The Traveler’s Rest at Forlon sat in the heart of the village, as all such places did — its crumbling stone walls and sagging beams a quiet monument to an age long past. Moss crept through the cracks in the foundation, and a collapsed portion of the roof let in the weather. Though once the center of warmth and welcome, it had fallen into disrepair generations ago. Villagers spoke of efforts to restore it — repairs begun, then inexplicably stalled. Tools went missing. Stones wouldn’t hold. Some said it wasn’t worth the trouble. Others said it simply wouldn’t take.

The moment Boaz stepped inside, the air shifted — so slight it could have been a trick of the senses. A soft radiance stirred in the stones above the entryway, like moonlight filtering through deep water. Hushed green light wove itself into the old carvings that circled the arch, flowing like breath drawn in after long stillness. It pulsed once, slow and gentle, then faded into quiet. No one saw it. But it had noticed Boaz.

Inside, the warden recruits had already gathered. All of them had backpacks full of gear, but none save Boaz carried a weapon. Not everyone in Forlon had such at hand. It was no matter — they knew these would be provided. Cayden stood off to the side, waiting with arms crossed. He didn’t speak to anyone, and no one dared speak to him. He had a reputation of being quiet and dangerous, and no one wanted to be singled out by him, for good or ill.

Boaz knew all the warden recruits, but some he knew better than others. Growing up he had several close friends, and they remained so, but they had grown apart in recent years, not by any fallout, but because they had been busy in their various apprenticeships. It took several years of very closely working with a master as an apprentice, and none of them had the time to spend much with each other in other pursuits. This was a reunion of sorts, and they knew that they would have time to renew friendships. However, the recruits knew that the training would be intense, and that as a warden they might spend much of their time alone. It was not an easy life being a Border Warden in this western and remote part of the world, where protection from evil was less.

The weather had turned cold, and it seemed winter was making its first foray into their village. Their breath fogged, and several of them brought out gloves for their hands. Boaz was always warm by nature and didn’t feel the cold.

“We’re all here then.” Cayden spoke at last. It was not a question, just a statement of fact. “Do all of you have the equipment that we asked you to pack last night? If not, now is the time to go over the checklist again in your minds. When we start our hike to the training facility it will be too late. Anyone who turns back then can stay behind.” Every one of the recruits voiced their understanding by saying “Yes” or “I have everything.”

“Very well then. We will be hiking all day to get to the training facility. There you will each have a small cabin. Food will be provided and cooked for you while you are a recruit, but we may have some days when you hunt or fish for your own food. How well you do on those days determines how well you eat those days. This is not a vacation or slumber party!” He shouted the last words, and several of them jumped in alarm, then quickly looked around, embarrassed, to make sure no one else had seen them. “This will not be easy, and it’s not meant to be. You will be trained in the ways of the Border Wardens as fully as possible in the limited time given to us. You will be tired, cold, sore, stressed, and you may get injured. You will have to persevere regardless of your state, as any warden would. If you are second-guessing your decision now, it is no shame to walk away.” Everyone looked around at each other at this point, but no one moved.

“Good. Put your packs on and follow me. We will stop only once today for a light lunch.”

With that, he turned and stamped off easterly, in the direction of the foothills. A few villagers were hanging about to see them off and wish them well, among them were Lyra’s parents. Some “Good lucks” and other words of parting were exchanged, but none of the recruits dared step out of the group for anything more than just words.

They made their way through the side streets, past the burnt Apothecary shop, which had not been repaired, since there was no other apothecary yet. This sad lingering reminder of the attacks on the village was the last image they saw of the village. With that mournful and frightening image lingering in their minds, they were reminded just why they were warden recruits, and what their new lives might mean.

There wasn’t a trail, since this was not a much-traveled route at all, but for a warden there were enough signs about to read to know which way to go. Most of the recruits, having no such skill yet, would have easily been lost after more than a few minutes. Boaz and Jaxson had ventured out of the village enough to know the surrounding area well. As children they had ventured away from the village, when it had been safer to do so, and built play forts and had mock battles. That was many years ago, but they both walked together now and pointed out those places and talked about it, and laughed.

Soon they were deeper into the foothills and started climbing, and the pace became slower and more strenuous. They couldn’t see how far up they had climbed yet due to the thick copse of fir trees around them. The ground was thick with the needles of many years before, and it was fragrant as they each stepped on them. Despite the cold, and it got colder as they climbed, they were soon sweating from the exertion. The sun was pale and had to cut through some morning fog, and did little to warm them. This was probably a good thing as it would’ve been too warm with their exertions. No one dared complain, as they each might take it as a sign of not being ready for this challenge. Still, there were doubts in their minds about the challenges ahead, and whether they could be overcome.

The recruits hiked in single file most of the time, since the trail was steep and not marked, and none of them wanted to talk too much and draw the ire of Cayden. His presence seemed to inspire a hushed awe. They were moving slowly upward into the foothills, and the trail was rocky here, with the fir trees giving way to other varieties. Some were familiar to Boaz, but others were not. He dared not ask what kind they were, as Cayden didn’t stop and didn’t seem to want to even pause. Boaz rightly guessed that they would be learning all the names and types of trees and plants soon enough, and he didn’t want to appear too eager to put himself out there as a model student.

The sun was almost directly overhead when they stopped for their noon meal. Cayden told them to light no fires, but to eat some of their stored food cold. Each brought a lunch of fruits, nuts, a cured meat of their choice, and some cheese. After finding a fairly level spot to sit, they did so. They ate their food with only a minimum of talking between each other, as it felt like their voices were loud in the little glen where they rested. Everyone drank freely from their water skins, since they would not need more until they got to camp and were thirsty after the climb.

“From here, the trail does not climb as much, but we will be traversing some more rocky ground, so you’ll want to walk single file again, and step where I do, since you don’t want to lose your footing. That could be fatal.” Cayden said with a warning look at them all.

Most of them just looked at him, and then at each other, the worry on their faces quite plain. “Don’t worry, just step where I do, and keep your wits about you, and don’t look down,” he said with a wry smile.

He gave them another five minutes before he announced it was time to go. It seemed to some of them that they had only just sat. There were more than a few who stood up stiffly and stretched their already aching muscles. Boaz was not one of them. He was used to hard labor, and it took more than a steep hike to tire him. Kiera, however, had a look on her face that said she was already doubting her decision. She saw Boaz anxiously looking at her and immediately hid her doubt.

“Are you ok?” he asked, when they were on their way again. He said it in a whisper, so as not to embarrass her in front of the others.

“I’m fine,” she said, in a sharp tone. Boaz did not ask any more questions, as her tone had been one of finality. Besides, the trail did indeed become such that they had to focus their attention on it, and little else.

In fact, it was tortuous. And it wasn’t much of a trail, even for wardens to see. There were an increasing number of blind corners with steep drops on one side, and the rocks on either side of the trail, such as it was, grew larger. Some blocked the entire path and had to be skirted around their lesser sides. The mountain they were on was ever to their left. The trail did not climb much more and was fairly level, but the footing became more important. There were areas that they had to pay close attention to where the person in front of them had stepped, as some of the rocks shifted uneasily.

Boaz was last in line. He hadn’t planned it that way, and Cayden had not told them what order to go in, but he felt a bit cut off from the rest of them. He only had Lyra in front of him, and occasionally her head would dip into some rocky crevasse ahead of him, such that he felt he was entirely alone up here.

A few birds were overhead. He recognized some hawks drifting with their wings spread wide, using the thermal currents rising from the heat of the day to ride along, their eyes peering down searching for their supper. He couldn’t pay much attention to them because it was treacherous. The sun was starting to set, and this would be no place to have to camp for the night. He wondered how much further the camp was.

Up ahead, he heard Lyra scream and a rumbling sound of rocks sliding. Boaz quickened his pace as much as he could to get to her. When he crested the boulders blocking her from his view, he saw that she was lying at the foot of a small rock slide, rubbing her ankle. He could see there were a few scrapes, and one larger one right on the heel. When he got down to her, Jaxson, who had been in front of her, had already reached her.

“Nothing broken, fortunately,” he was saying as Boaz came up. But Lyra’s face was tight with pain.

“Let’s get that bandaged,” Boaz pointed to the ankle.

“I don’t need it, I can make it without that,” Lyra said defiantly. She tried to stand on her feet, and clearly it pained her to do so. Boaz admired her restraint and courage, at what was clearly a painful ankle that would be sore and bruised for several days.

She took a few halting steps, and decided that she could accept some help. She sat down and said, “I don’t suppose either of you thought to bring anything to bandage this with, do you?” But Boaz was already rummaging in his backpack for his supplies for just such a purpose. They were not on the list, but he had never been one to leave very far from home without being prepared. He pulled out a large cotton pad and some longer strips of cotton for binding the injuries. Jaxson helped her elevate her leg on a rock so they could get around the ankle completely.

Boaz worked quickly, and wondered why no one else had come back. He hoped they would not get lost up here. He was just about to ask Jaxson to hurry on ahead and get Cayden and the others to stop, when Cayden appeared over the cleft in the rocks up ahead. He made his way down carefully. He was a large man, but as adept and agile as a mountain goat it seemed. Boaz had finished up when he got to them.

“Have a little trouble?” he asked with a slightly worried look.

“The rocks slid when I stepped on them, and took me down here,” Lyra said.

“Nothing’s broken,” said Jaxson worriedly, “but I’m not sure she’ll be able to walk out of here on that ankle.”

“The camp is only another mile or so from here. I told the others to wait for me at the camp. They should all be there now,” Cayden said. He walked over to a fir tree, unslung an axe he had in his belt, and in three hacks chopped off a small, fairly straight limb. He then proceeded to limb it, stripping off the leaves and smaller branches. He hacked it down to the height needed to go under her arm, and helped her up. “You’ll have to walk, as much as you can, since I can’t carry you out of this narrow place. Once we get onto the main trail, I can carry you,” he said.

“No you won’t! I’ll walk on my own. No one will carry me!” Lyra said furiously.

Boaz and Jaxson were both going to object, but Cayden simply said, “suit yourself,” and started back the way he came.

It was indeed only about a mile from the rock slide to the camp, but it took a full hour to walk, with Lyra clinging hard to her makeshift cane and trying to conceal her winces as she stepped on the ankle. Despite her frequent protests, she had to accept help from both Jaxson and Boaz several times in order for them to half-lift her through narrow, rocky passes, or over impassable rocks. By the time they cleared the cliffs and rocks, and passed through another copse of fir trees, they saw a gathering of small cabins in a circle, ten in all. They had made it to the camp.

“You better sit down in front of your cabin, over there,” Cayden said, pointing to one of the cabins. “I’ll bring some hot water and some medicine to clean the wound and then bind it again.”

Lyra opened her mouth to object, but thought better of it. It would not do to contradict their teacher. She hobbled over to her cabin and Jaxson and Boaz began to follow. “I’m sure I don’t need your help to get to my cabin,” she said brusquely.

Jaxson and Boaz stopped and looked at each other, a question formed between them. Lyra turned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. Thank you for your help. It’s just that this is, well…” she threw her hands up and hobbled off to her cabin. Whatever she thought it was, she clearly would not tell them right now. Boaz thought he knew what she meant to say. It hurt her pride to accept help, and it was embarrassing to start off this way. She probably felt like she had more to prove than the men. He kept those thoughts to himself.

That night, Cayden had started a large bonfire in the middle of the circle of cabins, where there was an enormous fire pit. He called them all to join him. There were other people besides the deputy trainees and the old border warden there, as they had found out when they were unpacking their things in their cabins. A few cooks, some caretakers, and a blacksmith and very small smithy. More like a “repair anything” shop, since it was used to tailor clothes, leather, tools, and weapons. Boaz was most interested in this, but didn’t have the time yet to investigate it. He only got the name of the smith, Tal, a wiry, but tough man.

When they had all gathered at the bonfire, they saw that tables and chairs had been brought out. Cayden pointed to the chairs and said simply, “find a seat.” They did as they were told, and when they had all found a chair, Cayden continued. “We’ll meet out here for our supper, while the weather permits. If it doesn’t, we’ll eat in our cabins. You can see that there are cooks here and other workers. I expect you to treat them with great respect. They will be providing you with hot meals, mending your clothes, fixing your gear, and repairing and maintaining your weapons and tools. Any disrespect shown to them, and I will hear of it. This is your only warning. Break this rule, and you will be walking home.

“Being a Border Warden is not just a job, it is a way of living. Here you will learn more than just outdoor skills and how to defend yourself. You will learn respect for all things, reverence, loyalty, and bravery, among other skills. Tonight, you can see we have a bonfire going. It will not always be so. It is an extravagant fire, one that is wasteful of resources. You will also find the food tonight to be extravagant. You will find that the life of a warden will require you to be frugal. But tonight, we light this fire and eat this food because this is the beginning of an exciting journey for all of you. When you all become deputized in two weeks’ time,” he said this last part looking around at all of them, making sure to make eye contact with all of them, “we will again light another extravagant fire and eat luxuriously in celebration.” But in between that time and now, there will be no more such luxuries. Not only is it a luxury, but it is also dangerous. A fire this large may draw unfriendly eyes from miles away. The others looked over their shoulders, as if expecting hidden horrors to step out of the tree line. “Yes, even here, a days’ march from the village, you may find enemies. Stay close to camp when you are not in training, and stay alert at all times.”

The food was indeed luxurious. There was beef roasted on a spit, potatoes, carrots, and turnips cooked in the beef broth, fresh cut loaves of bread and clotted cream butter. At first, none of the recruits spoke much, as they were quite famished from the days’ march. Boaz himself had three servings before he started to slow down. He had an appetite that drove his father mad sometimes. He smiled as he thought about the times his father would tell him to “leave some for the rest of the week, boy!”

It was then that it hit him. He missed his father already. He was sure he would have some stories to tell when he got back, but they would have to wait. He looked up to see Kiera looking at him, obviously concerned about him, since he had stopped eating abruptly. “Are you…” he cut her off with a shake of his head and a look. Now was not the time or place to discuss that.

All ate until they were full. Little did they know it would be the last time in a while when they would truly feel that way again.

They were awakened the next day early by the camp staff. They were not gentle with the recruits. Those who looked like they would go back to sleep, they overturned the bed, dumping the unsuspecting recruit onto the floor with a thud. It was very early, before the sun came up. Boaz didn’t know the time. His alarm clock was Tal, the blacksmith handyman. He was stronger than he looked, but he didn’t need to overturn Boaz’ bed. He looked relieved.

It was clear after all had gotten up and were standing outside their respective cabins who had put the camp staff up to all this — Cayden. He had a smug look on his face as he surveyed the bleary eyed group of recruits. Not even Lyra had been spared. She stood with her makeshift cane under her arm, her ankle in a fresh bandage. The healing salve and ointment used by the wardens had worked quickly, and she was able to move with only a little difficulty.

Training at camp that day was not as bad as Boaz had heard it would be. Maybe because he already had some woodcraftiness from all his excursions, but he found the tasks that day easy.

There were different “stations” they rotated through throughout the day, spending a few hours in each station. The first stop each day was ranged weapons. In this station were sub-stations: one for bow and arrows, one for crossbow and bolts, one for dagger-throwing, one for axe-throwing, and one for slings. The instructor was Hawar, a portly older man.

“How are we this fine morning?” he asked.

A chorus of grumbled “good mornings” greeted him.

“Nah, we’ll have to do better than that. When I say ‘How are we this fine morning?’, you should all answer loudly, ‘Good morning, Master Hawar!’ Now, let’s try again. How are we this fine morning?”

“Good morning, Master Hawar!” came the chorus. No one wanted to test the yet-unknown instructor’s patience.

“Much better. Now, this is the ranged combat station, and the idea is to make sure all of you are familiar with, and proficient in, at least two forms of ranged combat. Here you’ll cycle through the sub-stations for long bows, crossbows, daggers, axes, and slings. We give you a broad exposure such as this, because most of you will find most of these disciplines difficult, but there may be one or two where you show some aptitude. It’s best to have a broad, but practical knowledge of multiple ranged weapons, because you may find yourself without your preferred weapon in a tight situation. Once you gain some proficiency in all of them, we can progress to the one or two that you show some promise in.”

“Now, before we get started, what sounds at first like a stupid question: Why do we learn to use ranged weapons?”

There was a stunned silence from the recruits. It seemed like a trick question.

“Well?”

Theo tentatively raised his hand, and when Hawar nodded, said “Because using ranged weapons allows us to take the fight to our enemies?”

“An interesting turn of phrase, but yes, that’s exactly right. Most of my former recruits answered that they didn’t want to risk close combat!” He bellowed with laughter at that, and his stomach shook. The recruits nervously chuckled. It couldn’t have been plainer that they were all thinking that would be their answer. “The differences between not wanting to risk close combat and bringing the fight to our enemies may seem subtle, but important. What are some of the differences?”

Theo again answered, “Well, bringing the fight to your enemies with a ranged weapon means you can engage multiple enemies, and from a safe distance.”

“Good, good. Anything else?”

“Using ranged weapons also means you have more options for how you position yourself, such as being in an elevated position, or from behind cover.” It was Kiera who spoke up this time, and the others glanced at her, surprised, since she was normally very quiet.

“Excellent. Yes. When you are engaged in melee, you are necessarily in the same terrain as your enemy. Those are all good points.”

“Now, there are five of you, which means we’re a small enough group that we can all cycle through the stations together. We do this because we want you all to work as a team, as one. The more you work together, the more you will be able to support each other. You’re at this station only for a few hours each day, and so we have to make the most of our time. Each week, our daily session will be spent wholly on one station. This week is long bow. Follow me.”

Even though the ranged weapon stations were all grouped together in one area, they were necessarily spread apart due to the nature of the targets. Hawar led them off to the archery range, down the left trail. When they arrived they found all the stations were set up with a longbow, quiver with arrows, and leather arm and finger straps. The targets were forty yards down range. It seemed to Boaz that the targets were ridiculously close, but he supposed he shouldn’t say anything, in case he was rusty. Plus he didn’t want to potentially embarrass his friends.

Hawar pointed to the longbows and all the recruits stepped up to them. Theo spoke up, “Master Hawar, I’m left handed.”

Lyra also spoke up: “I too am left-handed sir.”

“Well, well, two lefties in the bunch, huh? That’s unusual in a group this size. Good thing I have a few left-hand bows.” He went to the shed that stood nearby, rummaged around inside, and brought out the two bows.

For the next 30 minutes or so, Master Hawar walked them through how to string and unstring their bow, how to care for it and the string, and how to wear the finger tabs and leather arm braces.

“Today we’ll only get a few shots in, simply because I want to make sure you all are safe first. Plus, I want to make sure that you know that being accurate with the bow, or any ranged weapon, is all about concentration. You will of course have many distractions in a fight, and so you need to be able to master this concept to do well. This lesson will mostly be spent on how to draw the string back, and how to concentrate and aim.”

They did just that, and although Boaz felt like this was very slow going, he didn’t say anything, because it was clear that at least some of his friends were having difficulty. Once they got the basics down, they started firing arrows down range. They would need a lot of practice. Even though he didn’t expect it, Boaz too had some difficulty, at least at first, in hitting near the center of the target, rather than hitting the edge. Some of his friends missed entirely.

Master Hawar was not phased in the least. He seemed to expect it, and was busy speaking encouragement to everyone. He felt that confidence was a building block to doing well in ranged weapons, and that was the key to concentration. And so he was incorrigibly happy and encouraging, to try to stave off any discouragement and anger the students may have had with themselves.

After their time was up at ranged weapons, Hawar led them back to the cabins, which was the central meeting place for all at the camp. There they were met by a tall, skinny, and weather-worn man.

“Good morning! Have you had your fill of archery this morning? Are your fingers sore? I certainly hope not. My name is Julian, and I will be your instructor in Fieldcraft. It’s my task to teach you as much as can be learned in such a short time as we have. We will not work out of stations, as you will find with other skills here at camp, because the nature of our skills, is, well, nature. He waved his right hand around him.”

“The recruits will have to grow more accustomed to your wry sense of humor, my friend,” said Hawar, as he bowed, and retreated. “I leave you all in capable hands, until tomorrow morning, when we shall see each other again.”

Julian looked appraisingly at the five recruits in front of him, as if sizing them up. Boaz thought he looked a bit like a hawk, with a beaky nose and squinted eyes.

“Ah, yes, I’m afraid Master Hawar is right. You’ll find my humor rather dry, I’m afraid. I apologize in advance for that. Nevertheless, if you can put up with me, it is my duty to train you up in the very practical and subtle arts, and crafts, of reading the earth. For at its heart, that is what wardens do: they read the story that the earth has to tell. With me, I hope, you will learn such skills as navigating terrain, building shelters, gathering sustenance from the land, concealment, stealth, how to track and observe wildlife, and even how to read the weather.”

“Many of you young people, having lived your whole life in such a small and remote village as Forlon-a-Midden, likely think of yourself as woodcrafty already. But though you may have some skill, the animals of the forest, yes, and the evil creatures you may encounter, have far more. You must always be vigilant. Pay careful attention to my teachings, and I will give you an edge against creatures both natural, and, shall we say, unnatural.

“Follow me,” he said, as he promptly turned on his heel and marched into the woods.

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