Page 180 of The Knucker King

Time seemed to slow for Avice as she drank it all in. The granite cobbles had been replaced by ivy vines thicker than her arms. They had interwoven to form a vast carpet that was soft underfoot. The gallows and cages were swallowed by brambles, bulging with blackberries bigger than her fist. Vast swathes of dandelions and daisies popped up between the gaps in the rug of vines. In her periphery, Trewoofe’s tongue flicked and tasted the air. She flared her nostrils and drowned in the scent of the deep, the green, and new life.

“It is beautiful,” Trewoofe rumbled, “and looks nothing like when I came for you.”

Avice looked up at him. “How long ago was that?”

He titled his head thoughtfully. “It would have been five days ago now.”

There was no sign of Lamorna as she knew it. Everything made by humans had been covered by plants.

“All this, in only five days,” she murmured.

Finally, Avice’s eyes landed on the church, it had been completely swallowed by all manner of creepers. There was a man walking away from the writhing, vine covered door.

She waved at him. “Mister Matthew!” she called out to Emma’s husband. “Are you well?” He jolted at her greeting, letting out a peculiar noise that reminded Avice of a squawking bird, before he dashed away. She blinked in surprise as he fled out of sight. “Well, that was odd.”

“Did you forget I was here?” Trewoofe chuffed. He strode ahead of her, his talons tapping softly against the vines. “I killed many men that day. He took one look at me and fled.” His red eyes were vulnerable in the gentle light. “Only Gardener witches have not feared me through all my many turns of seasons.”

“I did forget.” She frowned at the church. “Not that you were here, but that the villagers would be afraid of you.”

“That is because you have a kind disposition towards me,” he chuckled.

She smirked before following him. “Slightly more than ‘kind’.”

Resisting the urge to run, Avice stood at the obscured entrance to the church.

Trewoofe is with me. I have no need to flee and I am not afraid.

He touched the very tip of his snout to the small of her back, supporting her quaking legs. She studied the writhing flora. Massive flowers, thick green vines, and even giant blackberries cover the grey stone. She touched the squirming ivy that covered the large arched doors, sparking magic flowed up her arm, and made her sigil twitch.

“Let us in,” Avice whispered. “We are here to help.”

Behind her, Trewoofe rumbled his surprise as the ivy untangled itself. Rustling, it drew back and presented the battered church door.

Avice swallowed her nerves and dipped her head at the vines. “Thank you.”

“Little witch, I cannot fit through there,” Trewoofe observed.

Avice studied the formerly grand double doors that would be thrown open every Sunday when Father Richard, and then Father Peter, would shepherd their flock inside. The men would preach of the Cross God’s love, but also the eternal punishment bestowed if you were not obedient.

“You can shove your way through,” Avice said, sticking her chin out with grim determination. “If this Faerie is where I think they are, then I will need your help to release them.”

“Release them?”

“You will see,” she promised.

Avice gripped the mottled handle and heaved. The door budged a sliver, creaking loudly, before snapping back. On closer inspection, she saw the hinges and frame had swollen from the contact with the plants and were too big for the spaces they filled.

“Allow me,” Trewoofe offered.

Avice stood back as he slotted his talon tip into the rusted handles and yanked. He ripped the arched doors from the frame. She chuckled deviously as it smashed against the ground before turning back to the gloomy entrance.

That is when Avice heard it.

“Help me.”

The voice was fading, and distinctly feminine.

“Do you hear her?” Avice asked.