The Iron Forest: Ancestor's Legacy

Sana woke before the sun rose above the mountain tops. Crickets silenced to the first songs of birds, greeting a new day. A chill filled the air, creating a mist that loomed across the forest floor.

She turned to see the man still in a deep sleep. Late in the night, the fire burned down to dark red embers beneath a layer of gray ash, leaving him shivering in the cold air. Out of pity, she covered him in her wolf’s skin cloak. That, and his rattling teeth, kept her awake.

With a yawn, Victor rose, pausing when he noticed her sitting next to the dying fire.

“Good morning,” she said, even though he didn’t understand her language.

He blurted out his own greeting with a grin and stretched. When he jerked, Sana rushed to see a wound surrounded by a patch of blood-soaked shirt. It wasn’t deep, but the exposed flesh showed signs of festering. She gave the slightest touch that caused him to flinch and hiss.

“It’s not bad, but we’ll have to clean it before any corruption sets in.” She ripped a couple lengths of cloth from her tunic and wet one from a water trickle that flowed off a granite ledge. It was cold, and the bandage hadn’t been boiled, but it was better than nothing.

Her new companion squealed when she dabbed the cloth to clean his wound. “Don’t be a baby. It’s barely a scratch.” She scoffed, wiping his cut clean with the bandage.

Sana had some knowledge of medicine, but the plants she needed were scarce at this altitude. He’ll have to wait a little longer. Besides, it’s about time for us to get moving again.

They gathered as much dry-smoked meat as possible and set off with the rising sun at their backs. The sky was clear, with wisps of clouds stretching from one horizon to the next. A tinge of warmth aided in their journey, with the daytime breeze rolling off the snowy mountains.

They crossed several ridges, but the trip seemed slower. Sana paused every hundred paces to allow her companion to catch up. The thin mountain air made his breathing short and labored. She scoffed in annoyance, forcing him to quicken his pace. Any slower, and the old village woman could pass him up, she thought, walking for a short time only to realize Victor fell behind.

His language was just as annoying as his slow pace. Some of his words she recognized from the elders speaking the words of the Ancients, but nothing he said made any sense. Throughout the trek, he rambled on like she understood, but she remained quiet. No point in speaking, since he didn’t understand her either.

Still, she had no choice to bring him along. Unlike most Shankur men, he appeared frail with bony cheeks behind his thick, overgrown beard. Another day in the Outlands would have killed him for sure. It would have displeased the Ancestors if she were to leave him there to die.

More important than that was where he came from. A flash and thunder with no clouds sent an object hurling from the sky. She saw nothing like it before and felt obligated to investigate. To her surprise, there he was, walking around aimless and frail. She had no idea what it all means and hoped the Shankur elders would have answers.

Ridge after ridge, they worked their way through the Outlands. Sana kept to the mountains as close as Victor could manage. It was safer there, away from the Reapers. She learned early on they struggled to traverse steep, angled terrain. Although fine for people, the machines’ weight of steel dislodged the rocks, sending it tumbling down the hill. Despite the Reapers lurking about, it was still the safest place for her to travel. The Chotukhan still searched for her, and she knew their fear of the machines would prevent them from crossing Gaia’s wall.

Several hours of repetitive walking, stopping, waiting for Victor, then walking again, they reached a meadow hidden between two low-lying mountains. The wall of pure light stood between them, shining bright amidst the sun. She glanced at Victor who stood mesmerized by it, waving his hand through the curtain of light. He spoke much, pointing at the towers and the wall with a passionate tone, but she understood not a single word. All she could do is walk across the light and hope he followed.

A few trees grew along a distant stream, but otherwise, only tall brown grass covered the land. Sana stopped, holding her hand for Victor to do the same.

A single arrow, half buried in the grass, caught her attention. She picked it up, inspecting the shaft and fletching. It was new, with white-tipped turkey feathers and blue stripes across the shaft. Not even morning dew stained the wood. Somewhere out there was a war party, and they were on the hunt.

Victor approached to speak, but she placed her hand over his mouth. “Shh.” Sana removed her hand, then motioned for him to stay still.

Moving forward, she stalked with bent knees and her head held low. Tall grass made hiding easy, but it also works both ways. She listened for any sound that carried in the wind. A quick glance at Victor had him disappearing into the grass.

Another look at the arrow reminded her of the Shankur design. That didn’t mean she could mark the identity of the shooter. They could be a Totan or Chotukhan warrior who purchased the arrow.

Either way, making her presence known was a dangerous gamble. She was near Durasha, her uncle’s village, and her next place of safety.

“I am Sana of the Shankur. Ancestors bless you,” she shouted, waiting for a response.

“May they accept your spirit with open arms.”

She peeked above the grass and saw no one. Her breathing quickened.

A man in armor of boiled leather, holding a bow, rose from the grass. He gestured and more men and one woman emerged. Skins of wolves covered their shoulders with armbands of blue—they were Shankur.

“It is only myself and another man,” she announced, scanning around for Victor. He still hid in the grass, not knowing what was being said. “Victor, show yourself.”

He stood a few feet away and rushed to Sana’s side. His eye was wide with a surprise she didn’t understand. They were just people, but he looked at them like never seeing other people before.

The armored warrior approached and bowed to Sana. She returned the greeting, then wrapped her arms in an overwhelming abundance of delight. She knew him. Tears flowed down her face as she wept.

“I’m glad to see you too, Sana. It has been many winters since we last met.”

“Too many, Rajin.”

They started walking with the rest of the Shankur warriors protecting the rear. Victor kept himself in the middle, looking very confused.

“Many dark tales have been coming from Gathal. Chief Batan and the elders will want to hear from you,” Rajin said.

Sana nodded. “As expected, I have much to tell.”

“He also wants to know about Shayla, as do I.”

That stopped Sana cold. She shook her head, keeping her emotions at bay. “I have nothing to tell.” A threat still loomed and the time to tell him and her uncle about Shayla would come later.

She continued to walk, checking on Victor to ensure he was close behind—a habit now.

“Soldiers from Tashimur have been attacking us for weeks. It wasn’t until a week ago, people from your village started trickling in. That’s when we found out about Maholin.” His face lowered with sadness at the mention of her city. “How did you escape?”

“I didn’t. I wasn’t there.”

“You weren’t? Where were you?”

“In Gathal.”

“Gathal?” he asked, looking aside with surprise. “What in Ancestor’s name were you doing there?”

“It’s a long story.”

He nodded. “And Ikesh? I heard they took him—”

“Dead. And so is my father,” Sana snapped.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

She sighed. “It’s alright, Rajin. He was your friend as much as my love. Without his death, I wouldn’t be here. It’s a sad time for us both.” It was true. Seeing her love die before her eyes was the spark that awakened her from the cloud of pain. Otherwise, she would still be among the Chotukhan as their queen.

He nodded. “They were warriors at heart. The ancestors will honor them with open arms.”

Hearing those words helped ease Sana’s pain, but the memory of Ikesh’s murder and seeing her father’s burned corpse would remain indelible.

One of the following warriors shoved Victor to quicken his pace. He blurted a protest and glanced at her before frowning.

“Who’s your companion?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” Rajin insisted.

Sana bit her lip, trying to decide on the best way to explain. “He fell from the sky.”

Rajin halted, digesting the words. “You’re right. I don’t believe you.”

She shrugged.

“What do you mean, fell from the sky?”

“Just like it sounds. I was traveling through the Outlands, heard thunder with no clouds, and he appeared from the sky. For a day and a night, I followed him until he came across a Reaper. The beast almost killed him if I wouldn’t have destroyed it first.”

“You took a Reaper down, alone?”

“That surprises you?” She grinned.

“It does. Your skill has improved. Perhaps better than my own.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she said. “There’s something special about him. He speaks the language of the Ancient Ones.”

“I agree. We shall take him to the elders, as well.”

They followed the valley through a mountain pass that led to a gorge. Unlike Sana’s village, there were few trees with a large waterfall feeding into a river of pure blue water. Houses of logs and stone lined the banks and spread outward to the steep cliffs on three sides. The last time Sana seen her uncle’s village, there were fewer dwellings, but the towering palace had not changed. It appeared identical to her own, but wider and not as tall.

The familiarity of the place gave Sana a feeling of comfort. The harsh stone and iron of Gathal seemed cold compared to the warmth of this Shankur village. There were no cages with criminals nor beggars. The villagers moved about, tending to their tasks with a sense of harmony intertwined to the natural world. Men turned logs into lumber while women toiled over vast looms. Children ran about in groups playing games with high-pitched cheer.

Those who paid notice to Sana and the group of warriors stopped and stared. Not at her, but at Victor, with his strange clothes and thick, overgrown beard. Even the children halted and pointed at the man. She, too, found it strange how he gazed around in awe of everything around him. If she didn’t know any better, it appeared as if this was the first time he had ever seen civilization.

They marched through the village roads and across bridges over the winding river to arrive at the palace. Giant wolves, carved out of wood, guarded the entrance. The building shared similar architecture as any other Shankur villages. Pine beams and columns decorated with carvings representing the creatures that provide them with life. Elk skins decorated the doors with split cedar shingles, topped the roofs. Everything about her uncle’s village shared a similar appeal as Maholin, but there she knew the people by name and enjoyed their stories.

Inside the palace, dozens of torches lit the great hall with flickering orange light. Toward the rear, a group of elders stood behind a copper-skinned man with swollen muscles, despite an advancing age. His robes were blue cloth, trimmed in wolf’s pelt, and he wore a crown of leather, adorned with fangs, atop his hairless head.

Sana saw her mother in Chief Batan. He shared the same features as his twin sister, but his fierce gaze shrouded over a look of sadness. The short, cropped beard she remembered turned long and ragged. Devastation and loss struck this man hard. Sana knew the reason for his anguish and wondered if her father looked the same after word of Saratan’s attack spread throughout the Shankur lands.

Half the village gathered in the great hall by now. Men and woman stood silent among wood columns, leaving a path between Sana and the Chief. She stepped forward and waited.

He stared at her with a shimmer in his hand and glossy eyes. “What have the Chotukhan done to my daughter? Where’s Shayla?”

Sana choked and knelt, tears filling her eyes. Nothing said would bring back the girl whose smile and charm once brightened the world.

“Sana? Answer me.”

She buried her face in both hands and began to cry.