Hector painted a line of kerosene along a woody limb. Not too much, only two feet or so, as an initial experiment. Then he touched a match to the glistening trail. Blue-green flame danced along the vine.
Dawn wasn’t sure what she expected, perhaps a shriek of pain from the vine and for it to uncoil and strike at them, or for Ava to rise up from the ground to defend her minion. As the length burned, a similar hot brand pressed against Dawn’s skin and she sucked in a breath. She wrapped her fingers around her wrist above the scratch, the pressure easing the flames under her skin. She glanced down to see a thin black line creep out from under her hand. When she lifted her fingers it appeared like pencil lines feathered out along the length of the scratch. She needed to heed Nurse Hatton’s advice and scrub it clean or risk a deadly infection.
The vine hissed, as though it expelled air through gritted teeth.
“What’s that noise?” Teddy held his blanket a little higher in front of him like a shield.
“Just the wood burning,” one of the other lads replied and flicked the back of Teddy’s head.
Dawn glanced to Hector, and the concern on his face echoed her own. Let the men think it was just the hiss of sap burning in the wood.
“How will we know if it’s working?” Dawn asked, peering at the hypnotic flames.
“We want it to eat through as much as possible. I suspect it will take some trial and error, but I reckon we leave it as long as we can stand given how tough the old vine is.” Hector handed off the can of kerosene and brush and kept watch.
Minutes ticked by with hisses, crackles, and pops. Fire battled the plant in a collection of odd gurgles and cracks. The vine writhed and tightened as though trying to douse the burning patch, but the oil fed the flame. The men glanced at each other at the movement.
“Just a reaction to heat,” Hector said, but his sidelong squint at Dawn said otherwise.
As the flames started to lick higher up the branch, Hector wrapped his blanket over the branch and smothered the life from the fire. One moment edged into another, then he peeled back one end of the blanket. Satisfied the fire was doused, he removed the covering.
“Well?” She moved closer to peer at the smouldering length of vine. As one fire was extinguished, the tiny one on her wrist guttered out and the pain eased.
Hector picked up a hammer and brought it down on the branch. A crack rent the air, and it split. The vine still held its pieces as the rupture didn’t go all the way through.
“It will work, but we need a slight change to our approach.” He pointed to where a black char had eaten through the top layers of the vine. “If we paint all the way around, it will burn all the way through.”
Dawn took the pail of kerosene and brush and studied the mass. “We need to encircle strategic points that will allow us to pull the vine away from the entrance.”
She approached one large limb and painted a hand width of kerosene, making sure to coat the entire circumference.
“Try again.” She gestured to Hector.
Once more he lit the oil, and they watched the flame race around the entire section. Flames burned downward until they righted themselves. After a few minutes, a clear pop sounded as the vine burst and the section sagged.
“Douse it now,” Dawn said.
One of the men wrapped his blanket around the fiery spot. When he pulled the blanket away, the fire had devoured the entire thickness of the vine. Hector tugged and the end moved. They had caused a break and knew the plant’s weakness. It could hiss, spit, and wriggle, but it couldn’t fight off fire.
Dawn resisted the urge to chortle. She was a general on this battlefield and had struck the first damaging blow against her enemy. But she couldn’t celebrate her victory just yet. “It will work, but we need to think strategically.”
They plotted their course through the tangle of vines. One of the lads ran back to the shed and fetched a pail of paint and a brush. Dawn studied the vine and plotted which bits to attack to remove sections. She painted the vine where she wanted the lads to burn through.
One by one, larger supporting limbs at either side of the entranceway were encircled with fire and charred through until they snapped. Next the men brought ropes and tied them around branches. With three or four men pulling at once, they soon started to clear away larger sections of the monster.
The horse was enlisted to take away cart loads of fallen vine, and by the time the light began to fade, they had battled all day and almost cleared the entranceway. Dawn couldn’t contain her excitement. She picked up her skirts and pushed through the sliver of gap that remained between two overgrown yew.
The hedge bristled past her skin, and she was grateful for the long sleeves of her gown. She stepped into the first alleyway of the maze, and disappointment plunged down to her toes.
“There’s more of it in here!” she called out to Hector, waiting on the other side of the dense green wall. She strained her eyes peering left and then right, but the maze clung to its secrets. She could see nothing past the overgrowth. The vine had laced thick fingers into the middle and blocked the paths.
While not quite as dense inside the old corridors, the rapacious plant still strove to keep out all intruders. The battle would continue tomorrow. They had a methodology now, it was slow going but they would make progress. It would not win.
“I am coming for you, Ava, and I will reclaim the garden from you,” Dawn whispered.
The towering hedges shivered at the sound of the woman’s name and a length of vine fell at Dawn’s feet. Stepping around the wooden limb, she returned to the other side as though parting a curtain. The hedges had languished so long untrimmed, they had almost interconnected and erased all trace of the original paths.
“We will need a map of the original layout to ensure we don’t become lost in there. Let’s regroup tomorrow. Thank you, gentlemen, you have all earned your supper today.”
She trailed the men as they headed back to their horses to ride home. Hector chatted with a couple at the back of the group. Dawn reflected on her first week at Ravenswing Manor. She had feared her weak constitution would bring a quick death and a reunion with her parents. Instead she seemed invigorated. By all the predictions of the doctors her parents consulted, she should be unable to even walk from cottage to maze.
Yet she worked alongside the men. The weariness in her limbs could simply be the unfamiliar burn in her muscles from the exercise. Each day, her heart seemed to beat stronger within her chest. The erratic flurry still returned at times, mainly tied to moments of panic like when she fled the forest, fell through the roof of the hermitage, or was trapped in the pineapple pits. But one touch from Lord Seton did more to restore a steady calm than any amount of tonic.
What magic resided in this place?
14
That night, Dawn pled a headache and took dinner at the cottage. She needed time to sort through her week at the estate and to write down all she had achieved. Soon the earl would decide whether she stayed or was deposited at the train station, and she had woefully little to report. At least the walled garden would soon be back to full production, and that gave her immense satisfaction.
The maze might yet yield, or at least the first few feet of it. She had expected more of a fight from the vine and hoped it wasn’t plotting something in the dark. If she worked long into the dark hours, she might be able to draw up planting plans for the herbaceous border, as long as the earl overlooked the fact it would take a year to bring to fruition.
Apart from the practical issue of the grounds, more fanciful concepts took root in her mind. As much as she wanted to dismiss the idea of the family being older than they appeared, it seemed the simplest explanation. But what of Ava? It would appear she was still alive, even though no one mentioned her. Was she living in the hermitage and tending the vine, urging it to take over all the trees and shrubs until she strangled the life from the other plants?