Dusk Over Arcath

Chapter 25

Aster could not help but gape in the face of the man who had caught him.

A familiarly heavy, rough hand tussled his hair.

"You always were a boy of few words," the broad man chuckled, "but I thought I'd hear more than that out of you after all these years."

The familiar brown eyes twinkled down at him kindly. In the crumbling gallery of the castle's ruins, long shadows cast a hollow haze on the otherwise friendly face.

"Pheor," Aster finally whispered.

The tall warrior smiled broadly. Aster shivered as Pheor's face suddenly opened with sharpened teeth resembling Illium's.

"It's good to see you still recognize your old uncle after all these years. And you seem to be doing well enough for yourself, hm?" A huge hand lifted Aster's ax from where it had fallen on the ground. "Did you follow in your old uncle's steps? A Watchmen, eh?"

"Yes." His feelings suddenly felt contorted. Pheor's careless, cavalier demeanor was wrong. He was DEAD. Aster felt his breath suddenly seething. A torrent of emotions - confusion, anger, doubt, and, somehow, loneliness - rose up in his chest.

Relief was not one of them.

"Who the hunt do you think you are?' he was suddenly spitting at his uncle. "Yes I am a part of the Watch!" He snatched the ax away, crossing it in front of his chest. "And they've flayed my hide to let me stay. I live in a pit! I was imprisoned!"

Words were screaming from his mouth almost without his knowledge. A small voice told him it was happening, but he did not care enough to stop. "I was taken here to DIE! And I came, I traveled, wandered, and almost died in this star-forsaken shadow hanging onto the glimmer of hope that I might find out what happened to you!

"And you?" he hissed. "Apparently I shouldn't have bothered. You didn't even care enough to see how I am when you KNEW I was alive and knew you had LEFT me!"

Pheor's brow had furrowed. He put a hand on the quaking boy's shoulder. "I understand your anger. But, Aster, there is much you do not know. Much you must be told."

The warrior looked over his nephew's shoulder to where Illium still hunched. "The others are ready to greet our guests. There are more I trust?"

"Aye. But not the sort we expected."

Pheor cocked his head. "No? Rangers? There is not enough metal in Arcath to muster I knight, I'd wager, but perhaps."

"Elves," Illium muttered.

The warrior's eyes narrowed. He was "Elves. Interesting." Returning his gaze to Aster, Pheor's eyes had turned from comforting to searching.

"What do you know of these creatures? Are they friendly?"

"No," Aster retorted, "but apparently you are of like company. They sent me with you in case I was to be killed, not that you should care."

Pheor's face grew stony but he refused to flinch. "We will speak soon, my son, I promise. But tonight there is much to be done before your questions can be answered."

"What will you do to them?"

"Illium?"

The old man scratched his fuzzy beard. "Welcome them, I s'pose. We've room for them."

"And the Watch?"

Illium started to answer, but Aster inserted himself instead. "Not far behind. They were only a mile or two from our camp. What is this about? What do you mean room for them?"