Boaz was hot, sweaty, and dirty. He stopped hammering for a moment to mop his brow. The furnace and bellows continued to roar, and his father’s hammer rang out solo in firm but rhythmic percussive hits. Boaz couldn’t believe the stamina his father had. Neither of them had stopped their work for more than five minutes since daybreak, when his father had fired up the furnace and prepared the shop; yet Boaz, half Truan’s age, was almost spent.

“Not stopping yet, are ya?” his father chided. “Another hour and we’ll be able to stop for the night. Keep a-goin!’”

Boaz sighed and continued his monotonous, mind-numbing work. Pouring his time, energy, and soul into creating something so mundane as horseshoes day after day sapped any dignity he had left. “How am I ever going to get out of this life without hurting da’s feelings?” he thought, pounding the red-hot metal into the required shape, dousing the iron, and starting all over again. Sparks flew from the hammer and anvil, occasionally hitting his hand. He no longer felt the sting. It had been years since he felt the bite of the spark.

Another hour. It might as well be another day. It never seemed to end. Once in a while there’d be an order for something more exciting, like weapons. Boaz could almost tolerate making weapons. He would imagine the sword or spear point he was fashioning would one day be borne into glorious battle by some armored knight, striking down the foes of the opposing army, who, naturally, were evil. Of course, in his daydreams HE was the armored knight charging into battle, for the honor and glory of the kingdom.

“Why do I torture myself like this? I’m a simple blacksmith’s apprentice, in a far-off, backwater village on the edge of a kingdom that has long since had a king.”

He continued in this vein of thinking, occupying his mind with at least something mildly stimulating to keep from going crazy. This is what he always did when he got into these moods.

It took a moment for Boaz to realize his was the only hammer ringing and his father was talking to him. “Did you hear me? I said we’re done. Lord almighty, son, you were really lost in the work, weren’t you there?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I was,” was the only lame reply he could think of. He couldn’t remember a time when he was so “lost” in the hopelessness of his work that he didn’t hear his father call for them to stop. Usually he longed for nightfall.

The light outside their shop had faded, the sun dropping just behind the tall fir trees at the edge of the field, just beyond the edge of their land. The moon hadn’t risen above the treetops yet, so the sky was a dark pewter, cast with shots of reddish-orange bursts. A few stars were beginning to come out. It was just that time of night when your eyes hadn’t quite adjusted to the darkness. This was especially true after his eyes were still seeing the red embers of the fire and the horseshoes.

“Well, go on and bring some wood in an’ start a fire so we can get supper going. I’ll tidy up here, and make sure the furnace cools a bit,” his father said as he started picking up their tools and buckets. Boaz knew his father couldn’t stand to have a messy shop. Funny thing, he thought. A neat-freak blacksmith.

Boaz didn’t even bother dunk his hands in the nearest water bucket. It made no sense to do so until they started supper, since he was going to be dirty anyway hauling firewood and starting a fire in their small stove. Still daydreaming, he moved through the motions of going to the woodpile, picking out smaller pieces for firestarters, then adding on larger pieces, and finally the largest pieces of wood into his arms.

Walking back to the house, something caught his eye. Turning toward where the sun had set behind the firs, he at first thought there were two red glimmers near the treeline. Looking again, he saw what he thought might be a large bear on all fours looking at him. But bears’ eyes don’t glow red. His eyes adjusted to the darkness more, and he knew this was no bear. It stood almost as tall as him at the shoulder, at least six feet tall. And this creature had horns like a moose, which he hadn’t seen before because they looked like broken tree limbs.

Boaz dropped his armful of wood. Now that his eyes were fully adjusted, he realized this creature had strips of rotting flesh and fur peeling off its body. The smell of it pushed by a slight breeze of the twilight, and came to him across the field. He almost retched; It stank of death. Its hind legs and haunches were mottled, fur-less, and its feet were hooves. The front was hairy and the legs ended in … lion’s paws?

Before he could register any emotion but disgust, the creature silently stood on its hind legs, its forepaws dangling in an ungainly way; the beast ran. Boaz couldn’t believe how fast it moved for such a horrible, diseased, mismatched creature. It ran directly south toward the village, where it disappeared just over the horizon from his view.

Truan came out of the shop, not looking up from the tools he was holding, and bumped into Boaz, who was standing there motionless. “What in all Eluvia are you doing? You nearly knocked me over!” Boaz looked at his father, and he could see his father’s face go from shock and anger to worry. “What, what is it son?” he said.

“I just saw something.” Boaz said.

“Well, what did you see?” his father asked, his voice rising a little in frustration.

“I — I don’t know, but it was horrible. I’ve never seen anything like it. It just ran toward the village.” He pointed absently, as if his father didn’t know where the village was. He felt stunned, like he had forgotten how to talk. His mind didn’t seem to want to engage.

“Well, whatever it was, I’m sure it’s gone now. Prob’ly jus’ a bear, I ‘magine. What’s got you lookin’ thataway?” His father didn’t seem to realize that this was anything big at all, as if Boaz was playing a game with him like they used to when he was little. “Pick up your wood, and git inside, I’m hungry! Sure you are too, now go on!” His father started picking up the wood and handing it to Boaz. That’s when the blood-curdling screaming started.

The screams came from Forlon, their village, and directly in a line from where the creature’s path had taken it, near as Boaz could guess. Both he and his father stood frozen, listening. “What is that? Do ya think that’s what you saw just now?” Truan finally asked.

“I don’t know, but we ought to do something.” Boaz didn’t seem to be able to move his body, just as before, his mind had been immobile.

His father was the first to move. “Go get a couple blades from the shop, and meet me out front,” he said, as he headed for their house. Jumping into motion finally, like he had been kicked from behind, Boaz stumbled wildly to the shop, near the back, where they always had a small cache of weapons in various states of assembly. He grabbed two finished swords, his hands fumbled with the hilts, not bothering with sheaths. Boaz knew his father would want to be off quickly and expected his father to take the mare into the village while Boaz jogged.

He came out of the shop and to the front of the house, where his father had his coat and Boaz’s. He tossed the jacket to Boaz, and handed him the hilt of the sword. “You should ride Marion, Da,” Boaz said, but his father shook his head.

“No time, let’s get into the village fast as we can. I don’t want to saddle ‘er up righ’ now.”

Boaz wasn’t going to argue. He knew now wasn’t the time, so they jogged to the village. It wasn’t much more than half a mile before the first houses and cabin lights started dotting the valley between the two rivers they called home. Soon they came to the village proper, with houses all around. People were running everywhere, yelling and crying. “What happened?” Truan yelled above the clamor when he saw his friend Talam.

“‘Yonder, at the ‘pothecary’s!” Talam shouted.

Without stopping, he and Boaz ran east toward the Dimlaith, the forest enshrouding the village both east and north. There were a few men running that way too. Women and children peered out from partly open doorways, or windows, every face pale and stricken. “What had happened here?” Boaz thought to himself.

When they got to Tua’lan’s apothecary shop, they stopped suddenly. This was not a shop, it was a ruin. Three walls were down along with the roof, and the roof and the remaining wall were on fire, sparks leaping up high into the night. What at first Boaz took to be a small rock glowing red with the firelight near the cabin, was a body. Or had been a human body. It was bloody, dismembered, and grotesque. Boaz’s mind raced. “Was this Tua’lan? What happened? Was it the thing I saw earlier?”

The crowd around him was yelling, trying to form some kind of bucket brigade to quench the flames. Others were covering their mouths, or looking away from the bloody sight of their once-apothecary. Truan moved slowly toward the body, looked it over once, and turned away in disgust. He walked over to the part of the apothecary cabin that wasn’t burning and found a large blanket that was dirty but unharmed. “Boaz, give me a hand!” he yelled, again forcing Boaz to move. Together they dragged the blanket over Tua’lan, covering the gruesome sight.

“What in all the good earth!” yelled a voice. Those who weren’t fighting the fire heard it and turned. Boaz saw it was the mayor, Chaim. “What happened here?” Chaim demanded. Nearby, those who had gathered, crowded around to hear better. A chorus of voices started talking, trying to explain to the mayor what they had seen or heard, but it was all too much. “Wait, one at a time, you said you heard screaming, from Tua’lan?” he asked, breathless, obviously still dressing. He looked like he had been preparing for bed after eating his supper.

“Yes, like I said, I ‘eard ‘im screaming, like a siren ‘e was. There was a mighty crash, and more screaming. Then it stopped a-sudden. I came runnin’ out of my house, just there, an’ his cabin had caved in. Then I saw it,” Ferast exclaimed. He had stopped talking suddenly, his eyes and face glazed with horror.

“Saw what, Ferast? … Well, what did you see?” Chaim exclaimed.

“I — I don’ rightly know, Chaim. It, froze my blood. Big, it was, huge, taller ‘n the front door, like a huge bear, but with ‘orns and face like a lion and … and,” his face turned green and he vomited. People backed away.

“What? That isn’t right. What are you talking about?” Chaim said, his voice rising.

“I saw it too, Chaim, tho’ not as clear-like,” said Marwen, the widow two houses down. “Din’t get here very fast, mind, like Ferast here” she glanced worryingly at Ferast, who was still sick, “but saw a huge black shape, a-standin’ over poor Tua’lan, er, ah, well … eatin’.”

At this, there was a general outcry of overlapping voices and Chaim tried to restore some order. “Wait, you saw something eating Tua’lan, you two?” Chaim said. They both nodded. “I don’t believe you. How could a beast do this?” Chaim exclaimed.

“I saw the backside of it when I came out, and only for a mo’. Then the rest of the roof came down, and caught on fire with a loud bang. Then before I knew it, the thing was gone. All that was left was, well, what was left of ‘im.” Merwin ended sadly.

“Where are our Border Wardens?” Chaim asked the group, as he looked around.

“Saw both Haerl and Stroth head off in that direction shortly after I got here” said Geb, a middle-aged man standing nearby. “They looked like they were on the trail of the thing. Not difficult to see where it went into the forest, tell the truth,” as he pointed in the direction where the ground was torn up roughly, large hoof prints, and giant cat prints, both pointing into the Dimlaith, just near the village. A score of very scared and anxious eyes followed where he pointed.

The trail of blood led into the woods where the thing had gone. It didn’t take a skilled tracker to see that. Boaz knew that if the two Border Wardens, guardians of the borders of Forlon-a-Midden, couldn’t find and kill the creature, nobody could. But this was not a creature Boaz had ever heard of, much less seen.

Apparently the other villagers were just as stumped and worried. “What was that thing? Does anyone know?” “Are there more of them? Shouldn’t we be doin’ somethin’, Chaim?” Many villagers were speaking again, and most directed their questions at Chaim, who looked distinctly shocked and displeased.

“We should let the Wardens do their job, while we do ours here. Let’s make sure that the fire is out cold, and the house secure so the other wall doesn’t fall and hurt someone. And for the love of Elyndor, cover that body, and bury it quickly!” He pointed to where Tua’lan’s body was, where a gust of wind had partly uncovered his remains.

There was a general bustle of folk doing as Chaim asked, stabilizing the rest of the house structure, checking the fire was out, and some of the men went to get spades. He would have to be buried in their small cemetery. Boaz helped make a stretcher for what remained of the body, while his father and some of the elders went to talk to Chaim in private, heading for the village hall. It was a grim process.

Boaz felt sick to his stomach as well. He had been around animals long enough to see their birth, life, and death, and all the mess they made. To see it in a human, a fellow villager, was almost too much. Many covered their mouths with scarves or their shirts, and many couldn’t help with the work at all due to the shock.

When it was done, and Tua’lan’s friends had said their blessing over his grave, everyone headed to the village hall, as if by some unspoken agreement. No one seemed too keen for their usual activities: supper, a wash, and rest. Boaz thought there might not be much of any of those tonight. Clearly everyone wanted some sort of answer, as they all walked heavy hearted, with shocked looks in their faces, to the village hall.

The village hall did not have enough benches for everyone to sit, but lots of standing room. The elderly, women, and children were given first pass at benches to sit on. These were decent folk, used to looking out for one another. Boaz knew they would begin their grieving process soon with Tua’lan.

The elders were all there already, having already discussed matters since Chaim had called them together to walk there for their council. “I suppose we’ll have to meet tonight, since it appears the whole village is turning out here,” Boaz could hear Chaim saying. It did seem that way, to Boaz’ eyes.

Boaz wasn’t sure he wanted to be there, strangely enough. He didn’t want to know what had happened, or what the thing was, or what anyone was doing. All he wanted to do was go back to their house, sit, and relax. And, if he was being honest with himself, plan his path out of this little village, and this little life.

Boaz made his way to the back of the hall, thinking he might just go home, when he heard his father say “Boaz, wait.” It wasn’t a command, but an ask, as his father would often tell him. His father wasn’t the commanding sort, he would say, but he made his requests known to Boaz. And Boaz respected him for that.

“Look, son, I know what you’re thinkin’. You wanna go home. But I told the elders that you saw sumthin’, most likely this thing, before it attacked, and I’d like fer you to speak up ‘bout it when the time comes.” Boaz thought that if his father really knew all his thoughts, he might not feel so good about all of them, but he nodded, and kept his peace.

Chaim moved to the center of the room, where his voice would carry to everyone. “Ok, everyone, I’m sure you all have a lot of questions and worries. I want you to know that the elders and I have been talking about what happened. I’m not sure we have many answers for you, at least not yet. We’ll know more when the Border Wardens return. I know for a fact that at least four of them are on the case.” He cleared his throat, clearly not wanting to be in this position. “What we do know is that some kind of large creature came from the northern border of Forlon, from the Dimlaith, and came south to the village, and attacked Tua’lan’s house, killed him, and then fled into the forest on the east side.

“The Wardens obviously are aware of all this, and they are out hunting down the beast, or, well, whatever it was. We think there may have only been one of them, and that the village is safe now,” Chaim assured.

“You may think the village is safe, but what if you’re wrong? We live near the east edge of the village, what if that thing comes back, hungry agin’?” said a villager who Boaz didn’t know. There was a general assent of exclamations from other villagers to this. “And what was it? Do you know that yet? What have the Wardens told you it was?”

“It was a Grimboldt,” said a deep, gravelly voice from the entrance to the hall. “And while this one was alone, there will be more coming. And worse than that as well.”

Heads turned to the entrance and there stood Cayden, the chief Border Warden. His travel-worn clothes clung to his massive body. He was a head taller than everyone else, and half again as wide. Hushed whisperings spread out among the crowd as he stepped into the firelight.

“Cayden, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you with your Wardens where I sent you all?” Chaim exclaimed.

“Because my Wardens are doing their job well, and I am needed here. Besides, you don’t command me,” came Cayden’s grumbling reply. All the while, he walked to the center of the hall.

“You aren’t needed here, we need you out there, protecting our borders! Or have you forgotten what they are, given your years of solitude?” As he yelled these last words, spittle flew from his mouth, and his eyes bulged as he yelled, much like a bullfrog.

Boaz thought Chaim might be crossing the line. Though Cayden appeared not even to notice or care that Chaim was there, Cayden was held in awe, respect, and not a little bit of fear by the village folk. He was reclusive and mysterious, rarely coming in to village. “What was he doing here?” Boaz thought. “I suppose if Cayden ever was going to come into the village, it would be for something like this.” He was nothing if not legendary for his devotion. Boaz knew him, probably better than most. He spent more time talking with Truan at their house, and enjoyed their company, like he did for few others. Boaz wasn’t sure why that was, since all the villagers, save maybe Chaim, had great respect for him.

“I’m here, as I said, because this is where I’m needed. The villagers have questions that need answering. I can give them that, or the better part of it.” Cayden said. Boaz could’ve sworn when he said this last, he gave Boaz a quick look. “He doesn’t know, how can he?” Boaz thought to himself. He wasn’t there when I saw the creature, nor was he here to hear the elders speaking to Chaim.

“Cayden, what is it you know? What is this thing?” asked a number of villagers.

“It is a creature of darkness, not a natural creature. It is called a Grimboldt. A creature of the ancient world, from a time when the races were sundered and cursed by the sorcerers of old. Beings like this were created by their curses.”

At this, exclamations of the villagers drowned him out. Most yelled out in grief, and the women cried in fear. It was a few minutes before the clamor died down. “Yes, it is all that, and its appearance means even more than you know.”

“Now hold on, Cayden, you were always the fear-mongerer,” cried Chaim, trying to bring the fear level down, but not doing a good job. Boaz could easily detect the fear in his voice. “This is no creature of the ancient world, no demon, or whatever you think it is. We don’t yet know what it was: your Wardens have yet to return to tell us. We can’t just jump to any conclusion. This most likely was some malformed bear, or maybe a moose that has gone mad.”

“Who here saw the creature?” Cayden asked the crowd at large. It was unclear to Boaz if Cayden even had heard what Chaim had said. Ferast and Marwen both raised their hands, and Cayden nodded to Marwen and asked her, “What did you see?” Marwen didn’t stand. Boaz didn’t think she could’ve. She looked very shaken, and not from being singled out at a village gathering.

“Well, like I told Chaim, I did see it a bit, but mostly th’ back side o’ it, if’n I’m bein’ fair. It did seem to have horns, and long legs with hooves, leastways in the back. I didn’t see the front. Ferast here saw it better than me.” She looked imploringly at Ferast to save her from having to speak more.

“I did see more of it than that, and it did look moose-like, or maybe large cow-like. It did have horns. What I noticed most was, well, it seemed … dead.” Ferast ended lamely.

“And what do you mean by that? Ferast, that makes no sense. It’s obvious you didn’t see it clearly if you thought a dead creature did all this.” It was Chaim who spoke up, and he couldn’t hide the disdain and unbelief in his voice.

Cayden glared at Chaim, but directed his voice to Ferast, “What do you mean it looked dead, Ferast?”

“Well, it smelled like it’d been dead, and it looked like a corpse, all … rotten, with dead flesh coming off of it.” At this a few women fainted, and several villagers could be heard retching.

“A very remarkable feat, don’t you think?” said Chaim. “Here is this dead, rotting creature that was apparently healthy enough to tear through our village, break down one of the houses, and kill one of us. Then it ran off through the woods so quickly that our Wardens could find no trace of it? Very remarkable indeed.” he gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke these last words.

“Did anyone else see anything?” Cayden asked.

Boaz caught his father’s eye, who nodded to him encouragingly. “I did.” Boaz stepped forward from the entryway of the hall, so that Cayden could see him better.

“What did you see, son?”

“It was before the attack, sir. My father and I were just closing up the shop for the day, and I was at the woodpile. Out of the corner of my eye I saw two red eyes, near the fir treeline, north of our house. Thought it was strange, so I looked closer. Never seen anything like them before in the woods. And it was a huge black shape, taller than me. Part moose, head, forepaws, and mouth of a lion. And yeah, it stank. Then I saw that it looked like it should be dead, rotting like. But what got me most were the eyes. I froze. My mind went blank like, and I felt like I couldn’t move.” Boaz ended, not really wanting to continue.

“I bumped into ‘im as I came outta the shop, nearly fell to the ground, he was like stone. I asked him what was the matter, and he hardly even seemed there ‘tall.” Truan confirmed. “Then he said he saw something, I didn’t think much of it, thought it might be a bear, and then some moments later we heard screams. Came running fast as we could.” Truan continued.

“You all have perfectly described a Grimboldt, a creature of the ancient world.” Cayden said.

“What does it mean, Cayden?” asked Marwen.

“It means that evil has awakened. There will be more of these, and worse. Vortannis has returned.”

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