A Journey to Remember by Vaega

One

The Story of Her

Valin Tryvale walked through the door of his small, two-room house, and on into the kitchen area. His bushy, gray-peppered hair was still in a tangle, having given up trying to comb it. His six-foot-four silhouette easily framed the doorway, as he paused to check the timid, little plant just inside the door that he had been nurturing all winter. Leaves were just beginning to appear on the trees bordering the house. The awakening of nature’s beauty should bring out the best, he mused. With a final pat, he continued inside, but not before he heard the whisper of a sigh from across the road. He chuckled at the lost expressions on the women’s faces. Despite the fact that he had never paid any special attention to the women, and more than half of them were married, they continued to find him irresistible. He sighed, thinking how unlike Karalon they were. No one he’d met in his 37 years had ever been the least bit like her. It wasn’t the forest guardian’s beauty that attracted him, it was her personality. So soft and gentle, yet stern and damn fiercely protective of anyone in her charge. She took care of the forest around the city and everyone in it. They were a part of her, yet distant as she kept herself away. She was the epitome of the surrounding nature. Everything reminded him of her. He could hear the birds in the trees outside the window, twittering happily at the coming of the new year. Hundreds of flowers had already blossomed in the wild meadows, and deer could be seen with tiny fawns skittering around nearby.

In Val’s hand was the long-awaited letter. The package had turned out to be quite a hefty bundle, a fact which the messenger had complained of quite loudly. Sitting comfortably at his kitchen table, Val eagerly undid the leather bindings. His suntanned hands, despite being roughened with age and hard work, worked quickly. As the package unrolled, a gentle smell pervaded his nose, reminding him of his younger days, and the good times he’d had with the writer of the letters. Roses and cinnamon. It had always been her special signature; no one else had dared use that particular combination of scents. Not many could afford the roses, but she grew them herself in her own little private garden.

Val chuckled as he remembered her garden. Little would not be the right word to describe the lush greenery and rainbow of color that met the viewer’s eye as soon as he stepped into her world. Many thought it magic, for from the outside, her garden looked no bigger than her small cottage in the woods. Even Val had never been quite sure what exactly she could do. She had never proven she had the talent, yet the wonders of her garden and the surrounding foliage gave testament to her abilities.

Idly, Val scanned the cover page of the enclosed letter. With rising excitement, he saw that she had granted his request. Not too long ago, he had asked about her mysterious past. Karalon had simply told him the story of how she found Jonaton, her wolfen friend, whom she had met long before Val had even been born. The black wolf had the strangest green eyes, eyes Val had never before seen on a mere animal. Oftentimes, they would twinkle as if he knew exactly what one was thinking. Karalon spoke as if the dark wolf talked back, though Val had never heard him speak. But, as his mother used to say, and probably still would had she not drowned, “She has her ways.” Karalon was a mystery to all who met her. She rarely spoke unless spoken to, and she never intruded on people, despite the fact that she lived in the surrounding forest and was the warden for the town. Karalon had lived in the outskirts of the city for as long as he could recall. She kept to herself, with only the dark wolf for company, and sometimes Val, when he had the time in between harvest season and the coming of the winter chill. Every child in the city knew who the warden was, yet no one knew a single thing about her. She was completely ageless, for she hadn’t changed a single hair since Val’s mother had known her.

The hoarse cawing of an early crow brought the old bard back to the present. He smiled wryly that a crow, of all beasts, would remind him so much of her. As ageless as she was, the single silver stripe in her jet-black hair shined in the morning sun, and her eyes held the beauty she’d had in her younger days. It was in her eyes alone that Val could catch a glimpse of her life. She had seen many lives, and been many places, some Val had never heard of but from her. Her odd sense of humor always set him laughing, and she knew exactly what to say to cheer him up. He liked to think he got his sense of humor from Karalon. Eagerly, Val turned to her letter.

My Dearest Friend,

You once asked me about my life. I have never told a single soul for far too long about my past. Many times, I wish I could forget it completely. It’s not really a happy story. Back when I was young and still fairly stupid, despite the circumstances of the beginnings of my life, I was still very naive at times. Now, I am not quite so impulsive and carefree.

Enclosed is the beginning of my story. Writing it all down has brought back many memories, both good and bad. Honestly, I am glad you asked this of me, Valin. It has helped me greatly. Though I have Jonaton forever by my side, I have been so lonely since my only love died so many years ago. Putting pen to paper has reminded me of all the other friends I still have. Jonaton is rarely a reminder of my past, despite many things about who he really is. I have not only you Valin, but also my son, my father, and two very good friends. I have been reminded of all these great men, and I kick myself for ever thinking they were too far away.

But, I digress. You asked me to write an autobiography. I know you are just itching to begin reading, so I won’t keep you much longer. I just want you to know and understand that all this happened a very long time ago, and though I knew many of these great people personally, I am not a god. Let them keep the fortune of fame, I’m happy living in obscurity with the few years I have left.

wind to thy wings,

Karalon

Unfortunately, her letter only excited him even more. His curiosity completely aroused, Val turned to the bulk of her letter and began.

I would surmise my story begins in the town of Kelvar, though it was much, much smaller then, little more than a few houses and shops. Nowadays, Kelvar, Tuyen, and the land between the Capston and Fraga rivers are Tieran lands, but around the time I was growing up, it belonged to Kygha and its evil tyrant, King Darkbird. I had been away from for seven years, due to the horrible Kyghan creature who called himself a man and mage. My “foster father” was the very man who literally sold me to the tyrant-king. I never knew what exactly Damien had against me. Maybe it was because of Shadowhart’s decision to raise me after my true mother died. All of the years I lived in that tiny town, Shadowhart was the only person who was willing to even acknowledge my existence. Being the only healer for miles, Shadowhart was one of those kind women who tried to help anyone who asked for it. I was the main reason why Shadowhart stood up to her husband, and Damien didn’t like that. It wasn’t until I turned fourteen that I found out why. They weren’t married at all.

To avoid Damien, I spent my days out in the nearby forest. Shadowhart worried about me, but nothing ever happened. Not beneath the trees anyway. I was nearly fifteen before anything happened to me other than Damien finding me and forcing me to ‘help’ him with his strings of horses. I swear I broke more bones from those horses than I ever did from him throwing me around in the barn. Damien might have been the only horse-tamer around, but that didn’t make them any nicer. I almost lost a hand from his ‘prize’ stallion. Damien was also the leader of the town council. What they had of a council, anyway. Because of him, no one else in the tiny town cared for me. They only tolerated me because of Shadowhart, and only just barely. I don't think I ever knew why. Maybe it was because of my mother, who was a feared Protean, a shapeshifter. Not a lot was known about the Protean at this time, so they were greatly distrusted. My mother even lived outside the village, with only myself and her crow familiar. It is in remembrance of my mother that my symbol has a crow as well as the fiery wolf of my namesake. My father I never knew. Mother never spoke of him before she died. When I was only three years old, Darkbird sent an assassin after us.

The assassin went for my mother, and shot some sort of gas at her, which immobilized her. He then came for me. I remember Mother screaming at me to run, so I did. I ran for my life out the door and into the woods. I never knew where the assassin went, because when i returned to the house several hours later, he was gone. Shadowhart held me back from going into the house, saying my mother was waiting for me in the village. She led me into the village and there i stayed for the next eight years. Damien objected mightily, but it made no difference. Shadowhart might have been a small and quiet woman, but she was decided then and there and nothing anyone could say would change her mind.

On the eve of my eleventh birthday, Shadowhart gave in to my incessant demands to see my mother, and told me the truth. It was harsh, but looking back on it, I'm glad she told me when she did because I was just learning at that point that I was very different than the other villagers. She never told me the details of my mother's death, but i knew enough.

Because my mother couldn't be around, I had no one to teach me about my latent abilities. For years, I had dreams of myself flying above the clouds, or swimming beneath the oceans I had never been to. Many were nightmares, and Shadowhart had to come in and sooth them away. Many others were much happier. Many never went away. The crow of my mother always stayed by my side, a constant comfort in even the darkest of nights.

It wasn't until I met Kith that I understood just what my mother had been. He taught me how to use my shifting ability, and not spurn it for evil as the rest of the town had. Kith was exiled from his own people and had traveled far in search of one who could accept him for who he was. As an albino redelke, many hunters who came upon him in the dark of night were terrified, but many more were frightened even in the midst of daylight. Redelke look like a large cross between a horse and an elk. They're many times stronger than normal deer and quite a bit more intelligent, being sentient enough to converse with humans. Sadly, redelke have been hunted to extinction, but they were truly beautiful to behold. Graceful as the deer they resemble and strong as their horse-like ancestors. Normally, redelke stay to themselves, rarely venturing outside their own territories, but Kith was different. Maybe it was because he was an outcast among his own kind and was drawn to one so like himself. I don't think I'll ever know.

Kith taught me the art of shifting, though he had not the gift himself. Redelke as a species have a thirst for knowledge for anything and everything. In many terms, they surpass even a scholar's hunger to know and understand.

Two years later, there was another try for my life. Again, the assassin failed, but this time, Kith paid the price. With his last dying breath, he told me to go find a friend of his who sold bondbirds and buy one from the man. Bondbirds are a special type of birds of prey. They have been bred for intelligence and empathy. There is a deeper connection between a bondbird and its human partner. Sadly, not many of these great birds are around these days, as people have scared them off.

That same year, Damien cruelly sold me to Darkbird, the tyrant kind of Kygha. For seven years, I was a prisoner of that horrible man. The eighth year, a young soldier helped me escape, but at the cost of his life. I never knew what happened to him, nor do I want to know for Darkbird wasn't a merciful man.

Two years later, I had just turned 21 a few weeks back, and i found myself near the old village. I had found the bondbird man and bought Kenlan. Together we traveled to see Shadowhart. Though I bothered no one, everyone in Kelvar was still anxious to see me done with my business and gone.