Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive 4)

“Has the queen surrendered?” Kaladin asked.

Lirin didn’t reply, though his eyes were still on the knife.

“No,” Syl said. “At least, she was sending out orders. But Kaladin … they can’t fight for long. There are Fused among the enemy, and Regals, and … and almost every Shardbearer is out in the field. Every Surgebinder in the tower has been knocked unconscious.”

Kaladin took his father by the arm. “There’s one left,” he said, then hauled himself to his feet.

“Kal!” Lirin said, anger peeking through his calm surgeon’s mask. “Don’t be a fool. There’s no point in playing the hero.”

“I’m not playing anything,” Kaladin said. “This is who I am.”

“So you’ll go fight, like this?” Lirin demanded. “Overwhelmed by diaphoresis and hand tremors, barely able to stay on your feet!”

Kaladin gritted his teeth and started along the hall toward the front door of the clinic. Syl landed on his shoulder, but didn’t insist he stop.

“You said that Jam had a spear,” Kaladin said. “Do you know what happened to it?”

“Storms, son, listen to me,” Lirin said, grabbing him from behind. “There is no battle for you here! The tower has fallen. You go out there, and you throw away any advantage you had. Storms, you won’t only get yourself killed—you’ll get us killed.”

Kaladin stopped in place.

“That’s right,” his father said. “What do you think they’ll do to the family of the Radiant who attacked them? You’d probably kill a few before you died. Stormfather knows, you’re good at breaking things. Then they’ll come and string me up. Do you want to see that happen to me? To your mother? To your baby brother?”

“Storm you,” Kaladin whispered. Lirin didn’t care about saving himself; he was not so selfish as that. But he was a surgeon. He knew the vital spots in which to stick a knife.

Shouts came from deeper within Urithiru—the voices of singers, with rhythms. They’d landed Fused here on the sixth floor, but others were boiling up from below.

Kelek’s breath … Dalinar had taken the reserves to the battle in Emul. There were seven garrisons left in the tower, but each was severely undermanned, populated mostly with those men who were off rotation, enjoying leave. Five thousand men, max. Everyone had assumed the large numbers of Radiants would be able to prevent another raid on the tower.…

Kaladin sagged against the wall. “We … we need to find a way to contact Dalinar and Jasnah. The spanreeds aren’t working?”

“None of them,” Lirin said. “No fabrials at all.”

“How are they using the Oathgates?” Kaladin asked, settling down on the floor of the hallway.

“Maybe it’s the Skybreakers,” Syl said. “But … I don’t know, Kaladin. Something is very wrong with our bond. When I flew down just one floor, I found myself growing distant. Forgetful. Normally I can go miles away before that happens.”

“We can plan,” Lirin said. “We can think of some way to contact the Blackthorn. There are other ways to fight, son.”

“Perhaps,” Kaladin said. He met his father’s eyes. “But you would say anything to keep me from going out there, wouldn’t you?”

Lirin held his eyes and said nothing.

I’m really not in any shape to go to battle, Kaladin thought. And … and if they have the Oathgates …

Lirin calmly took the knife from Kaladin’s hands. He let it go. His father helped him to his feet and led him to the back rooms, where a village girl was with Oroden, keeping him quiet with toys. Kaladin’s mother entered a short time later, hairs escaping her bun and blood on her skirt. Not hers. Probably Jam’s.

She went to hug Lirin while Kaladin sat staring at the floor. Urithiru might continue to fight, but he knew that it had lost the battle long ago.

Like Kaladin himself.

My instincts say that the power of Odium is not being controlled well. The Vessel will be adapted to the power’s will. And after this long, if Odium is still seeking to destroy, then it is because of the power.

By the time Navani neared the map room, the area was already a bustle of activity. The runners had done their jobs, and she found checkpoints in place in the hallways, attended by guards, with anticipationspren streaming overhead. The soldiers at each one waved her through with visible relief.

The map room was lit by a large number of diamond spheres. A smattering of officers in Kholin blue stood with some functionaries. Roion—the youngest highprince, and the only one in the tower currently—had gathered them around the tables. Here, maps of the lower levels had been unrolled and weighted at the corners.

Captains mostly, she thought, reading the shoulder knots of her command staff. One battalionlord. Men who had been here on leave. Various runners, both male and female, hovered at the perimeters of the chamber.

“Do we have word of Commander Lyon?” Navani asked as she strode in. “We’d best have the head of the Tower Guard here.”

“He’s fallen unconscious, Brightness,” said one of the men. “He had a spren choose him last month.…”

“Storms,” Navani said, stepping up to the table as several men made room for her. “It’s true then? Every Radiant in the tower?”

“As far as we can tell, Brightness,” one of the men said.

“There are enemy troops on every floor, Brightness,” said an older man, the battalionlord. “Stormform Regals, mostly. Pouring in through the basement. But there are Heavenly Ones landing on balconies all up and down the lower levels.”

“Damnation,” she muttered. The enemy had the library rooms then. And the pillar. Was that where the Sibling resided?

She glanced at the battalionlord again. A lean, balding man with close-cropped hair, a thick neck despite his age, and a powerfully intense stare. He …

She did a double take. Darkeyed? Dalinar had made good on his decision to begin promoting based on merit, not eye shade, but there still weren’t many darkeyed officers. Strangely, some darkeyes seemed to consider the change as unnatural as some of the more high-minded lighteyes did.

“Your name, Battalionlord?” she asked.

“Teofil,” he said. “Ninth Kholin Division, infantry. We just came in off the lines in southern Alethkar. I put my men at the stairwell here.” He pointed at the map. “But … Brightness, they got the drop on us, and there aren’t many of our troops in the tower. First floor was halfway overrun by the time we mobilized.”

“We can’t fight Fused,” said another man, young and nervous, his hand shaking as he pointed at a map of the sixth floor. “They’re trapping us from both above and below. There’s no way to hold them. They heal when cut, and they can strike from above. Without Radiants, we’re doomed. There’s no—”

“Calm down,” Navani said. “Brightlord Teofil is right to have…” Navani paused. He was a darkeyes, not a brightlord. What did you call a battalionlord who wasn’t a lighteyes? “Er, Battalionlord Teofil is correct. We need to plug the stairwells. The shanay-im’s ability to fly won’t matter in such tight quarters. With proper barricades, it won’t even matter that they can heal. We can try to hold the second through fifth floors.”