Valloa

 The strong and the living, I have found, often determine history. The dead so rarely have their stories told correctly. But then, that is the way of the world: the strong live and sculpt the present and the past to their memories and desires. I was always rebellious as a child and found my releases from the trials of my early cruel childhood in books and histories, living in the past and finding comfort and courage in the trials that others had faced and survived. Later this knowledge would serve me well.

My mother was a scholar who loved books more than anything including us. How she ever managed to separate herself from them long enough to conceive us is still a mystery to me. My only early memories that didn't involve books revolved around my extreme curiosity about everything or my annoyance at having to take care of my little sister who, much to our mother's disgust and dismay, had started to develop mage powers. Neither my mother nor I were skilled in magic, and she detested it and all mage users with a passion. This hate and her cruelty were the only emotions I remember her displaying beyond her obsessive love of books. As my little sister's powers developed, more and more of my time was spent hiding this from our mother and trying to teach her what I had managed to glean from the journals of a war mage I had found hidden in a secret nook in my mother's reading room. For a while the two of us managed to keep her growing powers hidden from Mother.

While my sister struggled with her powers, I battled with my own obsession with weapons and death. One of our ancient retired guards was kind enough to teach me some dagger-play. From him I learned of the world outside our study-keep and of the many towns and villages of his homelands. This was also the first I had ever heard anyone speak of actually seeing many of the places and guilds I had read about in vague references in books. I was fascinated by his tales of places called River's Haven and River's Crossings where he often worked as a paid caravan guide. His tales of the Magic Guilds of Crossings certainly boosted my sister's morale, dangerously so. But the tales of silent thieves and fast fighters burned my blood with longing, so fault lies equally w ith me for events that later happened.

One day, my sister had inadvertently tried to channel the powers she had felt for years that flowed under our keep. Fortunately for her life, the power she tapped was small, and instead of burning her up and out, it only charred her magic channels. Even this could have been hidden from my mother if it hadn't been accompanied by an extravantly bright light show. Combined with her new sudden "illness", our mother soon put two and two together. I was summoned to my mother to explain what had happened.

I had never seen her so furious or so cruel as she was then. I knew she hated mages but never imagined it could be so forceful or violent, or even dreamed that she might be a mage herself. Nor could I ever have foreseen that she would swear to destroy my sister and myself for daring to hide her magic. I don't remember much of that night except my mother chanting the start of a spell and my dagger appearing in her throat as if by magic. In shock at what I had done, I gathered my sister and a few provisions and escaped the keep.

We traveled down the slip of town to the dock and bartered away our horses for passage on a ship. Almost to the end of our voyage we became engulfed in the biggest storm I had ever seen. As the ship thrashed in its death throes, I grabbed my sister and we dove into the angry sea. When I awoke on a beach, I found my sister was also alive. During the storm, she had tried to calm the churning waters and push us to shore.

Using the stars for guidance, we headed in the direction I believed would lead us to towns. Staggering from exhaustion and early encounters with wild animals, we were all but dead when we staggered into a hunting party. We were rushed to the empath's hospital at River's Haven. While we recovered, we learned to hunt small animals for food and some coin. Much to our disappointment we found out that, while the Haven's guilds would help us, they were not able to teach us unless we could pass the main tests in Crossings.

I had been hoarding what coins I could for the trip I knew we would have to take to Crossings. When we arrived at the gates of Crossings, my sister's encounter with a War Mage determined her future. She was accepted into the War Mage Guild. I was not accepted because I had no magical gifts of my own. I had talked to both the traders guild and the barbarian guild and neither appealed to me. I was frustrated and knew that soon I would have to choose between constant physical fighting, which I was not suited for, or a life of travel away from crossings on the trade roads. Both lives were harsh and survival uncertain, but there was only so much scavenging the streets would pay.

Street life was hard, but I had to support both my sister and myself. One day, in desperation, I tried to pick a beggars pocket. He whispered into my ears, "Learn to live smartly, find and learn from the guild if you want to live in this town of misguided mages". I had no knowledge of such a guild, but his words opened my eyes to the world I found myself in. I observed the sly and silent pickpockets and the rogues whose thievery went unnoticed except to my eyes.

My dreams in those early winter months were fitful. I dreamed of panthers and would see cat eyes gleaming at me from the shadows of the city streets. Most of this I put down to hunger and exhaustion. It wasn't until the winter was half over that my dreams lead me half-delirious into the guild that I had so longed and searched for. There I found a home and a way to survive. Teaching gave me the means to support my sister and myself. My sister never approved of my life nor the guild even though it had given us both bread and board. The months and years saw us drift further and further apart.

Perhaps some day I will write of my adventures and life detailing these times. Until then, it is sufficient to say that I believe Damaris and Phelim had guided and protected me, and while I still see panther's eyes hidden in the shadows, they are more companion now than protector. Sometimes they lead me to a child who is as desperate and lost as I was. I often do my best to guide these lost ones to a guild that most closely teaches what they know. Most take to these guilds with their hearts and souls, but sometimes there is the rare spirit that is suited to none of these. To these, I try to leave advice and a token to guide them as I was guided.

I have grown and learned much over the years. I still read those books that I find and apply them to my life as I live it. I have seen many things that will later be the wonder of future generations, and I have seen tales that will be penned and those that will never be. I live my life as best I can with lessons taught through all kinds of learning. I am what I am because of my past, and if given the chance to change it, I would not. My story ends as it began; I have survived and will continue to do so. I am still too close to the rest of my life to write it down. Perhaps someday when I'm older, I'll continue my story.

Valloa Salea~

Last Revised: 9/14/00