Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive #3)

“They advance back into place after each storm,” Azure said softly. “And camp a portion of their army out there. That’s good battle sense, to prevent us from being resupplied—and to make sure we don’t know when they’ll attack. Nightmares, Kal. A real Voidbringer army.

“If that were an Alethi force, the people in this city wouldn’t have much to worry about. Sure, there would be casualties on the wall, but no would-be king of Alethkar is going to burn and pillage the capital. But those aren’t Alethi. They’re monsters. At best, they’ll enslave the entire populace. At worst…” She let the thought dangle, then looked at him. “I’m glad you have a brand. It says you’re dangerous, and we have narrow confines up here on the wall. We can’t simply press every eligible man; I need real soldiers, men who know what they’re doing.”

“So that’s why I’m here?” Kaladin asked. “To see that?”

“I want you to think,” Azure said. “I tell the men—this Wall Guard, this is redemption. If you fight here, nobody will care what you did before. Because they know if we fall, this city and this nation will be no more.

“Nothing matters, except holding this wall when that assault comes. You can go hide in the city and pray that we are strong enough without you. But if we aren’t, you’ll be no more than another corpse. Up here, you can fight. Up here, you have a chance.

“We won’t press you. Walk away tonight. Lie down and think about what is coming; imagine another night when men are up here dying, bleeding for you. Think about how powerless you’ll feel if the monsters get in. Then when you come back tomorrow, we’ll get you a Wall Guard patch.”

It was a potent speech. Kaladin glanced to Syl, who landed on his shoulder, then took a long look at the lights on the horizon.

Are you out there, Sah? Did they bring you and the others here? What of Sah’s little daughter, who had collected flowers and clutched playing cards like a treasured toy? Was Khen there, the parshwoman who had demanded Kaladin retain his freedom, despite being angry at him for the entire trip?

Winds send that they hadn’t been dragged further into this mess.

He joined the others in clattering back down the stairwell. Afterward, Noro and the rest of the squad bade him a happy farewell, as if certain he’d return. And he probably would, though not for the reasons they assumed.

He went back to the mansion and forced himself to chat with some of the guards at the lighteyed tent, though he learned nothing, and his brands made something of a stir among them. Adolin and Elhokar finally emerged, their illusions intact. So what was wrong with Kaladin’s? The sphere Shallan had given him was still infused.

Kaladin gathered Drehy and Skar, then joined the king and Adolin as they started the walk home.

“What has you so thoughtful, Captain?” Elhokar asked.

“I think,” Kaladin said, eyes narrowed, “I might have found us another Radiant.”





ELEVEN YEARS AGO


There weren’t enough boats for an amphibious attack on Rathalas, so Dalinar was forced to use a more conventional assault. He marched down from the west—having sent Adolin back to Kholinar—and assigned Sadeas and his forces to come in from the east. They converged toward the Rift.

Dalinar spent much of the trip passing through pungent smoke trails from the incense Evi burned in a small censer attached to the side of her carriage. A petition to the Heralds to bless her marriage.

He often heard her weeping inside the vehicle, though whenever she left it she was perfectly composed. She read letters, scribed his responses, and took notes at his meetings with generals. In every way, she was the perfect Alethi wife—and her unhappiness crushed his soul.

Eventually they reached the plains around the lake, crossing the riverbed—which was dry, except during storms. The rockbuds drank so fully of the local water supply, they’d grown to enormous sizes. Some were taller than a man’s waist, and the vines they produced were as thick as Dalinar’s wrist.

He rode alongside the carriage—his horse’s hooves beating a familiar rhythm on the stones beneath—and smelled incense. Evi’s hand reached out of her carriage’s side window, and she placed another glyphward into the censer. He didn’t see her face, and her hand retreated quickly.

Storming woman. An Alethi would be using this as a ploy to guilt him into bending. But she wasn’t Alethi, for all her earnest imitations. Evi was far too genuine, and her tears were real. She sincerely thought their spat back in the Veden fortress boded ill for their relationship.

That bothered him. More than he wanted to admit.

A young scout jogged up to give him the latest report: The vanguard had secured his desired camp ground near the city. There had been no fighting yet, and he hadn’t expected any. Tanalan would not abandon the walls around the Rift to try to control ground beyond bowshot.

It was good news, but Dalinar still wanted to snap at the messenger—he wanted to snap at someone. Stormfather, this battle couldn’t come soon enough. He restrained himself and sent the messenger woman away with a word of thanks.

Why did he care so much about Evi’s petulance? He’d never let his arguments with Gavilar bother him. Storms, he’d never let his arguments with Evi bother him this way before. It was strange. He could have the accolades of men, fame that stretched across a continent, but if she didn’t admire him, he felt that he had somehow failed. Could he really ride into combat feeling like this?

No. He couldn’t.

Then do something about it. As they wound through the plain of rockbuds, he called to the driver of Evi’s carriage, having him stop. Then, handing his horse’s reins to an attendant, he climbed into the carriage.

Evi bit her lip as he settled down on the seat across from her. It smelled nice within—the incense was fainter here, while the crem dust of the road was blocked by wood and cloth. The cushions were plush, and she had some dried fruit in a dish, even some chilled water.

“What is wrong?” she demanded.

“I was feeling saddle sore.”

She cocked her head. “Perhaps you could request a salve—”

“I want to talk, Evi,” Dalinar said with a sigh. “I’m not actually sore.”

“Oh.” She pulled her knees up against her chest. In here, she had undone and rolled back her safehand sleeve, displaying her long, elegant fingers.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Dalinar said, looking away from the safehand. “You’ve been praying nonstop.”

“For the Heralds to soften your heart.”

“Right. Well, they’ve done that. Here I am. Let’s talk.”

“No, Dalinar,” she said, reaching across to fondly touch his knee. “I wasn’t praying for myself, but for those of your countrymen you are planning to kill.”

“The rebels?”

“Men no different from you, who happened to be born in another city. What would you have done, had an army come to conquer your home?”

“I’d have fought,” Dalinar said. “As they will. The better men will dominate.”

“What gives you the right?”

“My sword.” Dalinar shrugged. “If the Almighty wants us to rule, we’ll win. If He doesn’t, then we’ll lose. I rather think He wants to see which of us is stronger.”