made him different, allowed him to see the special halo that emanated from people.
The man looked puzzled each time Ander spoke.
"I don't think he understands you," Randell said as he handed the book to the man.
"What are you doing?"
"Dad, he recognizes the book. It's a diary or something. It's got strange writing in it. He seems to know it."
Ander reached out to grab the book back but it was too late. The man was already opening it and he didn't want to chance a confrontation. Randell and Ander didn't move, waiting to see what the man would do next.
The name “Raisal” left his lips along with a sigh filled with understanding and sorrow. And then he said something else Ander and Randell couldn't understand.
"How ...?" Ander stammered. He knew that name. He extended his hand again, asking for the return of the book, not wanting to tick off this well-armed stranger.
The man didn't look up. He was busy reading the pages that Randell couldn't understand. After four or five pages, he glanced up, his eyes questioning. He pointed at Ander and Randell and spoke, but all they could make out was “Raisal Gaulette.” The man looked over their shoulder at the house behind them and pointed. "Raisal Gaulette?" he asked.
Randell understood and shook his head. "He wants to know if your grandmother is here."
Ander quickly glanced at his son. "I gathered that. What I want to know is how he knows her name."
"Why don't we introduce ourselves? Maybe that'll help ," Randell suggested. Without waiting for his father's approval, Randell pointed to himself. "Randell Young," he said, then pointed to his dad, "Ander Young. Raisal Gaulette was my great-grandmother."
For a moment the man was still, glancing between Ander and Randell, before recognition seemed to sink in. He pointed to himself. "Daen Mallaur." He held up the book and pointed to the writing on the page and read aloud. He lowered the book and spoke. Again, the only words they understood were “Raisal Gaulette.”
They watched Daen continue to read the pages, flipping quickly through the book. After a few moments, Daen looked confused again and his reading slowed. He held up the book and pointed and said something.
Randell and Ander stepped closer to see.
Randell explained, "Ah, the language is changing. The author of the diary must have learned English."
Ander held out his hand for the book and Daen obliged. He scanned the pages, recognizing some of the events in the later pages of the journal. "This belonged to my grandmother, Raisal Gaulette. This was her journal."
Ander flipped to the front of the book but didn't recognize the language. Stories his grandmother had told him flashed through his mind; stories of a land called ... No, this couldn't be happening.
Randell was grinning, barely containing his excitement. "Dad, can we ask him to stay? Please?"
Ander scanned Daen's weapons. "I don't know, Randell. He looks dangerous."
"If he were dangerous, wouldn't he have hacked us up by now? He seems just as confused as we are."
Before Ander could reply, the screen door slammed and Pam shouted, "Ander, Randell, what's going on?"
She stepped from the porch and walked slowly towards her husband and son, trying to see who they were talking to. The closer she got, the more she could see.
"Are those real?" she asked, pointing to Daen's weapons.
Randell answered with a little too much excitement. "I think so."
Pam raised a brow. "Randell, get over here. Ander, what's going on?"
Randell hesitated.
"Randell, now!" Pam used her do-not-make-me-tell-you-again voice.
Randell slunk the couple steps to his mother, not taking his eyes off Daen. "He won't hurt us. Can he stay? Please?" Something told Randell he needed to help this stranger and to trust him. He could see Daen meant no harm. He couldn't explain why he knew it, but he did.
Daen could see what was happening and couldn't help but smile. He bowed to Pam and apologized for scaring her but he could see he wasn't
The man looked puzzled each time Ander spoke.
"I don't think he understands you," Randell said as he handed the book to the man.
"What are you doing?"
"Dad, he recognizes the book. It's a diary or something. It's got strange writing in it. He seems to know it."
Ander reached out to grab the book back but it was too late. The man was already opening it and he didn't want to chance a confrontation. Randell and Ander didn't move, waiting to see what the man would do next.
The name “Raisal” left his lips along with a sigh filled with understanding and sorrow. And then he said something else Ander and Randell couldn't understand.
"How ...?" Ander stammered. He knew that name. He extended his hand again, asking for the return of the book, not wanting to tick off this well-armed stranger.
The man didn't look up. He was busy reading the pages that Randell couldn't understand. After four or five pages, he glanced up, his eyes questioning. He pointed at Ander and Randell and spoke, but all they could make out was “Raisal Gaulette.” The man looked over their shoulder at the house behind them and pointed. "Raisal Gaulette?" he asked.
Randell understood and shook his head. "He wants to know if your grandmother is here."
Ander quickly glanced at his son. "I gathered that. What I want to know is how he knows her name."
"Why don't we introduce ourselves? Maybe that'll help ," Randell suggested. Without waiting for his father's approval, Randell pointed to himself. "Randell Young," he said, then pointed to his dad, "Ander Young. Raisal Gaulette was my great-grandmother."
For a moment the man was still, glancing between Ander and Randell, before recognition seemed to sink in. He pointed to himself. "Daen Mallaur." He held up the book and pointed to the writing on the page and read aloud. He lowered the book and spoke. Again, the only words they understood were “Raisal Gaulette.”
They watched Daen continue to read the pages, flipping quickly through the book. After a few moments, Daen looked confused again and his reading slowed. He held up the book and pointed and said something.
Randell and Ander stepped closer to see.
Randell explained, "Ah, the language is changing. The author of the diary must have learned English."
Ander held out his hand for the book and Daen obliged. He scanned the pages, recognizing some of the events in the later pages of the journal. "This belonged to my grandmother, Raisal Gaulette. This was her journal."
Ander flipped to the front of the book but didn't recognize the language. Stories his grandmother had told him flashed through his mind; stories of a land called ... No, this couldn't be happening.
Randell was grinning, barely containing his excitement. "Dad, can we ask him to stay? Please?"
Ander scanned Daen's weapons. "I don't know, Randell. He looks dangerous."
"If he were dangerous, wouldn't he have hacked us up by now? He seems just as confused as we are."
Before Ander could reply, the screen door slammed and Pam shouted, "Ander, Randell, what's going on?"
She stepped from the porch and walked slowly towards her husband and son, trying to see who they were talking to. The closer she got, the more she could see.
"Are those real?" she asked, pointing to Daen's weapons.
Randell answered with a little too much excitement. "I think so."
Pam raised a brow. "Randell, get over here. Ander, what's going on?"
Randell hesitated.
"Randell, now!" Pam used her do-not-make-me-tell-you-again voice.
Randell slunk the couple steps to his mother, not taking his eyes off Daen. "He won't hurt us. Can he stay? Please?" Something told Randell he needed to help this stranger and to trust him. He could see Daen meant no harm. He couldn't explain why he knew it, but he did.
Daen could see what was happening and couldn't help but smile. He bowed to Pam and apologized for scaring her but he could see he wasn't
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