“Heil, Allador!” a young man’s voice called from inside the barn as Allador approached on horseback.
“Heil yourself, Eriq!” he replied, swinging down from his mount, his younger brother running out to greet him. Tall, gangly, with chestnut hair, Eriq could not be further from his brother in appearance. As they embraced, Eriq knocked his chin into Allador’s forehead, leaving a red mark shining out behind the sweep of his coal-black hair.
“Enough, enough!” yelled Allador, laughing as he pushed Eriq back. “If I wanted to see stars I’d look at the night sky and not your ugly face!”
Eriq smiled, his grin revealing all the love he felt for his brother. “It’s good to see you back safe, brother. You’ve been missed, most by me I am sure. Tell me, what have you found, for I can see on your face that you are troubled?”
Allador’s laughter quickly died but he could not resist smiling still, his brother’s joy at seeing him a welcome warmth to his heart after traveling so far.
“I have much to say and many to say it to, so I would rather wait and gather the town elders together to hear my tale.” At this, Eriq’s face became crestfallen. Allador held his hand up, his palm facing out. “Hold your tongue and your sadness, brother. You will be in attendance as well, as will every man and boy of age in the village. I will be looking to get word out to the surrounding villages as well for what I have to tell is important not just to those that have seen this blight but to many more that may be soon to see it. For now, take my horse and bed her down while I greet our father with my news.”
Eriq hugged his brother once more, then took the reins of his horse and led her into the barn. Allador stood in the yard, surveying the area, his eyes wandering over the barn, the livestock pen, the house, and the surrounding fields. It was on these fields that his eyes lingered the longest, a fierce heat beginning to burn in them.
Where once stood acres upon acres of crops, rows of corn, wheat, rye, now nothing shown but blackness. It was as if a fire had burned through it all, destroying the crops and scorching the earth. But no fire had touched this land, no smoke had risen, no soot lay upon the dirt. The ground was poisoned, touched by a blackness that looked as pitch but smelled of nothing, and fed only death. Their farm had been the first in the village to see this blight.
They lost no livestock to it, but Allador had witnessed the evil it inflicted on a living creature. The morning of its discovery, Allador had stood at the edge (and he was thankful for that later on) just as the sun rose on the horizon. He could see the odd shimmer that skimmed across the surface of this blackness as the first rays of the sun hit it. And as he wondered upon it, trying to determine it’s origin, a lone blackbird made to land in the middle of the field, as if seeing some untouched piece of grass or corn. When it landed on the ground, it melted into it. He did not at first believe this is what happened (it was only upon later reflection that he allowed himself to believe what his eyes, hunter’s eyes, had surely shown him) but the blackbird essentially liquified and became part of that blighted ground, emitting no final sound. This removed all thoughts of walking upon that ground from his mind and so he stood there, observing, for what felt like an eternity but was really only a matter of minutes. What he saw horrified him; it was as if the ground drew life to it and consumed it. First the blackbird, then a small group of mice, followed by a deer, a wild dog. All of them wandering into the field, their eyes blank as they walked to their deaths, as if hypnotized by some unheard song.
He spent some time over the following days experimenting with it, trying to gain as much knowledge as possible about this phenomenon. There were really only two truths to this substance – if it held life, it was consumed; if it did not, it was not. Stones thrown upon the ground slid across the surface until they were deposited on the opposite side, no matter how far or how hard or soft they were thrown, as if the ground itself were rejecting them. Fresh branches cut from a tree, new grasses pulled from the ground, all consumed. Cooked meats (he could not bring himself to submit a live animal to that fate) were treated as the stones, pushed off the surface and left alone to rot in the sunshine. Whatever it was, it had at least one basic need and the means to fulfill it – to feed upon life.