What he was really growing was something unimaginable.
“We are yours...”
That was why the plant was called Loyalty. It was