Page 158 of The Knucker King

The Knucker let out a huff and tried to slow his galloping heart rate. Ashling was uncharacteristically panicked. He babbled half of the information Trewoofe needed to help both Avice and Bramble. He dug his talons into the flowers and raked them through the soil. He tried to calm his protective instincts as they raged. What he wanted to do was rip through the woods and slaughter every villager in his path until he found his soul-bound.

“Ashling, I need you to tell me exactly what happened,” Trewoofe ordered.

His firm command calmed the anxious Wisp. He recounted all he saw: Nell luring Avice out of the protective ward, four men capturing Avice, Bramble trapped under an iron net, how she wrestled herself free, and how she sent him to get Trewoofe.

“They must have taken her to central Lamorna,” Ashling concluded.

Trewoofe’s lithe coils had been twitching with fury during the story. He let out a guttural snarl when Ashling finished. If his soul-bound was hurt… he did not know what he would do.

“Down that tunnel” – Trewoofe tossed his head to a passageway – “is Wulver-led. Ask for Queen Olwilla. Tell her I sent you. Take her to Bramble, she will help him. I will save Avice.”

Ashling dipped in the air. “I will!”

With that, the Wisp flickered, before zooming down the tunnel to Wulver-led. Trewoofe lashed around and made like a bow from an arrow up and out of the Underneath.

“AVICE!” Trewoofe roared.

It was chaos.

The villagers had been brawling. Some of the villagers shoved against a row of men. The armed men stood in front of a wooden structure covered with writhing vines, holding back the press of the crowd. Every single human froze the moment Trewoofe marched into the square. Someone screamed, then a cacophony of shrieks assaulted his ears. He hissed and bristled, snapping at any human who did not flee from his presence. What he wanted to do was crush them beneath his paws, tear down their houses, and wipe each one from Albion.

Trewoofe squashed down the impulse to maim and destroy.

He was there for Avice.

Once she was safe, he would return to punish Lamorna. Too long they had forgotten that they were in his territory and lived peacefully by his grace and mercy, simply because he could not bear to hurt the innocent. First the blow to his Kingdom, and now they had taken his soul-bound. The Gardeners had long been the women who moved between the two worlds and kept the peace. Now they had taken the one he loved the most.

The villagers bolted from the fray, shrieking prayers to the Cross God to save them from devils and serpents. Trewoofe could not scent his soul-bound over the pungent press of the people, pollen, and leaves.

“WHERE IS AVICE GARDENER?” he roared, his voice shaking the ground.

“Well King.” A voice drew his attention to a young woman. She was holding a rope attached to a chestnut horse and stood firm against his rage. “Avice is in the cage, beside the gallows.” Trewoofe’s eyes followed the point of her finger, directing him to a wooden structure writhing with vines. “She is my friend. Please save her.”

The Knucker dipped his head. “I thank you. You should leave. I do not plan on sparing those who stand in my way.”

Trewoofe marched on. The villagers that had not already fled parted like the tide, running for their homes or the fields. A row of men stood firm and advanced towards him. They carried spears, clubs, and daggers, all brandished towards him. It was insulting that they thought they could stop him from reaching Avice.

He made short work of them. His talons swept them away like leaves in the wind, and their crimson blood stained his scales.

One man stood before him now. He was on horseback. Draped in the finest clothes Trewoofe had ever seen on a human. The thick gold chain around his neck bore the effigy of the Cross God. He clutched the cross pendant on the necklace and pointed it in Trewoofe’s direction. “Back to the pit, serpent!” he spat. “In God’s name I order you back!”

The Knucker did not have the time or patience for this. Instead, quick as lightning, he snapped his jaws over the man. The horse squealed and bolted, leaving his master dangling. Trewoofe crunched down on the man’s torso. The screams from inside his mouth ebbed to gurgles. The Knucker tore and ripped the man’s trunk from his hips. He spat his mangled body out over the cobblestones with a splatter.

Another shout and Trewoofe’s attention snapped to the gallows. He watched as the man leapt from the wooden deck and charged towards him. Trewoofe hissed and bristled, striking out to the last man standing. His fangs fastened around him. The Knucker ragged, tossing him this way and that, before throwing the lower half of his body across the square where it landed with a thud.

Nothing would stop Trewoofe from reaching Avice. He could smell her now. He spotted John, collapsed and gasping on a bed of writhing vines. The fisherman was not his concern; he was here only for her. His gaze traced the path of the plants, and a mass of squirming ivy was heaving at something.

A cage.

His little witch was inside.

“Move,” he snarled at the vines.

They shifted away, and there she was.

His Avice.

His gut twisted at what the villagers had done to her.