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

It took time to change their battlefield strategy. An army was like a massive chull at times, lumbering along, slow to react. Before his orders could be executed, the new Parshendi force began crossing over onto the north side. That was where Sadeas was fighting. Dalinar couldn’t get a good view, and scout reports were taking too long.

He glanced to the side; there was a tall rock formation nearby. It had uneven sides, making it look a little like a pile of boards stacked one atop another. He grabbed his Shardblade in the middle of a report and ran across the stony ground, smashing a few Rockbuds beneath his plated boots. The Cobalt Guard and the messengers followed quickly.

At the rock formation, Dalinar tossed his Blade aside, letting it dissolve to smoke. He threw himself up and grabbed the rock, scaling the formation. Seconds later, he heaved himself up onto its flat top.

The battlefield stretched out below him. The main Parshendi army was a mass of red and black at the center of the plateau, now pressed on two sides by the Alethi. Sadeas’ bridge crews waited on a western plateau, ignored, while the new force of Parshendi crossed from the north onto the battlefield.

Stormfather, but they can jump, Dalinar thought, watching the Parshendi span the gap in powerful leaps. Six years of fighting had shown Dalinar that human soldiers—particularly if lightly armored—could outrun Parshendi troops if they had to go more than a few dozen yards. But those thick, powerful Parshendi legs could send them far when they leaped.

Not a single Parshendi lost his footing as they crossed the chasm. They approached the chasm at a trot, then dashed with a burst of speed for about ten feet, launching themselves forward. The new force pushed south, directly into Sadeas’s army. Raising a hand against the bright white sunlight, Dalinar found he could make out Sadeas’s personal banner.

It was directly in the path of the oncoming Parshendi force; he tended to remain at the back of his armies, in a secure position. Now, that position suddenly became the front lines, and Sadeas’s other troops were too slow to disengage and react. He didn’t have any support.

Sadeas! Dalinar thought, stepping right up to the lip of the stone, his cape streaming behind him in the breeze. I need to send him my reserve spearmen—

But no, they’d be too slow.

The spearmen couldn’t get to him. But someone mounted might be able to.

“Gallant!” Dalinar bellowed, throwing himself off the rock formation. He fell to the rocks below, Plate absorbing the shock as he hit, cracking the stone. Stormlight puffed up around him, rising from his armor, and the greaves cracked slightly.

Gallant pulled away from his minders, galloping across the stones at Dalinar’s call. As the horse approached, Dalinar grabbed the saddle-holds and heaved himself up and into place. “Follow if you can,” he bellowed at his honor guard, “and send a runner to tell my son he now commands our army!”

Dalinar reared Gallant and galloped alongside the perimeter of the battlefield. His guard called for their horses, but they’d have difficulty keeping up with a Ryshadium.

So be it.

Fighting soldiers became a blur to Dalinar’s right. He leaned low in the saddle, wind hissing as it blew over his Shardplate. He held a hand out and summoned Oathbringer. It dropped into his hand, steaming and frosted, as he turned Gallant around the western tip of the battlefield. By design, the original Parshendi army lay between his force and Sadeas’s. He didn’t have time to round them. So, taking a deep breath, Dalinar struck out through the middle of it. Their ranks were spread out because of how they fought.

Gallant galloped through them, and Parshendi threw themselves out of the massive stallion’s way, cursing in their melodic language. Hooves beat a thunder upon the rocks; Dalinar urged Gallant on with his knees. They had to keep momentum. Some Parshendi fighting on the front against Sadeas’s force turned and ran at him. They saw the opportunity. If Dalinar fell, he’d land alone, surrounded by thousands of enemies.

Dalinar’s heart thumped as he held his Blade out, trying to swipe at Parshendi who came too close. Within minutes, he approached the northwestern Parshendi line. There, his enemies formed up, raising spears and setting them against the ground.

Blast! Dalinar thought. Parshendi had never set spears like that against heavy cavalry before. They were starting to learn.

Dalinar charged the formation, then wheeled Gallant at the last moment, turning parallel to the Parshendi spear wall. He swung his Shardblade out to the side, shearing the tips from their weapons and hitting a few arms. A patch of Parshendi just ahead wavered, and Dalinar took a deep breath, urging Gallant directly into them, shearing off a few spear tips. Another one bounced off his shoulder armor, and Gallant took a long gash on the left flank.

Their momentum carried them forward, trampling over the Parshendi, and with a whinny, Gallant burst free of the Parshendi line just to the side of where Sadeas’s main force was engaging the enemy.

Dalinar’s heart pumped. He passed Sadeas’s force in a blur, galloping toward the back lines, where a churning, disorganized chaos of men tried to react to the new Parshendi force. Men screamed and died, a mess of forest green Alethi and Parshendi in black and red.

There! Dalinar saw Sadeas’s banner flap for a moment before falling. He threw himself from Gallant’s saddle and hit the stones. The horse turned away, understanding. His wound was bad, and Dalinar would not risk him any further.

It was time for the slaughter to begin again.

He tore into the Parshendi force from the side, and some turned, looks of surprise in their usually stoic black eyes. At times the Parshendi seemed alien, but their emotions were so human. The Thrill rose and Dalinar did not force it down. He needed it too much. An ally was in danger.

It was time to let the Blackthorn loose.

Dalinar punched through the Parshendi ranks. He felled Parshendi like a man sweeping crumbs from the table after a meal. There was no controlled precision here, no careful engagement of a few squads with his honor guard at the back. This was a full-out attack, with all the power and deadly force of a life-long killer enhanced by Shards. He was like a tempest, slashing through legs, torsos, arms, necks, killing, killing, killing. He was a maelstrom of death and steel. Weapons bounced off his armor, leaving tiny cracks. He killed dozens, always moving, forcing his way toward where Sadeas’s banner had fallen.

Eyes burned, swords flashed in the sky, and Parshendi sang. The close press of their own troops—bunching up as they hit Sadeas’s line—inhibited them. But not Dalinar. He didn’t have to worry about striking friends, nor did he have to worry about his weapon getting caught in flesh or stuck in armor. And if corpses got in his way, he sheared through them—dead flesh would cut like steel and wood.