The Iron Forest: Ancestor's Legacy
Chapter Eighteen

Days grew long in the Shankur village of Dirasha, while the sunlight shined less. A cold chill came from the mountains with the aspen trees turning a golden yellow. They were telltale signs winter was on its way and the Shankur people worked together as a community to prepare.

Victor did what he could to help, despite knowing little of their language. He carried grain to the stores, chopped wood for the fires, and boiled fat for the lamps. It was hard work. Something he hadn’t done in thousands of years, but it helped build his strength, both inside and out.

A couple weeks passed since arriving at the village. He saw little of his friend that saved him from the machine. Sana assisted with the preparations for winter on occasion, but most times she spent alone, practicing with her spear. Not that she avoided him. It seemed she avoided everyone in the village. Something happened to her that warranted pitiful glances from the women and appreciative nods from the men.

One person he saw plenty of was Rajin. The man opened his home to Victor and shared his table. He gave without question and seemed to enjoy the company of others. Every day, he taught him their language and tried to explain the world around them, but it was a frustrating endeavor.

The blisters on Victor’s hands burned from hours spent swinging an axe. He noticed most men, and some women had hands that were rough, with thick calluses. This was his new life, and he needed to become more like these people for his own survival. One swing after another, he split the logs in halves, then quarters. It was dull and tedious work, but it also gave his mind a chance to recollect his past. Something he had little memory of. He remembered the world three-thousand years ago and most of his upbringing. But for some strange reason, the latter half of his life was a complete blur.

The afternoon sun set behind the mountains, and Victor returned to his new home. He expected to see Rajin and his family, preparing for the night’s meal. But a large gathering waited for him. Chief Batan, accompanied by Sana and several elders, stood with grins of excitement. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The chief stepped forward. “Alā, Veek-tor,” he said with a short bow of his head and gestured to the man at his side. “Dhraghō tu a tuoro.”

Victor didn’t know what to say or how to say it. Nor did he know what was going on. He just nodded, hoping an answer would manifest into thin air.

The man at Chief Batan’s side stepped forward. His once blond hair turned to shades of white with a complexion as light as his own. He looked very different, compared to the Shankur, and he couldn’t remember ever seeing him before. Is this man from another village? There are more of them out there?

The white-haired man adjusted his tunic that shifted in the fall afternoon breeze. He looked Victor over with interest and smiled. “Hello, Veek-tor. I speak words of you. Yes?” He glanced aside in thought and corrected. “I mean, I speak your words, yes?”

That shocked him, as it was the first full English sentence he heard since landing. There was a strong accent, but it was clear and understandable.

“Yes! Yes, you do,” he responded with excitement.

“Ah, much good. My name is Anshu of the Atani. I learned for many winters of you speak. We could help with ancient words, you and I. Yes?”

Victor chuckled with relief. “You mean teach me your language and I teach you? Sounds like a deal.” He grabbed Anshu’s hand and shook it. The Atani man stared back confused. Victor forgot they don’t understand the gesture of a handshake, but he didn’t care. They brought him a gift more valuable than anything he could imagine—a translator.

The chief wasted little time in asking questions. He rattled on to Anshu, who nodded and held out a hand to pause. “Chief Batan asks where you, Sky-Man, came from.”

Sky-Man? That’s quaint. “I’m from this planet, a very long time ago. But that’s all I remember.” He paused, waiting for Anshu to translate.

The chief still had a questioning look and spoke some more.

“Are you a warrior sent by our Ancestors?”

“I guess you can say I was a warrior once. But not sent by any ancestors.” He remembered how the pod’s computer called him commander. Anshu started to speak, but Victor grabbed his arm to interrupt him. “Tell him, I was told my memories will return over time.”

Anshu translated with a degree of difficulty. When he finished, Chief Batan spoke, then nodded.

“He welcomes you here and wishes you good health. When your mind is better, you speak to him. Yes?”

Victor smiled and nodded. “I will—promise.”

The group in front of Rajin’s home seemed satisfied and dissipated, including Sana. She was at the chief’s side, surrounded by elders and a few warriors. He watched her walk away, hoping she would turn back for a last look before he retreated into the house. But to his disappointment, she didn’t.

Rajin spit out a barrage of his language to Anshu. It was directed toward Victor, but he paid little attention. Anshu tapped him on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. My mind was somewhere else.”

Anshu shrugged it off. “Your friend has much to speak about our people. We will eat and speak.”

“Friend?” Victor asked.

“Kalla.” He repeated the word in their language.

Rajin grinned.

Victor returned a smile of his own. “It is my honor to be your friend, Rajin.”

*****

It was a long night spent at the dining table, listening to Rajin tell the Shankur’s story. Victor spoke little and listened about the Chotukhan and the impending war. Hours passed as he soaked up the history and culture that didn’t seem very different from his own before the world became industrialized. What caught his attention the most was Rajin’s mention of the goddess that most other tribes worshiped. Some of what he said sounded familiar, like an old childhood tale.

He woke the next morning, waking from a dream that seemed more like a memory resurfacing from his clouded past. They seemed to return more when he slept than during the waking hours. Most appeared to trigger from something he saw or felt during the day. Such as the first day in the village, The San Juan State Park sign reminded him of his time, living in the same valley.

Victor walked through Dirasha with a newfound appreciation of his adopted tribe. With Anshu at his side, he looked forward, speaking to the villagers, and listening to their stories. Most important of them all, was Sana. He couldn’t get his mind off the woman that saved his life. The few times he saw her since arriving at the village, she seemed enigmatic, yet no less intriguing. Who was she and why was there so much sadness? Unlike the rest of the village, who laughed and told jokes, Sana never appeared to smile; at least, a true, authentic smile.

The sound of clanking metal rang out from beyond the rows of houses. Victor followed it to a group of Shankur warriors, sparring with sword and spear. Some men hooted and shouted encouragement, while others watched the technique with great care.

Rajin was among the warriors, standing aside as one of a few judges that critiqued the men’s skill. He beamed when noticing Victor’s presence.

“Victor! Good to see you. Have you come to join us?”

He waited for Anshu’s translation to finish then said, “No. I’ve come to watch.”

“You sure? The Shankur always has room for warriors, if you’re willing.”

“I would, but I’ve never used a sword before.”

Rajin grinned. “We can teach you.” He gestured to a man for his sword and handed it off to Victor.

It was carved from a piece of aspen with a steel pommel for balance. He swung the sword in short arcs to feel the weight.

“Now watch and do as we do.”

The warriors formed two lines, double arms’ length apart; first line spears, the second, swords. Rajin positioned Victor at the end of the sword line. A man up front called out commands, and the warriors responded with a series of thrusts and parries. To him, it seemed more of a dance than a fight. But after an hour of repetition, he felt his muscles ache and understood it was to build strength and endurance.

The drill ended, and the sparring began. It was as much a game as it was to practice their skills. The way the warriors, both men and women, fought each other made Victor nervous. He never used a melee weapon, and these people hit hard and fast. The object was simple, don’t get hit.

“Victor,” Rajin said as the last fight ended. It was his turn and fate put him against a man that reminded him of a gigantic tree.

The fight ended in less than a second. One minute Victor gripped his sword tight, ready to swing. The next, his sword went flying into the air. Some warriors chuckled at each other’s comments as he returned to the edge of the sparring square.

He leaned toward Anshu. “What are they saying?”

The old Atani man hesitated before answering. “They say you fight like child and are volunteering their daughters to spar with you.”

He frowned with a building temper but ignored the japes. If it were a real fight, he figured his life would have ended. Sometimes failure is the best teacher.

Rajin barked at the warriors and pointed out one of them who had a similar size and build as Victor. The man carried a spear without a bladed tip and spun it around in a circular blur.

“Go again, Victor,” Anshu said.

So, he approached the man with his sword ready to fight. His opponent started to lunge but stopped and backed up a step. Victor turned to see Sana, staring straight at him. She had a spear of her own and was dressed in the warrior’s garb. Her hair, fashioned into small braids that flowed across the sides of her head and down her back.

“Step aside, Victor,” Sana said through Anshu’s voice.

The younger man retreated into the group of his fellow warriors. She stood there alone in the square’s center, pointing at random warriors as a challenge. To Victor’s amazement, not a single one agreed to spar, but shook their heads. A growing crowd of villagers gathered to watch the spectacle. Something was special about her, and they knew it too by the way their face lit up with anticipation.

Victor nudged Rajin who stood next to him, urging him to the challenge.

He snickered. “Not today. Only a fool would willingly fight Sana. And I’m no fool.”

Anshu chuckled after he translated.

The tree-sized man stood and approached her with his sword in hand.

Rajin pointed at him, speaking aside to Victor. “There’s a fool.”

Anshu chuckled again.

Sana glanced around. “Is that it?” She shrugged and addressed the remaining warriors. “Very well. Anyone else may join if they wish.” She flurried her spear, grinning. “I’ll be gentle.”

By now, almost the entire village stood by to watch. Even Chief Batan and a group of elders showed up.

Only Victor objected at what he thought was an unfair match. Sana was an easy head and a half shorter than the tree-man and half his weight. She appeared more like a child standing next to his wide chest and hulking arms. With the odds so far in his favor, he expected a short fight.

And short it was.

Sana ducked and twirled from a wide, powerful swing that swept her spear across the back of his knee, sending him hard to the ground. The hundreds of spectators winced at the cracking sound of wood against bone.

Several more warriors jumped at her with both sword and spear. Victor watched in awe at how she fought two, then three, and sometimes four at a time. Her spear moved with a blur as warriors, both men and women ran into the fight, but crawled or hobbled away. They were unmatched against her skill.

Once again, she stood in the square, alone, panting and wiping beads of sweat from her brow. Her spear dropped to the ground, echoing across the silent crowd. She said nothing but turned and stormed away, leaving the warriors behind to rub at their pain as the crowd dissipated.

Victor chuckled, covering his mouth.

“What is so amusing?” Anshu asked.

“I think Sana just proved a big point.”

Rajin nodded. “I agree. The Chotukhan defeated her, and she defeated my warriors. That’s her way of telling us, we are not ready.”

“Exactly.”

Victor jogged through the village, searching around houses and buildings, but Sana was nowhere. He wanted to talk to her and express his gratitude for saving his life.

Anshu, who was following close behind, tapped Victor on the shoulder. “If you’re looking for Princess Sana, she’s over there.”

A shallow stream snaked through the village, bordered by granite boulders and clumps of tall grass. And there she was, sitting alone with her back toward them. She tossed pebbles in the trickling water.

“How did you know I was looking for her?”

Anshu grinned. “Only a woman would cause a man to search an entire village.”

As he walked towards her, his excitement flourished with the chance to meet with her alone. But a voice inside told him to stop. He realized his hands were empty, and he needed something more than just a few words of thanks. He needed a gift. But what do you give a princess when you have nothing?

Back during his time, when a man wanted to meet with a woman, he would invite her to dinner or a nightcap. But there were no restaurants or coffee shops in this world. The next best thing would be a dozen roses and her favorite chocolates. It was a bit cliché for his taste, but he had little other choice.

He turned to Anshu. “Where can I find lavender?”

A full day was spent, looking for a perennial flower whose season ended a month ago. Victor searched for what felt like miles, near trees, around rocks and across wide open areas. Although not a true lavender by name, the long spears of purple flowers still gave off a pleasant scent and had a similar shape and size.

One stalk at a time, he gathered the plants and handed them to a pair of guards that appeared quite bored: not by his fault. Rajin insisted Victor be accompanied by an escort when outside the village perimeter. There was still worry that the Chotukhan may send scouts or a war party to start some trouble, and he wanted to make sure Victor was safe.

Over time, and after several complaints from his warrior companions, he acquired enough plants. One guard held the large bundle of purple flowers while the other gave up his payload to stop a constant barrage of sneezing. The only thing left to get were chocolates.

Someone said Lady Aila in the village has some honey drops I could give her. They’re not chocolate, but it’s the next best thing. He didn’t know her favorite treat, anyway. I should have asked Rajin before I left. He would know.

As they returned to Dirasha, Victor came across a large bush of currant berries. Although not a confection, it still reminded him of their first time together. At that time, he was starving, and she taught him the berries were not poisonous, but quite sweet. He liked the symbolism and whether or not she did; it was a good gesture toward his feelings of appreciation.

Thousands of scenarios of meeting with Sana flashed through his mind as he practiced the words Anshu taught him the night before. Just talking to her was nerve-racking enough, but saying it in another language sent shivers down his spine and more questions through his tangled mind.

What if I screw up and say something that insults her?

What if she hates the flowers?

What if she doesn’t have feelings for me at all?

The last question made him stop. Feelings? Victor chuckled with the realization that all his efforts meant more than thanking Sana for saving him. He had a full-fledged attraction for her. It made perfect sense. She occupied his every thought, made his heart thump when she was near, and he just spent an entire day looking for flowers.

The closer they got to the village, the harder and faster Victor’s heart pounded. Rajin ensured she would be at her usual spot near the stream, as was her afternoon habit.

His two companion guards didn’t help either. All the way back they laughed and joked about Victor’s endeavor. Every time he glanced at Anshu for a translation, the old man smiled and shook his head to indicate Victor didn’t want to know what was said. Once they even mocked him by one guard, pretending to be Sana, as the other handed him the flowers. It backed fired when it ended in a fit of sneezing. That gave Victor a satisfying laugh.

The party paused at the last few village houses near the stream. Just as Rajin said, Sana sat there, tossing rocks into the water. The mood changed, and Victor’s three companions gave him a sturdy pat on the back and words of encouragement. He breathed deep; flowers in one hand and a white cotton cloth, full of berries, in the other.

Victor approached; his heart felt like it wanted to burst from his chest. His breath felt short and labored, and the world began to spin. He glanced back at his companions that waved him to continue, even though he wanted to run away. Sweat trickled down his ribs and his mouth went dry.

Sana’s eyes widened when she saw Victor standing next to her with the purple flowers and a wrapped cotton bundle. He hoped his shaking hands were unnoticeable, but her frown and eyebrows, drawing together told him otherwise.

After an awkward few seconds of standing there like a frozen idiot, Sana glanced around with confusion. “Alā, Veek-tor.”

All the words he learned evaporated into thin air, and he cursed his lack of courage. He took a deep breath. Come on Victor. Now’s your chance. Don’t ruin it. He gathered himself together as much as possible.

“I come with gift,” he said in her language. At least, he hoped that was what he said.

Sana still sat there with an expressionless stare and a frown that bore straight through him.

Still shaking, he handed her the flowers and berries like they were engulfed in flames. “I like to… thank you… for saving me life.” He exhaled deep from the effort and inhaled just as much to continue. “I think you…” he paused to remember the word “… beautiful.”

A heckling laugh came from a distance behind Victor. Sana leaned aside to see who it was, still keeping her frown.

He gritted his teeth but continued, “I want see you… more… You have my foot.”

Sana jerked back at that.

Laughter roared in the distance.

God dammit! “Heart!” he shouted. “You have my heart.”

A silent pause ensued except for the trickling water that roared like a rushing river to Victor’s ears.

Sana carefully opened the cotton cloth to see tiny red berries and pressed her nose to the flowers, taking in a deep breath. Victor’s chest pounded in long thumps that reverberated in his ears.

She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears as she smiled; a true, authentic smile.

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