Spear Mother: A Tale of the Fourth World

Spear Mother:

  A Tale of the Fourth World

  by

  Brandon M. Lindsay

  Copyright © 2014 Brandon M. Lindsay

  All Rights Reserved

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  Discover other titles by Brandon M. Lindsay:

  Dark Tree: A Tale of the Fourth World

  The Clans: Tales of the Fourth World

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  About the Author

  Some believe that perhaps we are not all there is to Berahmain’s great Plan. Obviously, there are all manner of objects that populate the Fourth World which have no apparent relation to the War beyond Time: plants, stones, water, beasts and birds, and so on. Yet they are still here. And so are the Aberrations.

  Why? we may ask. The Church is, generally, silent, though of course there are factions within it over the issue. Some believe the Aberrations are a test to overcome, and that test is their destruction. Others believe that they are agents of the Enemy.

  I, however, am not in any way affiliated with the Church, and thus I have no one I need to impress with my tractability. What if the Aberrations are simply here? What if they were here first? Maybe, just maybe, certain elements of reality are protected from a twisted and perverse God who thrives on the bloodshed of his own creations? Some may call such an idea absurd, but that is only because their tiny minds cannot grasp the existence of a thing absent contrivance.

  One wonders if they even blame the God for the unworthy content of their own stymied ideas.

  - Gohngran (authenticity of the sample is, however, suspect)

  1

  The shelter Korilia led them to barely warranted the title. It was little more than a gouge in the hillside lined with tightly-fitted rocks to keep the soil from spilling in. A sloping curtain of vines woven together provided both a makeshift roof and door, though Sandrena imagined it served poorly for both roles. She had to admit, though, that the mat of vines did blend in with plains of chest-high grass that stretched on interminably in every direction here and everywhere else in Canterell lands, and thus made the shelter at least suitable as a hiding place.

  Thumbs hooked under the straps of her pack, Sandrena stared at the shelter in disappointment. She had hoped that shelter meant a roof and cots and maybe a cup of wine. After three weeks travelling through Canterell, she knew that was far too much to ask.

  She sighed and shifted Motherspear under her pack so that it didn't rub against her shoulder blade. Hopefully the woven vines would keep some of this damned rain off their heads. It seemed that ever since they set foot in Canterell lands and met Korilia, the sixth and final member of their odd group, it had never stopped raining.

  Sandrena had never seen rain before. Both of her lives up until now had been spent solely within Mist Clan lands. There were no clouds, and thus, no rain; all of the moisture was trapped within the mists that coated her clan's lands, thus providing nourishment to the unique flora and fauna that lived there. When she was younger she had heard of clouds that floated above the mountaintops rather than below, and the rain that fell from them. The idea had filled her with wonder then, but now, having lived through it day after soaking wet day, she had grown beyond numb at the idea. She wished that she would never feel another drop of rain fall on her head.

  Squinting up at the dark and angry sky, she knew that was a wish that would not be granted.

  At least we'll be out of the wind, she thought as the drops continued to pelt her face. As another gust blasted her, she followed the other five women into the gouge.