The Iron Forest: Ancestor's Legacy

Wagon wheels made from steel and wood bumped over rocks and branches spread over the road. All around, countless footsteps and hooves pounded the dusty trail, sending a tan cloud into the breeze.

Sana blinked against the bright sunlight. Immediately, she noticed the silhouette of a large man sitting across from her in the wagon, leaning against a towering sword. Chains clinked from shackles across her wrists and ankles as she moved. Her head pounded, and she felt lines of blood trickle down her face.

She leaned to sit, but a huge boot pressed her back down. “We are not far, my queen. Stay still or you will meet with the back end of my sword a second time.”

The cold steel around her wrists had a familiar feel. More chains and another wagon sent memories of her journey from Saratan to Khalati. She did everything in her power to hold back tears of both fear and regret. Victor was out there somewhere. She had no knowledge if he was hurt, captured, or dead. Either way, she failed him.

Unknown time passed when they halted. Sana lifted her head to see a maze of tents and campfires surrounding a towering castle. Thousands of soldiers moved about, sharpening their weapons while some crowded around fires, telling tales with laughter and drink. Camp followers spread throughout the tents, peddling their wares or bodies to those willing to pay. The area was thick with a smoky haze that filled the air with the smell of meat and sweat.

A thick hand grabbed Sana’s arm and dragged her off the cart. She didn’t struggle since her legs had yet to wake. Nausea curled her stomach; every one of her bones and muscles ached from head to toe.

The general and his guards led her through the tents. It contrasted to the other castles and palaces she visited by lack of any great hall or adornments of any kind. Stone walls against stone walls with few windows was all it contained. The place seemed more of a storehouse for weapons and provisions than a keep to house the nobility.

Chains jangled as she shuffled through the halls, lined with many rooms to a large iron reinforced door. The guards tossed her in, hitting the ground hard, but carpets spread over the floor lessened the impact.

“You’ve been a hard one to catch, my queen,” the general growled. He moved to pour himself a cup of wine from one of many tables against the walls. “King Shunlin will be pleased to have you back in the palace.” He grinned. “Let’s just say you’ve made him quite angry.”

Sana scowled and sat up. “I should have left him dead.”

General Balon swallowed a gulp of wine. “Perhaps. I don’t care either way. My orders are to bring you before the king to pass judgment for your crimes.”

“What crimes? The Chotukhan enslaved me, my people, and butchered my village. King Shunlin is the one who should answer to his crimes, not me.” She tried to sit up straighter, despite the chains. “His day will come. Soon, an army of Shankur warriors will crush the Chotukhan and return Gathal to its rightful owner.”

The general bellowed with laughter. “A futile attempt. Once he wakes Abaddon, there will be no stopping him.”

The key! Panic surged through her.

“Looking for this?” General Balon held out a black piece of metal—the light from within turned his fingers blue. “Thanks to you, he now has the key.”

Sana struggled with her chains, but the metal wrapped tight and left no room for her to break free. A swift kick slammed her to the ground. She stayed still in defeat, wishing for her spear only to notice it was slung in two pieces across his back.

Another man veiled in shadow entered the room, followed by a pair of guards. “Do you, have it?”

She knew that voice, but it couldn’t be.

General Balon handed the newcomer the key.

The sunlight from behind hid his identity, but she recognized the profile. At first, she thought her mind was playing tricks, but then his face lit from the key’s blue light.

“Pavel! What are you doing?”

He moved closer. Not much of her brother changed except his blue Shankur robes were now Chotukhan white and black. “I’m sorry, sister. Sometimes a man must make a choice toward self-preservation.”

“But your people, the Shankur.”

“Are all relics of an old age. The Chotukhan are the real power. You would have done well to realize that many winters ago.” Pavel shook his head. “You wore the crown, Sana, and threw it away on our mother’s false pretense.”

She felt the sting, which further increased her rage. “You are a traitor. I should have killed you back at Ancestor’s Tear, when I had the chance.”

Pavel held up the key and admired its blue glow. “Yes. You should have.” He slipped the key in his robe. “It would have been justified since my attempt failed.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed. “Who do you think arranged your marriage with the Kutassans and orchestrated the attack on Saratan? The prince, at the time, took my advice, which removed two threats at once: Chief Tonus and you.”

Sana lurched at her brother. A massive hand snatched her by the neck and threw her back down.

“Stay down, woman!”

Her brother turned to the General. “We should leave, now. I want to be in Gathal before the sun sets. We don’t want his majesty to bear another night without his queen.”

The general frowned. “There were two other men with her. One we know nothing of, but the other was a wizard. My men lost them during the chase.”

Pavel hummed. “We shall double the guard. See to it, nothing gets in the way of the king, his bride, and the key.”

General Balon bowed. “Yes, my lord.” He gestured to the guards to grab Sana.

She struggled as they lifted her to her feet. “You will pay dearly for this, Pavel. Pray the ancestors get to you before I do.”

“The ancestors are all dead,” Pavel said with a smirk. “Once King Shunlin wakes Abaddon, the Shankur will fall along with Gaia and anyone else that stands in our way.”

As the guards forced her out, she glimpsed a table at the far side of the tent. An unfolded map with statuettes of Shankur and Chotukhan caught her attention. She needed only a glance to see her uncle’s village was the target of a future attack. More Shankur death. Damn you, Pavel! Rest assured you will not live long while I still breathe.

Soldiers and onlookers watched as they stuffed her back into the wagon, pulled by a new pair of draft elks. Whispers rang throughout the crowd.

Soon two columns of soldiers, armed with spears and swords, headed out from the camp. Next to the wagon, General Balon and Pavel rode side by side on saddled elks.

The road weaved through a series of hills with sparse forest in between toward a narrow pass.

Sana pulled at her chains, searching for a tool to use as a pry, but the general was thorough. Defeated, she rested her head on the wooden plank.

What she needed was a miracle.

She needed Victor.