Vinga and Her Spear

I first heard this story in an Esrolian barracks. Hearing it is very different from reading it, for when you
hear it performed there are always Red Women banging on the tables, yelling encouraging things to the speaker, whistling and cheering, and occasionally throwing glances your way. I found this written version in Holay, in the Knowing God's temple in Fylich Kwan. I cannot at this time speak to any regional differences between the Esrolian, Holayan, and any other versions that may exist.

It was the days when the Grand Order had not been lost, but was slipping away.

It was the days when Orlanth was King of the Gods and there were many gods to be king of still.

It was in those days when Vinga went out from the tula to go fishing. This was not an extraordinary event.

She was still a young woman, not quite ready in her own mind to plow the luscious fields of the Storm

Tribe. But wherever she went, she carried her spear and her shield with her, and many were the eyes

that followed that spear in appreciation. 

As she came to the edge of the tula, she passed her sister Babeester, who was guarding that day.

“Hoy, sister,” she said, greeting her politely. 

“Hoy,” Babeester said, as curtly as ever. Then as Vinga made to leave the tula, Babeester said,

suddenly, “Be careful with your spear. If you go around thrusting it places willy-nilly you’re bound to

sow seeds I’ll have to reap later.” Vinga laughed and told her sister that she would be careful. 

From the tula to the sea was not very far, and Vinga made the journey in an eyeblink using the

secret arts her father’s charioteer had showed her one day. She set down her shield and her bag,

and cast her line into the sea from her spear. 

It was a beautiful day, like all the days were back then, with plenty of clouds and breezes, and Vinga

soon drifted off in that lovely haze you get when you’re fishing sometimes, when all there is is you and

the water. And she stayed like this for a while, but not long enough, when there came a tug on the line.

She leapt up and struggled with her rod for a while, wrestling her spear until she landed her catch. She

was sure it was a big one.

And she was right. She had caught a beautiful mermaid, scales glittering all over her, glistening in Elmal’s

light. This was Triolina, who was the mother of all mermaids, and who had heard of what fun the Storm

Tribe could be from her daughters Ludoch and Ouori and decided to take a peek. “Have you come to the

sea to offer me food as tribute? And yet all you cast into the waters for me was a sad little hook of bronze,

not even a snack,” she said, languid as she wriggled on the ground. Then she caught sight of Vinga’s

spear. Her eyes fluttered. 

Vinga shifted uneasily. “I don’t know what you’re staring at,” she mumbled politely, for she knew that

Orlanth himself had been needed to fight the great gods of the Sea Tribe.

“Tell me, dear, how well do you know how to use that thing?” Triolina asked, her eyes still caught on the

spear. 

“Well enough, I suppose,” Vinga said, bashful as she kicked the ground.

“No need to be modest,” Triolina said, a little river draining from her mouth as she contemplated

Vinga’s spear in detail. 

“Well,” Vinga said, “I managed to outlast Hastatus,” and the river widened as Triolina thought of the

endurance of Hastatus the Steadfast Spear. “When Menena of the Logic Tribe challenged me to the

riddle of how to thrust my spear in her without drawing her blood, I solved it.” Triolina gasped, forming

a lake in the middle of the river. “And Pralora said that if I were an elk like her, my use of my spear would

give me horns far wider than hers are.”

Triolina cried out, “Enough, enough, I believe you!” She calmed rather quickly. “However… perhaps a

little game, to test your spear thrusts.” Vinga nodded, intrigued. 

“Catch me with your spear if you can!” Triolina said, slipping back into the sea. Vinga obediently thrust

with her spear, but pulled it out and found a fish on the end of it. “Ho, you will need to be more nimble

than that!” Triolina called. Again and again Vinga thrust, and thrust, and caught fish after fish. But while

Triolina’s calls grew more ragged and higher-pitched, and the foam of Vinga’s strong thrusts dyed the

sea white, Vinga kept thrusting on and on, moving with fluid grace, tiring but little.

Finally, she realized Triolina was slowing, and decided to end the game so as not to wear the great

goddess out too much. She thrust mightily, a wave of foam crashing from her spear as it dove towards

Triolina- and stopped before it went too deep and hurt her. 

Triolina cried out in delight, and Vinga did too, and then Triolina pulled herself back up onto the shore

and clasped Vinga close to her, and then lay down and they rested for a bit. “You’re sweet and gentle,”

Triolina told Vinga as they lay together, “and yet so powerful and hard at once. I hope you make good

use of your spear, for it is truly a blessing.” 

Eventually, Triolina returned to the waves, but not before telling Vinga of the secret signs by which she

could inform Triolina that she wished to play the game again, ones that the other goddesses of the sea

might well choose to interpret as a desire to play the game with them in turn. And then Vinga was faced

with all the fish. Fish of every color and size and description heaped around, speared by her thrusts. 

Vinga wondered at how she might bring back such bounty for feasting. Perhaps she could gather up

her cousins the umbroli? But those flighty winds rarely carried anything. Perhaps she should simply

preserve the fish so she could haul them up bit by bit and share them out. 

She considered salting the fish, but the sea was not yet salty in those days, and there were no salt licks

anywhere that she could see. She considered pickling them, but there was no salt for brine. She would

have to smoke them or dry them. In either case, she would need a fire. 

Alas, Elmal’s light had been hidden by the clouds. She thought and thought and thought, and, frustrated

by the thought of the fish spoiling before she could get Mahome to come help, she started pacing. And

then she saw, through the forest, a flicker of light. She went after it, spear and shield in her hands in an

instant, and her feet felt fleet as she ran after the little flicker, chasing it down with ease, until it went out

and she ran more awkwardly, finally reaching a clearing.

“That’s close enough,” she heard a voice say, clear like a harp, and she turned to see the point of an

arrow at her nose, the firelight she had seen dancing around the arrowhead. And then she saw the

goddess behind, who she had seen before around Elmal’s watchposts. And the goddess holding the

bow lowered it, recognizing Vinga. For who among the young goddesses of the Storm Tribe who were

not in Vinga’s clan did not recognize the goddess and her spear? 

“I must apologize, young storm,” she said, clasping one hand and drawing it across her chest, Vinga’s

eyes drawn in turn. “I simply felt the pursuit of someone so swift I thought the Beast Tribe was attacking

again.” She set her bow down. “I would never dare to draw arms of any sort against one such as you,

no matter my desire to see if I can match your spear.” 

Vinga blushed and set her spear and shield down. “I am sorry, dear tribeswoman, but I forget your name,”

she said. 

“I am Osara, of the Horse People Clan. Elmal’s daughter,” Osara said. “And you, lovely stormy woman?” 

“I am Vinga, of the Seven Winds Clan, Orlanth’s daughter,” Vinga said. 

"What is it that brings you out to the edges of the tribe, Vinga?" Osara asked. "Spear practice proving

too loud for your family?"

Vinga explained that she had gone fishing, but looked at the warm fire in Osara’s eyes and on her cheeks

and in her hair, and thought better of saying anything too much about her game with Triolina, saying

merely that the goddess had gifted her a vast quantity of fish. 

Osara laughed and punched Vinga’s arm, as if they shared a secret now, and Vinga smiled and explained

further that she was looking for a fire to dry and smoke her fish lest they should rot. 

“Let us see these fish,” Osara said. They went and looked at the fish. Osara commented that it certainly

was a lot of fish, and she wasn’t quite sure that she could help dry and smoke them all. Vinga nodded

and said that she understood, and Osara plucked at a lock of her hair and said, “Of course I’ll do my

best when you look at me like that.” 

“But first,” she said, drawing a sword that blazed with its own fire, “I want to see if your spear is indeed

as good as it is said.”

Vinga picked up her spear and shield and they sparred, clashing with fervent shouts, evenly matched

in almost every respect. The length of Vinga’s spear was matched by the deftness of Osara’s hands,

and at last Vinga’s spear fell from her hands and Osara’s sword dropped to the ground as well.

They wrestled, then, but neither could pin the other, and at last they lay side by side on the shoreline,

taking deep heaving breaths and looking into each other’s eyes. Finally, after a while, they stood back

up, and Vinga took a quick swim while Osara started making fires. When Vinga returned, Osara told her,

“We could perhaps finish smoking half the fish before the rest began to rot.” 

Vinga contemplated putting a leather sheet over her head like the Knowing God did whenever he had

to think deep, important thoughts or whenever the Talking God was nearby, and then stretched out on

the shoreline and watched the fires while Osara swam instead. Well, she tried mightily, but could

anyone blame her if her eyes turned frequently to the Goddess of Roaming Fires?

So it was that she missed the arrival of Inora. 

Now Inora is the woman of the mountain snow, who sits in her high castle and sometimes sends icy

winds howling down to the places where people live, and punishes those who trespass in the mountains

with her furious avalanches. Nevertheless, she is far kinder and gentler than the rest of her kin in Valind’s

clan. And so she ventured between Orlanth’s tula and Valind’s and her own residences very often in

those days, and she told Orlanth what Valind was doing and they laughed at Valind’s follies and she told

Valind what Orlanth was doing and they laughed at Orlanth’s follies. 

Today she was making a journey of such a kind, on her way to Orlanth’s tula, when she saw Vinga on

the beach and Osara swimming. She saw the glances Vinga shot towards Osara, and she saw Osara

show off. Inora has never liked Osara, for Osara’s firemaking in the wilderness marks her as one of the

enemies of winter and cold, and she, too, had heard of Vinga’s spear, and indeed caught a glimpse of it. 

A smile formed on her face, and she swooped down on the beach. “Hoy,” she said, in a voice like

snowflakes.

“Hoy!” Vinga said, for she had never feared Inora at all.

“What brings you to such an empty spot, spearwoman?” Inora asked.

Vinga blushed and once again explained the course of the day’s events, leaving out the details of her

games with Triolina and Osara, who had come up on the shore from swimming and had positioned

herself on the other side of Vinga from Inora. 

“So you see,” Osara said, “We do unfortunately have tasks to accomplish, and so we shall not delay

you any further and force you to spend time outside the confines of walls.”

Inora smiled. “Hmm, all you need to do is keep these fish from rotting? A simple task, and yet you seem

to be having such difficulty with it.” 

“How would you go about this?” Vinga asked.

“Within the embrace of my ice and snows, everything is held still and cold. No rot can touch it." Inora's

smile grew broader. "And I would gladly give you help, but for only a slight cost."

"What would that be?" Vinga asked. 

"A bet. If I, unarmed and unarmored, can take your spear from you before you can impale me, then

you will agree to join me in my castles and carry my snows and hails further and further." Inora
shrugged. "It is of course up to you whether you wish to do this. I am mostly interested in the collection
of lovely spears."

Vinga blushed at this, and Osara bristled. “How vicious of you, snowcap,” she said, “To try and confine

someone as free and untamed as this girl within your little fortresses.” 

Inora laughed. “What, don’t have any confidence in your spear technique, young Vinga? It’s just a little

game, one I’ve oftener lost than won, and against far worse opponents than you.” She smiled at Vinga,

ignoring Osara. 

“Let me keep you warm,” Osara whispered to Vinga. “You don’t have to risk becoming her pet storm.

Let me keep you safe.” 

Vinga twitched, feeling Inora’s cold hand on her shoulder and Osara’s warm one on her hand.

Then she remembered something that her older sisters Uralda and Pela had taught her once.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered to Osara, and winked. Then, to Inora, she said, “I will take the bet.” 

“Very well. Ready your spear, dear Vinga,” Inora said. “Prepare as much as you need to.” 

Vinga took the cloak she wore, of heavy woven fleece, and wrapped it around her hands, then

picked up her spear with both hands. “I am ready,” she said. 

Inora struck with snow and ice and bitter-cold winds that would sap the life from any flesh. Even

Osara trembled before them, before putting on a brave face. And yet, protected by the sheep’s gift,

Vinga held her spear firm. She made no sudden motions, but moved tenderly and gently, to keep

Inora off her guard. So Inora’s hands, prepared to catch a rough, wild assault, closed only on thin air

as Vinga danced around Inora.

Osara clapped and cheered as Vinga danced, whirling and curling around Inora, who sputtered in

frustration, hoping for a quick decision. But then her eyes were opened to the beauty of the dance,

and she began to dance with Vinga, and then at last when Vinga gently tapped the tip of her spear

against Inora it was hardly climactic. 

“You have won, little storm,” Inora said, and kissed Vinga. “I will freeze the remainder of the fish for

you, and if you ever want to dance again, you have free reign of my castles and fortresses.” 

“You did it,” Osara said, and kissed Vinga. “Everyone will be amazed at the vigor of your deeds today.” 

“You’re much cuter than I thought,” Inora said, and kissed Osara. “The sweetness of your devotion

is clear to me, and you may accompany Vinga whenever you like.” 

Osara blazed hot, and Inora laughed, and then they all laughed.

Inora departed, saying she really did need to visit the tula, and so Osara and Vinga decided to start

carrying the fish up together. As they approached the walls, Babeester hailed them. 

“I see you made your break from our mother’s side a fruitful one,” she said. “Here, I’m off watch,

I’ll help you carry.” 

She came down with them and witnessing all the fish, said, “You put your spear to use, didn’t you?

I hope you sowed no seeds today.”

“I never thrust my spear into the earth today,” Vinga said, stammering as she said that. 

“Hmph,” Babeester said, looking at Osara with a meaningful glance. Osara tossed her hair

and smiled brightly. “Well, that doesn’t mean you didn’t sow any seeds today, but they won’t be

my responsibility to reap so I don’t really care.” 

Vinga said nothing much as they hauled the fish up. 

But when the gods saw the bounty Vinga had gathered, they all gathered round to remark on it,

from the littlest umbroli to Uleria herself, who laughed and laughed and told Vinga that she’d bless

her spear but it was clearly already blessed. Eventually, word made its way to her parents, and so

she was summoned into the hall of Orlanth and Ernalda.

“You had a busy day, didn’t you?” Orlanth said, regarding his daughter thoughtfully. His gaze briefly

roved around the room, to the Lightning Spear on the left wall, the Scarf of Mist hanging from a hook,

the Sandals of Darkness in a cubbyhole by the door, the Turning Scythe lying neglected in one corner,

and finally to the Shield of Arran on the right wall. 

“Certainly, she has done very well for herself,” Ernalda said, and beckoned Vinga closer for a hug,

which she gratefully received. 

“How to reward someone so talented?” Orlanth mused aloud. “Certainly, you have proven yourself quite

capable of plowing the fields, but between myself, Barntar, Elmal, Heler, and Argan Argar when he visits,

would such infrequent plowing really count as a reward?”

Vinga said nothing, for she saw that Ernalda was about to speak. “My cousins from the corners of the

world have come to visit,” she said. “Perhaps Vinga could go forth and be the one to plow their fields

whenever they were in need of it.” 

“If they liked,” Orlanth said firmly. 

“Of course if they liked,” Ernalda said. “Do you think they won’t like our lovely daughter?”

And Vinga beamed and beamed. But as she turned to leave, Orlanth put his hand on her shoulder.

“Wait,” he said, and went around the room and gathered his magic weapons, all four of them, the

Lightning Spear, the Scarf of Mist, the Sandals of Darkness, the Turning Scythe, and the Shield of Arran.

“Since you’re a grown woman now, you should go forth girt as for war. Though you’re not allowed to wear

Humakt and Babeester yet, before you ask.” He arrayed Vinga as if for battle, and ruffled her hair. “Now

you may go.”

And Vinga stepped out, and Osara was the first to see her, and her eyes glowed. And Inora was there

to see her, and her eyes flashed white. And Triolina had “by chance” come to visit her kinsperson

Heler, and her eyes washed over Vinga too. And such goddesses as Vorma, Jrust, Laskal, Slon,

Pent, and Fron looked Vinga over and cooed appreciatively over her spear and made many offers

and advances, and Vinga pulled Osara to her side and said that she would be glad to, but only if

Osara came with her. And Osara clung to Vinga closely. 

There was a grand festival, then, as everyone indulged in fish, and Vinga and Osara clung together

throughout. But as Vinga was returning from a call of nature much later alone, she was met by a

woman in red. "Alas that I am burdened by my nonexistence," the woman said, "for I have missed

the chance to contend with the little storm and her strong spear today."

"Who are you?" Vinga asked, a little unnerved. 

"I'm an old companion of your father's," the woman said, "and an old enemy too. I wander

wherever I like and nobody takes any mind of me, whether for good or for ill. Three times have I

risen so far, and four more shall I rise." She folded her arms. "What will you do, Vinga?"

Vinga looked into the woman's face, and after a long moment of silence kissed her. "Until we

meet again," she said. 

The woman smiled. "Yes, until we meet again!" And she bowed to Vinga and turned away and vanished. 

And Vinga returned to the festival. And from that day forward she and Osara have been inseparable

as Vinga explored the world outside the tula, and in even the most inhospitable places, Vinga knows

how to walk. And so the rule of Orlanth and Ernalda spread across the whole of the world under Vinga

and Osara's feet. And Vinga's spear was thrust into many places, and many were the seeds planted

for her sister Babeester to complain about. 

Commentary and some notes on what I have learned about pursuing this myth on the Otherside to follow at a later date.