Alric, the druid, is on his knees near the center of the farmer's fields. As time passes, he mutters incantations to alert the Earth of his incoming intrusion. After clearing a small circle of weeds and creating several markings with a stick, Alric places his hands on the field's dry, hard dirt. What would the Earth take from him for this gift? A bead of sweat falls to the dry Earth and settles for just a moment before being absorbed.
No turning back now. They know I am here.
Alric pushes down with his palms against the Earth. Usually, he would have felt the Earth push back with equal force. Not after his ritual, however: Alric had opened the gateway between man and Earth. The hard, dry Earth gives way and pulls Alric elbow deep into the dirt. The crops around the circle, previously blowing in the slight breeze, reach towards the druid trapped in the Earth. No longer swaying to and fro, the plants have found their new source of energy - their battery for the season from which they will be fed - and they wish not to lose it. The roots from the field's ill and troubled plants stretch beneath the surface towards Alric. Their cold, wet roots wrap around his wrists and restrain him from leaving. The tips squirm like earthworms into his forearms, claiming his tendons as their own. The pain is sharp, but no scream is heard: the crops have taken hold over Alric, who appears to be kneeling over the ground, saying a silent, simple prayer to any onlooker farther away. To those closer, they see that the field has control over the druid and is both hungry and primeval. The Earth has come to feed.
"What do you ask of us?"
Alric does not so much hear the voices as much as feels them. The field of many plants speaks as one; the roots plucking his muscles and veins as though it is an instrument.
"These Men need a successful harvest, or they lose much. Please, take pity on them."
Alric didn't know the situation specifically, but the Earth had little concern for Men. If he did not bargain well, the price would be steep.
"This is not given freely. These Men are not like you. They do not ask what is needed. They prod and plant and take. We are punishing them."
"I care for them." He was lying. "Please, I can pay for passage. Our deal remains one harvest for a harvest."
A minute passes. Then five. Then twenty. Alric, a man of great constitution, had passed out from the pain of the roots piercing his arms and torso. After an hour, the roots squeeze Alric back awake.
"We accept."
Alric's eyes widened. If there was still a world that existed above the Earth - a world of trees and birds and man - it was no longer evident to Alric. For the next five hours, the field and the plants feasted on Alric's life-force: a sweet taste that enabled great power but came at a cost.
Six. This was the sixth harvest Alric had empowered, which meant this would be one less harvest Alric would see before the Earth reclaimed him. His end was closer now than it was before.