©2023 Richard L. Hardesty. All rights reserved.
Among the various peoples of the world of Linden are the Horse Clans. Denizens of the High Plains of Cala to the north of Aridion, these human tribes are organized by the clan system. There are seven clans, the largest and most important being the Black Horse, the other major clans being the White Horse and the Grey Horse, and the lesser clans being the Brown Horse, Red Horse, Spotted Horse and Bay Horse clans. The Wolf clan is a sub-clan of the Black Horse and are semi-autonomous.
All are independent, and recognize no outsider as having any authority over them. The horse is, of course, the center of the clans’ culture and is considered more valuable than anything else. Wealth and power is measured by the size and quality of a man’s herd.
The Wolf clan has made one major contribution to the Horse clan culture: from within this clan came the greatest medicine woman the clans have ever known: Volkuna Matalu, Wolf Woman. That is the subject of the following story as told around the campfires of the Wolf clan even today.
THE TALE OF SURTAN WOLF-SLAYER AND THE WOLVES
A long time ago, many, many summers past, the wolves were our enemies. We hunted them and they hunted us. The greatest wolf-hunter of them all was Surtan. He was more wolf than the wolves themselves. They feared him greatly, for he had killed more of their kind than any other, man or beast. He was called Wolf-Slayer, and men bowed before him, and wolves ran from him.
So great was his power, so loudly was he praised that the noise of it reached the gods. And they were greatly disturbed, for no man should be praised as if he were a god! Something had to be done to silence that noise! And so, it was done.
One mid-winter, an unusually harsh winter it was, Surtan had gone forth alone in desperation to try to find some meat for his slowly starving family, their stores having not been enough to see them through this killing winter, colder than any in their memory and with deeper snow than memory recalled.
Returning home on foot for his horse had given up the ghost from cold and exhaustion some days prior during another storm, he was caught in a sudden blizzard a half-day from his tents. He took shelter in a small, thick copse of spruce and fir at the edge of a shallow, snow-filled gully, the trees weakening the cold wind, the snow not as deep within. There, he made camp and in the shelter of the copse, was able to make a small fire to cook the only game he had seen in a seven-day of hunting, a skinny hare he had caught, itself on the verge of starvation. After his meagre repast, he covered himself in his blanket, which doubled as a cape, and burrowed into the surrounding snow as deeply as he could. He slept soundly, untroubled, for he knew his fate was in the hands of the gods, will he, nil he.
The following morning, when the storm was over, he arose and prepared to leave the copse, but found his way blocked by a pack of wolves led by an exceptionally large, silvery-white she-wolf with strange, golden eyes like twin suns. They did not attack, but formed a half-moon around him, the she-wolf in the center. She began to move slowly towards him and the pack followed, slowly pushing him backwards. He slowly prepared his bow and an arrow. He slowly, cautiously brought the bow to bear on the she-wolf herself and drew. Before he could release the arrow, he found himself held fast by her sun-fire eyes. How long he was held, he knew not, but at last, he lowered his bow and put it and the arrow away. It was uncanny. The wolves did not run from him. How odd!, he thought. He had never seen this she-wolf before, and while he should be troubled, he was not. The she-wolf nodded at him, as if in confirmation that he was doing the right thing, and he knew he was. How he knew this, he could not say, but as surely as he was Surtan Wolf-slayer, he knew these wolves meant no harm to him. And that, too, was uncanny.
Surtan turned around and began to move to the east. At first, the wolves stayed where they were, then they took off running and playing, and were soon leading him. Always, the she-wolf with the strange eyes of sun-fire stayed close to him and he went where she led. After a day’s journey to the east, they came at last to the foothills of the Black Mountains and to a massive outcrop of the grey-black rock which formed the foundation of this formidable range. Within that outcrop, there was a cave and it was to that cave that the she-wolf and her pack led him.
Here, the pack stopped, the she-wolf kept going towards the cave. He followed. He saw it was guarded by several more wolves blocking the entrance to the cave. Among them, and quite obviously the senior of them, was a huge black wolf, black as night, with fangs as white as snow, tongue red as blood and eyes of star-fire. He was glad enough at the sight of the silvery-white she-wolf, but seemed none too pleased at the sight of Surtan, for he growled deep in his throat and bared his fangs, but the she-wolf came between them and the great black fiend stayed his challenge to Surtan. What followed was uncannily like speech between these two, the pack leaders, but it was wolf-speech, and Surtan knew it not. Yet he understood what passed between them, somehow. The black male was angry at first, and wanted to kill him, Surtan, but the she-wolf would not allow it and calmed him with her “words” until at last, albeit reluctantly, the male agreed with her and stood aside from the opening of the cave, allowing his mate and Surtan to pass.
As the she-wolf entered the cave, she looked back at Surtan and motioned with her head for him to follow. He did so and, oddly, he knew he was completely safe. Though the black male glared at him, he made no sound and but followed Surtan with his eyes. The other wolves paid him no mind whatsoever.
The she-wolf led him some ways back into the cave, and the further back they went, the warmer the cave became until it was as warm as a summer’s day. He was led through winding passages until they came to a large cavern. It was occupied by several more wolves, all females and they seemed to be gathered around something in the center of the cavern, something that moved. The she-wolf led Surtan to this object and stopped. She looked at the object, then at him.
He knelt and examined the object. It appeared to be a pile of non-descript rags, but it moved! His curiosity aroused, he reached to part the rags to see what lay within and was startled to hear the happy sounds of a baby from within!
He drew back, but the she-wolf nudged him gently and he continued to part the rags until he had its hidden treasure revealed in full. It WAS a babe! A human babe of no more than two months! And it was healthy and happy. Instinctively, he reached for it, but paused to see what the she-wolf would do. She was nodding her head, grinning. Yes! She wanted him to pick up the child! Carefully, tenderly, he picked up the babe and held it close to him. It was a girl, with bright, blue eyes, unlike any of his people. The blue of the sky they were, and there seemed to be a hint of silver in them as well. He carefully re-wrapped the baby in the rags and left the chamber.
Surtan returned home with the child and with an escort the likes of which none had ever seen before or since! Before him ran a huge black wolf with eyes of star-fire and beside him, the silvery-white she-wolf, her sun-fire eyes shining brightly even in the light of day. And beside him on both sides ran a hundred wolves, fifty on each side!
Straight to his tents they rode, and great was the consternation among his people when they arrived. Over a hundred wolves invaded the camp that day, and in their midst was Surtan, their chief! And he brought with him a child, a babe to replace the one his wife Shalar had lost but a week ago. A babe with blue eyes!
Our people did not starve that winter, for the wolves brought meat, from whence only they knew, for there was no game for miles around. And so did Surtan Wolf-slayer become Surtan Wolf-friend and our clan took as our totem and standard the figure of a black wolf with star-fire eyes and a silvery-white wolf with sun-fire eyes. That is how the Wolf Clan was born. And why even today, we, the Aluur Volkunai run with the wolves and join them in the hunt.
The child? Ah, yes, the child. It is said she is the child of the sky-god. Who knows? I do not. I do know she became the greatest medicine woman the Horse Clans have ever known, and she is with us still today. She lives in the black tent among the tents of Kelvanon of the Black Horse clan and we call her Volkuna Matalu - Wolf Woman.
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* NOTE: I have become aware of an unintentional resemblance of Wolf Woman's native name to that of a certain song title from an animated cartoon, which, if you haven't yourself noticed, shall remain unnamed to reduce the probability of your making that unfortunate connection.
The one has nothing to do with the other. It is pure coincidence. Here is the linguistic derivation of her name:
In their own language, the Clans name for themselves as a group is Aluur (pronounced ah-loor) and means, The People, of course. The word for "man" is alu, "men" is alu-ur (ah-loo-oor), "woman" is matalu the femine prefix m- being added to the word for man. This prefix is itself a condensed form of matok (mother), the word "woman" meaning mother-of-men=matok+alu-ur => matalu.
"Wolf" as a noun in the clan language is volkun (masculine) in the singular, volkuno in the genitive singular and volkunai in the genitive plural. As a descriptive adjective, the adjectival suffix -a is added regardless of the gender of the noun being modified. Thus, Wolf Woman is Volkuna Matalu.
See? I told you it was a mere coincidence.
NOTE 2: This is an alternative origin story for Volkuna Matalu. There is another, which I shan't relate here. The tale of this healer appears in Vol. 6 of The Lindensaga, The Orb of Making, which is currently incomplete. Which version ultimately makes its appearance has yet to be determined.
— Richard, for J. R. Hardesty 2/20/23
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