Chapter 17
Avice
Avice and Bramble flew.
Her boots barely touched the ground before she lifted them again.
Sprinting out of Lamorna, she ignored any lingering villagers, saving her rage for when she found out who had hurt her sweet Knucker. His voice had sounded so weak, so scared; it struck her with terror at the thought of what she might find.
Avice barely registered the sting of the frigid air in her lungs or the aching of her calves as she dashed into the woods, heading straight for her cottage.
When she arrived, she tripped over something as she barrelled in and out of her home, gathering whatever medical supplies she could think of.
Then – like an arrow from its bow – she aimed herself for Knucker Hill, and for Trewoofe.
The rivers of silver cascading down the side of the barren mound caught her attention first. Avice’s gaze followed the trail from the summit to the base. Her stomach dropped at the sight of who was collapsed there.
“Trewoofe!” she cried, pushing her aching legs to run even faster.
What happened! Bramble dashed ahead and tossed his head over his shoulder, his nose wildly twitching. Can you smell that? Iron!
Avice sniffed the air; the scent reminded her of human blood and scratched at her throat. The closer she got to her Knucker, the more she feared she was already too late. Trewoofe’s pitiful state twisted like a knife in her gut.
He was the shimmering Well King.
But now, he looked like a shrivelled snakeskin.
Silver blood stained his face and body, and several scales were missing from his belly. Worst of all, he reeked of iron and the oil Avice had noticed on Father Peter back at the church.
Avice stopped and turned to her familiar. “You will need to stay back, whatever is wrong with him, it may affect you.”
Bramble bristled. I will not—
“Please. I cannot bear to lose you too,” she begged.
The Grim huffed but dropped into a sitting position, ears pinned back against his head. I will be right here.
“Thank you.” She patted his head. “You are a good boy.”
He whimpered and thumped his tail against the frost. I know.
Avice took the last dozen steps towards Trewoofe alone. A lump formed in her throat as she knelt beside his mighty head. She pulled off her gloves with her teeth and pressed her palms to his throat. A weak pulse thudded there. Relief washed over her; he was still alive.
She stood on her tiptoes and called into his ear, “Trewoofe?”
It twitched, and the lid of the eye closest to her flickered open.
“You came.”
Tears prickled at her. “You called.”
Avice studied his iris; the bright crimson had dulled to the colour of dried human blood. She shoved a hand under his lip and felt his gums. They were tacky and cold, which was not a good sign.
“Can you tell me what happened?” she asked.
“The humans…” He practically spat the word. “…poisoned the healing waters with their iron. It killed two Wulver and fouled the air.”
“Did you drink the water?” she pressed, hefting his lip back with a grunt. Alarm bells pealed in her head at how pale his gums were compared to their usual vivid pink. “Is that what made you sick?”
“No. I took in all the iron poison, so it would not harm any more of my Faeries. There are younglings down there. I could not live with myself it if they—”
He retched. Avice side-stepped the black sludge he vomited up. She leant forward to inspect it, wrinkling her nose at the overpowering smell.
“If you are heaving, it is your body’s way of trying to purge itself,” Avice reasoned. “We need to get you to vomit more.”
“How would—”
Avice shoved her entire arm into his maw.
He spluttered as she rooted around the back of his throat, trying to feel out where his uvula should be. She wanted to grab and tug at it, to make him spew up the rest of the poison. She jolted as she realised he did not have one.
“Avice!” he mumbled around her arm, pushing it out with his tongue. “What are you—”
A spasm made his body writhe, shoving her backwards. She fell onto her rear with a painful thud. Supressing a yelp, she rolled out of the way just in time to avoid a twitching talon.
Avice! Bramble barked, leaping to his paws.
“Stay there!” she called.
The fit slowed, and Trewoofe collapsed onto his side, exposing more of his belly. Avice’s eyebrows flew up as she saw an old scar that carved all the way down. She pushed herself up and rushed to his side.
“I am sorry, little witch. This poison burns every part of me. I feel it in my blood, in my bones.” Trewoofe could barely open his eyes. “I did not hurt you, did I?”
She patted his neck. “I am fine, please do not worry about me.” Avice dropped her gaze to his jaw. “I tried to make you vomit. Trigger your gag reflex. It did not work.”
“I eat my prey whole. I do not think I have a trigger to make me vomit.”
She wanted to tear her hair out. He had already bled plenty on his journey down the hill, and she could not get him to vomit more. How else was she supposed to rid him of the poison? The human midwife had no idea how to heal a Knucker.
She voiced this. “Lord, I do not know what else I can do. I can give you healing waters for your missing scales and to drink. But with how huge you are, and the amount I have with me, it might not be enough. Also, you are a Knucker, and I do not know how to treat beings of magic.”
His eye opened. “There may be a way…” His scales twitched and more quicksilver poured from his wounds. “But I will need some of your blood.”
Avice did not hesitate. “Where?”
“In my mouth, on my tongue. I need to drink it.”
She could have used the knife in her medical satchel or pricked her finger with a needle.
On impulse, she raked the length of her arm down one of his serrated fangs.
She bit back the tears as she did, her crimson blood bright against his sickness.
She yanked out his dry tongue, and squeezed each side of the gash, feeding him as much as she could.
“Swallow,” she ordered once his tongue was saturated with it.
Trewoofe retracted it back into his mouth and gulped down Avice’s blood offering. She watched his throat rise and fall, ensuring he got every drop she had given.
The Knucker jerked once.
Twice.
He roared in agony that tied his body in knots.
Avice recoiled as his scales fell off. Underneath was pale, smooth skin, shot through with vivid silver veins.
Trewoofe contorted, throwing himself against the frost. His powerful limbs shrunk into corded arms and legs, taut with lithe muscles.
Each foot was tipped with four clawed toes, and each hand had three clawed fingers and a thumb.
Avice could do nothing but watch. Sympathy flooded her. She wrung her hands, desperate to help Trewoofe, but clueless as to what was happening.
With a final convulsion, his muzzle shrunk and reshaped into a handsome face.
Arched cheekbones swept into a narrowly pointed chin.
His nose reminded her of a delicately arched bird’s beak.
Silver brows and eyelashes matched his long, waterfall-like hair.
From his scalp swept two handsome horns.
They smashed into the ground with a sickening crack as he tossed his head.
His eyes squeezed shut during his spasms, but Avice had no doubt that they would be wracked with agony when he opened them.
Finally, Trewoofe settled onto his back, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.
And, what a chest. Firm, taut, and covered with fine silver hair.
Avice’s gaze swept downwards. From the top of his breastbone, and twisting down his midline, was the old, ragged scar she had spotted on his belly while he was still shaped like a Knucker.
It mingled with the fresh, deep cuts from where his scales had been ripped out.
Her assessment of his injuries stopped right above his downy pubic hair.
Avice flushed. Trewoofe was naked. Very naked. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She did not realise men could be so… long, and thick.
Stop gawking. Pull yourself together. This is not the time for it.
It was a distraction though, so she untied her cloak, shivering against the freezing air. From it, she ripped off the mantle. She tossed it over his exposed manhood and tucked it around his hips, more for her ability to concentrate then for his modesty.
Do Knuckers even get embarrassed?
Trewoofe began to tremble, goosebumps prickling him all over. Avice had not seen him react to the cold before, so she tucked her cloak around the rest of him. She touched her palm to his cheek and ran her thumb over his forehead. His skin, alarmingly, was colder than ice.
“King Trewoofe?” she asked, not tearing her gaze from his face.
His eyes flickered open and blearily settled on her. “Little witch…” He gave her a small smile.
“Well, this is not what I was expecting,” Avice stated.
Trewoofe squinted up at her. “You said I was too big, and that you did not know how to treat a Knucker.” He struggled to sit, a grimace set on his face. Avice grabbed his elbow and yanked, her other hand on the small of his back. “Urgh. This is awful. Everything hurts. Even more than before.”
Avice snorted. “Welcome to being human.” She eyed his horns and red eyes. “Well, almost human.”
Trewoofe said nothing but grunted. He doubled over and wretched, his body still trying to purge itself. She pulled his hair back, but there was no need, as nothing came out.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Ready for wha—”
Avice shoved her fingers down his throat. He had a uvula now, and she made sure to poke at it hard enough to make him vomit. She yanked her hand from his mouth, scratching her skin on the fangs he still had.
She held his long, silky hair back as he vomited onto the frost. She rubbed soothing circles on his back, trying to ignore how strong and supple the cords of his muscles were. It did not seem fair that he was beautiful as a Knucker and a man.