Words of Radiance (The Stormlight Archive 2)

“Leave it, sir?” the short man said. “We stay here with it.” He pointed toward a burrowed-out section of rock, cut with hammers or a Shardblade, at the base of the stone formation. It didn’t look very large—just a cubby, really. It looked like they took the wooden floor of the platform up above, then locked it into place with clasps at the side of the cubby to form a kind of door.

A special kind of crazy indeed.

“Brightlord, sir,” the vaulter said to Dalinar, “the one in white might be out here somewhere. Waiting.”

“Thank you, soldier,” Dalinar said, nodding his dismissal. “Keep an eye out for us while we travel. We’ve had reports of a chasmfiend moving in close to the camps.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said, saluting and then jogging back toward the rope ladder leading up to his post.

“What if the assassin does come for you?” Kaladin asked softly.

“I don’t see how it would be any different out here,” Dalinar said. “He’ll be back eventually. On the Plains or in the palace, we’ll have to fight him.”

Kaladin grunted. “I wish you’d accept one of those Shardblades that Adolin has been winning, sir. I’d feel more comfortable if you could defend yourself.”

“I think you’d be surprised,” Dalinar said, shading his eyes, turning toward the warcamp. “I do feel wrong leaving Elhokar alone back there, though.”

“The assassin said he wanted you, sir,” Kaladin said. “If you’re apart from the king, that will only serve to protect him.”

“I suppose,” Dalinar said. “Unless the assassin’s comments were misdirection.” He shook his head. “I might order you to stay with him next time. I can’t help but feel I’m missing something important, something right in front of me.”

Kaladin set his jaw, trying to ignore the chill he felt. Order you to stay with him next time… It was almost like fate itself was pushing Kaladin to be in a position to betray the king.

“About your imprisonment,” the highprince said.

“Already forgotten, sir,” Kaladin said. Dalinar’s part in it, at least. “I appreciate not being demoted.”

“You’re a good soldier,” Dalinar said. “Most of the time.” His eyes flicked toward Bridge Four, picking up their bridge. One of the men at the side drew his attention in particular: Renarin, wearing his Bridge Four uniform, hefting the bridge into place. Nearby, Leyten laughed and gave him pointers on how to hold the thing.

“He’s actually starting to fit in, sir,” Kaladin said. “The men like him. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Dalinar nodded.

“How was he?” Kaladin asked softly. “After what happened in the arena?”

“He refused to go practice with Zahel,” Dalinar said. “So far as I know, he hasn’t summoned his Shardblade in weeks.” He watched for a moment longer. “I can’t decide if his time with your men is good for him—helping him think like a soldier—or if it’s just encouraging him to avoid his greater responsibilities.”

“Sir,” Kaladin said. “If I may say so, your son seems like kind of a misfit. Out of place. Awkward, alone.”

Dalinar nodded.

“Then, I can say with confidence that Bridge Four is probably the best place he could find himself.” It felt odd to be saying it of a lighteyes, but it was true.

Dalinar grunted. “I’ll trust your judgment. Go. Make sure those men of yours are on the watch for the assassin, in case he does come today.”

Kaladin nodded, leaving the highprince behind. He’d heard about Dalinar’s visions before—and had had an inkling of their contents. He didn’t know what he thought, but he intended to get a copy of the vision records in their entirety so he could have Ka read it to him.

Perhaps these visions were why Syl was always so determined to trust Dalinar.

As the day passed, the army moved across the Plains like the flow of some viscous liquid—mud dribbling down a shallow incline. All of this so Shallan could see a chasmfiend chrysalis. Kaladin shook his head, crossing a plateau. Adolin was certainly smitten; he’d managed to roll out an entire strike force, his father included, just to sate the girl’s whims.

“Walking, Kaladin?” Adolin said, trotting up. The prince rode that white beast of a horse, the thing with the hooves like hammers. Adolin wore his full suit of blue Shardplate, helm tied to a knob on the back of the saddle. “I thought you had full requisition right from my father’s stables.”

“I have full requisition right from the quartermasters too,” Kaladin said, “but you don’t see me hiking out here with a cauldron on my back just because I can.”

Adolin chuckled. “You should try riding more. You have to admit that there are advantages. The speed of the gallop, the height of attack.” He patted his horse on the neck.

“I guess I just trust my own feet too much.”

Adolin nodded, as if that had been the wisest thing a man had ever said, before riding back to check on Shallan in her palanquin. Feeling a little fatigued, Kaladin fished in his pocket for another sphere, just a diamond chip this time, and held it to his chest. He breathed in.

Again, nothing happened. Storm it! He looked about for Syl, but couldn’t find her. She’d been so playful lately, he was starting to wonder if this was all some kind of trick. He actually hoped it was that, and not something more. Despite his inward grousing and complaints, he desperately wanted this power. He had claimed the sky, the winds themselves. Giving them up would be like giving up his own hands.

He eventually reached the edge of their current plateau, where Dalinar’s mechanical bridge was setting up. Here, blessedly, he found Syl inspecting a cremling crawling across the rocks toward the safety of a nearby crack.

Kaladin sat down on a rock beside her. “So you’re punishing me,” he said. “For agreeing to help Moash. That’s why I’m having trouble with the Stormlight.”

Syl followed along behind the cremling, which was a kind of beetle with a round, iridescent shell.

“Syl?” Kaladin asked. “Are you all right? You seem…”

Like you were before. When we first met. It made a feeling of dread rise within him to acknowledge it. If his powers were withdrawing, was it because the bond itself was weakening?

She looked up at him, and her eyes became more focused, her expression like that of her normal self. “You have to decide what you want, Kaladin,” she said.

“You don’t like Moash’s plan,” Kaladin said. “Are you trying to force me to change my mind regarding him?”

She scrunched up her face. “I don’t want to force you to do anything. You have to do what you think is right.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!”

“No. I don’t think you are.”

“Fine. I’ll tell Moash and his friends that I’m out, that I’m not going to help them.”

“But you gave Moash your word!”

“I gave my word to Dalinar too…”

She drew her lips to a line, meeting his eyes.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it,” Kaladin whispered. “I’ve made two promises, and I can’t keep my word to both.” Oh, storms. Was this the sort of thing that had destroyed the Knights Radiant?