“I’ve spent the last few hours in the foothills and in the forest, and I’ve seen the signs. They came out of the mountains from the north, from Bal-Hamath, the dark fortress,” Cayden proclaimed.

At this, a few women fainted, their husbands too dumbstruck to even catch them as they fell. Then everyone started yelling again, Chaim above them all.

“This can’t be. Vortannis and his army of the Fallen were destroyed more than a hundred years ago. To say that they still exist is no different than believing in the so-called Grimboldtan.”

“Which, if you remember, we independently confirmed to exist last night.” Cayden explained patiently.

“By a boy who’s never been out of the town before, and likely heard the description of such creatures from a close friendship with you!” Chaim said threateningly. His eyes were wild and when he yelled spit flew from his mouth. “And why aren’t you out scouting, trying to find out who really is responsible for these attacks, like I told you?”

“Because, for one, you do not command me, and second, we have a large area to cover and not enough wardens. We need to deputize some of the young men who are old enough and willing to help us. Four or five should be sufficient.”

“What!? Now you expect us to go along with your outlandish claims, and put the lives of our young men at risk as well? We should stay together here and defend ourselves. We are stronger together!” Chaim seemed to Boaz to be trying a different tactic.

“I agree that we should stay together, but we have long been in need of more wardens. Our borders are vast. We are beyond the time when we should have recruited.” He stepped forward and projected his voice so all could hear. “What youth, who can bear a weapon, and who does not fear, will step forward and be deputized as a warden?”

Boaz looked at his father. He didn’t want to put himself forward without his father’s consent. He didn’t say a word, but pleaded with him with his eyes. To his surprise, a tear formed in the older man’s eye and ran down his cheek as he looked at his son. He clearly didn’t want Boaz to go, but realized he was losing the battle for the future of his only son. He nodded. Boaz turned and said clearly and loudly:

“I’ll go.”

He and two other young men, Jaxson Lysander, who had brought the message to Truan earlier, and Theo Celestros, both friends of Boaz, also stepped forward. There was some arguing among the Seraphelle family when their eldest daughter Lyra, who was Boaz’ age, voiced her willingness. Her father and mother clearly were against it, but she was known to be strong-willed and capable with a blade. Her father spoke to Chaim, “Surely there is some provision in the law that prohibits women from becoming wardens, Chaim, isn’t there?” He was pleading desperately.

“I’m afraid there is no such provision. It is not common, but it’s not without precedent either. There is nothing we can do legally. If the young lady is at least twenty years of age, and willing, she may be a warden, with or without your blessing.”

Kiera Aventara, Tu’Lau’s daughter and only remaining relative, also stepped forward. “I, too, want to be a warden, to honor and avenge my father, if I might. I can be of assistance as a healer, which I learned from my father, and I have nothing left to lose. Sorrow welled in her eyes, but a fire burned behind them as well.

There were other youths who were not twenty, who objected to what they felt was an arbitrary rule about age. Some were arguing about that, but when all was said and done, the number who had stepped forward were five, three young men and two women.

They were to be trained by the Warden Trainers in Wardencamp, starting tomorrow, for the need was great. The other wardens were already out in the wild hunting and scouting for the lost people. Sending out untrained deputies was likely to cause more harm than good.

Normally a deputy warden required a full three months, during which time many recruits would quit, due to the rigors involved. These deputy wardens would need to be trained in no less than two weeks, which meant they would still not be full deputies, but an apprentice to a master warden. It was not ideal, but it was the situation the village found themselves in.

Chaim was trying to restore order, seeing that he could not go against Cayden and the wardens. Chaim spoke up: “We will, of course, immediately report all that has happened to Lord Ferwan and ask for a regiment of troops as a precaution. As you know, that is one of the many reasons we pay taxes to our lord, and one of the many benefits we receive from such a great man.”

Chaim was clearly laying it on thick, as he could be sure there may be some of the Lord’s men present who were informants. They would be listening to everything that went on and reporting to their master. “I am sure we can expect soldiery from him, and they will stay in the guardhouse of course.” The guardhouse was little used, since there had been no need in time of peace. It was currently being used as storage, so it would need to be cleared out before the troops arrived.

The meeting broke up, but fearful villagers huddled in groups, talking in hushed tones one to another, clearly wondering what to do, and what could be done in the face of these new terrors. The deputy recruits were signed up and given instructions to report to Cayden here at the Traveler’s Rest in the village center at sunrise tomorrow. No time could be wasted.

There was nothing more to do now but walk home. Boaz walked with his father, who was leading their mare, as much to give the tired horse a break as to spend time walking and talking with his son.

There was an awkward silence for several minutes. Both men weighed their thoughts as though they were precious and needed to be meted out carefully. The waxing moon had begun to rise above the treeline, but did not give its full light due to the clouds. It was what the farmers referred to as a harvest moon. It was quite strikingly a vibrant orange color, and gave off a shimmering light, as though it meant to bathe the earth in ripples rather than a torrent. Its orange light gave the landscape an uneasy feeling, hard to pinpoint, but one of expectation of things unwelcome. The stars seem veiled. A fog, common in Forlon because of the two rivers, had begun to rise from the ground.

It was silent except for their footfalls and the clop of the horse’s hooves. Truan broke the silence: “Boaz, did I ever tell you ‘bout your Ma’s heirloom?”

“Heirloom? No, you never mentioned it. What is it?” Boaz did not expect this start for their conversation, after what had just transpired with the deputization.

“Well, as you know, your Ma was not from here. She came here with her fam’ly from Hefel-an-Tarn, the city by the great sea. Your Ma and I grew up as friends, and when we were old ’nough, I asked for her hand in marriage. Had to earn her father’s trust ‘fore that, of course. I wasn’t a blacksmith then, but it was still presumptuous of me t’ ask.”

“You’ve told me all this before, and more. What does this have to do with an heirloom?” Boaz didn’t see where his father was leading.

“Your mother and her parents fled persecution. We never told you why tho’, since it would’ve endangered them if’n anyone had knew. Your mother had in her possession this heirloom.” They stopped in the path. “Your Ma was of noble birth. This heirloom signifies that her family, and her bloodline, were nobility.”

This was crazy. He thought for sure his father had lost it. “Da, you’re not making sense. How could Ma be a noble? You never told me this part.”

“I know. We needed to tell ya what little we did you to protect her, and you.”

“Me? Why would this protect me?” Boaz was truly bewildered.

“Because, crazy as it may seem, her family was not only disgraced, but there was a plot by other noble houses to kill them. Your Ma always assured me ’twasn’t anything they did on their part to deserve this. But in those days, there was always a vying for power. Evidence apparently was planted against them by one of your Ma’s sisters, no less, that made them look treasonous against the throne. That was a deadly judgment, and so they fled, went into hiding, and changed their family name.”

Boaz was shocked at this news. He leaned against the old horse to keep his balance. The mare nickered in a tired sort of way, clearly not wanting to bear additional burdens. It was clear his father didn’t want to talk more about it right here in the open, but seriously … why bring it up now and let him suffer with not knowing more?

It seemed like a long walk back to the house, but in reality it was only about ten minutes. All the while, Boaz could think of nothing else. There were so many questions. Questions without answers, for the moment.

When Truan had removed the saddle from the horse, saw to it she had been brushed, fed and watered, he walked back to the house. Boaz was there already, sitting in his favorite chair near the fire. It felt like his feet wouldn’t hold him upright anymore.

“I’m sure you’ve a lot of questions. But let me tell you the whole story from the beginning, and maybe many of ’em will be filled in, in the right order.” He sat down in his usual chair by the fire. It creaked a bit as it bore his weight.

“Your Ma was a noble from the house of Findelar, the name they took when they went into hiding. For her parent’s sake, mine, and yours, she wouldn’t say more about her house line, and I didn’t ask. I didn’t fall in for politics much then, and I like it less now.” That was an understatement, Boaz thought. His father chafed at being an elder of the village, let alone at being bossed around by Chaim’s authoritative ways.

“All I knew then was, I loved her like I’d never loved anyone else before.”

Truan paused here and sighed. Boaz had been listening intently, but didn’t believe it. He had been told some of the tale, of course, but there were parts that had been left out. Big parts. He had no reason to doubt his father was telling the truth, since his father had never lied to him before. It was just that it was all so unbelievable.

Truan continued, “You are her only son of the Findelar line, which means you also are of noble birth. Of course, no one knows this but you and I now, and Cayden. But you have not been given the one thing which will testify t’ that.”

“What is that?” Boaz asked in a croaky whisper. His voice didn’t want to work.

“You lack the heirloom.” Truan stood and left the room and went into his bedroom. Boaz could hear him scuffling about. When he came back, he had a small wooden box with a lid on hinges. He handed it to Boaz. It was small but intricately made, with iron hinges and a three-leafed glyph carved into the cover.

“Open it.” Truan said

Full of wonder, Boaz opened it. The inside was lined with rich red velvet. Lying there was an iron three-leafed symbol, intricately crafted, on an iron link chain. Clearly it was meant to be worn as a necklace. There he could see the framing where three iron leaves might be placed, but they were missing.

“You can see that it is incomplete. Notice how the three leaves don’t have the jewel overlay?” Truan said. Boaz nodded, unable to form words.

“Notice also the emerald stone in th’ middle? I don’t rightly know why the jewels are missin’, or what the emerald stands for. I ‘spect it’s the colors and devices of your Ma’s former nobility. I’m not sure why the leaves’r missin’. Again, for her part, she didn’t tell me, because her parents made her take an oath to tell no one any more than this, because there were spies everywhere, and no one could be trusted.”

“Why tell me all this now?” Boaz’s question came out only as a hoarse whisper.

“Your Ma wanted me to tell you what I knew when the time seemed right. We figured t’would be around your twentieth year, when you became a man, but of course we didn’t really know when you would be ready for this information. I know you’re ready now.”

“But how…” Boaz trailed off. “How is any of this possible? I’ve always thought of myself as a blacksmith’s son, an apprentice. I don’t know anything about politics, nobility, or even being a leader. I’m not sure I even care to be noble,” Boaz tried to conceal the tension in his voice.

“As for that, your Ma and I never expected you to behave any differently than the way we raised you. The fact that you are noble has little bearing on your character or who you really are. And since the secret of this disgraced noble family now lies with you, you shouldn’t act differently now, so you don’t draw suspicion,” Truan said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this earlier. I knew I was jus’ puttin’ off the inevitable in not telling you, when I knew you were mature enough all along to hear it from me. But … I was selfish. I didn’t want you to be any different than how we raised you, and I certainly didn’t want to lose you.” Boaz looked up at him with a question in his eyes.

“I was selfish ‘cause I wanted you to be with me. I wanted you fer myself. Havin’ lost your mother so many years ago now, I didn’t want to be alone. Thought for sure if I told you it would mean that you would have to leave me. I’ve known, ‘course, that you never really wanted to be a blacksmith, and that you had bigger dreams. I figured if you found out you were noble, that would mean for sure you wouldn’t be near me, and you’d go off, seeking answers.” At this, he put his head in his hands and wept.

Seeing his father like this, so broken, was unexpected. His father had always been a pillar of strength. To see him in his current state, Boaz couldn’t help but let his anger go. A heavy realization that his father carried so much burden for so long rested on Boaz. He knelt down in front of his father and bear-hugged him.

“I’m sorry Da. I know you did what you thought best, and I don’t blame you. It’s just that this is so shocking to me. You’re all I’ve ever known. You have always been my whole life.”

His father cried a little more, his body convulsing a little, before it subsided. He raised his head, wiped his eyes on his sleeves, and put two weather-worn and calloused hands on either side of his son’s shoulders, and looked in his eyes.

“And you have always been my whole life, all these years after your mother’s passin’. I’ve taught you everything I know. Yet I know you will be great some day, and do great things. I don’ know how or when, but I feel it in my heart.” They hugged for a few long minutes.

When they broke apart, Truan said, “One more thing I should tell you. Tell no one about the heirloom. No one. And don’t let anyone see it. Keep it on the chain, ‘round your neck, and under your shirt, next to your skin. If someone should see it, and recognize it, it would be disastrous. Don’t forget there are spies everywhere who may still be looking for the owner of this, the symbol of this lost noble house. The only other person alive in the world right now who knows you have it is Cayden.”

“Cayden? But how does he fit into this?” Boaz asked.

“Cayden was the captain of your mother’s retainers, her personal bodyguard, I guess you could say. And now, in a way, he will be yours. This thing with the deputy wardens was not jus’ a coincidence. He also knows that the time for you to depart is at hand, and probably one of the reasons he is deputizing wardens right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was recruiting all the new deputies jus’ because of this whole affair. Not that they know about the heirloom, mind you.”

“So you think he knows what you know?” Boaz asked wonderingly.

“Yes, and prob’ly more, because he stopped by the house when you were away th’ other day, and told me as much.” Boaz stared at his father, his mouth open a little. His father winked.

Boaz couldn’t help but laugh. “So you two have been in cahoots all this time?”

“Well, maybe not all the time, but we had a fair idea of what we were to do. We just didn’ know when.” He winked again.

“Hungry for supper at all? You should eat something, because you have an early start tomorrow. I might not see ya for a couple weeks if the training goes as planned. For now, I would not take the heirloom with you, but instead let me keep it here, hidden as it always has been. When you’re done your training you can come retrieve it,” Truan said.

“Where have you kept it all this time?”

“Let me show you.” He led him to his room. On the floor, he went to the farthest wall, stooped down to the floor, and touched a single board near the end. It released and sprang lightly back up, like it was on a spring. Boaz could see that there were some intricate mechanical parts behind the contraption. His father must have developed it especially for this, and his heart beamed with pride at his father’s craftiness. Under the board, there was a small space just large enough for the box that held the heirloom. He placed them in the space, where they fit snugly. Even from up close it didn’t look like anything was there. It was ingenious. His father closed the board back on top, and it snapped with a solid click.

That night they ate a hearty supper of chicken, potatoes, and carrots from their stores, knowing that it may be the last meal they would eat together for a long time. They didn’t talk anymore about the heirloom, as Truan had told him that they should not talk idly about it, even in the safety of their house. But they did talk about what the warden training might be like, and where it might be held.

Boaz knew that the Border Wardens had a training facility of sorts, called Wardencamp, about a day’s journey into the foothills. It was not used much, and lately it was as a meeting place or headquarters for the wardens. But now it would be fully utilized as a training facility.

Boaz could not conceal his excitement at the prospect of this new chapter in his life. His father listened intently, as he knew that this was a big change for him. Inside he felt old and terribly alone all of a sudden. He knew he may not see his son ever again after the training was over and he came back to say his goodbyes. He made sure to reveal none of his concerns.

They went to bed shortly after supper. “You need to get yer sleep, as you have an early start. Cayden wants you at the Traveler’s Rest at sunrise, yes?”

“That’s right.” Boaz agreed.

“I’ll be up and see you off. Pack your things now so you’ll be ready.”

While Boaz was putting his few personal belongings in a backpack, Truan went out to the shop. When he came back inside, he had a long sword, two well-balanced knives, and their sheaths in his hands. “I want you to have these. I made them for you in anticipation of this day. The sword is long enough for your stature and heavy enough for your strength, and the knives are throwing knives, well-balanced. I know you have a knack for that, as I’ve seen you often enough throwin’ my good knives at logs and dulling ’em.” He said this last with an impish grin.

“Thank you so much Da. You really shouldn’t have though. I could’ve used any old sword from the stock. And even if I didn’t have a sword, I’m sure the wardens would supply one.”

“I know, but I wanted one that suited you well. No warden weapon will match these anyway.”

Boaz drew the sword fully from the sheath and weighed it in his hands. It was perfectly balanced. And while it would’ve been too heavy and long for other men, his father was right: it suited him well. His name was engraved in the hilt in formal lettering.

Boaz beamed with pride. He sheathed the sword and took one knife out of its sheath, on which both of them were holstered. It was polished to a high sheen, as the sword had been, and so keen he could’ve shaved with it if he had needed to. It too was perfectly balanced at the haft, and would make a perfect throwing weapon.

With that, they went to bed, but Boaz could hardly sleep. So rapt up in his thoughts of what his life might bring, he was both excited and very afraid. He didn’t want to show that or admit it to anyone, least of all his father, but he was still very confused, shocked, and frightened by what his father had told him of his past and what may be his future.

He did manage to fall asleep eventually, and it felt like no time at all had passed before his father was standing over him shaking him awake. He dressed quickly with the tough traveling clothes he had laid out the night before. His backpack was bulky mostly from the winter clothes he would have to bring, as the winter was not far away, and would be upon them even more so the closer they got into the foothills. Cayden had told the deputies the day before that they would only need lunch, and that for their hike. All other meals would be provided at Wardencamp. Likely they would have to hunt or trap their own as well, as part of their training.

When he was dressed and ready, Truan and Boaz said their goodbyes.

“I will come back after my training and do what I can to help you prepare for winter before I leave.”

“There’s no need for you to help me, the house and shop are already in good shape, and what’s left to finish I can do while you are gone. But I do want to see you off when you finish your training. I love you son.” He said slowly, and with that, his eyes glistened.

“I love you too, Da. Thank you for everything.” His father nodded, unable to say any more words. They hugged for a minute, as two who love each other deeply, and don’t know when they will see each other again, would do.

When Boaz turned his back to the house and started for the town square, Truan felt his heart breaking. His only family left to him was leaving. He had a strange feeling that he might never see him again. He berated himself for that thought. “Of course I’ll see him again. He’ll be fine with the wardens, and he has to come back here to see me and get that heirloom leastways.”

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