The Iron Forest: Ancestor's Legacy
Chapter Fourteen

A sliver of sunlight broke through the horizon as darkness turned to dawn. The townsfolk woke to a city that never slept. Soldiers walked the street in singles and doubles, numbering in hundreds. They searched in every basket and crate, beneath homes and tents, anywhere a woman could hide.

One place, Sana guessed, they would never look… was up. An abandoned house, covered in thatch with a brick chimney, had a slump in a valley where two roofs connected. She laid there, staring at the stars and wisps of clouds passing across the night sky. A stolen rough-spun cloak did little to shelter her from the cold fall air. Shivers across an aching body persisted for what seemed like an eternity.

She remained hidden, until sunlight bathed the city, which brought about butchers and shopkeepers. Preparing for a new day, tanners spread out their hides while bakers warmed ovens that sent columns of smoke upwards. The city streets bustled with normal activity. It was sounds of opportunity for her to move without notice.

Sana climbed off the roof to a multitude of people moving about their business. They were her concealment. She darted from one group to the next, trying to blend in with the crowd. The hood of her cloak was kept low to hide her face. When soldiers and guards passed by, they sent her heart racing. Only one was needed to recognize her and send alarms throughout the city.

She noticed there was a pattern to the crowd which flowed down the streets toward the temple. Horns blared with drums thumping to distant cheers. Sana weaved her way between the people but realized her upstream path would single her out and alert the guards. So, she was forced to follow the mob. Thousands of people lined the streets and courtyard at the temple’s base. They cheered to a spectacle, but Sana couldn’t see what was going on with her shorter stature.

An acrid smoke like burning flesh caught her senses first. She pushed through the crowd to see a man engulfed in flames. Sana didn’t recognize him until a breeze pushed the fire aside. Her heart dropped to see Ikesh tied to the stake. It was not enough to cut his throat the night before. But to appease the Chotukhan people, they wrapped the cloth around his neck to hide the wound so they could kill him a second time. It took everything she had to not lash out at the crowd that reveled in delight of murdering the Shankur people. No one cried or showed any distaste for the macabre spectacle. Shedding tears would reveal herself to the guards. There will be plenty of time to weep. Later.

Just behind Ikesh, a woman with long graying hair screamed above the roar of the crowd. She was the third Shankur prisoner to be disemboweled by a priest dressed in solid black. The first two lay nearby; Sana tasted bile.

The Chotukhan citizens cheered. Many cried out for more to quench their insatiable lust for blood. Sana’s knuckles turned white. If she could, she would kill every one of them.

The crowd soon dispersed, giving Sana the opportunity to return to the market square undetected. Dizziness took over from a mixture of exhaustion and hunger. She needed food, but despite being a queen; she had no coin. The ancestors detested stealing, but her stomach pains told otherwise. She shook with a weakness strong enough that her knees wanted to buckle.

Fresh baked bread, filling the streets with a pleasant scent, caught her attention. Next to the stand, a baker pounded and folded a pile of dough for the next batch. She waited in the crowd for the right moment to move. Opportunity presented itself when he turned to slide a new loaf in the oven with his back against her. She walked past and knocked the bread bowl aside.

The baker jerked around and growled. “Watch what you’re doing, woman!”

Sana backed away, bowing. “Sincere apologies, sir. Forgive my clumsiness.”

He grunted, waving her away, and returned to his work.

She walked away, pulling out a roll of black bread from under her cloak. The desire to survive nullified her sense of guilt. Drained and exhausted, she needed energy to make it home—there will be plenty of time for regret later.

In large chunks, she gorged on the bread in an alley bathed in shadow. Her dry throat scratched as she forced each bite down. Tears ran down her face.

“Yesterday, a queen. Today a thief. My, what a strange world we live in,” a voice called from the alleyway’s entry. A brown cloak covered the woman in shadow.

Sana jumped up with clenched fists, ready to fight.

The woman held out her hands. “Relax. I won’t hurt you. I’m here to help.”

“Who are you? What do you want?”

She moved closer and lowered her hood. “Vengeance.”

Red robes peeked out from beneath the woman’s cloak, and Sana recognized the garb. “You’re Shainxu.”

She nodded. “I am. My name is Lady Tani, Master Mage and Guardian of the Iron Forest.”

Sana kept her defensive stance, not trusting anyone. The woman looked Shainxu, with her almond eyes and black hair, but she learned, looks can be deceiving.

Lady Tani smiled with a slight bow. “Let’s get you somewhere safe and I’ll explain everything. The guards have doubled their search and their numbers.”

“What do you plan to do?”

The Shainxu woman held out a rope with a noose tied to one end. “Normally I would use magic, but I’ve been away from the Iron Forest for so long, my resources are limited. We’ll have to do things a different way. Put this around your neck.”

Sana backed a step, tilting her head. “You’re joking.”

“The guards are looking for a woman on the run, not a slave girl. This will get you through the city unnoticed. Please, you have my word of honor.”

Sana thought for a moment, then bowed her head.

Lady Tani tightened the noose around her neck in the most comfortable way the scratchy hemp allowed. She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Sana’s forehead. “I wept for you last night, my dear. You have a heart of fire. Please, keep it burning.”

That made Sana smile—a true smile. One she hadn’t worn in a long time.

She followed Lady Tani through the Chotukhan crowd, keeping her head low.

A gaggle of guards appeared, sending Sana’s heart racing. Lady Tani stopped and yanked the tether. “Stop fidgeting, worm!” She scowled, pulling her close. “I swear you will be whipped before the day’s over!”

The guards passed, searching people’s faces, left and right. They paid Sana no attention—the rues worked.

Soon they entered a manor home nestled among other houses, more fitting for nobility. It smelled of juniper and a haze of smoke from a fire filled Sana with a pleasant warmth. Fine furniture of polished logs surrounded a pine table covered in honey cakes, seared meats, and fruits of all colors.

As Lady Tani promised, she removed the rope, easing Sana’s fears and discomfort. “Please, make yourself at home. There’s plenty of food and I’ll fetch you something decent to wear.”

Sana didn’t know what to make of this strange turn of events. She stood, uncertain. “I can’t stay here.”

“I know—don’t want you to, either. If the guards find you here, it will be me hanging in the crow’s cage outside the city gates,” Lady Tani said, rummaging through a chest. “Please eat. You’ll need your strength.”

Sana sat and gorged herself with her first true meal in months. The food was almost intoxicating, with mulberry wine warming her where the fire couldn’t.

“Put these on. The air outside grows cold and the mountains colder. Winter will be upon us soon.”

“I can’t repay you,” Sana said, chewing a mouthful of food.

Lady Tani grinned. “Oh, you will, my dear. But not in the way you think. King Shunlin wants to awaken Abaddon and use him for his power and greed. The fool thinks Abaddon is a god that will bring him eternal life. But the Shainxu knows the truth. Abaddon is a plague, created by the Ancients to end all people. Mother Gaia stopped him once before, but the Counsel of Mages fear what will happen if he wakes a second time.” Lady Tani sighed at Sana’s blank expression. “You must stop the king from waking Abaddon. Talk to the chiefs and gather their warriors.”

“The king is dead.”

Lady Tani laughed. “The king is wounded, but not dead. The fires over the temple still burn bright. You did not extinguish them.”

The king’s retribution was inevitable. He attacked her village for no reason. He will hunt down every Shankur village to find me. She had to hurry. The longer she stayed in Gathal, the more dangerous the situation would get. Too many people in Sana’s life died, and she didn’t want Lady Tani added to the list.

After finishing her meal, she donned the buckskin tunic and wolf’s fur cloak. Sana felt more herself than in the robes and dresses she wore in the palace. What she needed was a weapon, but doubted Lady Tani would have one to give.

“Any ideas on how I’m to get out of Gathal?”

“I’ve already made some arrangements. Head to the stable and ask Fat Dom for a ‘white’ stag. You’ll need a mount if you want any chance to make it to the mountains.”

Sana embraced her with tears of appreciation. “Thank you, Lady Tani. I’ll never forget you.”

“Be strong, Princess Sana.”

Fat Dom was an old, bearded man with a round belly and head full of hair. He sat on an upturned bucket, whittling a stick with a small knife. She had trouble telling what smelled worse; the man sitting on the bucket or the manure.

“What do you want?” he growled, sending a sliver of wood into the air.

She glanced around, keeping her voice low. “I need a white stag.”

He looked her over and spit. “All I have is brown.”

“I need—”

His belly protested against rising from the bucket, forcing a grunt of effort. He disappeared into the shadows within the stable.

What he fetched was grayer than brown, but not surprising because of the start of a winter’s coat. A full set of antlers, covered in a delicate layer of velvet, made the animal appear noble and proud.

Fat Dom handed her the elk’s reins and a leather satchel. “There’s dried turkey, bread, and buffalo cheese in case you get hungry.” He laid the satchel across the elk’s back. “If you see Lady Tani again, tell her she is most generous.”

Sana nodded and mounted the bull, using his clasped fingers as a step. A swift kick sent the animal forward at a blinding speed. She felt the wind across her face as the massive beast dug its hooves deep in the dirt covered street.

“There she is! Stop her!” soldiers shouted from the palace walls as she headed for the woods.

Arrows whizzed past, but she kept her focus on the gate, growing closer. She kicked hard against her mount’s flanks, pushing him faster.

“Close the gates!”

The massive doors lurched, her exit closing slow.

Sana squinted her eyes at the brush of steel against her shoulders—freedom at last.

A look back showed Gathal shrinking. The elk grunted, but Sana refused to allow the beast to stop. Chotukhan mounted soldiers would follow with elks of their own and her safety relied on keeping a far distance. She headed west through a dried riverbed. The small, packed rocks helped prevent her from leaving tracks that could be followed, but it was hard on the elk’s ankles. She stopped to rest her mount whenever she could and ate little.

For two days and nights, she rode, always keeping a watchful eye. The valley plains turned to trees of gold and the land merged from flat to mountains. Rocks and streams became familiar, and the sweet scent of cedar and pine carried with the mountain breeze.

Her stag stopped suddenly and protested any further ride. His giant lungs heaved with exhaustion.

Sana slid from its back and wrapped her arms around the creature. “I owe you everything, my friend.” She removed the bridle while rubbing her hand through his thick mane. “Just like me, you’re free now.” A tap on the elk’s rear had him bolting through the trees—never looking back.

She followed the road to her city’s plateau at a steady pace. As her home grew closer, the odor of smoke grew heavier. Sana quickened her steps to a run when the fresh mountain air became a smoky haze. The trail turned and winded its way around a tree covered precipice. She reached the top to see her fears become reality.

Maholin, a once noble community of houses built by the Ancestors and cherished by the Shankur, was reduced to smoldering rubble.

The sight of black charred logs sent Sana’s heart dropping as tears welled in her eyes. The place where she grew up and learned the warrior’s craft was gone.

As she approached closer, she gasped upon seeing rows and rows of Shankur heads mounted on spikes. They lined the road through the charred remains of the front gates. Her stomach churned with the odor of burned and rotting flesh. The Chotukhan will pay for this!

Her feet crunched through a layer of ash and coal where stone streets once laid. From what she could tell, the city burned weeks ago.

The palace fared no better. Sana sprinted up the hill to the largest gutted building. Nothing remained, not even the lower stone level was spared. Fires reduced the mighty ancestral oak to a black trunk. She pulled away a section of doorway to reveal what was once the great hall.

With a scream, she fell to her knees.

Sitting at the far side of the room was Chief Baju, his body burned to a charred skeletal remain—ashen spears and arrows jutted from him like a macabre porcupine. Some of his blue robes still hung where the fire missed.

Sana cursed herself for coming here. She knew what to expect, but had to see it. If only all Shankur could see this. Then perhaps they would stand up to the Chotukhan.

Numb, she wandered.

A shimmer of blue and steel reflected the lowering sunlight. Sana upturned a pile of charred rubble to find her spear. The hardwood shaft and bright, razor-sharp tip somehow made it through the fire intact—save for a half-burned feather. It handled perfect, well balanced in her grip. Made from the best artisan the Shankur offered, the spear was a gift on the sixteenth year of her name-day—a final gift of her mother before she died.

Sana took one last glance at the graveyard that was once Maholin. She wondered if she stayed. Would her head be on a spike?

She needed little reason to stay in Maholin. The Chotukhan still hunted her, and her old home would be the first place they would look. She had to move somewhere safe and only one place came to her mind.

Her knees and back ached with each step up the mountain, but the fear of capture kept her going. One rock at a time, one ridge after another, she climbed, keeping off the dirt and away from the brush to hide her tracks.

The sun was sinking behind the snowcapped peaks, turning the forest dark and pale blue. She sighed with relief at the distant sound of splashing water: Ancestor’s Tear. The water fell from a moss-covered cliff into a pool, clear like crystal. To one side, a clearing held the remains of an ancient building. The structure had crumbled away to time, but a single gray stone slab and a brick chimney still struggled against deterioration. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Now what?” she asked herself. “I can stay here for a little while, but winter will come soon, and I’ll need shelter and food.”

The latter was the easy part. A bush full of currant berries welcomed Sana with an abundance of fruit. She gathered a handful and sat on a large boulder, popping them in her mouth, one at a time, savoring the sweet juice. The berries and Ancestor’s Tear brought back a memory when Ikesh ate too many and fell sick. His ego took the best of him, and he played it off, but the profuse sweating, reddened face, and relentless gas gave her enough fuel to mock him for months.

This was a special place for her and Ikesh, one where they shared their first kiss on the very rock beneath her now.

“I guessed I would find you here,” a man’s voice said from behind her.

Sana spun with her spear.

Pavel emerged from behind a large spruce, stumbling through the branches. She jumped forward and embraced her brother, who winced.

“You’re alive!”

“I am. Although I can’t say that about our people.”

“I saw. I was just in the village, at least what’s left of it.” Her smile dimmed. “What happened?”

Pavel took a seat on a fallen log. “The Chotukhan attacked a week ago. They gave no warning and battered down the gates with a tree. Our warriors fought with bravery, but they were no match. Our father…” He paused, holding back tears.

Dirt and soot covered Pavel with thin lines of blood from a cut across his shoulder. His blue robe appeared black and soiled. “They made him watch as the men and women were butchered. Some were taken as slaves; the rest were not so lucky.”

Better to die than suffer as a slave to the Chotukhan. “Why attack us? We did nothing to provoke this.”

“They were looking for a key—a ‘Cypher Key,’ they called it. Father swore to the Ancestors he knew nothing about it, but the Chotukhan general started killing elders and villagers to get him to confess. I have never heard of such a thing. Have you?”

Sana shook her head. “No. Mother never spoke of a ‘Cypher Key’ before.”

“You sure? If there is anything you know about this, please tell me—”

“I don’t!”

Pavel sat in silence, looking both frustrated and defeated. “I remember this place,” he said after a few minutes. “We came here as children and raced each other up that hill.”

Sana nodded. “That was long ago. You stopped coming out into the woods, preferring to spend time in the palace with Father.”

“I did.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” She took his hand in hers and stilled, seeing the moist rawness of his wrists. She knew these wounds—the cuts and burns from rope were fresh.

His gaze was a pathetic mixture of sadness and regret when she looked at him. “The Chotukhan are coming for me.”

Pavel nodded. “I’m sorry, they left me no other choice.” He fell to his knees, head bowed.

Sana reached to press her hands on Pavel’s cheeks then leaned over to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. She held him close as he cried. “It’s okay, Brother.” She kissed him again. “I’ll always love you.”

Footsteps came from the distance.

Pushing her brother away, she darted uphill, through spruce and pine, to her last bastion of safety—The Outlands.

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