Chapter 65

These days, it seems she and I are the only ones capable of maintaining any manner of isolation. I can tell you, with absolute certainty, she does not want to see you again. It has not been too long. No, I do not think it ever will be.

R adiant spun away from the confused guards as Renarin called out a warning. Damnation. She hadn’t considered that Mraize might have taken the form of Tanavast. Yet he—glowing, deific, with long white hair and strange-fitting robes—pushed Renarin aside and pulled a knife from his belt, lunging at her.

Guards scattered, confused, running from the tent as they saw a god strike murderously at one of the Heralds. Radiant leaped back as Mraize swiped, then she slashed with her own knife—the one that warped the air—forcing him back. She had training in knives, although Adolin disliked them.

It’s hard to not lose a knife fight, even if you win, she remembered him telling her. Most of the blocks involve sacrificing a limb to put your knife in the other fellow’s eye.

Yet she felt alive with Stormlight urging her forward. She slashed three times at Mraize. Now that he’d dropped the act, she could see his smile on the god’s features. He expertly dodged Rlain, who came in for a tackle, then casually shoved Renarin out of the way.

Rlain recovered, grabbing a spear from the last remaining guard—who stood frozen with fear. Renarin went tumbling. Rlain fell in beside her, spear at the ready, as they faced Mraize, whose robes shone with an inner light. He stepped back, knife in a reverse grip, his stance threatening.

“Watch for Iyatil,” Radiant whispered. “That final guard might be her.”

“They let me take the spear,” Rlain whispered back.

“Iyatil might do that,” Radiant said, “if she thought it would put you off guard. I’m not sure it’s her, but she’s here somewhere.”

Rlain hummed softly and repositioned so he could watch both Mraize and the panicked guard. “Warning. I’m in a human femalen’s body. I keep expecting to be taller, my reach to go farther. I won’t be fighting in top condition.”

She nodded and counted slowly, then together they rushed Mraize—who whipped out a blowgun and planted a dart straight in Rlain’s eye. The singer cursed, stumbling, as Mraize shoved Radiant off balance.

She fell, then scrambled back up—but Mraize was calculating and quick. He swiftly got his knife in Rlain’s throat and sent him toppling. Radiant struck at Mraize from behind, but he danced away while Renarin grabbed Rlain, crying out. He and Rlain fuzzed. A moment later the two Heralds they’d been impersonating were staring with glassy expressions. Their spren must have pulled them out.

Mraize glanced at the others, momentarily distracted. As Adolin had taught her, Radiant attacked him from the side. Shallan’s husband’s training proved correct: in a fight with multiple people, combatants would often expose themselves to take out one enemy. She pressed that advantage, and as Mraize turned to defend, she took his knife straight through her forearm—then planted her knife square in his chest.

They both froze. Her arm blazed with a good kind of pain, the kind she could easily ignore, the kind that sometimes just kept her alive and aware. Mraize, in turn, smiled.

“Well executed, little knife,” he said, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his voice becoming labored. He pulled back from her, stumbling, ripping his knife from her arm—and leaving her knife in her hand. “But did you expect that to kill me?”

Her left arm flared with pain, and she had trouble working her fingers. No, her strike hadn’t killed him—not even with the anti-Stormlight knife. Like when she’d taken the bolt to her side, anti-Stormlight didn’t automatically kill a human. He’d have some of it moving through his veins from her strike, but it would only activate if he was foolish enough to heal before it evaporated.

She drew in a little Stormlight and let her arm begin to reknit. She didn’t want to do too much, lest she attract Odium’s attention. Mraize leaned on the table, coughing again, and she was reminded of a different kind of pain. A pain that she hated, the pain that she’d felt upon stabbing Tyn through the heart so long ago, at the start of her journey.

She advanced on Mraize. If she stabbed him enough times, he’d be forced to draw in Stormlight.

“Do you even know?” he whispered through bloody lips. “What we’re doing in here?”

The two Heralds lay on the floor dazed, eyes staring sightlessly, as did the final guard. It was as if … this part of the vision had gone so far off-plan that it was frozen.

“You’re here,” Shallan said, “because you seek Mishram’s prison.”

“Why, though?” Mraize asked. “You need to ask the difficult questions. I trained you to consider not merely the prey, but the hunt.”

She halted, wary, watching blood trail down the side of a god’s mouth, then drip from his chin. She launched herself at him, refusing to be distracted, and he managed to catch her arm—barely. He put his face close to hers.

“Why?” he asked. “You can figure it out. I know you can. Why? Why is Mishram not already free?”

This stopped her. Despite it all, she paused. Trying to press her knife toward his eye, held in place by his grip. Why wasn’t she free?

This is the realm of the gods, she thought. Where Odium resides. He knows precisely where her prison is. He could have led someone here to free her.

Why hasn’t he?

“Odium wants her imprisoned,” she whispered.

Mraize nodded.

“He’s afraid of her, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Mraize said, smiling.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Mraize said. “But you learn to respect the thing the greatest predator fears. Master Thaidakar is smart, little knife. Maybe the smartest man I’ve ever met … or at least the most shrewd. He knows how dangerous Odium is, and is legitimately worried about him escaping. So, while the other Ghostbloods question, I hunt. Because I know.”

“We need leverage against Odium,” Shallan said.

“And this prison is it.” Mraize spat blood, wheezing as he spoke. “Help me.”

Shallan let her hand grow slack. He, his regal clothing stained red, stumbled back and barely remained upright, one hand resting on the table for strength.

She wanted to do as he said. She wanted to work with him.

Do you need me again? Radiant asked.

Yes, Shallan said.

We need to talk about how you made me take over earlier, so you wouldn’t have to see—

I’ll confront it soon, Shallan promised.

“Help you?” Radiant demanded. “Mraize, I’m here to kill you. ”

“Ah, but I created you, little knife,” Mraize said, his words slightly garbled from his punctured lung. “You cannot best your maker.” He winced. “You know how important our quest is. Let us put aside our differences and use this weapon against your enemy.”

“No, Mraize,” Radiant said. “I won’t be manipulated by you.”

“I warn you,” he growled. “We know more than you think.”

“And I know more than you think,” she said. “I know exactly why Odium is afraid.”

“Why?” he said.

“What happened to Adonalsium?” Radiant asked in turn. “The god that was killed, all those millennia ago?”

“He—or it—was murdered by common people.”

“Common or extraordinary,” Shallan said, “the god of gods was killed by its own creations. Yes, I can guess why Odium fears Mishram. Sometimes the parents’ greatest fear should be their children.” She raised her knife, stained with Mraize’s blood. “You helped make me, yes. That hasn’t saved any of the others.”

Shallan lunged, but Mraize had been overexaggerating his weakness. He seemed to have pulled in a little Stormlight—the anti-Light from her stab earlier had run out. He grabbed her arm and flung her to the side.

Before he could stab her, strong arms gripped him from behind. Radiant, in physical form, appeared from a white glowing mist. Shallan kicked him in the stomach, then advanced, prepared to do what she must.

When a voice whispered in her ear—her own voice.

“See it done, Shallan,” Formless said. “See him ended.”

Shallan froze, then searched the shadows of the tent, finding the figure there. Shallan, but with swirling black mist for a face. Terrifying.

“Kill him,” Formless said. “And kill Dalinar, who is always so judgmental of you.”

“I would never, ” Shallan hissed.

Radiant vanished, dropping Mraize.

“Dalinar is your father now,” Formless said. “Navani your mother. You will hurt them, as you’ve hurt everyone else. You will destroy because you cannot build—and anything you pretend to create is just an illusion. Gone in moments.”

“No,” she said. “No, I—”

“The others return with Talenel. They will find us here, and will know that we’ve lied again. It is inevitable.” Formless advanced on her. “This is what we are. ”

Shallan looked from her to Mraize. Panicked, she whispered, “Glys, Tumi, pull me out!”

The lines of light faded as Dalinar and the others strode through the camp outside. Not gone, but waiting until the tenth person was found.

Dalinar felt the power within him as he walked, but … as an echo. As a memory. This wasn’t real. He hadn’t actually sworn that oath … had he? He would keep it, of course, as it was what he already intended to do. An oath was the most powerful thing he knew, and without oaths, he wouldn’t even be worth his name. He had made mistakes, had killed people he loved, but he would never break an oath.

They passed soldiers who gaped at them as they glowed with Stormlight, moving through the center of the camp toward the outskirts. Until they found him.

Dalinar had seen Taln in the future—a hulking warrior with inhuman bulk and muscles. This was the same person, with the same daunting height, but he was of a more … ordinary build. A little flabby, with his tunic askew and his belt too loose. He was caring for the horses.

“The horse keeper?” Ishar asked, skeptical. “Wasn’t he dismissed from the front lines and forbidden a weapon?”

“Yes,” Jezrien said. “Nale, this is a bad idea.”

“Honor said he wanted someone who had interaction with the gods,” Nale said. “Well …”

The other two shared a look. Dalinar took the opportunity to glance at Navani, who—playing Wit—stayed on the periphery, holding hands with Gav. She nodded to him.

“How?” Dalinar asked Jezrien, curious. “How did he interact with the gods?”

“Have you forgotten so easily?” Ishar asked.

“I have had a lot on my mind,” Dalinar said. “Jog my memory.”

“His soul is warped,” Jezrien said, “from his attempt to kill Cultivation.”

“He deserves a second chance,” Nale said. “It will be good for us to have someone who is not a king among us.” Then, louder, he continued, “Taln!”

Taln looked up from the horses, and something in Dalinar twisted as he saw the man’s smile. Open, free of any pain or fear. “Nale?” he exclaimed, his belly jiggling as he jogged over. “You’re glowing. I thought you hated Surges.”

“Taln, I want you to meet someone.” He turned and said to Ishar, “Can you ask Honor to join us?”

“He is busy,” Ishar said, cocking his head. “Just a moment …” Soon Honor emerged, glowing and resplendent in his golden clothing. The hum of power vibrated through Dalinar again, and the line of light connecting him to the god burst alive.

“Talenel,” Nale said, “this is Honor.”

Taln frowned. He did not bow or show reverence, and instead looked the god straight in the eyes. “I’ve waited a long time for this moment. And here I am. Without my weapon.”

“This one?” Honor asked. “You know what he did.”

“You wanted someone who’s had interaction with the gods,” Nale said. “Plus, I want contrary opinions in the group. For balance.”

Taln was still staring eye to eye with Honor. “You destroyed an entire world. My grandmother’s world.”

“I … regret that,” Honor said. “I vow—upon my own power—that I will not allow such destruction again.”

Taln stood a moment. When he spoke, his tone was cool. “Well, I suppose everyone deserves a second chance, even gods.” He stepped back to soothe a horse as a rumble of thunder sounded in the sky.

Dalinar couldn’t help walking up beside him. “You aren’t what I expected,” he said.

Taln narrowed his eyes at him. “What? Still frustrated I lost the weapon you gave me, Kalak?” He patted the horse, then thumbed over his shoulder. “That’s the foreign king, I see. And you’re all glowing. You aren’t going to set the ground on fire, are you?”

“I don’t intend to,” Dalinar said softly. “What happened to you?”

He got no response. Behind them, Jezrien said, “Nale, are you certain this is a good idea?”

“Should we not have someone among us,” Nale replied, “who represents another kind of world? A world of people who can’t simply hand their horses to someone else to take care of? A world where if your sandals wear out, you walk barefoot rather than commandeering them from the next man in line?” He looked at each of them in turn. “If we’re going to protect the people, should we not represent the people?”

“What is this?” Taln asked softly, glancing at them.

“Immortality,” Tanavast said, his voice echoing the thunder from above. “I offer it to you, Talenel.”

“Ah,” Taln said. “No, thank you. With all due respect.”

“… Excuse me?” Tanavast said. “Isn’t this what all men secretly want?”

“I have heard too many stories,” Taln said. “Living out those eons doesn’t suit men well. Though if you have a new pair of sandals, I wouldn’t mind those.”

“I offer powers unimaginable,” Tanavast said.

“I can imagine quite a lot,” Taln said, “and some of it is downright terrible. I think I will pass.”

“Well,” Ishar said, “there, he said it. Let us find another.”

“No,” Nale said. “He’s perfect. I know what happens when the power goes only to those who want it, Taln.”

Taln hesitated, then turned again toward Nale.

Who held up the small stone disc with the animal head on it. “If you join us, you can help solve the problems you have often complained about.”

“I want nothing to do with the gods,” Taln said. “Not anymore.” But his eyes were fixed on that disc. Dalinar couldn’t see why—but it seemed to no longer be an indication of debt. It meant something else.

“Which is why,” Honor said, “I think Nale is right. You are a good choice. Wise.”

“No,” Taln replied. “Not wise. Scared. Why … why do you want this of me?”

“The enemy is being reborn,” Honor explained. “They become immortal, and humankind must have immortals to fight them. With this Oathpact, we will create a method to lock them away on another world. We will close a loophole that has allowed Odium to meddle, and we will provide champions to stand against the tide of darkness. You once were a soldier. Become one anew.”

Taln looked at the glowing people, the god, and Ishar. Then to Dalinar. To Dalinar, he asked the question none of them had. “And what is the price?”

“Pain,” Dalinar whispered.

“By binding away the enemy, you might be bound with them,” Tanavast said. “As an immortal, you will watch everyone around you grow old, then die. You will have power none can understand, and you will be lonely, isolated. Years will blend like drops of water that form streams.”

Taln nodded slowly, then did something unexpected. He thought. Rainwater streaming down his face, dripping from his chin, he considered in silence for a good two minutes. It felt like an eternity.

“If not me, you’ll find another?” Taln said.

“Yes,” Tanavast said.

“Then I’ll do it,” Taln said, walking up, taking the little disc from Nale. “How do I begin?”

That made Dalinar worry. They’d seen the moment their anchor had been connected to, which meant the vision could start to decay at any moment.

“Swear to Honor,” Tanavast said, “that you will protect this land. And hold back the darkness.”

“I will protect the people of this land,” Taln whispered. “I will hold back the darkness. Not for Honor. But I’ll do it.”

“That is enough,” Honor said.

“I swear as well, last of all,” Ishar said. “To bind this Oathpact. I will protect this land. I will hold back the darkness.”

“And so,” Tanavast said, “you bind me, as I bind you. We need the others.”

Hurry! Dalinar thought. Make me an Honorblade!

They returned to the tent, where the others waited. Dalinar covertly took Navani’s hand, willing the next part to happen quickly. Ishar Connected Taln and himself with Light.

“Now,” the god said, “it shall be done. Once finished, Vedel can do her part and seal your immortality. Each Herald of Honor, stretch forth thy hand.”

Ten people, in a circle, hands outstretched. Dalinar’s heart trembled as, one at a time, Honor pulled something from within his chest—and held it out. A glowing splinter of Light that formed a Shardblade when it touched a Herald’s waiting hand.

The tent began to evaporate around them right as Honor reached him. Gripping Navani’s hand, Dalinar took that glowing piece of Light—and felt the many Connections it contained. A stable anchor that could carry them from Desolation to Desolation, and hopefully let them finally reach the day when Honor himself had died.

In moments Shallan was back in the chaos of the Spiritual Realm. She trembled, holding herself, then felt the arms of both Pattern and Testament around her.

“Glys and Tumi are resetting that part of the vision,” Pattern whispered, “so Dalinar and Navani will find nothing wrong. Look.”

Shallan glanced to the side, and thought she could see it. Through a shimmering part of the landscape, like a waterfall, she could vaguely make out the tent. When Dalinar and Navani stepped in, all the chaos and blood had vanished.

Others came with them. The Heralds.

Radiant! she thought. Take over.

It’s all right, Shallan, Veil thought. You can see her now. You can survive this. You’ve grown to where you can.

Shallan … allowed herself to remain in control. To watch. It was hard, and she was soon crying, but she did it. She held for just a minute, and heard a child’s voice crying in the back of her mind, then turned away and took a few deep breaths. She … had further to go, but she’d done that much.

Good, Veil thought to her. You’re healing, Shallan.

But what of Mraize? He’d gleaned information from her, and in the end she’d broken down and let him escape. At least her fear of Formless was fading. The persona didn’t have the same power over her that it had during the trip to Lasting Integrity. Perhaps her growth made her less susceptible. She still didn’t know how or why it was manifesting. But, as she’d thought before, perhaps there didn’t need to be a reason. Any more than a person with a chronic cough needed a reason for their ailment to return unexpectedly.

Either way, she thought they needed a new approach for these visions. Mraize won each confrontation. And Iyatil? What of her? Could the babsk perhaps be in another set of visions, accomplishing some other plan? Mraize might be here simply to keep Shallan busy.

“Take me to Renarin and Rlain,” she requested. “We have to do some brainstorming.”