The Untold Forest

by Elisa Menz

  When he finally woke up, he pulled away from the grip as his eyes darted around. Terrified, he recognized none of the faces staring at him. It was impossible for humans to have followed him this far, but he was too scared to think clearly. Only when a commanding voice called, he realized elves surrounded him.

  “Calm yourself, boy. We mean no harm.” The one who had awoken him loomed over, a worried look on his face. “What is your name?”

  With his mouth parched, his voice came out ragged and feeble. “R-Regn.” The old elf regarded him with concern, while the others grew restless. A younger elf spoke in their language, and the one closest to him nodded before turning his eyes to him once more.

  “Your family?” he asked.

  The lump in his throat prevented him from talking, so Regn only shook his head and stared down, ashamed of his tears.

  They could have left him there. An orphan half-breed was not their problem. However, the leader of the group took pity on him. He offered a hand, shaking him out of the mournful haze he fell into and pulling him away from the roots. “My name is Hevonen, Regn. You will travel with us.”

  After feeding him and healing the cuts in his arms and legs, they resumed their journey. Regn followed close behind.

  Days passed, and as they moved away from the battle, others joined their group. The elf led them through roads near the border, keeping a safe distance. The earth beneath his feet shook with each step of the Hill.

  What exactly is a Wandering Hill? What are their paws like, and how many do they have? Where are we headed again? Why is it considered good luck to travel with one of them?

  Regn marched next to the Hill, surrounded by the caravan. Hundreds of questions gathered in his mind, but this time, he didn’t bother to ask for answers. He had spent the last few days walking in silence, focusing on the tip of his boots, which grew tighter every day.

  Around him, everyone was strangers. The family of elves who sneaked off the battlefront. The seven young pixies who seemed more nervous than usual. A few exhausted wolves, traveling the same path along with him. And the Hill. The war must have escalated to a worrying state if it had forced a Hill to escape.

  Rain fell on the travelers, and Regn let out an annoyed growl. Wonderful. His feet hurt, drained after walking all day, and his stomach protested since morning.

  He hadn’t eaten almost anything since last night when the wolves kindly shared some meat with him. Only his questions distracted him from his overwhelming situation. He had always been a curious child, and his father always said—

  No.

  Don’t think about them.

  Regn hugged himself to ward off the cold, but more than anything to dull the sharp pain in his chest. He focused again on his steps and emptied his mind of memories.

  He looked up at the elf who walked in front of him. Despite his kindness, he was a taciturn fellow. They crossed only a few words since they started traveling together; he mentioned they would only have to journey until dawn. They would soon reach the territory of the Children of the River, and the elf was sure they would take him in.

  Regn was not so confident.

  Although half-breeds like him, people who lived in villages did not trust nomads very much. Maybe they would accept him because he was a child, but uncertainty weighted like a stone in his stomach. Or perhaps he was just hungry. “Pff...” Regn snorted, gaining a raised eyebrow from Hevonen.

  I could keep traveling with the Hill if they decide not to accept me. I could hunt on my own and live just fine. Mom always said that...

  He dug his nails in his arms to chase away the awful memory. Remembering his mother hurt too much. He couldn’t help letting out a growl, and the elf turned to him again. This time, before continuing, he patted his head. That simple gesture helped him keep walking and chased his family’s memories away.

  How did life change so fast? How did it come to this?

  He did not understand war. His father didn’t understand this war either. One day, their peaceful life disappeared, and everyone around them turned dangerous. If only they had survived until meeting the elves. If only his family had escaped the ones hunting them.

  They walked for days following the Path, joining other refugees, and for the first time since that fateful night, Regn laid eyes on the lands of men. And he saw them.

  A wild bawl escaped his lips.

  Hate. Deep and searing hatred roared inside him.

  His eyes fixed on the two figures watching them from the plains, half-hidden behind a few rows of trees. His body trembled with rage, and his fingers twitched. He wanted to tear out the lives of those humans who dared to approach the Forest.

  Regn never felt anything like it. The unbearable need to kill. Damn monsters! A calming hand landed on his shoulder, breaking the tension. Regn gasped when he realized he had taken a step forward.

  The old elf scowled at him. “They are children, boy. They didn’t hurt your family. They don’t deserve your hate.”

  Regn looked away, unnerved. They were children now, but the men who murdered his family had also been children. Those children would grow up and become murderers in a few years, but now he had the opportunity to prevent it. Avoid another death, avenge his family.

  He took another step, but the elf held him back.

  “Your hate is your responsibility, and you will decide what to do with it, but I will not allow you to break the law again. They are in human territory. Hurt them, and it will be you who commits a crime.”

  He clenched his teeth and dug his nails on his palms, not accepting Hevonen’s words. They were the killers! They were the criminals! Men only knew how to destroy and kill. They had not shown his family the slightest compassion. “Look at her! Is that the face of a monster?”

  He turned, confused and distraught. Shaken with anger, he couldn’t focus his eyes. Half-breed’s sight was acute, but the children appeared as a blur, their figures hidden behind trees and rain.

  And then he saw her, he really saw her. Despite the distance and the downpour, his penetrating gaze honed in on the girl hugging the older boy. By their looks, they were most likely siblings.

  She was so small, a few years younger than him. Her big blue eyes watched in wonder at the scene in front of her. The children only noticed the Hill since the sight of humans was not so good.

  She looked happy. The older boy hugged her with a wide smile on his face, and for the briefest moment, Regn imagined he could befriend those children. Not that it mattered anymore.

  They did not deserve to be happy, not while the pain burned in his chest. Regn shook the elf’s hand and returned to his place alongside the Hill, abandoning the idea of taking revenge at that moment. But not forever. Someday he would kill them.

  No human deserved to live. He would kill them all.

  CHAPTER III

  LOSS

  Maeve

  Weeks later, Finn disappeared.

  Maeve’s father organized a search party. They followed his trail to the edge of the Forest and knew straight away they’d lost him. Back in the castle, some of his clothes, books, and a few other gadgets were missing. Distressed, Maeve confessed to her parents about their escapade the night they saw the Hill and her fears about Finn returning to the Forest.

  Since Finn crossed the border of his own accord, they couldn’t go looking for him.

  Her mother fell into a silent lethargy. Guilt haunted her for encouraging Finn’s dangerous interests with her stories. Maeve never heard her father blaming her, but since that day, her parents grew distant. Everyone in the castle mourned her brother’s loss, for Finn was a cheerful and kind boy, loved by everyone.

  Maeve spent every moment by her mother’s side, distraught at seeing her wither away with pain and regret. They spent the afternoons sitting in her bedroom, her mother brushing and braiding her curls before covering them with a cap, as tradition dictated women should cover their hair.

  The stories, gone. Not that she wanted to hear them anymore. From
her mother, she got nothing but scattered words. On the worst days, she would hug her for hours, quietly singing lullabies and looking into the distance.

  A few years after Finn’s disappearance, both her parents stopped talking about him.

  The same loss and guilt her mother harbored were eating Maeve. She would never admit it, not wanting to worry anyone, but her pain never diminished. Many nights she cried herself to sleep, mourning Finn and fearing for her mother’s health.

  Maeve tried her best to be there for her, but some broken hearts can’t be mended. Her mother’s strength faded away until she couldn’t resist any longer, and soon after, she followed Finn in death.

  Loneliness clung to Maeve ever since that day.

  Losing his wife after his son’s disappearance made her father isolate even more. Maeve hardly enjoyed his company during the day, and at dinnertime, Lord O’Riordan kept his thoughts to himself. He devoted every moment of his life to taking care of his lands and the castle.

  His journeys to the capital became frequent but vexing. Lord O’Riordan would often return visibly burdened from his trips. He stopped receiving visits from his neighbors and showed no interest in preparing Maeve for the world.

  She never reproached him, since although he never showed it in front of others, Maeve understood the terrible pain her father bore. He dealt with his demons in solitude. Sometimes, she would find him staring at her, deep in thought, while holding back his tears. She accepted his coldness, but she couldn’t help feeling abandoned.

  When Maeve turned ten, an important decision had to be made. She could’ve asked her father to send her to live with a family in the capital, to prepare for life in court. Or, she could make herself useful, helping him guard the only joy he had left in his life; his lands and legacy.

  Maeve’s knowledge about royalty and courtiers was hardly encouraging, so she chose to stay. To learn and help as much as possible to manage the O’Riordan state.

  She worked side by side with farmers, learned about harvests and working the land. Being so close to the Forest, the quality of their farmland remained unmatched; their products, some of the best in the kingdom.

  Rumors of lord O’Riordan’s lands held magic, always gained a scowl from her father.

  The women of the countryside taught Maeve traditional medicine and the use of herbs. The servants in the castle treated her with kindness when she helped in the kitchens. They still regarded her as their lady, not allowing a friendship to bloom as much as she craved it.

  Not having the option of an appropriate education for a lady of the court, Maeve decided she would be the best lady O’Riordan Castle could have. An honorable goal.

  At least that’s what she told herself. Only inside the sanctuary of her room, Maeve allowed herself to acknowledge she was afraid. Afraid of alienation, of letting her grief sink her into despair. She yearned for companionship. Love. Every day, Maeve fought with all her strength not to end up sick and broken as her mother.

  She grew up holding her breath, struggling to maintain every precious bit of control over her life. But ultimately, her destiny depended on her father’s will. After years of endless work and much effort, Maeve gathered the courage to hold a very important conversation with her father. Now, with her eighteenth birthday behind her, the time to decide her future was fast approaching. At her age, most ladies were married or hovering in court in search of suitable bachelors.

  Since Maeve cared little about marriage, she wanted to make that clear with her father. Her goal was to inherit the lands and the castle. To take care of her people and protect the beautiful home their family built.

  Maeve’s future; a husband and children would wait. Her entire life lay ahead. That night, like all previous ones, they sat in silence during dinner before moving in front of the fireplace to mind their own business. Maeve sneaked a glance in his direction. He watched the flames, entranced. “Father, there is something important I want to discuss with you.” The man looked up, his eyes barely registering his daughter. Her heart clutched when she noticed how rapidly lord O’Riordan had aged. Since Finn’s disappearance, he had been nothing more than a shadow of the man who he once was. Now those eyes were empty.

  Seeing she had his attention, even though it didn’t seem like he would say a word, Maeve continued. “I’m pleased to tell you that in recent years, I prepared myself to relieve you from your responsibilities when the time comes. I wish you to rest assured I will do my best to take care of our people and our lands. I want to ask for your blessing and your support, father.”

  There it was, her carefully prepared speech. Maeve clenched her fists to stop her hands from trembling. Her eyes bore on his, waiting for the answer. The silence became daunting, only interrupted by the crackling of the fire and her racing heartbeat.

  When he finally spoke, her blood froze. “You will marry Kieran Callum, and his father will manage our lands.”

  The words reached her, but in her mind, they made no sense.

  Years of effort working until her hands bled, pushing away the fear and uncertainty her future held. The daily struggles to maintain a reasonable conversation with her father. The overwhelming loneliness. Sleepless nights, holding back the tears that never stopped flowing.

  Maeve had lost her brother, her mother, the love of her father, and now she wouldn’t be heard.

  She held no power over her fate.

  After what felt like an eternity, she let out a shaky breath and stared at him, a lonely man who preferred to study the fireplace before facing her. Tears flooded her eyes, and the pain in her chest was so strong Maeve couldn’t utter a word. It would have been in vain, anyway. Her father would not yield.

  She got up in silence and took her broken heart with her.

  Time passed relentlessly. The days became dark and cold, and each night grew longer than the last. Maeve immersed herself in her work, and only the peaceful routine and the kindness of the people around her kept her spirit high.

  Her days of freedom were numbered. A specific date hadn’t been mentioned, but her marriage to the young Callum should not be far.

  Maeve hadn’t spoken to her father again. His inexplicable decision to arrange this union was nothing short of a betrayal.

  Walter Callum—Kieran’s father—was an arrogant and inconsiderate man. Despite being neighbors for several generations, her father never got along with him. For this reason alone, Maeve suspected he didn’t even consider other candidates and sought to get rid of her.

  Out in the fields, she let out a sigh and looked up to the sky, which threatened rain. Or maybe snow. Winter had passed, and the warm days of spring refused to arrive.

  The weather matched her mood.

  She pressed forward to the kitchens to protect herself from the cold of the yard, but before reaching the door, a maid intercepted her. “Miss! Go to your father’s room. It’s urgent!”

  Maeve had ignored the sense of foreboding weighing on her since morning. For the first time in her life, her father had not joined for breakfast, nor did he go out to inspect the fields on horseback. Only the worst storms prevented him from going out daily. She had pushed the thought to the back of her head until that moment.

  She dropped the basket with herbs and sprinted, climbing to his room and opening the door without stopping to knock. Her father had been bedridden all day, and the physician next to him prepared to leave.

  His ashen face turned to his daughter, and with a trembling hand, he silently motioned her to sit beside him.

  Maeve moved as if in a trance, not paying attention to the physician who closed the door behind him. She sat on the bed, careful not to disturb her father, and took his hand in hers—a cold, gaunt, and frail hand. Fear spread from her stomach to the tips of her fingers, and she pressed her lips in a tight line. “Maeve...”

  It was hard to recognize the voice coming out of his body, and Maeve fought the rising panic, facing the bereaved man he had become. Her heart hammered in her chest.


  “I owe you an apology, little one. I know I hurt you, and my decision is not what you wanted for yourself. But please understand... I am a broken man. I no longer have the strength to protect you, as I couldn’t protect my family. I lost you all.”

  “Father…” Tears fell down her cheeks, and anguish edged her voice. “You didn’t lose me, father. I’m here, I’m with you!” She gripped his hands, trying to instill all her love through that simple gesture.

  A fleeting smile found its place on lord O’Riordan’s lips.

  “Your father is a fool, Maeve. All these years crying over the loss of my wife and son, and all I had to do was to see you.” He reached to caress her cheek. “You have the courage of your brother and the beautiful heart of your mother. And I dare say, you are as hard-headed as your silly old man.”

  A shaky laugh played on her lips as she laid a kiss on his pale knuckles. “I regret my cowardice so much, my beautiful girl. I should have done better by you. I feared to send you away and give up the only joy I had left in life.” A dry cough interrupted him, and before Maeve could get some water for him, he stopped her. “Maeve… I know I don’t leave you in the best hands. Walter is… we have our differences, but his family has lived in this region for generations. And Kieran, he… he will look after you.”

  Was that the reason which led her father to arrange this marriage? To allow her to remain near their home?

  “I know how hard you’ve worked, my darling. I’ve seen it day by day and… I’m so proud of you.” He closed his eyes, shaking his head in frustration. “But the law forbids you to inherit our land, child. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t find support in court to…”

  Was that what her father did during his travels to the capital? Try to ensure she inherited their lands?

  “It doesn’t matter now. I wasn’t strong enough, and I couldn’t leave you adrift either, Maeve.”

  She didn’t mind. All she needed to know was he had done his best to protect her. Her father never gave up on her. That single notion allowed Maeve to breathe easier. He cared.