Spear Mother: A Tale of the Fourth World by Brandon M. Lindsay
6
The liquid clouds ahead of them parted, revealing a form wreathed in smoke-like shadows, a man-shaped form, so massive as to dwarf mountains, yet headless. Thrashing lines of darkness extended from its back like tentacles, though Sandrena knew what they really were. Her breath caught in her throat as she heard their metallic clanging.
From out of the center of the god's stomach extended a circular shape, like a shield. Sandrena was loathe to remember those yellow eyes, and the horrible, agonizing dissonance they brought with them. She didn't want to see them again.
The Lady didn't flinch at his appearance. If anything, the floating chunks of rock scattered throughout this land of madness only seemed to pass them more quickly.
"Tell me," the Lady said, her voice sounded somewhat preoccupied. "These dreams that you have, the ones that are not really dreams. What are they of?"
Sandrena hardly wanted to think about that right now. It was all she could do to keep from screaming in horror at the feelings this confrontation brought up in her. "If we get through this, I'll tell you all about it." She winced instantly, remembering that the Lady didn't expect to get through this day at all. Sandrena regretted the words as soon as they left her lips.
The Lady said nothing in response.
Ahead of them, the god seemed to loom larger by the second. Sandrena couldn't fathom how large he was. At the speed they traveled, it seemed they should have reached him long ago. Instead, he only seemed to grow. The effect was dizzying and disorienting, only making Sandrena's anxiety-knotted stomach feel worse than it did.
I have to be strong. For Laura. She glanced at the Lady's bronze-skinned hand, holding her own. For all my sisters.
She only hoped that her strength—and Motherspear's—would be enough.
Without a word, the Lady flung Sandrena forward, releasing her hand.
Sandrena shot toward the looming god like an arrow, with Motherspear as its bodkin. What the Tree—why did she let go?
The yellow eyes opened, and Sandrena closed her own.
If the universe had had a throat, it would have been ripped raw by the scream that tore through it.
The all-consuming shriek was unbearable. Sandrena felt as if her bones would vibrate apart, that her ears would begin to rupture and bleed. She ached for the sound to deafen her, so that we wouldn't have to hear it again, though she knew it wasn't merely a sound she heard with her ears. It was a sound that blasted through every fiber of her being.
Every nerve in her body came alive with tortured agony, yet where her hands gripped Motherspear, a tingling, cooling sensation trickled into her fingers, and began to spread outward. With all her might, Sandrena focused on this feeling of relief reaching into her, ignoring the god's soul-rending cry as best she could.
Abruptly, she smashed into something. Hard. Sandrena felt like she had fallen out of a third-story window... yet onto something softer than rocks. Something pliable and wet. The impact jarred her teeth. If it had been something harder, she would have likely broken bones.
Sandrena knew what she had hit before she even looked. One of the god's eyes.
Steeling herself against the painful sound, embracing the cooling feeling of Motherspear, she swung Motherspear into the eye. The surface bent inward, yielding to the tip of Motherspear. Then it broke.
A jet of thick, clear fluid, nearly hot to the touch, sprayed outward fiercely, throwing Sandrena backward to spin away from the god.
It was all she could do to hang onto Motherspear as she tumbled through space, covered with goo. She scrubbed at her face to clear it of the ichorous stuff, both so she could see better and to rid herself of something that had come out of the god's body. She was tumbling madly, sickeningly. She threw her arms and legs out, spread-eagled, and her rotating slowed to something her stomach could handle.
As she spun, she caught a glimpse of the god. Fluid continued to jet out of one of its massive eyes, but it seemed otherwise unaffected.
Sandrena had taken the opportunity given her, and had been unable to kill the god. Even Motherspear's strength had not been enough.
She did notice that the clanging dissonance had become a barely audible, yet somewhat tolerable hum. She may not have killed the god, but she had distracted it enough to interrupt its harsh song.
If only that were enough to save the Fourth World.
One of the large chunks of the canyon was rolling through the air towards her. At first, Sandrena thought it might swing into her and crush her. But if she timed it right...
She slid along its length, barely missed getting clipped by one of the sharp ledges.
Reached out.
Felt a stone come loose under her fingers.
A nail scraped, snapped loose. White blood dribbled out.
Cursing Berahmain, she clutched at another stone.
Hung on.
Sighing deeply, she clung to the rock's craggy face, and used the opportunity to search for the Lady or anyone else she could find.
Some distance away, two white forms flitted through the air with purpose. Sandrena squinted and was able to make them out. Korilia. And Rayell.
Both alive.
She nearly wept with relief.
But where was the Lady?
Sandrena's eyes cast about. Fear jolted through her when she saw.
Nearly a dozen of the living chains swam around the Lady, whose sword was fending them off in a dazzling, spark-strewing blur, creating a near-invisible, clanging sphere of protection around her. It wasn't perfect—the chains were occasionally able to dash in and strike her. Sandrena couldn't see very well from this distance, but she knew that the Lady was in trouble.
Sandrena may not have been able to save the Fourth World.
But perhaps she could save someone.
At the moment when the Lady had moved into her zenith, Sandrena launched off of the rock with all her weight.
As she neared, she determined that the Lady was also the destination of Rayell and Korilia. The paths of their flight began to come close to each other, close enough that Sandrena could grimly lock eyes with them.
"I'm glad to see you two alive," Sandrena nearly shouted. "More glad than you know."
Rayell nodded, saying nothing. Korilia jerked her head in the direction of the Lady. "I guess I've always known, deep in my heart, that I would fight for the Lady. Even if came to a choice between her and the Iron Gods." Korilia shook her head once. "All my life. What a fool I've been. She does not deserve to die in chains. She, more than anyone, does not deserve to be enslaved."
Sandrena knew what it meant for Korilia to admit that, what it meant to turn her back on the gods of her clan. Korilia no longer saw the Lady as something distant or intrusive. She saw her as Sandrena did—as a sister. And thus are Korilia and I joined.
Sandrena wiped the moisture from her eye and glanced ahead. She and the other two were closing in on the Lady.
Who was a-swirl with manic and ferocious violence. Yet even so, Sandrena could see that the Lady's strength was flagging. Her flashing blade was diminishing in speed, and the protective barrier such speed provided was weakening, filling with gaps that the living chains could exploit. What appeared to be quicksilver—but which Sandrena knew to be blood—smeared across the Lady's tunic, rolled lazily off her left elbow to drift off into the air. One of her silver eyes was swollen shut, the once-copper skin surrounding looking like beaten iron. More of the chains than Sandrena could count now encircled the Lady, creating an orb of dancing, flashing, grating metal, with the Lady at its core.
With her one good eye, she caught a glance of Sandrena.
She could see her name beginning to form on the Lady's lips. Sandr—
Her sword arm faltered.
The chains swarmed in.
The orb collapsed in a sudden metallic crunch.
Sandrena watched in horror. Motherspear began to drift from her fingers.
No.
No!
It couldn't happen like this. It couldn't! She
had to get closer, to save—to do something...
Sandrena began to thrash wildly, yet nothing she did seemed to make her go any faster. She started screaming and crying uncontrollably, punching and scratching at the air, damning everything yet unable to do anything.
"Spear Mother!" Rayell's voice was stern. "Get a hold of yourself! You still have a job to do."
All the fight left her in that moment. "I can't do anything. Don't you see? I already stabbed the god with Motherspear. It barely wounded him." She closed her eyes. "I'm a failure." Again.
"Idiot!" Rayell snarled. "Do you think Motherspear was meant for stabbing?"
Sandrena opened her eyes, frowned. Something Rayell said struck a chord. But what else could Motherspear do?
In a panic, Sandrena seized it before it drifted too far away from her.
A few of the chains lifted up from the orb like feelers sniffing their air, as if they were coming to detect the three women floating toward. In a rush, the orb exploded, and a hundred chains soared straight toward them.
Was Motherspear meant for stabbing? Sandrena didn't know. But she did know that it was good at it.
The chains attacked her in a frenzy, but Sandrena was able to fend them off with a flurry of vicious spinning strokes. She hadn't the speed of the Lady, but her rage was enough to make mountains quake.
It didn't hurt that the chains seemed to be afraid of Motherspear.
Dozens of flailing bits of severed chain floated away from the onslaught, their melted ends still white-hot from Motherspear's touch. Sandrena didn't dare take her eyes off her assailants, but she could judge by the grunts of exertion that Rayell and Korilia were still besieged—and still alive.
Her spear work had never been equal to her sword work, and the problem was exacerbated by the fact that she couldn't rely on her footing to help her—there was no such thing as footing in this battle. Only Motherspear, and her anger.
Saving the world—saving the Lady was no longer an option.
Avenging her was all that she had left.
Tree take my soul if every last one of these chains doesn't pay the price for my loss. Sandrena redoubled her efforts as her vow fueled her.
Mere moments later, the final chain succumbed to Motherspear's fiery kiss, scattering the last of her foes. Last, save for one.
The god still loomed in the distance, darkening her vision. But she didn't face him, knowing that there was nothing more she could do. All she could do was drift helplessly toward the broken body of the Lady.
After closing the final few feet between them, Sandrena took the Lady's body into an embrace. Gently, though she knew she could do nothing to aggravate the horrifying wounds.
The dead could feel no pain.
And Sandrena wept. She held the Lady close as the Lady had held her when Sandrena had had her vision, caressing what remained of her hair, smearing it with streaks of quicksilver.
Shattered bones. Shredded skin. She was nothing like the magnificent being she once was.
No one could have survived what the Lady had gone though. Not even a divine agent of Berahmain. Life had left her as surely as it had left Laura, on that day in a life that Sandrena had never lived.
"Oh, Lady," she whispered, sobbing gently. "Oh, Laura."
Korilia grasped Sandrena's arm to stop her freefall. Rayell did the same with Korilia. Both bowed their heads in silence.
And Sandrena began to sing.
The liquid clouds ahead of them parted, revealing a form wreathed in smoke-like shadows, a man-shaped form, so massive as to dwarf mountains, yet headless. Thrashing lines of darkness extended from its back like tentacles, though Sandrena knew what they really were. Her breath caught in her throat as she heard their metallic clanging.
From out of the center of the god's stomach extended a circular shape, like a shield. Sandrena was loathe to remember those yellow eyes, and the horrible, agonizing dissonance they brought with them. She didn't want to see them again.
The Lady didn't flinch at his appearance. If anything, the floating chunks of rock scattered throughout this land of madness only seemed to pass them more quickly.
"Tell me," the Lady said, her voice sounded somewhat preoccupied. "These dreams that you have, the ones that are not really dreams. What are they of?"
Sandrena hardly wanted to think about that right now. It was all she could do to keep from screaming in horror at the feelings this confrontation brought up in her. "If we get through this, I'll tell you all about it." She winced instantly, remembering that the Lady didn't expect to get through this day at all. Sandrena regretted the words as soon as they left her lips.
The Lady said nothing in response.
Ahead of them, the god seemed to loom larger by the second. Sandrena couldn't fathom how large he was. At the speed they traveled, it seemed they should have reached him long ago. Instead, he only seemed to grow. The effect was dizzying and disorienting, only making Sandrena's anxiety-knotted stomach feel worse than it did.
I have to be strong. For Laura. She glanced at the Lady's bronze-skinned hand, holding her own. For all my sisters.
She only hoped that her strength—and Motherspear's—would be enough.
Without a word, the Lady flung Sandrena forward, releasing her hand.
Sandrena shot toward the looming god like an arrow, with Motherspear as its bodkin. What the Tree—why did she let go?
The yellow eyes opened, and Sandrena closed her own.
If the universe had had a throat, it would have been ripped raw by the scream that tore through it.
The all-consuming shriek was unbearable. Sandrena felt as if her bones would vibrate apart, that her ears would begin to rupture and bleed. She ached for the sound to deafen her, so that we wouldn't have to hear it again, though she knew it wasn't merely a sound she heard with her ears. It was a sound that blasted through every fiber of her being.
Every nerve in her body came alive with tortured agony, yet where her hands gripped Motherspear, a tingling, cooling sensation trickled into her fingers, and began to spread outward. With all her might, Sandrena focused on this feeling of relief reaching into her, ignoring the god's soul-rending cry as best she could.
Abruptly, she smashed into something. Hard. Sandrena felt like she had fallen out of a third-story window... yet onto something softer than rocks. Something pliable and wet. The impact jarred her teeth. If it had been something harder, she would have likely broken bones.
Sandrena knew what she had hit before she even looked. One of the god's eyes.
Steeling herself against the painful sound, embracing the cooling feeling of Motherspear, she swung Motherspear into the eye. The surface bent inward, yielding to the tip of Motherspear. Then it broke.
A jet of thick, clear fluid, nearly hot to the touch, sprayed outward fiercely, throwing Sandrena backward to spin away from the god.
It was all she could do to hang onto Motherspear as she tumbled through space, covered with goo. She scrubbed at her face to clear it of the ichorous stuff, both so she could see better and to rid herself of something that had come out of the god's body. She was tumbling madly, sickeningly. She threw her arms and legs out, spread-eagled, and her rotating slowed to something her stomach could handle.
As she spun, she caught a glimpse of the god. Fluid continued to jet out of one of its massive eyes, but it seemed otherwise unaffected.
Sandrena had taken the opportunity given her, and had been unable to kill the god. Even Motherspear's strength had not been enough.
She did notice that the clanging dissonance had become a barely audible, yet somewhat tolerable hum. She may not have killed the god, but she had distracted it enough to interrupt its harsh song.
If only that were enough to save the Fourth World.
One of the large chunks of the canyon was rolling through the air towards her. At first, Sandrena thought it might swing into her and crush her. But if she timed it right...
She slid along its length, barely missed getting clipped by one of the sharp ledges.
Reached out.
Felt a stone come loose under her fingers.
A nail scraped, snapped loose. White blood dribbled out.
Cursing Berahmain, she clutched at another stone.
Hung on.
Sighing deeply, she clung to the rock's craggy face, and used the opportunity to search for the Lady or anyone else she could find.
Some distance away, two white forms flitted through the air with purpose. Sandrena squinted and was able to make them out. Korilia. And Rayell.
Both alive.
She nearly wept with relief.
But where was the Lady?
Sandrena's eyes cast about. Fear jolted through her when she saw.
Nearly a dozen of the living chains swam around the Lady, whose sword was fending them off in a dazzling, spark-strewing blur, creating a near-invisible, clanging sphere of protection around her. It wasn't perfect—the chains were occasionally able to dash in and strike her. Sandrena couldn't see very well from this distance, but she knew that the Lady was in trouble.
Sandrena may not have been able to save the Fourth World.
But perhaps she could save someone.
At the moment when the Lady had moved into her zenith, Sandrena launched off of the rock with all her weight.
As she neared, she determined that the Lady was also the destination of Rayell and Korilia. The paths of their flight began to come close to each other, close enough that Sandrena could grimly lock eyes with them.
"I'm glad to see you two alive," Sandrena nearly shouted. "More glad than you know."
Rayell nodded, saying nothing. Korilia jerked her head in the direction of the Lady. "I guess I've always known, deep in my heart, that I would fight for the Lady. Even if came to a choice between her and the Iron Gods." Korilia shook her head once. "All my life. What a fool I've been. She does not deserve to die in chains. She, more than anyone, does not deserve to be enslaved."
Sandrena knew what it meant for Korilia to admit that, what it meant to turn her back on the gods of her clan. Korilia no longer saw the Lady as something distant or intrusive. She saw her as Sandrena did—as a sister. And thus are Korilia and I joined.
Sandrena wiped the moisture from her eye and glanced ahead. She and the other two were closing in on the Lady.
Who was a-swirl with manic and ferocious violence. Yet even so, Sandrena could see that the Lady's strength was flagging. Her flashing blade was diminishing in speed, and the protective barrier such speed provided was weakening, filling with gaps that the living chains could exploit. What appeared to be quicksilver—but which Sandrena knew to be blood—smeared across the Lady's tunic, rolled lazily off her left elbow to drift off into the air. One of her silver eyes was swollen shut, the once-copper skin surrounding looking like beaten iron. More of the chains than Sandrena could count now encircled the Lady, creating an orb of dancing, flashing, grating metal, with the Lady at its core.
With her one good eye, she caught a glance of Sandrena.
She could see her name beginning to form on the Lady's lips. Sandr—
Her sword arm faltered.
The chains swarmed in.
The orb collapsed in a sudden metallic crunch.
Sandrena watched in horror. Motherspear began to drift from her fingers.
No.
No!
It couldn't happen like this. It couldn't! She
Sandrena began to thrash wildly, yet nothing she did seemed to make her go any faster. She started screaming and crying uncontrollably, punching and scratching at the air, damning everything yet unable to do anything.
"Spear Mother!" Rayell's voice was stern. "Get a hold of yourself! You still have a job to do."
All the fight left her in that moment. "I can't do anything. Don't you see? I already stabbed the god with Motherspear. It barely wounded him." She closed her eyes. "I'm a failure." Again.
"Idiot!" Rayell snarled. "Do you think Motherspear was meant for stabbing?"
Sandrena opened her eyes, frowned. Something Rayell said struck a chord. But what else could Motherspear do?
In a panic, Sandrena seized it before it drifted too far away from her.
A few of the chains lifted up from the orb like feelers sniffing their air, as if they were coming to detect the three women floating toward. In a rush, the orb exploded, and a hundred chains soared straight toward them.
Was Motherspear meant for stabbing? Sandrena didn't know. But she did know that it was good at it.
The chains attacked her in a frenzy, but Sandrena was able to fend them off with a flurry of vicious spinning strokes. She hadn't the speed of the Lady, but her rage was enough to make mountains quake.
It didn't hurt that the chains seemed to be afraid of Motherspear.
Dozens of flailing bits of severed chain floated away from the onslaught, their melted ends still white-hot from Motherspear's touch. Sandrena didn't dare take her eyes off her assailants, but she could judge by the grunts of exertion that Rayell and Korilia were still besieged—and still alive.
Her spear work had never been equal to her sword work, and the problem was exacerbated by the fact that she couldn't rely on her footing to help her—there was no such thing as footing in this battle. Only Motherspear, and her anger.
Saving the world—saving the Lady was no longer an option.
Avenging her was all that she had left.
Tree take my soul if every last one of these chains doesn't pay the price for my loss. Sandrena redoubled her efforts as her vow fueled her.
Mere moments later, the final chain succumbed to Motherspear's fiery kiss, scattering the last of her foes. Last, save for one.
The god still loomed in the distance, darkening her vision. But she didn't face him, knowing that there was nothing more she could do. All she could do was drift helplessly toward the broken body of the Lady.
After closing the final few feet between them, Sandrena took the Lady's body into an embrace. Gently, though she knew she could do nothing to aggravate the horrifying wounds.
The dead could feel no pain.
And Sandrena wept. She held the Lady close as the Lady had held her when Sandrena had had her vision, caressing what remained of her hair, smearing it with streaks of quicksilver.
Shattered bones. Shredded skin. She was nothing like the magnificent being she once was.
No one could have survived what the Lady had gone though. Not even a divine agent of Berahmain. Life had left her as surely as it had left Laura, on that day in a life that Sandrena had never lived.
"Oh, Lady," she whispered, sobbing gently. "Oh, Laura."
Korilia grasped Sandrena's arm to stop her freefall. Rayell did the same with Korilia. Both bowed their heads in silence.
And Sandrena began to sing.