Chapter 9

All agree the first key moment came when Kaladin Stormblessed listened. Though not an Edgedancer, he did a fine impression of their oaths.

—From Knights of Wind and Truth , page 8

K aladin hesitated. Listening. What was that feeling?

An urgency. He needed to keep moving. He and Syl hurried into the next room of the Windrunner quarters. Here he found Skar—who was, with Lopen, one of the two Windrunner captainlords beneath Sigzil, who was companylord. Kaladin had recommended Skar’s promotion to company second, but he had turned it down since he wanted to focus on training. Today Skar was teaching new recruits one of his favorite lessons, that of quickly setting up and breaking down a defensible camp.

This new group encompassed almost all ages, and was split pretty much half and half male and female. More darkeyes than light. What would cause a woman in her fifties to leave her hearth and take up a spear? But then, Kaladin supposed her motivations might not be that different from his own. Protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves.

The chamber was large and wide, big enough for four separate teams of eight to practice. Kaladin passed among them as they quickly set up bedrolls and camouflage nets to hide from air patrols, pretending this large stone room was out in the field. Skar walked the perimeter, tossing spears out the window, completely unnoticed by the teams of working recruits.

Kaladin smiled as he trotted over to the shorter Windrunner. Skar always reminded Kaladin of Teft, as he had the air of a career soldier, and wore his uniform like a second skin. Like a lot of the original Bridge Four members, Skar had foreign heritage.

As Kaladin joined Skar, the man picked up another spear from beside the wall and tossed it out the window. They were on the third story—not far up by Urithiru reckoning, but that still meant quite a drop. Presumably Skar had warned the workers outside; they always got a kick out of watching the spears go out the window, and would make sure nobody was hurt.

“Storms,” Kaladin said, glancing at the squires—who in their haste to assemble their camps hadn’t yet noticed that Skar was stealing their weapons. “This group is particularly oblivious, aren’t they?”

“Gave them four warnings,” Skar said, walking over to another group of spears leaned against the wall.

“What’s this?” Syl asked, watching with wide eyes as Skar started tossing the spears out the window.

“This lot of recruits needs to learn to think like soldiers now,” Skar said. “I’m giving them a little lesson.”

“You have to keep your spear with you at all times,” Kaladin explained. “It’s one of the first things a sergeant drills into you. You can’t just have weapons sitting around, tripping everyone—and more, an attack could happen at any moment.”

“Mostly though, it’s about responsibility,” Skar said, tossing another spear. Kaladin heard a distant clatter as it hit the stones of the field outside. “And obeying orders.” Skar shook his head in annoyance. “Anyway, you need something, Kal?”

“Did any other honorspren come with that one that’s been following Dabbid?” Kaladin said, scanning the wide room. He didn’t pick out any honorspren among these recruits, but they often remained invisible.

“Nope,” Skar said. “Sorry.”

“Only one?” Syl asked. “There are hundreds of spren in Lasting Integrity.”

“That one said others should be on their way,” Skar said.

Storms. Kaladin hoped so.

“So you saw Dabbid?” Skar asked, nudging him.

“I did,” Kaladin said, grinning.

“Any idea what will happen with his … ailment once he’s bonded?”

“Honestly, no,” Kaladin said. “But whatever happens, or doesn’t happen, I suspect Dabbid will get a say.”

He surveyed the recruits again, feeling … not a sadness. A melancholy. One solemnityspren—rare indeed—spiraled up around him, like an almost invisible grey-blue serpent. “Hey,” he said, realizing his true reason for coming in here. “Watch out for Sigzil. He’s going to need a good sergeant behind him, Skar. I know you’re not one of those, but—”

“I get it,” Skar said. “And I agree. Sig’ll do a good job, sir. Plus he’s got Lopen to help out too.”

“That’s part of what worries me …”

Skar grinned. “Lopen will surprise you, Kal. He’s changing. Guess we all are, now that we don’t have you to watch over us. Kids gotta grow up sometime.” He looked into Kaladin’s eyes, searching them. “You’re going somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Kaladin said.

“Dangerous?”

“Not supposed to be,” Kaladin said. “I have reason to worry though, and Wit implied something … storms, like I might not be coming—”

“You’ll be back,” Skar said.

“I don’t know if I will, Skar. Not this time.”

“I was there when the storms tried to claim you. We went out to cut down a corpse, and found you alive. There’s more than a bit of the wind to you, Kal, and the east wind sees tomorrow before anyone else does. You’ll be back.”

“You can’t see the future, Skar.”

He merely shrugged and walked up to the last pile of spears by the wall. Skar began tossing them out the window. “You let the others know you’re leaving? You said goodbye, right?”

“I … Not yet. I might need to leave before …”

Kaladin trailed off as Skar gave him a hard stare. Almost as good as Teft might have. The kind of stare that said, If you storming want to do something stupid, sir, I won’t call it stupid. To your face.

“I’ll go and say goodbye,” Kaladin said with a sigh. “Just in case.”

“Good to hear it, sir,” Skar said, tossing another spear out. “They’ve got that party for Rlain getting his spren. You could stop by there. And Drehy is bringing Highprince Adolin and Radiant Shallan back from Shadesmar later today.”

“When will they arrive?”

“Should reach Azimir about an hour before midnight.”

There would be time, then, if Kaladin was in Azimir waiting for the highstorm. As he was contemplating this, the nearest group of squires finally saw what Skar was doing. Several of them yelped as they realized he’d managed to dispose of every spear in the place save three.

Skar doubled his pace, tossing two more spears out the window before—at last—one of the new recruits managed to grab his weapon and hold it tight. Like a mother with a newborn, eyes wide. The rest simply gaped out the window.

Skar grinned. The man enjoyed all this a little too much. Kaladin had led, but Skar … he’d been born to teach. It took talent to be a good soldier, but a different kind entirely to make good soldiers.

“We’re under attack!” Skar bellowed. “Squires, to arms and form ranks!”

Stunned silence.

Then mass chaos.

Skar gave Kaladin a wink as he and Syl edged around the side of the room, avoiding the rush of squires who—to their horror—found their weapons missing.

“Sir!” one of them shouted. “Our spears!”

“Stolen by the enemy when you weren’t looking, you dun spheres!” Skar bellowed. “Might have thrown them out the windows!”

“What do we do?” another asked.

Skar gave her the most withering of stares. “You go and get them. What do you think?”

Kaladin glanced at Syl, and the two of them lifted off the ground and streaked out through the quartermaster’s office—where Kaladin gave Leyten a hug and grabbed his pack. He then got out of the way of the rush of recruits running for the lower level. Kaladin almost felt sorry for them—except that this lesson of keeping track of their weapons would almost certainly save some of their lives.

Syl nodded the way down another corridor. “We have some time?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll drop in and say goodbye to the others at Rlain’s celebration—everyone but Drehy should be back from patrol by then—and that’s in an hour or so.”

“Well, we’ve fetched your things,” she said. Her havah fuzzed and again became a Bridge Four uniform. “It’s time to fetch mine.”

“You have … things?” Kaladin asked.

She grinned eagerly, and flew off through the corridor.

Shallan crashed into the bead ocean.

As always, the beads were attracted to her Stormlight. They were small; smaller than spheres, but not tiny. Like beads from a necklace. They clacked and clattered, surging against her, suffocating her. The motions created an undertow, and it always felt like something was trying to pull her down. She should have been able to do something to stop that. Her powers were supposed to give her uncommon affinity with the beads.

She’d always feared this place; the first visions she’d had of it, as a girl, had terrified her. Worse, those memories were tied to what she’d done to her mother, and the events surrounding Testament’s death.

Emotions and memories made a jumbled mess inside Shallan. Like vines tangled and wrapped together until they formed an impenetrable snarl.

Fortunately, she had Radiant.

As Shallan panicked, Radiant surfaced. She felt among the beads, each of them speaking softly, giving her an impression of what it represented in the Physical Realm. A moment later, marshaling her Stormlight, Radiant used the impression of a building to give organization to the beads. She rose from the surface of the ocean on the top of the building. The real one was probably metal, but this one was formed of the beads locking together into a kind of mesh.

Radiant spat out a few beads, then stood up. She needed to find Adolin, who would suffocate without—

Drehy came swooping past, carrying Adolin. Radiant let out a relieved sigh as the Windrunner dropped Shallan’s husband to the platform. Adolin coughed, groaning, but otherwise seemed well.

Shallan emerged as she rushed over and grabbed him in a hug, then kissed him squarely right there. Who cared who saw?

“This is bad, Shallan,” Drehy said, landing with a thump on the bead rooftop, making it shake. “Heavenly Ones are normally careful, engaging and breaking off quickly. This was a full-on attack meant to kill us.”

Radiant took over again and scanned the sky—though the battle had moved into the distance. “And what is your assessment of our tactical next step?”

“… Radiant?” Drehy asked.

Radiant nodded curtly.

“I dropped the spren into the beads,” Drehy said, pointing toward a nondescript section of the ocean. “They don’t need to breathe, and I figured that would hide them from the enemy and avoid hostages being taken.”

“Gallant?” Adolin said, climbing to his knees.

“I left him,” Drehy said. “His Lashing will last, and I doubt the enemy cares about a horse.”

Adolin didn’t seem to like that, but he nodded.

“I told my squires to disengage and split up,” Drehy explained. “There’s a river isthmus over to our right to use as a landmark. In the past we’ve seen the Heavenly Ones disengage after we made an obvious retreat.”

“A wise choice,” Radiant said. “Actions that scream, ‘We don’t want a fight just now.’ That might indeed work for Heavenly Ones.”

Heavenly Ones were usually used as scouts—and didn’t like to commit to full-on engagements. Except these had ambushed Shallan’s group from behind, then had fought full-out. Either this group was led by a particularly militaristic member of their brand, or …

Or something strange was happening. Radiant scanned the region, searching, then pointed. “Those lights on the horizon. What are—”

She was cut off as two Heavenly Ones erupted from the beads nearby, having used the ocean as cover to get close. Radiant fended one off with her fists, but a second Heavenly One grabbed the back of her coat and tossed her into the beads, an action more effective than cutting her, which she’d heal from. The beads swarmed around her and blinded her. She heard Adolin shout over the sound of thousands of beads and forced her head above the surface—but her platform was disintegrating now that she’d left it, dumping Adolin into the ocean as a Heavenly One slammed into Drehy.

Radiant was once more tugged into the beads. Her world became darkness, lit only by the glowing eyes of a Fused swimming through the beads nearby, the red light reflected a thousand times in glass. The Heavenly One slammed into her, and she battered the being’s arm—trying to break free as they sank.

Soon her back hit something hard. The beads parted, pulling away from the two figures, leaving Radiant and the Heavenly One alone in a kind of cave, the walls and floor made of beads. The Heavenly One held Radiant down by her shoulders with both hands. He had a pattern almost like a white glyph covering most of his face, only specks of black showing through.

“The beads hate our Light,” he whispered in heavily accented Alethi. “But they obey when we hold it, same as with Stormlight.” He leaned forward, white marbled face an inch from Radiant’s. “Lightweaver. I hate your kind. Always lying. Always shadows. You never obey your betters.”

Beads. Knitting to form walls. Radiant knew that you didn’t need a pattern to command them. Shallan had seen it, but the easier way—using a bead as a blueprint—was all she’d been able to do reliably.

I … Shallan thought, hidden deep within. I am supposed to be a master of this place.

Radiant wriggled, trying to push free. But despite her military mindset, she was no stronger of body than Shallan. Inside she was a girl of barely nineteen, slight of build and completely unarmed without her Blade.

My weapon … has never been a Blade, Radiant …

“How much Stormlight do you have?” the Heavenly One asked, keeping her pinned despite her struggles. He slipped one hand away from her and pulled a knife from a sheath at his waist. “Shall we see how many times you can heal before it runs out? My brothers and sisters are mad from so long with life, but I am sane because I bathe in the blood of Radiants, which renews me.”

He stabbed her in the shoulder, and she grunted in pain.

“Are you afraid, Lightweaver?” the Heavenly One growled.

Yes, Shallan said from within. I am.

“Are you certain you are ready?” Radiant whispered.

“Yes,” Shallan said. “I became ready when I confronted Veil, and my memories.”

What are the Words? Radiant asked.

“I said them already,” Shallan replied as the Heavenly One twisted the knife.

Say them again.

“I’m afraid,” Shallan said.

The Heavenly One smiled, lit by a dark light from a gemstone hanging around his neck, and by the red of his eyes.

“Afraid of everything,” she continued. “Terrified. Of the world. Of what might happen to my family. Most of all, of myself. I always have been.”

Strangely, some of the beads around her trembled when she said that. Only some of them. Wiggling, like things alive.

“You should fear me most of all,” the Heavenly One said. “I am Abidi the Monarch. I will rule this world, and I shall keep the Lightweavers. To bleed for me when …” He frowned as the little cavern started to glow. Light reflecting in each bead.

Light coming from Shallan’s eyes.

Radiant formed behind the Heavenly One, made of Stormlight, her head nearly brushing the roof. As Shallan imagined her: Taller than Shallan, stronger, with powerful biceps and a thick neck from extensive training. Hair in a braid, rather than Shallan’s messy, fraying bun. Strong—of a different genre of strength than Shallan—with a Shardblade in hand.

Abidi the Monarch laughed. “An illusion?” he said. “You think I’ll be distracted by something unreal?”

He continued laughing until the Shardblade speared him from behind, spilling orange blood on his fine white outfit.

Real blood. From a real wound. He gasped, looking down.

“Reality,” Shallan hissed, “is what I decide it to be.”