Tale of Inicarwu and the Sulde Taala (book)

The Tale of Inicarwu and the Sulde Taala

Inconsiderate and brazen was Inicarwu from the moment of his birth. As his mother lay dying in the spent blood of his coming, it is whispered Zuzetu Zalbaldur gazed ruefully at the screaming flesh that had signed her death warrant and squandered her last allotted breath to name him true.

Perhaps if Zuzetu had survived his coming, this unruly seedling might have been molded into softer ways. Without the love of the mother, Inicarwu grew hard and crooked within his soul. Despite the reprimands and guidance of the circle of elders, he improved not, seeing no reason not to take what he fancied as it suited him.

As often happens with those who worship at the altar of the self, Inicarwu ruthlessly sculpted his flesh into a most handsome facade that hid his ill-begotten, miserly spirit. He prided himself on the perfect muscular swell accenting his lean body, the immaculate sheen of coppery hair, the angularity of his decisive jaw, and the clarity of his grey eyes.

He also prided himself in feats of the flesh. No other among the woods was as fleet of foot as Inicarwu, none other possessed the uncanny accuracy with which he loosed his flights from his longbow. The rare bow he might consent to sell commanded exorbitant fees, and hunters lusted after any arrows he created, as all were reputed to fly far distances straight and true.

Not only his prey fell in surprised death at the deadly impact of his whispery arrows, but also the maidens of the clan fell in almost bewildered fascination to his wiles. Heart after heart he collected and shredded, emerging unscathed from each brief entanglement. He never spared even a parting glance behind at the weeping and lamentations of the maidens he cast aside until one day when his uncle demanded his presence. Inicarwu lounged before him insolently, initially disregarding the fury raging hot in his uncle's glance until the heated words flung at him penetrated his complacence and brought him to startled attention.

The unmated daughter of the chieftain's bloodline had presented herself before the high counsel, petitioning them to force acknowledgement of the child carried beneath her heart. She named paternity on Inicarwu and demanded justice for the life within her. The council had decreed that he be sought out, bound helpless and brought before the full council to resolve the matter.

Not wishing the chains of mate or child upon him, Inicarwu fled rather than face the disgrace of being dragged to judgment. Behind him, the enraged roar of pursuit followed as his feet sped over the soft needle- strewn pathways of the forest. In desperation, he burst forth from the sanctuary of the cool trees to flee like an exiled criminal into the unknown lands of the highland plateau.

The blazing sun above seared his skin with hot retribution as he fled, darkening his skin to the glow of burnished mahogany, the copper of his hair bleaching to streaks of shimmering sunshine. Still hearing the faint cries of pursuit, his legs continued to piston relentlessly through the tall grasses whipping across his thighs, his muscles tightening and hardening to bands of steel rippling beneath his burnished hide. Reflecting the sapphire sheen of the sky above, his vision clouded towards vision, the cries of those who hunted him naught but a faint memory.

As if in response to his solitude, a white mare appeared over the horizon, her alabaster mane and tail flying in a free silken banner as her hooves danced beguilingly over the grasses beneath her. Her graceful dance swerved to bring her closer, pacing Inicarwu teasingly for several long moments before she tossed her head, bored of the game. Inexorably, she began to pull away from him, her supple grace far superior to his own. Within his chest his breath wheezed harsh with a frantic urgency to regain his place beside her, but even with all his native talents, Inicarwu was no match for the mare in a race.

Sudden rage blazed through his being at the thought of being vanquished in any contest of will as she pulled ahead. Almost without thought, he reached back over his shoulder and slipped his favorite longbow from his shoulder. His legs continued to churn high through the grasses as the arrow was nocked, aimed, and loosed with deadly intent.

Inicarwu laughed aloud with pleasure as the mare fell, the shaft of her undoing standing bright from the ruin of her left eye. Ribbons of dark blood streamed, marring the pristine perfection of her white hide as Inicarwu dropped to his knees beside her, drawing the razor-edged knife from his belt to spill her lifeblood from the jugular.

The remaining dark eye turned to regard him with grave sorrow as the mare trembled, helpless before him. His hand fell to her shoulder as she began to sing, the song of her bloodlines filling the air around them in melancholy melody as the shape of the mare shimmered, transmuting to the form of a woman clad only in a diaphanous robe of stardust. Inicarwu wasted no time marveling at the transmutation, for his breath had already quickened with infatuation at the sight of the maiden and his resolve hardened to take her for himself.

"Mortal, should you grant me my life, I will repay you well. Your name shall live forever in the annuals of your people in song and deed." She gazed up at him earnestly, her slender shape trembling beneath his restraining hand.

"Lady of the plain, I would grant you your life gladly, should you grant me also the boon of mingling your blood with mine," Inicarwu replied insolently, casually stroking the flat of his blade over her shoulder. His hot gaze lingered over her, leaving little doubt about the true meaning of the ancient words of polite courtship he had uttered.

She fell silent, her gaze dropping to the bright edge of the blade lightly tracing along her fragile collarbone while she considered his offer, the silence falling heavy around them. When she finally spoke, her voice was chill and distant.

"Mortal, you have already the obligation of mingled blood upon you. Should you desire the bloodlines of the Sulde Taala to run with yours, you must render to me the hearts of the fruit you have already sown. Return to this place upon the full turning of the seasons with such and our fates will indeed be intermingled for all eternity." Her dark eyes searched his, the ruin of the left only causing her beauty to be more acutely realized.

Inicarwu laughed heartily. As he stroked his fingers possessively through her hair, several of the long blond strands from the cascading waves clung to his fingertips. As his husky voice uttered agreement to the terms, they shimmered, braiding into a circle of shimmering moonlight that nestled in silent oath around the smallest finger of his left hand.

Startled, he dropped his hand, a sudden unease tickling faintly along the edges of his mind of old tales of mortals who thought to bargain with the unearthly and bound himself unwittingly to a fate far different than what was intended. But the unease has little time to take root, dispersed by the quickening breeze that swirled about the clearing in sudden rapture. Dazzling motes of light swirled, leaving him alone in a trampled clearing edged in a thick ring of lush wind feather, each brilliant plume dusted in a silvery dust.

When the crowd of pursuers reached him, he stood in silent bemusement, idly twisting the slim braid of a silver ring gleaming softly around his fingers as though he considered removing it. He offered no resistance or cry when he was bound and dragged back in full dishonor to the circle of elders.

All in the clan were amazed when Inicarwu not only returned in dignity despite the bindings of disgrace, but also freely offered to wed the chieftain's youngest daughter. Secure in her belief that this crisis had forced a maturing and caused the scales of selfishness to fall from his eyes, she eagerly assented. Although the circle of elders had reservations about the wisdom of allowing the mating to take place, the fact of new life stirring prompted a reluctance acceptance and the couple united during the auspicious aspect of the fullness of the triple moons.

Astonishment was great within the circle of wisdom as they watched over the clan and observed Inicarwu transform into a considerate mate and a good provider for his small hearth. His new responsibilities appear to be no burden upon his broad shoulders. His step was light and proud with a quiet happiness as his mate rounded large with his fruit and in the fullness of time produced a healthy twinning of daughter and son.

The clan rejoiced at the new life flourishing in their midst, and smiled with kind regards to the young family. Only Inicarwu's mate felt a strange twinge of unease at times when she would glance up and catch him unaware, his gaze upon the babies ecstatic and almost crazed as he unconsciously twisted the tarnished silver about his finger.

As the new year unfolded into spring blossoms and the Night of the Moon Dance approached, Inicarwu casually confided to his mate the time approached where he must take the babes by himself to a place of his ancestral beginnings and dance the blessings so they might be joined to the heart of his kin.

Misgivings crystallized in her heart as she saw the smoldering flame in his eyes, and reluctant were her hands as she allowed him to take the peacefully slumbering children. Moments after he left, she hastily slipped into a cloak of nightshadows and set off to follow him, all unseen and unsuspected.

Arriving at the clearing of wildflowers, a broad fairy ring of gently swaying snowbells embellished and emphasized the depression where the mare had lain. Inicarwu took three deep calming breaths before unwrapping the babes and laying them within the center of the fairy ring. No sooner had he done so than the mare appeared, silently entering the ring from the southern point. She stopped before the sleeping infants, gazing down at them as hidden nightwinds ruffled her alabaster mane and stardust shimmered along her gleaming hide. In the shadows, the mother of the babes raised a sudden hand to still her gasp as the stardust shimmered and spiraled about the mare and the women stepped from the transformation, her black eyes intent upon Inicarwu as she hugged the sheer robe of stardust around her curves.

"I bring you the fruit of my loins, my Lady," Inicarwu whispered, sliding his hand up along her arm possessively. She laughed, a gay cascade of musical notes, her eyes never leaving the infants as she casually stepped from him and shook back the fine blonde silk of her hair back over her shoulders.

"Foolish one, did you think possessing me would be so simple? I have already told you that if you would have our fates run as one, you must also freely render to me their hearts." Inicarwu laughed, a wild note running through his voice as he tangled his fingers in the soft mass of the mare-woman's hair to claim her lips with his own in agreement.

"Let it be so. By all the gods above and below, bear witness to my vow. I render to the Sulde Taala the hearts of what I have sown now and for all the tides of time," Inicarwu said forcefully, dropping to his knees and withdrawing the wickedly sharp skinning blade as resolve hardened in his eyes.

However, no harm befell the innocent lives lying before him despite his intent to stain his hands with the blood of kin. From the shadows of the clearing, a vengeful whirlwind screamed, darkness flying from the shadows to swirl around him as long fingers clawed at his face, tearing the sight from him as his knife found and twisted deep in the entrails of the vengeance visited upon him before pawing frantically at the darkness surrounding him.

Stumbling, his mate fell from him, one hand attempting to staunch the flood of lifeblood spilling from her belly as the other reached futilely toward the babes, the tips of her left hand just grazing the plump arm of her firstborn daughter.

Above her, the mare woman's eyes blazed as her flesh rippled, the stardust robe puddles on the ground as the mare rose up upon her hindquarters in majestic splendor, the alabaster of her front hooves slicing the air as she screamed and then lunged forward, her hooves descending to crush Inicarwu's ribs as though snapping dry kindling before impaling his heart in the same way she might kill a venomous snake. Thrice she rose and fell, the dark ruby of his life staining her front hooves as his heart exploded.

Disdainfully, the Sulde Taala tosses back her mane in the quickening breeze as she turned from the broken ruin of the male. The soft black of her sorrowful eyes gazed mournfully upon the dying woman before her, two tears brimming to fall upon the brow of each babe as she spoke quietly.

"I told the traitor to his blood I required the hearts of what he had sown. He takes upon himself his own fate of kinslayer, for never once was the death of his flesh required. Let his name be remembered only with abhorrence for the choices he has made when the song of the ancestors is sung."

"But you have done naught to deserve the death upon your brow, mother of the bloodlines that will run with mine. Although I cannot stop time, nor is it my place to staunch the lifeblood that runs from you, yet one gift I can give to one who sacrifices her own life that her children might live."

The Sulde Taala reared high, the blackened front hooves thrashing the air as she called out shrilly, her scream echoing from the heavens. Below her feet the babes woke, their sudden cry stifled as their limbs began to lengthen and grow. Within the span of a few moments, brother and sister stood before the dying mother, tall and golden in the moonlight. Once again the horse-woman screamed forth, the remnants of the star-dusted robe rising to form about the children, clothing each in a shimmering rainbow of stardust, the tear of the horsewoman a brilliant crystal implanted precisely in the center of each brow.

With soft cries, the children knelt to touch their fingertips to the dying woman's lips, the soft kiss of her farewell kiss upon them before her spirit fled. The mare lowered her head, nuzzling the cold cheek in farewell before stepping lightly back and allowing the children to take their rightful place upon her back before springing into the quickening dawn wind rising from the east.

Where the mother's body had laid, the ground was covered in a lush covering of what the elves of the plains call "motherheart", clusters of pansies with heart shaped petals of deep wine deeply dusted with silvery flecks that is widely sought for use in amulets fashioned to guard children from evil. And where Inicarwu had fallen? Naught remained but an evil black liquid, which eventually seeped back into the cleansing earth.

Thus were born the Elvenkind of the Wind from the giving of the hearts of the first siblings to the Sulde Taala. She who rides lightly upon the back of the Sulde Taala, her hair swept back in the winds of their passing, takes the title upon herself of the Lady of the Eleven Winds. Her consort in power, The Catwalker, is usually her brother and quite frequently also her twin. He paces alongside, surefooted and silent.

Elves of the Wind are alone among the Elvenkind in their tradition of having the dual faces of brother and sister guiding the affairs of the clan. It is said this tradition, as well as the unusual frequency of twin fraternal births, was the first gift of the Sulde Taala to the children of the steppes she wards.