Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive #3)

He set down the chair and checked his forearm clock. Stupid thing. He was growing far too dependent upon it. The arm device had a painrial in it too: a kind of fabrial with a spren that feasted upon pain. He’d never yet remembered to use the thing.

Twelve minutes left. Assuming Elthebar’s calculations were correct. With spanreeds confirming the storm’s arrival hours before in the east, the calculations were down to judging the speed of the storm.

A runner arrived at the door. Creer—the duty sergeant for guards today—accepted it. He was a bridgeman from … Bridge Twenty, was it? He and his brother were both guards, though Creer wore spectacles, unlike his twin.

“Message from Brightness Khal, sir,” Creer said, handing the note to Navani. It looked like it had come from a spanreed. It had marks on the sides from the clips that had held it to the board, and the tight letters covered only the center of the page.

“From Fen,” Navani said. “A merchant ship vanished in the Southern Depths this morning, just off Marat. They went ashore at what they hoped was a safe distance—to use the spanreed—and reported a large number of ships at dock along the coast. Glowing figures rose from a nearby city and descended upon them, and the communication cut off.”

“Confirmation,” Dalinar said, “that the enemy is building up a navy.” If that fleet launched from Marat before his own ships were ready, or if the winds were wrong when his armada did launch …

“Have Teshav write back to the Thaylens,” Dalinar said. “Suggest to Queen Fen and our other allies that we hold the next meeting in Thaylen City. We’ll want to inspect fortifications and shore up the ground defenses.”

He sent the guards to wait outside, then approached the window and checked his wrist clock. Just a few minutes left. He thought he could see the stormwall below, but it was difficult to be sure from this height. He wasn’t accustomed to looking down on a highstorm.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Navani asked.

“The Stormfather asked me something similar this morning. I asked him if he knew the first rule of warfare.”

“Is that the one about terrain, or the one about attacking where the enemy is weak?”

He could pick it out now, a dark ripple surging through the sky below.

“Neither,” Dalinar said.

“Ah, right,” Navani said. “I should have guessed.” She was nervous, with good cause. It was the first time he’d stepped back into the visions since meeting Odium.

But Dalinar felt blind in this war. He didn’t know what the enemy wanted, or how they intended to exploit their conquests.

The first rule of war. Know your enemy.

He raised his chin as the storm slammed into Urithiru, roughly at the height of its third tier.

All went white. Then Dalinar appeared in the ancient palace—the large open room with sandstone pillars and a balcony that looked out on an antiquated version of Kholinar. Nohadon strode through the center of the pillared chamber. This was the youthful Nohadon, not the elderly version from his recent dream.

Dalinar had taken the place of a guardsman, near the doors. A slender Parshendi woman appeared beside the king, in the spot Dalinar had occupied so long ago. Her skin was marbled red and white in a complex pattern, and she had long orange-red hair. She looked down with red eyes, surprised by her sudden appearance and the robes she wore, those of an advisor to the king.

Nohadon began speaking to her as if she were his friend Karm. “I don’t know what to do, old friend.”

Odium sees that a vision has begun, the Stormfather warned Dalinar. The enemy is focusing on us. He comes.

“Can you hold him back?”

I am but a shadow of a god. His power vastly outstrips my own. He sounded smaller than Dalinar was accustomed to. Like the quintessential bully, the Stormfather didn’t know how to face someone stronger than himself.

“Can you hold him back? I need time to talk to her.”

I will … try.

Good enough. Unfortunately, it meant that Dalinar didn’t have time to let this Parshendi woman experience the vision in full. He strode toward her and Nohadon.

*

Venli turned around. Where was she? This wasn’t Marat. Had Odium summoned her again?

No. It’s the wrong storm. He doesn’t come during highstorms.

A young Alethi male in robes was blathering at her. She ignored him, biting her hand to see if she could feel the pain.

She could. She shook her hand and looked down at the robes she wore. This couldn’t be a dream. It was too real.

“My friend?” the Alethi man asked. “Are you well? I realize that events have taken their toll on us all, but—”

Footsteps rang loudly on the stone as another Alethi man approached, wearing a crisp blue uniform. White dusted the hair at his temples, and his face wasn’t as … round as other human faces. His features could almost have been those of a listener, even if that nose was wrong and the face bore far more creases than a listener’s ever would.

Wait … she thought, attuning Curiosity. Is that …

“Disturbance on the battlefield, sir,” the older man said to her companion. “You are needed immediately.”

“What is this? I didn’t hear—”

“They didn’t say what it was, Your Majesty, only that you are urgently requested.”

The human king drew his lips to a tight line, and then—obviously frustrated—stalked toward the doorway. “Come,” he said to Venli.

The older man grabbed her arm above the elbow. “Don’t,” he said softly. “We need to talk.”

This is the Alethi warlord.

“My name is Dalinar Kholin,” the man said. “I lead the Alethi, and you’re seeing a vision of past events. Only your mind has been transported, not your body. We two are the only real people here.”

She yanked her arm out of his hand and attuned Irritation. “How … why have you brought me here?”

“I want to talk.”

“Of course you do. Now that you’re losing, now that we’ve seized your capital, now you want to talk. What of the years spent slaughtering my people on the Shattered Plains?” It had been a game to them. Listener spy reports had shown the humans had enjoyed the sport on the Shattered Plains. Claiming wealth, and listener lives, as part of a grand contest.

“We were willing to talk, when you sent your emissary,” Dalinar said. “The Shardbearer. I’m willing to talk again now. I want to forget old grievances, even those personal to me.”

Venli walked away, still attuned to Irritation. “How have you brought me to this place? Is this a prison?” Is this your work, Odium? Testing my loyalty with a false vision of the enemy?

She was using the old rhythms. She’d never been able to do that when Odium’s attention had been on her.

“I’ll send you back soon,” Kholin said, catching up to her. Though he was not short for a human, her current form was a good six inches taller than he was. “Please, just hear me out. I need to know. What would a truce between our people cost?”

“A truce?” she asked to Amusement, stopping near the balcony. “A truce?”

“Peace. No Desolation. No war. What would it cost?”

“Well, for a start, it would cost your kingdom.”

He grimaced. His words were dead, like those of all humans, but he wore his feelings on his face. So much passion and emotion.

Is that why the spren betrayed us for them?