by Elisa Menz
The breeze that a few moments ago traveled thick with sweetness brought the smell of blood. Hakken growled and ran at full speed towards it. All signs hinting something terrible had happened.
When he reached the border, the stench of smoke and blood became unbearable. Before his eyes located the danger, he heard the howls of pain and dread. The pack of wolves had been attacked, and inexplicably, humans made the killing. Hakken stopped in his tracks as soon as the chilling scene appeared in front of his eyes.
The bodies of the adult wolves were being stacked on a cart. Sitting by a small fire, two men pulled out the bloody arrows from the corpses the hunters collected from nearby. Hunting dogs barked, tied in line to the back of the cart.
Only one of the wolf puppies remained alive, writhing in the arms of a boyish man who hit his snout. A morbid smirk on his face while a group of brats laughed around him. The men who moved the bodies paid no attention to them; they were only there to do the dirty work.
Hakken’s blood boiled, watching the disgusting display. Hidden in the foliage, he studied the scene. He couldn’t kill them all on his own. The young men appeared to be as useless as they looked, but the older men were strong, all carrying swords or bows.
Nonetheless, those men broke the law; they should deliver the punishment. Before he decided on the course of action, the boy tormenting the puppy let out a scream. The cub bit him hard enough to draw blood. He straightened up, raising the puppy above his head, before throwing it hard against a boulder. The cub died instantly, and all the surrounding men watched with emotionless stares.
Hakken clenched his fists so hard, his nails dug into his palms. He was livid. The damn miserable bully deserved to die.
Brave little one. He frowned, eyes fixed on the young wolf’s body. To punish those monsters, he needed the help of his tribe. But the desire to jump on them and rip off their throats made him flinch with anger—especially the wretched brat who seemed to be the ringleader.
His people spoke the human language long ago. After loosing all contact between humans and half-breed, only a handful passed down the knowledge. Hakken remained one of the few familiar with their tongue. So he soon learned the pathetic prick's name was Kieran. The time to decide what to do had come.
In the middle of his debate, a slight movement by his side called his attention. Holed up between the roots of a tree, two pixies trembled with fear. Hakken understood what he should do. He brought a hand to the pixies, who sniffed for a few seconds before giving him a tiny yet determined nod and flying fast towards the thicket. He knew they would deliver the message to his tribe. Hakken would not join them yet. He wanted to assist in the execution in a more effective way. At least that’s what he told himself.
He wanted to get caught. A risky and spectacularly stupid plan, but hey, he felt stupid. If he were to be taken to their household, their tribe would have more chances of finding them on time, following his scent. The tactical advantage had to be considered. Being inside during the attack, there was a good chance to prevent sneaky criminals from escaping before his people reached them.
He had to admit he was also curious about how humans lived. He had only seen them from afar, living in tiny farms and huts. So he seized his chance to have a closer look. They were fearful, weak creatures. A sick part of him thought, while being among them, he would play with their fears.
If his scheme failed to work, and the men tried to kill him on sight, he would take several with him. The brat, for sure.
He circled the camp, planning the least suspicious way of getting ‘caught.’ The trail of blood, footprints, and broken branches stretched for several meters. That entire area turned into a gruesome graveyard.
Hakken found some broken arrows scattered, but nothing useful, until the scent of rust caught his attention. Hidden under the leaves, a huge trap awaited the moment to claim its prey.
His stomach churned. A trap that size would tear off a wolf’s leg. He was much bigger, and after analyzing the sharp metallic teeth for a moment, he put his plan into action. Taking a deep breath and relaxing his body, Hakken prepared for what he had to do.
He stomped on the trap; the horrid mechanism trapped his leg and cut his flesh. Hakken held back a growl. The laceration made him grind his teeth, but he endured it, taking a moment to get used to the burn in his leg and lay on the floor. He thought about the best position to appear vulnerable while still being able to attack if his plan went astray.
Once satisfied, he let out a roar, and without delay, the men in the camp sounded the alarm. They approached with drawn swords and tense bows. Soon, terror transformed their faces upon discovering a half-breed caught in one of their traps.
He let out wild grunts to keep up appearances, but pretended to recoil in fear when he noticed the arrows pointing at him from all directions.
Even if they shoot me, I can kill some of them. He thought with morbid pleasure. He kept the facade of pain and concern, but he couldn’t help baring his fangs when he saw the young men approach. One of them made him grunt.
“Sir! We must kill it immediately, it is dangerous to keep it alive!” One of the older hunters tried to be the voice of reason, but Hakken caught the greedy glow in the eyes of the brat called Kieran.
“Why? Look at him! He is scared and injured. I say we got the best of all the pieces. Tie him well and lock him up! Callum Hall will have a new attraction.”
They hesitated with good reason. I would also be afraid to come near me. Hakken found it difficult not to smirk; his plan worked like a charm.
The boy raised his voice, annoyed at not being obeyed. “I’ll pay double to whoever has the balls to restrict that beast!”
A handful of men reacted to his offer. They tied his neck with ropes they threw from a safe distance while another man readied the cart loaded with the wolves. They forced him to his feet, the trap still embedded in his leg.
Now closer to the cart, he could see the large cage under the bodies, spacious enough to contain an adult wolf. The hunters pushed Hakken in, laying with his legs bent.
They set off without further delay, and throughout the journey, he wailed because of his wound. He kept repeating pleading words in his own language. He could tell the hunter’s confidence grew, oblivious to any danger now the half-breed was caged.
Hakken was having a blast with all his acting. He discovered a natural talent for it.
CHAPTER VII
DEATH SENTENCE
Maeve
Lady Callum forced her ladies to pray all day to ensure the safe return of her offspring. Maeve endured it with all the patience of a monk. Sitting among them, she prayed for Kieran to fall off the horse and break his teeth instead.
Right before nightfall, the hunting party returned. While the boys dismounted in the courtyard, the hunters took care of the horses and the pieces they collected during the day.
Maeve didn’t want to welcome any of them. She preferred to stay in her room, but lady Callum would never allow such disrespect to her dear child. The lingering daylight illuminated the castle walls. The gray stones of the courtyard held the little warmth they absorbed during the day. A thick cloak of darkness covered the surrounding mountains.
Maeve rubbed her arms, staring at the beautiful contrasts between the emerald green of the trees and the bluish clouds floating among them, giving them a dreamlike aspect.
They returned unharmed. Deep down, the easy success the irresponsible young men attained disappointed her. No broken legs, no dead. Decorum deemed scandalous to think like this, but Maeve didn’t find it in her to rejoice over the good fortune of her hosts.
She wanted more than anything to escape from the courtyard and avoid Kieran’s presence. He organized the hunting party to impress her. A tiny sign of kindness would have worked a lot better. A simple ‘thank you’ from Kieran would have blown her mind.
Maeve clenched her jaw. There has to be a way to avoid this marriage. While the Callums fuzzed over their boy, Maeve hoped to sne
ak back into the castle.
Unfortunately, lord Callum soon ruined the possibility. “Lady O’Riordan! Come, look at this wonder!” lord Callum waved an arm and shouted to gain her attention.
Maeve sighed and plastered a fake smile before approaching lord Callum. She took short steps to annoy him, blowing and rubbing her hands to display her discomfort, and thus, be able to leave them sooner.
Lord Callum rested an arm around his son’s shoulders, proudly shaking him while they beamed at a cart yet to be unloaded. Kieran’s group surrounded them. During her first weeks in the castle, Maeve tried to familiarize herself with them. Until this day, she remained unimpressed.
Selfish and feeble-minded brats; heirs to fortunes and lands they hardly grasped how to maintain. The same petty people constantly surrounded Kieran. No wonder he got away with being a villain.
Maeve rolled her eyes, hearing Kieran boasting about his hunting skills. His impeccable clothes tell otherwise. Covered in dirt and bloodstains, the hunters remained impassive. Also, she had seen him with a bow, and his aim was nonexistent. It was clear to anyone but his parents; Kieran had nothing to do with the actual hunting. Ridiculous.
Since they blocked the cart, she failed to see what it contained until she stood only a few steps away. Maeve stopped when she discovered the gray and brown skins, and the stench of death hit her.
Incapable of containing her bewilderment, Maeve’s careful mask of indifference broke. Her eyes opened wide, and a hand shot to her mouth, holding back her gasp. Kieran, of course, interpreted it as a triumph, seeing his beautiful bride react to his ‘deed.’
Lord Callum was busy showering his son with praise. “Our brave hunters have brought back a treasure! I can’t imagine the dangers they faced to bring down these beasts!”
All eyes followed Maeve, awaiting her reaction. It was to be expected she would gratefully accept the gift Kieran offered and congratulate him on his courage. But discomfort crept on the group when the polite and quiet lady finally reacted. Her sweet smile had vanished.
She took the last steps towards the cart with a blank face, eyes fixed. They held their breath when she stopped inches from the bodies and stroked one. Despite the lack of lights of most of the boys, instinct told them Maeve was not happy. The atmosphere grew tense, now that Kieran’s confidence diminished.
He couldn’t allow being humiliated by her, not in front of all his friends and servants. “When you have a fur cloak on your shoulders, you will appreciate what I did to please you,” he said with an arrogant smirk.
Maeve turned to stare at him, not with fury, but with overwhelming contempt. Kieran cowered in front of her glacial glare. Her harsh voice startled him. “You’re going to die.” Her disgust was unmistakable. “There are no wolves on the hills. You and the other fools took your hunters to the Forest.”
A thick silence fell on the courtyard. If what she said was true, all members of the hunting party had committed a deadly crime. The creatures of the Forest were untouchable. Entering the Forest was considered a very serious affront. The punishment for killing one of its inhabitants was death.
If news of what the boys had done reached the capital, every one of them would be imprisoned and executed, including hunters, beaters, and any other who had taken part in the hunt.
Fear froze their blood, both of the perpetrators of the crime and of every other soul living in the castle. Although justice would not cost them their lives, lord and lady Callum, every tenant and servant would be expelled from society. They would lose their properties and status in court.
Kieran stared at her, horrified.
Lord Callum broke the tension threatening to sink his son. “Enough of this nonsense!” His voice echoed over the stone walls. “No one will say anything. This affair will never leave the walls of my house. If I find out any of you feel the need to reach to court with stories, I’ll make them regret it their entire lives!”
While shouting his threats, he glanced at each member of his service, and each visitor, before his gaze landed on Maeve’s furious face.
What an unnecessary bluff. Maeve thought, realizing they would never allow her to communicate with the outside. Much less after her future husband’s horrible crime. Kieran shivered with fear, once again a child under his father’s protection.
Pity was the last thing she would ever feel for Kieran. He deserved to fear after what he had done. Maeve turned to the cart once more, ignoring those around her. The lifeless bodies of the wolves brought tears to her eyes. Such beautiful creatures, murdered.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. What else could she do? Maeve bent over, uttering a prayer for the poor beasts when instinct made her realize the danger. She sucked in a breath, her body paralyzed. A flicker of movement inside the cart drew her eyes upon it and to the most ferocious glare she had seen in her life.
The cart in which they carried the bodies was a cage, and inside of it, one of the most dangerous creatures in the Forest was held, prisoner.
Maeve couldn’t move, trapped by the intensity of the amber eyes that shone with a beastly glow. The tang of fresh blood reached her, mixed with an alluring wild musk. It took her eyes a few seconds to get used to the gloom inside the cage. Maeve could now see every detail of the one trapped inside.
He looked like a man, but much more brawny and rough than any man she had seen before. A dense dark beard covered his face. It mingled with long, black hair he had tied up with a leather band. His tanned skin looked unexpectedly clean for a wild man, except for the blood covering his hands and leg. He had little wrinkles around his eyes; his eyebrows knitted in concentration.
Heavily built and muscular, the scars on his bare arms and chest were breathtaking, showing he was a hunter or a warrior. Seeing him trapped and restrained made little sense. It wasn’t difficult to picture him breaking a man’s neck with his hands.
He wore a thick fur vest over one shoulder, secured with belts. His rugged pants and boots were leather. It was then when Maeve noticed one of his legs was injured, trapped in a bear trap that had torn his clothes and flesh.
He was bleeding profusely. The beast-man was lying in the narrow cage, on a dark blotch of his blood, watching her with absolute calm.
Those eyes captivated and terrified her. Despite him being hurt and trapped, the imposing man’s gaze made her knees quiver. Her body trembled with fear and excitement, and it startled her to notice she was gripping the cage bars. She didn’t remember moving. Her eyes widened in terror, hearing the sinister laugh that came from inside.
The man knew the power he had over her, and he smiled with pleasure at seeing Maeve shivering at his presence alone. Maeve couldn’t help noticing the bright fangs flashing in his smile. She gasped, thus freeing herself from the spell she had fallen into. She jerked away from the bars.
What for her seemed like an eternity was only a few seconds for the others around. When they saw her recoil with a terrified look, the curious crowd approached the cage.
All hell broke loose.
Terrified women covered their faces, bathed in tears, and the men pulled their hair in despair. Lord Callum kept gaping, at a loss for words. Maeve took advantage of the confusion lady Callum caused when she fainted and ran away from the patio. She locked herself in her room, where she stayed the rest of the night.
Kieran’s unforgivable carelessness had caused the castle to fall into a silent vigil. Before midnight, one of the kitchen maids brought Maeve a frugal dinner. There were no traces of lady Callum or her ladies.
“No one has gone down to dinner.” The maid informed her. “Lord Callum, his son, and the other nobles are busy preparing the defense of the castle. Many servant families escaped. The fools left almost all their stuff behind.”
Unfazed, the maid chuckled at Maeve’s puzzled expression. “I’m not one to believe in superstitions, my lady. I pity the half-breed man, but he should have been smarter.”
Perhaps she was right, and no danger loomed over them. But thos
e poor families left their lives behind, fearing a deadly punishment.
Maeve couldn’t blame them. There were rumors about the fate of the few who dared to hunt a half-breed. Half man, half beast, the half-breeds were guardians of the Forest and their most fearsome dwellers.
They protected the creatures living within their borders. It was said they also prevented the ancestral spirits from leaving to roam the world of men. Described as powerful and cunning beings, who knew the Forest like the palm of their hand, they traveled through the trees like ghosts. They lived in communities, and their habits resembled more like those of a pack of wolves than of a human settlement.
Absurd stories ran about them, but Maeve only believed half of them. She didn’t believe the tales about cannibalism or human sacrifices. It also sounded unlikely they would hunt down other creatures only to eat their brains.
But she remembered the tales of travelers who visited her father, and at least some sounded plausible. Half-breeds did not have family ties. They were not protective or affectionate with their children and maintained several partners. Beasts, men called them. How could they know all these strange details about them? It was beyond her understanding. Men and half-breed broke all ties long ago.
Regardless of their truthfulness, everyone listened to the stories. Told at night, in the gloom, to scare young children and keep them away from the Forest. Maeve kept thinking about the fate that awaited everyone in the castle. Would the rumors be true? Would the half-breed pack attack them? Lord Callum believed fervently in the possibility of an attack since he did his best to prepare the castle’s defenses, with Kieran waddling by his side.
Despite all the rumors and gossip, Maeve could not recall a recent case of a man killed by a half-breed. Much less a large-scale attack against a castle full of soldiers. But she was restless anyway. She couldn’t forget the excitement she felt when she saw the caged man, and she couldn’t understand it.