Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (8 page)

Jeff
had penetrated deep into the forest when excited baying broke out some ways
off. He paused to listen. The baying slowly faded then abruptly stopped.

“Now,
what’s gotten into him? Stupid dog probably ran a rabbit into its burrow and is
trying to dig it out.” He moved out again. Something about the dog’s baying
bothered him. “That did not sound like he was chasing a rabbit.”

Concerns
about Stupid disappeared when he ran across a huge oak that had fallen during
the winter. Jeff peered under the trunk near the root bole. While quite
realistic for thirteen, he had just finished reading the Hobbit and visions of
elvish hideaways flashed through his mind. However, he tramped the woods at every
opportunity and understood that mundane creatures with sharp teeth were a more
likely bet.

Finding
a long stick, Jeff poked around beneath the tree trunk until he was satisfied
that no one was home. It was a tight fit, but he squirmed under the trunk and
into a roomy enclosure formed by the root bole. Shrugging off his daypack, Jeff
pulled out a sandwich. He had his mouth open for the first bite when he heard
something shuffling around outside.

Although
he had never encountered one, bears had been sighted in the forest. That didn’t
make sense, he decided. The sounds were too furtive and deliberate. Jeff
quietly moved to the back of the enclosure. The sounds faded to nothing and he
completed the bite. I’m going to have to be real quiet going home, he thought.
Wonder what that was? I’ve never met anyone here before.

A
four-legged missile landed square on his chest.

“Yii!
Damn you, Stupid!”

Heart
pounding, Jeff tried to defend what was left of the sandwich from Stupid’s
jaws. He was angry at the dog but so happy to have company that he shared the
rest of his lunch. When the last morsel was consumed, Jeff stuck his head out
of the burrow. The way was clear and he eased out into the open.

Jeff
worked his way back north watching every step. He stopped frequently to listen,
but the forest was silent. It was too quiet.

“Where
are the squirrels?” he wondered out loud. “They never shut up.”

A
short distance from the edge of the forest, Jeff crept quietly into his
favorite glade. When younger he had decided it was enchanted, now he simply
felt at home. It was a special place.

Humming
under his breath, he threw pebbles at minnows in a small creek running full
with spring rain. He had taken the first step to search for rocks to build a
dam with when his brain caught up with his eyes. Leaning against a gnarled oak
with folded arms was a total stranger.

Jeff
was old enough to understand that not all men had friendly intentions toward
boys, and felt real fear for the first time in his life. Never taking his eyes
off the stranger, he reached down to catch up the daypack. Thinking, Where is
that stupid dog when I want him, he prepared to bolt.

“Hold
on, young Jeff, I mean you no harm.” The man’s voice was so musical and free of
threat that Jeff didn’t move. “I only want to talk with you for a few minutes.
Don’t worry about Stupid. He’s off chasing a rabbit and will be back shortly.”

The
man was at least six and a half feet tall, slender, and dressed in muted brown
clothes that looked to be made from doeskin. Calf-high moccasins and a sheath
knife belted at the waist added to the effect. What really caught Jeff’s eye
was the stranger’s mop of chestnut hair with red highlights. The coloring was
identical to his own hair.

“You’re
a hard man to track down, Jeff, let me tell you. I’ve spent the greater part of
the day on your trail. May we talk for a few minutes?”

“Who
are you?” Jeff was willing to listen, but also prepared to run for it. “How do
you know my name?”

“Please
call me Gaereth. I know a great deal about you.” The man began to speak in a
softly modulated, compelling voice.

Jeff
awoke on a bed of dry leaves at the edge of the glen. Sitting up, he looked
around wildly trying to orient himself. Stupid lay nearby gazing at him
expectantly with head between paws. Rubbing his eyes, Jeff tried to remember
what had happened.

With
a rush, it all came back up to the point where Gaereth had started talking to
him. He remembered little of what had been said except Gaereth’s fond farewell
and a sense that they would meet again. Jeff suddenly noticed that it was
nearly dark. He jumped to his feet with a cry of alarm.

“Mom
will really be upset if I’m late! Dad will skin me!”

Grabbing
his pack, Jeff was gone from the meadow like a shot. Leaves whirled as he faded
like windblown smoke through the forest, Stupid loping at his side. Chasing
rabbits was fun, now it was time for serious running.

It
was something over three miles to the farmhouse. Brighter stars were visible by
the time Jeff sprinted into the farmyard gasping for breath. Taking the back
steps two at a time he slammed through the screen door, into the pantry, and
nearly collided with his younger brother, Stephan.

“Boy,
are you in for it! Mom’s on the phone and Dad is getting ready to go looking
for you.” Stephan’s eyes grew round. “Supper is ruined, too!”

Gretchen
Friedrick rushed into the pantry and hugged Jeff fiercely. Large tears
glistened in her eyes.

“Where
have you been? We were so worried.”

Feeling
his mother’s pain acutely, as he always did, Jeff was near tears himself when
his father arrived on the scene. A tall man given to long silences and short
speech, they had nevertheless become close as Jeff became old enough to work in
the fields. He looked at Jeff intently, the concern in his expression slowly
giving way to a neutral expression that Jeff had never been able to decipher.
Thinking back, however, he did remember times when it had been followed by
serious trouble.

“I
think we would all be better off if we talked about this after supper.”

Other
than the clinking of dinnerware and a few comments about the wet spring, the
meal was taken in silence. While Stephan was also quiet, he kept glancing back
and forth between Jeff and their father with an expectant look on his face.
Jeff was really worried about what he was going to say to his parents, but not
so worried that he failed to make a mental note to thump Stephan later. When
the moment of truth appeared to be looming over him, Jeff’s grandmother and
grandfather stopped by and were served coffee and apple pie.

Jeff
felt like a condemned man granted a last-minute stay of execution. Although he
racked his brain for a sensible explanation, he still didn’t know what to say
when plates were once again empty. What could he say? That he met a stranger in
the woods who hypnotized him? Not likely!

Conversation
trailed off to nothing. The old clock ticking away on the mantle sounded like
the march of doom as Jeff searched for a way out of his dilemma. When his
father took down a battered pipe and began to fill it, Jeff knew his string had
run out. Over the years, he had grown to hate that pipe.

“All
right, Son. Tell us what happened today.”

Jeff
glanced at his mother, then, seated next to her, his grandmother. While her
expectation that he act responsibly in all matters was immutable, she had also
never failed him in a pinch. She nodded slightly at Jeff, and he knew at once
that nothing but the truth would do.

“I
met a man called Gaereth in the forest, and he talked to me. He told me things
that I can’t remember but that I will some day, and then I guess I went to
sleep.” Hardly able to sit still, Jeff began waving his arms around. “I’ve
never seen a man like him before, Mother. His hair was just like mine, and he
knew my name—he even knew Stupid’s name. And his clothes were green and brown
like Robin Hood!”

In
a rush of words, it all tumbled out. While Jeff rattled on, his mother’s
attentive frown rapidly faded. She looked anxiously at her mother, Regina
Gruenwald, for support but was not reassured by her stern expression. Although
close, their personalities were so different that Gretchen had never been able
to fathom such rock-hard determination that surrender to any circumstance could
not be imagined.

When
Jeff wound down his father also turned to Regina. “Well, Mother, I don’t like
to say it, but I think this one might be down your alley.”

“Perhaps.
Jeffrey, try and remember how he talked. Tell me again what he looked like.”

“Yes,
Mam.”

Sifting
his memory with a fine screen in an attempt to add more bits and pieces, Jeff
related his meeting again. When he had finished, his grandmother didn’t respond
at once. Sipping on her coffee, she gazed down at the tablecloth and seemed
unaware of those in the room. When she did speak, it was in a whisper that Jeff
could barely hear.

“Always
it has been the same.”

She
abruptly looked up. “I think it likely that Jeffrey met one of the Old Ones.”

Mrs.
Friedrick started in her chair. “No! They can’t have him!” Jeff’s father took
her hand. “Not this time, Gretchen.” He said in a grim tone of voice. “I won’t
let it happen.”

Regina
nodded to herself in satisfaction at his response. “Whether we wish to believe
it or not, Henry, I believe he has been touched. We have discussed the tales;
Rudy and I have documented them for seven generations. They are true.” Regina
forced a smile. “Enough of this. The man was probably no more than a farmer
from south of the woods, out for a walk.”

“Would
someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Jeff’s
grandfather, Rudy, shook his head. “Not tonight, I think. Perhaps one of these
days soon.”

The
rain relented and spring planting got under way with a frenzied rush,
submerging other concerns. Between school and long hours in the fields, what
had happened in the forest faded into the background. Then one long summer’s evening
near the solstice Rudy joined Jeff on the front porch swing.

They
shared the magenta sunset, cicada melody and twinkling fireflies in
companionable silence. Creaking back and forth on the swing, the day’s humid
warmth slowly relenting, Rudy lay a hand on Jeff’s shoulder.

“I
brought something I think it’s time you had.” Rudy held up what appeared to be
a sword and handed it to Jeff. “I’ve kept this for at least forty years, never
knowing why. Regina thinks it’s time you had it, and I agree.”

Pulling
the sword from a leather sheath, Jeff caught his breath as light from the
parlor window glittered along the blade’s smooth curve. Mind dancing with
excitement, Jeff thought, Could it be an elvish sword like Glamdring? It has to
be! Where did Grandpa get it?

“You
be careful now. It’s sharp as a razor. That sword was given to me by your
grandmother’s father, and to him by his father before. That’s a saber, boy, one
that goes back at least two hundred years. I have to tell you I don’t know much
about it other than it’s been a part of your grandmother’s family for a good
reason.” Rudy chuckled. “Trouble is, Ulrich didn’t know why we were supposed to
keep it, either. Your grandmother and I think it’s possible that some day you
will.”

Jeff’s
experience in the forest came back with a rush. “Can’t you tell me anything
about that man, Gaereth?”

They
continued to creak back and forth in the swing as Rudy thought about the
question. “About 1805, things were really bad in Germany what with the wars of
Napoleon making a mulch pile out of the whole country. Down south where we come
from, a place called Swabia, there wasn’t much left at all. Crops all burned,
animals drove off to feed the soldiers, young men forced to sign up with this
army or that—lot of folks decided to leave.

“Now
it seems that some years before, Catherine of Russia had invited farmers to
come to a place out east of Germany called the Ukraine. She’d promised good
farmland for the taking, so our relatives packed up what was left and started
out. Son, that was one tough trip if you can believe the stories, and I do.

“They
got caught somewhere in Hungary by winter coming on. One of Regina’s ancestors
nearly died from the cold, was saved by a nobleman’s son whom, they say, she
eventually married. That hair of yours? That color’s shown up from time to time
on the female side of this family for quite a ways back. But here’s the
thing—there never was any such hair before that trip if you can believe what
the women folk say, and I truly do.”

“But
I’m not a girl!”

“Yep,
you got it straight.” A chuckle rumbled from Rudy’s belly at the look of
indignation on Jeff’s face. “You’re the first male anyone can think of that’s
had that color hair. Now you can make whatever you want out of all that. What
it means to me, is that your Dad’s family must have picked up some of the same
blood. Seems you got it from both sides and Stephan didn’t.”

“But
what about that man I met, Grandpa?”

Rudy
smelled hot cherry pie and heaved himself out of the swing. “Your grandmother
has kept track of our family all her life and traced folks way back to the Old
Country.” Rudy hesitated, then shrugged. “It seems some of our relatives live a
very long time, Jeffrey.” Rudy hustled inside, leaving Jeff stroking the saber
and thinking about elves.