The Iron Forest: Ancestor's Legacy

Hues of purple and red painted the afternoon sky. Mountains, covered in blankets of snow, turned to shades of pink and blue.

The forest trail widened enough for them to quicken their pace. At the edge of a clearing, a thin wisp of smoke between two mountains rose to meet the clouds. Signs of human existence, both ancient and new, let Sana know they were well within Shankur territory.

She paused and took a deep breath. A strong scent of pine and cedar brought back recollections of her childhood spent in this part of the forest. She and Ikesh played among the trees until the sun set below the mountains. Many days of careless laughter ended with a scolding from her father for returning after dark, but it was short-lived. Lady Elen, her mother, stood as a bastion of safety against Sana’s father’s strict nature. His dedication to the tribe had no bounds, except for her mother’s soft voice. She remained strong in her convictions with a fierce heart and Sana at her side, while he and her brother strived to keep the peace through negotiation and diplomacy.

Sana shook her head. Many years have passed since her mother died and she missed her more than ever.

By the time Maholin came into view, the multicolored sky turned black, speckled with countless stars. White-capped mountains overlooked her home set atop a plateau. It wasn’t the forest, but to Sana, it carried a beauty of its own. Log-built houses poured down the mountainside, huddled along a winding road that threaded through a towering gate. The Shankur city held a special place in her heart. She believed Maholin housed more than just its people. It contained a lifetime of memories that gave it a warmth like a favorite bear-skin coat on a winter’s day.

“Ancestors bless you!” a guard cried out from the gate that parted the surrounding palisade.

“May they accept your spirit with open arms,” Ikesh responded, taking a step forward to block Sana from view. The words were not just an honorable greeting, but also a means of challenging those who approached the village entrance.

“Captain Ikesh? Chief Baju has been asking about you all day. He is eager to speak with the—”

“I’m here, Tauk,” Sana interrupted, moving into view.

“Princess Sana. My spear is yours.” Tauk bowed immediately.

She returned the gesture.

“Your father asked me to escort you to the palace.”

Her eyes narrowed. “My father can wait. It’s been a long trip and I’m hungry.” The day’s meal of a few strips of dried venison and a hand full of baked pine nuts left her stomach rumbling.

Tauk stared, his gaze showing his orders were not negotiable.

Ikesh chuckled and leaned toward her to whisper, “I don’t think you have much choice. Unless you want to be the first princess dragged into the great hall, kicking and screaming.”

“It would take at least ten more Tauks for that to happen,” Sana whispered back, then sighed, knowing the chief himself likely made the order to bring her immediately upon returning. “Very well, Tauk. Lead the way.”

The young warrior exhaled in relief and gestured for her to lead.

As they strolled through the village, Sana returned the occasional nod and wave to a couple of passers-by. During the day, the pathways were busy with people going about their daily tasks, but nighttime turned the village calm and made the streets nearly empty.

They walked among houses made from weathered logs of spruce topped with split cedar shingles. Carvings of wolves, the Shankur sigil, adorned the posts that bore gables of hardened mud, while elk skins decorated the entry doors. The road curved around with houses lined on either side, then opened to a courtyard. Rectangular flagstones placed in staggered rows surrounded a large oak tree to one side. The only one of its kind in the known world, the Ancestral Oak, sprawled outward, covering half the courtyard with its out-stretched branches.

At the city’s peak, a grand palace overshadowed the largest of homes. The royal estate stood several stories tall with surrounding balconies overlooking the village. Although sided with logs to match the village homes, most of the structure used flagstone and lime-based mortar as its primary building materials.

Warrior guards, wearing hammered-steel armor over tunics of indigo blue, stood watch over the front entry. Metal clanked as they thrust their fists to their chests at seeing her. Sana nodded. Two of the guards opened the pair of massive wood and reinforced iron doors.

Sana led Ikesh and Tauk into the great hall. Torches hung from tree trunk pillars and braziers lining the walls, lit the great hall brighter than expected. Elk horns decorated the ceiling from long ago hunts, while deer skins covered the stone floor. Sana’s nose filled with the aromatic smoke of herbs burning in copper cauldrons.

Chief Baju stood near a table at the hall’s far end, holding a scroll of parchment. He was scowling, aging wrinkles and torchlight reflected off his bald head and polished silver crown. He wore a robe of indigo cotton adorned with gray wolf fir beneath a tunic of boiled leather. Colorful beads, woven into the fabric, depicted sacred symbols of birds, deer, and fish.

At his side, Pavel shared a similar robe as their father, but lacked the leather tunic. She always considered her brother a pretty man whose weakness with a weapon could only be compensated through political schemes. His idea of leadership existed from within a wall’s sanctuary. He was a vast contrast from their mother, who was a warrior to the fullest—strong with muscles and a fighting spirit.

Chief Baju looked up from his parchment. “We’ve been searching for you.”

Sana shrugged. “I was out hunting.” She averted her eyes, knowing the fires in the hall accentuated every scratch and cut she received during her battle with the Reaper—her legs, arms, and face still smeared with dirt.

“It looks like you wrestled a bear.” Pavel, immaculate looking as always, commented in disgust.

“Maybe I did.”

Her father frowned. “Enough of that, Pavel. Now is not the time.” He looked back at her companions. “Leave us.”

They bowed, backed a step, and exited the room. Sana and Ikesh shared a glance before the massive doors slammed shut.

Chief Baju waited turned his focus fully on Sana. He didn’t appear angry, but sometimes she struggled telling from his permanent scowl. “You’ve been to the Outlands again.”

“I have.”

He reached out with two fingers and lifted the tear in her trouser leg. She saw his fingers turning red with blood and hid a wince. “And what of this?”

“It’s nothing, a mere scratch.”

Chief Baju rubbed his fingers and thumb before wiping them clean on her deer-skin jerkin. “A cut from a blade.”

“You were attacked by a Reaper?” Pavel guessed.

Sana grinned. “I fought one, yes. But who did the attacking is a matter of opinion?”

“Sister, it’s bad enough you’ve been to the Outlands, but getting tangled with a Reaper is dangerous. That’s why it’s forbidden. I can’t believe—” Pavel was silenced by their father’s glance.

“Your brother’s right. Far too many winters we spoke about this. Your place is here, in court, not gallivanting beyond the wall like some woodland creature.”

“The court is for people who can only fight with words and quills. Nothing ever comes of it.” She held out her spear. “This is how things get done.”

Chief Baju shook his head. “The words of your mother.” He returned to the parchment on the table. “But she only spoke in half truths. For every battle fought with sword and spear, ten battles are fought with quill and ink first—something she never taught you.”

“She taught me well enough, Father, that the only way to defeat our enemies is through strength.”

“Which is something we don’t have enough of,” he countered. “Our warriors are fierce, but too few for a head-on fight against the Chotukhan. Our survival relies on diplomacy, and that is why you’re to remain here in court where you belong.”

“But Father…”

“No more talking, Sana, it’s time for you to listen!” he shouted, with veins bulging from his neck.

Sana never seen her father this angry before. Even Pavel took a cautious step back.

“You are my heir and next in line for the throne. One of these days I will be gone, and you will become queen of the Shankur. Until then, you are to behave like a woman of your station, as a princess.” He glanced at Pavel, taking a deep breath. “And that includes your relationship with that captain… Ikesh.”

“What?!” How dare he cross that line!

“That boy is of a lesser house, an artisan’s son with no royal lineage. I don’t care how you do it, but your affair with him ends now.”

“I will not—”

“There will be a banquet in honor of our Kutassan guests. They should arrive on the marrow.” He glanced at Sana, then away. “I suggest you clean yourself up.”

*****

Tired from a sleepless night, Sana stared out the window at the village below. The mid-morning sun filtered through white puffs of clouds sending a mixture of shadow and light.

From her vantage point in the second story bedchamber, people below moved about at a hurried pace. Men carried stacks of logs while women hauled baskets of bread or pitchers of something long since fermented. On occasion, a group of children ran past in chirping herds as they played.

She watched people come and go, hoping to see Ikesh before the festivities began. Seeing him the night before would have been folly with her father’s angry state. How do I tell him? The thought of Ikesh’s face sent chills down her spine. Maybe if I give Father time to cool off, he’ll listen to reason.

It didn’t take long till the activity outside moved into the palace–soon ladies surrounded her, primping and chattering like a flock of geese. An old woman pulled and tugged at her long brown hair, removing the braids that kept it all under control. Will there be anything left?

A younger girl applied dabs of eyeliner around her green eyes. The concoction, made from fat mixed with black ashes of scented herbs, was supposed to enhance her beauty and bring out her soft, pale skin. Another young girl applied a light coat of fine ground clay to help accentuate Sana’s cheeks.

The women laughed while telling tales of past men, some living, some dead.

Sana didn’t share in their sentiment, nor did her father’s decision to dress her up. She was a warrior and should be presented as one—not greased up like a suckling pig.

The pulling on her skull stopped and the old woman took a few steps back to inspect her work. She smiled at Sana and motioned with her hand. Suspicious, she watched as two girls brought in a large sheet of polished silver. They positioned it… It took Sana a moment to realize the woman in the reflection was herself.

“My stars. You are just the prettiest thing alive. Every man from Kutassa will melt when they see you,” the old woman said.

“Better they fall dead.” Ripping her gaze away, Sana scowled. She hated that she loved the rich blue colored dress she now wore and the way it followed her curves. It seemed so long ago that she wore anything other than her deerskin trousers and leather jerkin.

“My lady it is beautiful.”

Unable to help herself, Sana ran both hands down her sides, noting how the cotton felt so soft. A cloth belt held the lower half that flowed straight to the floor. The sleeveless top hung low to reveal enough breast to not let a man’s attention wander too far. All along the length, collar, and sleeve had embroidered bead work from a craftsman that knew his skill.

“It was a gift to your mother from the Totan tribe far to the west. It’s such a blessing you share the same size. I couldn’t bear to alter it. My old hands don’t move a needle like they used to.”

“This was my mother’s?” Sana twisted from side to side, imagining her mother looking back at her through the silver.

“Indeed. She wore this often in her youth.” The old woman grinned, flaring out the skirt. “If I didn’t know any better, I would have mistaken her for you.”

Sana smiled a little.

The low rumble of marching feet and hooves announced the Kutassans’ arrival. She counted fifty warriors pouring through the gates in pairs. Orange flags held high with the emblem of a badger whipped back and forth in the cool mountain breeze. Within the parade were several draft elks, their saddles painted yellow with gold trim. One carried a portly man at the head of the column, wearing flowing robes of orange and red, flanked by two men in armor of polished steel. Further back, a wooden carriage lumbered along on wheels that rumbled like approaching thunder.

Her people watched, anxious at the new arrivals.

All around, Shankur warriors appeared in their finest leather, some holding flags of blue bearing the wolf. Ikesh was among them wearing his boiled leather armor adorned with polished iron pauldrons. She tried to get his attention, but his focus remained on his troops and the mass of visitors pouring through the gate.

The portly man dismounted his elk and strutted through the scattered crowd. Sana guessed he was their chief of some sorts. He came to a sharp halt, his face cynical as his hand stroked a long black beard tied just below the chin.

By then, other arrivals were dismounting or walking forward on foot. Several of which were maidens in tan rough-spun robes gathering around the carriage. They helped a woman, almost too wide to pass through the door, step down and make the climb up the palace steps. She fired curses at them through a face red as mulberry wine.

Chief Baju knelt to kiss the lady’s hand before turning toward the chief, bowing. “Chief Tonus, Lady Sil, the city of Maholin is yours.”

“Gaia’s blessings for your hospitality,” Chief Tonus said, returning the bow.

Several other family members and nobles were introduced next, each given reverent bows for the men and kisses on the hand for the women.

The Great Hall of Maholin was filled with a haze of smoke that smelled of roasted venison and fresh-baked bread. Banners of blue and orange, each adorned with the wolf of Shankur or the badger of Kutassa, hung from the ceiling. Daylight from outside competed with the fire-lit braziers, making the hall seem brighter than normal.

More introductions were made during the first hour of feasting. This time in greater detail, followed by applause by the many nobles, elders, and courtiers seated below the dais.

Chief Tonus and Lady Sil went first. The chief’s red face showed he had a particular thirst for mulberry wine, or his cup had a leak that required constant filling. Lady Sil kept that contemptuous look from the moment she arrived. Several times, her gaze met Sana’s, and she scowled, making Sana itch to smack her.

Finally, the remaining Kutassan royals were introduced: Prince Tonlun stood proud, like a mighty warrior in studded leather, wearing a flowing orange cape. His face was long and pock-marked with a frame that looked like he hadn’t eaten in a month. Sana rolled her eyes as he strutted to the head table, looking just as smug and arrogant as Pavel. At his side sat Princess Amaya, a young woman who gained all the beauty denied to her brother. She appeared younger than Sana by a few winters with long, dark braids coiled into a bun atop her head. Sana was pleased to see she shared in her boredom, as evidenced by her disinterested expression.

Three hours passed. Atop the raised platform, a massive table stood where the royal party laughed at jokes and told tales of long forgotten battles. Sana was slumped in her seat, watching her wine spin in circles at the bottom of her goblet.

Every so often, she scanned the crowd, hoping to see Ikesh, but the reality of what her father said put her further in a dark mood. Her captain had no place among the nobles that surrounded her. Sana wished her mother was there. Queen Elen enjoyed having Ikesh around and would have stood up to her father’s prejudice—Sana jolted by the ringing of a bell.

Chief Baju stood, silencing the room. “A toast to Chief Tonus and Lady Sil, to your wisdom, and your everlasting health.”

Everlasting health? The man looks like he’s about to fall over and die any minute. Sana chuckled to herself. Still, it would make for good entertainment. She raised her glass and took a large gulp of wine in unison with everyone in the hall.

It was Chief Tonus’ turn. He stood, nearly lifting the table with his protruding belly. He raised his glass, taking a few seconds to spit out his words through labored breath. “Chief Baju, we are indebted to you for your hospitality. We have come here to establish a lasting peace between our clans and stand together against a mutual threat. Only through a union of wolf and badger can we hold back the Chotukhan who grows stronger with each passing winter.”

The hall erupted with fists pounding the tables. Chief Tonus waved the nobles back to silence. “I would like to make a toast…” he paused and grinned. “… to Prince Tonlun and Princess Sana. May their future matrimony secure a lasting peace between our clans.”

Wine burst from Sana’s lips. She coughed, choking. What!?

Nobles and courtesans filled the room with boisterous shouts.

Her stomach turned, and she felt bile bubbling in her throat. This can’t be happening! Panic sent her heart racing. Sana stood, still holding her wine. The crowd fell silent, waiting for her words.

I can’t. Her glass shattered at her feet.

She ran.