Free Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) by Dale B. Mattheis

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