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

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