The Way of Kings, Part 1 (The Stormlight Archive #1.1)

“Yes,” Rock said proudly. “Is best way. On the Peaks, there is always food. Not every family has four sons. So not always is a soldier needed. I cannot fight. What man could do this thing before the Uli’tekanaki?”

Kaladin shot a glance at Syl. She shrugged, not seeming to care what Rock did. “All right,” he said. “I’ve got something else I want you to do, then. Go grab Lopen, Dabbid …” Kaladin hesitated. “And Shen. Get him too.”

Rock did so. Lopen was in the line, learning the stances, though Dabbid—as usual—stood off to the side, staring at nothing in particular. Whatever had taken him, it was far worse than regular battle shock. Shen stood beside him, hesitant, as if not certain of his place.

Rock pulled Lopen out of the line, then grabbed Dabbid and Shen and walked back to Kaladin.

“Gancho,” Lopen said, with a lazy salute. “Guess I’ll make a poor spearman, with one hand.”

“That’s all right,” Kaladin said. “I have something else I need you to do. We’ll see trouble from Gaz and our new captain—or at least his wife—if we don’t bring back salvage.”

“We three cannot do the work of thirty, Kaladin,” Rock said, scratching at his beard. “Is not possible.”

“Maybe not,” Kaladin said. “But most of our time down in these chasms is spent looking for corpses that haven’t been picked clean. I think we can work a lot faster. We need to work a lot faster, if we’re going to train with the spear. Fortunately, we have an advantage.”

He held out his hand, and Syl alighted on it. He’d spoken to her earlier, and she’d agreed to his plan. He didn’t notice her doing anything special, but Lopen suddenly gasped. Syl had made herself visible to him.

“Ah …” Rock said, bowing in respect to Syl. “Like gathering reeds.”

“Well flick my sparks,” Lopen said. “Rock, you never said it was so pretty!”

Syl smiled broadly.

“Be respectful,” Rock said. “Is not for you to speak of her in that way, little person.”

The men knew about Syl, of course. Kaladin didn’t speak of her, but they saw him talking to the air, and Rock had explained.

“Lopen,” Kaladin said. “Syl can move far more quickly than a bridgeman. She will search out places for you to gather, and you four can pick through things quickly.”

“Dangerous,” Rock said. “What if we meet chasmfiend while alone?”

“Unfortunately, we can’t come back empty-handed. The last thing we want is Hashal deciding to send Gaz down to supervise.”

Lopen snorted. “He’d never do that, gancho. Too much work down here.”

“Too dangerous too,” Rock added.

“Everyone says that,” Kaladin said. “But I’ve never seen more than these scrapes on the walls.”

“They’re down here,” Rock said. “Is not just legend. Just before you came, half a bridge crew was killed. Eaten. Most beasts come to the middle plateaus, but there are some who come this far.”

“Well, I hate to put you in danger, but unless we try this, we’ll have chasm duty taken from us and we’ll end up cleaning latrines instead.”

“All right, gancho,” Lopen said. “I’ll go.”

“As will I,” Rock said. “With ali’i’kamura to protect, perhaps it will be safe.”

“I intend to teach you to fight eventually,” Kaladin said. Then as Rock frowned, Kaladin hastily added, “You, Lopen, I mean. One arm doesn’t mean you’re useless. You’ll be at a disadvantage, but there are things I can teach you to deal with that. Right now a scavenger is more important to us than another spear.”

“Sounds swift to me.” Lopen gestured to Dabbid, and the two walked over to gather sacks for the collecting. Rock moved to join them, but Kaladin took his arm.

“I haven’t given up on finding an easier way out of here than fighting,” Kaladin said to him. “If we never returned, Gaz and the others would probably just assume that a chasmfiend got us. If there’s some way to reach the other side …”

Rock looked skeptical. “Many have searched for this thing.”

“The eastern edge is open.”

“Yes,” Rock said, laughing, “and when you are able to travel that far without being eaten by chasmfiend or killed in floods, I shall name you my kaluk’i’iki.”

Kaladin raised an eyebrow.

“Only a woman can be kaluk’i’iki,” Rock said, as if that explained the joke.

“Wife?”

Rock laughed even louder. “No, no. Airsick lowlanders. Ha!”

“Great. Look, see if you can memorize the chasms, perhaps make a map of some kind. I suspect that most who come down here stick to the established routes. That means we’re much more likely to find salvage down side passages; that’s where I’ll be sending Syl.”

“Side passages?” Rock said, still amused. “One might begin to think you want me to be eaten. Ha, and by a greatshell. They are supposed to be tasted, not tasting.”

“I—”

“No, no,” Rock said. “Is a good plan. I only jest. I can be careful, and this will be good for me to do, since I do not wish to fight.”

“Thank you. Maybe you’ll you happen upon a place we could climb out.”

“I will do this thing,” Rock said, nodding. “But we cannot simply climb out. The army has many scouts on the Plains. Is how they know when chasmfiends come to pupate, eh? They will see us, and we will not be able to cross chasms without bridge.”

It was a good argument, unfortunately. Climb up here, and they’d be seen. Climb out in the middle, and they’d be stuck on plateaus without anywhere to go. Climb out closer to the Parshendi areas, and they’d be found by their scouts. That was assuming they could get out of the chasms. Though some were as shallow as forty or fifty feet, many were well over a hundred feet deep.

Syl zipped away to lead Rock and his crew, and Kaladin moved back to the main body of bridgemen to help Teft correct stances. It was difficult work; the first day always was. The bridgemen were sloppy and uncertain.

But they also showed remarkable resolve. Kaladin had never worked with a group who made fewer complaints. The bridgemen didn’t ask for a break. They didn’t shoot him resentful glances when he pushed them harder. The scowls they bore were at their own foibles, angry at themselves for not learning faster.

And they got it. After just a few hours, the more talented of them—Moash at the forefront—started to change into fighting men. Their stances grew firmer, more confident. When they should have been feeling exhausted and frustrated, they were more determined.

Kaladin stepped back, watching Moash fall into his stance after Teft shoved him. It was a resetting exercise—Moash would let Teft knock him backward, then would scramble back and set his feet. Time and time again. The purpose was to train oneself to revert to the stance without thinking. Kaladin normally wouldn’t have started resetting exercises until the second or third day. Yet here, Moash was drinking it in after only two hours. There were two others—Drehy and Skar—who were nearly as quick to learn.