Page 100 of The Knucker King

Shivering, she looked up; Trewoofe’s ward had begun to buckle. The fissures had widened, letting in more snow. She let out a trembling exhale, her breath thick in the freeze, and brought her hands together above her head in a short, sharp clap.

“Thank you for coming.”

The Faeries hummed all at once. Their voices intertwining to a layered chord, creating a wild choir.

“We can do this.”

She spun on her toes, dress wafting up and down.

Another clap.

Another melodious hum.

The air crackled as magic sparked from every Good Neighbour in a vibrant rainbow. Avice spun again, moving her body to their song. She spread her arms wide as she gathered their threads of power to her as it thickened in the air.

It hurt.

Stinging, needling pain knotted at the small of her back as she danced, and they crooned. It worked its way up her spine, forcing her sigil tattoo into a stubborn illumination. She continued her untamed movements as the Faeries sang in a myriad of melodies. Despite the chill, sweat slicked to her skin, and exhaustion made her limbs heavy. Finally, her tattoo was brimming with the threads of their power.

She stomped her foot to the frost, sending a jolt of pain down her leg.

Wildflowers, magic touched and shimmering, sprouted around her with loud pops. She turned and repeated the movement. Each time, greenery burst up, singing into life with dulcet tones.

“Keep going!” Avice shouted.

The Faerie chorus increased their volume, tossing more of their enchantment into the air. Avice grasped for it, sewing it into her skin and using her sigil to funnel it into summoning Spring. Wherever the season was, she was determined to bring her to the land tonight.

Equinox was when the power of the Good Neighbours was at its peak. A special time when the barrier between the human lands and the Otherworlds was at its thinnest. When the ancient magic cascaded up and out, feeding their intrinsic abilities, their power was increased tenfold. Usually, Avice only used it to make the woods and fields more fertile, but tonight it was for a greater purpose. If they were going to bring a close to this endless Winter, it had to be now.

Avice tossed her hands in the air and twisted her body. The magic flushed up the trunks of the surrounding trees, forcing them into bloom. The scent of apple, pear, plum, and mulberry blossom wafted over, saturating her senses with their sweetness.

Her healing herbs erupted from the ground fully grown in their designated beds: sage, rosemary, thyme, and little flowers of calendula and chamomile spread through her garden like a painter flourishing their brush. Only, she was the artist, and the Good Neighbour’s magic was her tool of creation. Even the tree, the one Trewoofe had knocked over, began to grow tiny saplings from the wreckage of the break.

Avice would have been filled with elation if it did not hurt so much. With every flush of green and every flower that bloomed, pain and exhaustion bit at her limbs. Agony spilled from her, like a cup that had been overfilled. She repeated the movements, but each stomp and clap brought less and less magic with it. While her garden overflowed with Spring, it did not stop the raging snowstorm above or bring fields of green beyond the boundary of Trewoofe’s ward.

Realisation dawned, that this may all be in vain. It was one thing to convert untamed Faerie magic into a blessing for the woods, the fields, and the coast. It was completely different to bring Spring to fruition altogether.

She did not stop.

Avice grimaced as she spun petals blustering down from the hem of her wafting shift. She jolted in surprise as clawed fingers dimpled her wrists from behind, shooting sparks up the pearlescent scar on her arm. The pain immediately ceased, the overwhelming magic no longer burnt her veins. Trewoofe’s massive hands encircled her. His lips brushed her ear, sending tingles across her skin. He rubbed his stubbly cheek against hers, before spinning her around so they were face to face, making her giddy.

Her breath was stolen at the sight of him.

His outline glowed translucent violet. His throat and chest were flushed pink and purple; his silver veins throbbed beneath his skin. Shimmering magic had settled on his nose and cheekbones, giving the illusion of sparkling freckles.

“I will not stand back and watch you suffer alone.” Trewoofe lifted her arm up. “I will help, twirl for me.”

Avice sparked with delight. “Lord, I—”

He spun her around, making her lightheaded in all the right ways, before catching her again in his sure and steady arms. The magic thrummed through her, both his and hers. It entwined through the air, dropping seeds that germinated and bloomed as they embedded into the ground at their bare feet, the threads of power tossed up through the fractures in the ward, and blasted away the mountain of snow that threatened to crush them.

He beamed down at her. “Knuckers are good dancers, but I know you can keep up.”

39

Chapter 39

Trewoofe