Soul Song ~ Book One

Chapter One

Softly, Plague slunk through the ample underbrush surrounding a village that didn't know it was being caught unawares. Tendrils of Black Death played along the piles of rot and refuse that stood just far enough away from the domiciles to lessen the stench inside, but close enough that one near death could still clean up after those who have already passed. At this time of evening, a village that supports well over a thousand humans should be bustling with activity. Children interrupting mating rituals of light bugs; mothers sweeping out their dirt floored homes; men sitting around, smoking on pipes, talking about tomorrow's chores, aches and pains, and the 'good ole times.' But no, the sounds that echoed through this glorious, even tempered evening ranged from moans to muffled crying, and occasional screams. Plague took in the sounds with pleasure. It was a job well done. Well, not done, It thought to Itself. A job almost done.

Like a starving animal on the hunt, It prowled. Peering in the windows, It took a moment to drink in the ravages of It's gift. Through the wavy, handmade glass, filthy humans huddled around the small fire that normally served the purpose of cooking. It was a moderately cool night, though not terribly. Looking closer, It could see it: they were infected and huddled so closely to a fire due to the chills of fever. There was no point in staying here. There were no others to infect.

The next home had a large, red X painted on the door. No one had taken the time to clean after it was vacated by the previous tenants. Plague wondered if it would fall in on itself without use. None of the homes looked very sturdy. It took a moment to ponder why the Elders had allowed these people to fall into such ruin. But, then again, It thought, were they doing as they must, I could not play. With that, It moved on. A breeze carried with it a waft of death and general stench. Plague languished in the beauty of the evening. It really was a fine night.

At long last, Its desire for a way in was answered. An unsuspecting human ventured from its safe domicile. Plague purred to Itself. While humans are unable to hear or see Plague, they still knew when It was present. The hairs on the back of the man's unnaturally thin neck rose, screeching their warning of a danger their owner couldn't perceive. Paranoid, the man turned, his loose, ratty clothes making the only true sound. His hollowed eyes would normally be eclipsed by fatigue, but now, with Plague hunting him, they only held terror.

Tendrils of blackness, unseen to the human, tiptoed up the man's leg, teasing his senses, heightening them to near explosion. Petrified by fear, whatever task had brought him outside was quite forgotten, along with his ability to flee. A feeling of ecstasy overflowed Plague as It pounced on the man, sinking Its painless teeth into a festering cut on his calf. With a sigh, the infection swam into the bloodstream, jabbing its tendrils of poison into the weak cells of the man's body. Yes. A job well done. It would be days before the human would know his mortality. Plague could wait; It was patient. The satisfaction It felt was enough.

The search continued onto other homes, which yielded very little, until It came across a small child playing outside. Coming closer, Plague watched as the girl manipulated wooden dolls that were so worn, they barely had any recognizable features. If the dolls ever had clothes, they didn't now. The girl's own dress was a size too small. It was a wonder she could even breathe in it. Like many others, grimy feet acted as shoes. Plague surveyed the area in disgust. It knew the humans wondered...and lamented...how they could possibly get the plague, but looking around, It knew. The fermented stench of the nearby refuse pit made Plague wonder how this little girl had gone this long uninfected. Well, It would come back to her.

As Plague began to silently sweep past the girl, something forced It to stop. It was as though the girl had reached out and pushed it. Confused, Plague inspected the dirty child. There didn't seem to be anything unusual about her. Small, about nine, with pain-hollowed clear green eyes, stringy blonde hair hanging over her face. The too-small dress was simple, quarter sleeves and just below the knees, though made to go much lower and roughly sewn by hand, no doubt, by her mother.

What about this child could have caused the feeling of being pushed? This child was no different from any other child in the village. Except, she was uninfected. No matter. A simple gesture and...Plague snatched Its tendril back as it hit a barrier. No, not this one. It couldn't have this one. Immunity? Plague inched closer. No, not quite...could it...? With a snarl, it reeled back. The girl looked directly at Plague as if she saw It before her. Unsure, Plague moved to the side. The girl's penetrating green eyes followed it with curiosity. Now incensed, Plague was about to move again when a wail peeled out of the dilapidated home, jerking Plague and the little girl out of their game.

Ah, Plague thought with minute satisfaction. It had won another battle; death reigned today. Plague couldn't help but feel a smattering of glee at Its victory. As the two watched the door, several women with sparking green eyes filed out of the house. Smugly, Plague oozed into the shadows and watched as the women, with sadness etched deeply into their wrinkled, aging faces, walked by. Healers, thought Plague snidely, didn't win this one, did you? A small chuckle escaped Plague, warranting a quick glance from one of the older Healers. No concern entered into Plague's thoughts as the old woman's eyes sparked fire in Plague's direction. The old woman knew what Plague did. While the Healers may have the ability to fight Plague, they could never truly win. They could banish it, hold it at bay, but never destroy it. Plague came from the Sources, a place the Healers could never go.

As the Healer turned away, her eye caught sight of the dirt-smudged little girl. Curiosity played across her features for a moment as she regarded her. The girl, almost defiantly, looked into the Healer's eyes. Moments went by before the girl broke the contact, tears creating cleaner lines on her cheeks. The Healer glanced back at where Plague waited before joining the other Healers. It wondered if they knew. If their quiet conversation had anything to do with the girl. Well, it's of no consequence. There is still another.

It pushed past the girl and snaked Its way into the humble home. Taking little notice of the home, other than the piling filth in the corners that allowed Plague to play freely, It made Its way to the back of the hovel where a human woman was lying over her dead mate. The tell-tale signs, foaming at the mouth, blood shot eyes, black pustules all over the body, didn't stop the woman from being in full contact. It was almost too easy.

A smoky wisp reached out and delicately touched the track of a tear, infusing with the liquid, and sent it up into the tear duct. Pleased with the infection entering in the weak place, Plague pulled back and turned to leave. Its job was done, so far as It was allowed to do so, It thought, momentarily irritated. Its exit was abruptly halted as It ran into the barrier surrounding the girl that was currently standing in the doorway. Trying not to panic, Plague pressed forward, above the girl's dusty head. Blocked, It panicked, unsure of where to go. It was rarely impatient, but as the girl stubbornly stood in the doorway, watching her mother's antics, patience was difficult to maintain.

Plague's suspicions about the girl turned near to paranoia. Were green eyes common in this part of the world? Those nasty Healers have them, but they spark. Why would a common girl have them? And, why can't I push past the little spit? This last was thought with panic that was verging on hysteria as Plague tried to push past the invisible barrier that surrounded the girl in the insufferably small doorway. The harder it pushed, the more unrelenting the barrier became.

In severe frustration, Plague sat, waiting, tapping its invisible tendrils impatiently on the floor and wall. If It could have gone mad, It would have done so right then; waiting in a room with a hysterically crying human woman and a blockage in the form of a useless human child. Its only consolation was the knowledge of the mother's impending doom that would befall her in a week's time.

After what seemed near an eternity, the infernal beast of a child decided to run out of the house. Plague took this opportunity to dart out of the bundle of sticks those foul humans call a home, in a rush of wind and a blush of putrid odor for good measure. On Its way through, It glanced at the child again, but this time, with much less interest. It had already almost forgotten the incident where It had been stopped by a weakling human child. There was no point in remembering small embarrassments and every reason to think upon more pressing matters.