The Untold Forest Elisa Menz (classic literature books .txt) 📖

frown. Before bitterness won him over, Maeve raised her eyes and held out a hand towards him.

And he took it.

CHAPTER XX

THE WARLOCK

Hakken

Two days after the incident, the mood around the village remained strained. The men from the Red Moon Valley had left bitter and battered. Not that Hakken cared. They had threatened Maeve and attacked her. Other tribes might argue keeping a human in the Forest was reprehensible, but it made his blood boil just to think of how they cowardly targeted her while she was alone.

Well, not entirely alone. Regn saved her. Again.

Hakken growled at the thought, and Maeve’s eyes darted his way. She sat comfy between his legs, her tiny hands resting over her lap. They waited for the matriarch to address the gathering, surrounded by their tribe and the emissaries. The time to face war had come.

The old mother stood in the middle of the large circle, and her deep voice echoed over the crowd. “Welcome, brothers and sisters from afar, and thank you for answering the call. We face yet another war between our kind, and this time our duty is to prepare for it.”

Only the distant murmur of the river resonated through the village, her words awakening the painful memories of the past.

“Eleven years ago, we were scattered and naïve, and a conflict that should have ended sooner took a terrible toll on us. This time, all half-breed tribes must protect each other.”

While the matriarch spoke, Hakken translated for Maeve, talking to her ear. Even though she learned fast, she struggled to follow long sentences. Every word made her body tense under his touch, and he rubbed her arms, trying to soothe her fears.

The matriarch then asked Regn to tell what he had witnessed at the mountain. Every tribe needed to understand what they were up against. He stepped into the clearing, sending a glance at Maeve before shifting his gaze to Hakken’s menacing glare.

He couldn’t help being angry. Deep down, Hakken cared about the boy. He had watched him grow since he arrived in the village, as broken as himself, and he still regretted the way he treated him back then.

But his sudden interest in his woman made him—

Wait... did I think of her as my woman?

While everyone followed Regn’s speech, Hakken couldn’t catch a word. The nomad might as well be ranting about the weather, since Hakken’s mind boggled with excitement. As he came to terms with this new tender sentiment, Hakken grinned and wrapped his arms around Maeve’s tiny figure, and almost burst out of bliss when she relaxed against his chest. Unfortunately, the perfect moment was short-lived.

An annoying voice next to him forced his attention back to the present dilemma. “Yes, we have heard the story of the mysterious red dust, but we have yet to see proof of this ‘odd magic’ you talk about. You can’t expect our tribes to throw everything and march into battle with nothing but his word.” He lifted his chin, dismissing Regn’s testimony.

Hakken didn’t recognize the man speaking. He was young, a boy during the last war. The urge to slap the arrogant smirk out of his face made his hands itch. He might hate Regn’s guts right now, but he wouldn’t let that cretin talk down on him. “You are welcome to pay the mountain a visit if it helps to convince you.” He barked at the young man, glaring.

The effect turned out to be quite rewarding. The irritating emissary shrank and paled, while a murmur rose from the crowd. Another emissary—an elder—raised his hand to speak, and the matriarch nodded at him.

“I will not doubt the word of the Children of the River. They have always been a powerful and honorable tribe. I do fear that without further information, all our preparations might be for naught.” Many nodded somberly.

“Our people will be ready. We will fight alongside you if it comes to it, but I must request we seek counsel from the Warlock about this matter,” he concluded. Hakken had to admit it was a good idea, and they ran out of those. No half-breed, elf, or fae they knew held any answers to the red dust mystery. Fighting the unknown was never wise. So they turned to the wisest. The Eternal. The Warlock.

A warrior raised her hand. A large woman, with a nasty scar crossing her nose and an even nastier scowl on her face. “Gremel is right. If anyone can give us an answer, is the Warlock.” Ignoring the crowd, she turned to the matriarch. “Since your people are visiting him soon, take that thing with you and have its fate sorted out,” she said, waving at Maeve.

Hakken bared his fangs at her and growled, surprised to hear half his tribe reacting the same way.

The woman was taken aback for a moment before frowning at them. “You might think our traditions are meaningless, but a human has trespassed into the Forest. I will not look the other way. If the Warlock deems her worthy, so be it, but if he takes her life, I will call it fair!”

Maeve stirred in his arms, her beautiful face showing her concern. He had stopped translating for her a while ago, but she understood enough. The thought of her fearing for her life once again tugged at his heart.

The surrounding argument became heated, but Hakken could only focus on her, on protecting her.

When the matriarch raised her hand, the brawl ceased. “It shall be done.” His eyes snapped at her. No! The elder sent him a discreet look, and as the crowd dispersed, he left Maeve in Mynte’s company before walking to face the old mother.

“Are you insane?” He fought to hold back his anger. “I will not risk any damage done to her. I will not take her anywhere near that—!”

“Oh, be quiet!” she scolded. “I don’t believe for one second the almighty Warlock will give a damn about an adorable, tiny human living amongst us. If he gives her his blessing,