Oathbringer

  * * *

  Renarin puffed in and out as the thunderclast collapsed—crushing houses in its fall, but also breaking off its arm. It reached upward with its remaining arm, bleating a plaintive cry. Renarin and his companion—the Thaylen Shardbearer—had cut off both legs at the knees.

  The Thaylen tromped up and slapped him—carefully—on the back with a Plated hand. “Very good fighting.”

  “I just distracted it while you cut chunks of its legs off.”

  “You did good,” the Thaylen said. He nodded toward the thunderclast, which got to its knees, then slipped. “How to end?”

  It will fear you! Glys said from within Renarin. It will go. Make it so that it will go.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Renarin said to the Thaylen, then carefully picked his way over to the street and up a level to get a better view of the thunderclast’s head.

  “So … Glys?” he asked. “What do I do?”

  Light. You will make it go with light.

  The thing pulled itself up across the rubble of a destroyed building. Stone rubbed stone as its enormous, wedge-shaped head turned to Renarin. Recessed molten eyes fluttered, like a sputtering fire.

  It was in pain. It could hurt.

  It will go! Glys promised, excitable as ever.

  Renarin raised his fist and summoned Stormlight. It glowed as a powerful beacon. And …

  The red molten eyes faded before that light, and the thing settled down with a last extinguishing sigh.

  His Thaylen companion approached with a soft clinking of Plate. “Good. Excellent!”

  “Go help with the fighting,” Renarin said. “I need to open the Oathgate in person.” The man obeyed without question, running for the main thoroughfare leading down to the Ancient Ward.

  Renarin lingered with that stone corpse, troubled. I was supposed to have died. I saw myself die.…

  He shook his head, then hiked toward the upper reaches of the city.

  * * *

  Shallan, Veil, and Radiant held hands in a ring. The three flowed, faces changing, identities melding. Together, they had raised an army.

  It was dying now.

  A hulking variety of Fused had organized the enemy. These refused to be distracted. Though Veil, Shallan, and Radiant had made copies of themselves—to keep the real ones from being attacked—those died as well.

  Wavering. Stormlight running out.

  We’ve strained ourselves too far, they thought.

  Three Fused approached, cutting through the dying illusions, marching through evaporating Stormlight. People fell to their knees and puffed away.

  “Mmmm…” Pattern said.

  “Tired,” Shallan said, her eyes drowsy.

  “Satisfied,” Radiant said, proud.

  “Worried,” Veil said, eyeing the Fused.

  They wanted to move. Needed to move. But it hurt to watch their army die and puff into nothing.

  One figure didn’t melt like the others. A woman with jet-black hair that had escaped its usual braids. It blew free as she stepped between the enemy and Shallan, Radiant, and Veil. The ground turned glossy, the surface of the stone Soulcast into oil. Veil, Shallan, and Radiant were able to glimpse it in the Cognitive Realm. It changed so easily. How did Jasnah manage that?

  Jasnah Soulcast a spark from the air, igniting the oil and casting up a field of flames. The Fused raised hands before their faces, stumbling back.

  “That should buy us a few moments.” Jasnah turned toward Radiant, Veil, and Shallan. She took Shallan by the arm—but Shallan wavered, then puffed away. Jasnah froze, then turned to Veil.

  “Here,” Radiant said, tired, stumbling to her feet. She was the one Jasnah could feel. She blinked away tears. “Are you … real?”

  “Yes, Shallan. You did well out here.” She touched Radiant’s arm, then glanced toward the Fused, who were venturing into the fires despite the heat. “Damnation. Perhaps I should have opened a pit beneath them instead.”

  Shallan winced as the last of her army—like the shredded light of a setting sun—vanished. Jasnah proffered a gemstone, which Radiant drank eagerly.

  Amaram’s troops had begun to form ranks again.

  “Come,” Jasnah said, pulling Veil back to the wall, where steps grew from the stone itself.

  “Soulcast?” Shallan asked.

  “Yes.” Jasnah stepped onto the first, but Shallan didn’t follow.

  “We shouldn’t have ignored this,” Radiant said. “We should have practiced this.” She slipped—for a moment—into viewing Shadesmar. Beads rolled and surged beneath her.

  “Not too far,” Jasnah warned. “You can’t bring your physical self into the realm, as I once assumed you could, but there are things here that can feast upon your mind.”

  “If I want to Soulcast the air. How?”

  “Avoid air until you practice further,” Jasnah said. “It is convenient, but difficult to control. Why don’t you try to turn some stone into oil, as I did? We can fire it as we climb the steps, and further impede the enemy.”

  “I…” So many beads, so many spren, churning in the lake that marked Thaylen City. So overwhelming.

  “That rubble near the wall will be easier than the ground itself,” Jasnah said, “as you’ll be able to treat those stones as distinct units, while the ground views itself all as one.”

  “It’s too much,” Shallan said, exhaustionspren spinning around her. “I can’t, Jasnah. I’m sorry.”

  “It is well, Shallan,” Jasnah said. “I merely wanted to see, as it seemed you were Soulcasting to give your illusions weight. But then, concentrated Stormlight has a faint mass to it. Either way, up the steps, child.”

  Radiant started up the stone steps. Behind, Jasnah waved her hand toward the approaching Fused—and stone formed from air, completely encasing them.

  It was brilliant. Any who saw it in only the Physical Realm would be impressed, but Radiant saw so much more. Jasnah’s absolute command and confidence. The Stormlight rushing to do her will. The air itself responding as if to the voice of God himself.

  Shallan gasped in wonder. “It obeyed. The air obeyed your call to transform. When I tried to make a single little stick change, it refused.”

  “Soulcasting is a practiced art,” Jasnah said. “Up, up. Keep walking.” She sliced the steps off as they walked. “Remember, you mustn’t order stones, as they are more stubborn than men. Use coercion. Speak of freedom and of movement. But for a gas becoming a solid, you must impose discipline and will. Each Essence is different, and each offers advantages and disadvantages when used as a substrate for Soulcasting.”

  Jasnah glanced over her shoulder at the gathering army. “And perhaps … this is one time when a lecture isn’t advisable. With all my complaints about not wanting wards, you’d think I would be able to resist instructing people at inopportune times. Keep moving.”

  Feeling exhausted, Veil, Shallan, and Radiant trudged up and finally reached the top of the wall.

  * * *

  After how hard it had been for Renarin to get up to fight the thunderclast—he’d spent what seemed like an eternity caught in the press of people—he’d expected to have to work to cover the last distance to the Oathgate. However, people were moving more quickly now. The ones up above must have cleared off the streets, hiding in the many temples and buildings in the Royal Ward.

  He was able to move with the flow of people. Near the top tier, he ducked into a building and walked to the back, past some huddled merchants. Most of the buildings here were a single story, so he used Glys to cut a hole in the roof. He then hollowed out some handholds in the rock wall and climbed up on top.

  Beyond, he was able to get onto the street leading to the Oathgate platform. He was … unaccustomed to being able to do things like this. Not only using the Shardblade, but being physical. He’d always been afraid of his fits, always worried that a moment of strength would instantly become a moment of invalidity.

  Living like that, you learned to stay
back. Just in case. He hadn’t suffered a fit in a while. He didn’t know if that was just a coincidence—they could be irregular—or if they had been healed, like his bad eyesight. Indeed, he still saw the world differently from everyone else. He was still nervous talking to people, and didn’t like being touched. Everyone else saw in each other things he never could understand. So much noise and destruction and people talking and cries for help and sniffles and muttering and whispering all like buzzing, buzzings.

  At least here, on this street near the Oathgate, the crowds had diminished. Why was that? Wouldn’t they have pressed up here, hoping for escape? Why …

  Oh.

  A dozen Fused hovered in the sky above the Oathgate, lances held formally before themselves, clothing draping beneath them and fluttering.

  Twelve. Twelve.

  This, Glys said, would be bad.

  Motion caught his attention: a young girl standing in a doorway and waving at him. He walked over, worried the Fused would attack him. Hopefully his Stormlight—which he’d mostly used up fighting the thunderclast—wasn’t bright enough to draw their ire.

  He entered the building, another single-story structure with a large open room at the front. It was occupied by dozens of scribes and ardents, many of whom huddled around a spanreed. Children that he couldn’t see crowded the back rooms, but he could hear their whimpers. And he heard the scratching, scratching, scratching of reeds on paper.

  “Oh, bless the Almighty,” Brightness Teshav said, appearing from the mass of people. She pulled Renarin deeper into the room. “Have you any news?”

  “My father sent me up here to help,” Renarin said. “Brightness, where are General Khal and your son?”

  “In Urithiru,” she said. “They transferred back to gather forces, but then … Brightlord, there’s been an attack at Urithiru. We’ve been trying to get information via spanreed. It appears that a strike force of some kind arrived at the advent of the Everstorm.”

  “Brightness!” Kadash called. “Spanreed to Sebarial’s scribes is responding again. They apologize for the long delay. Sebarial pulled back, following Aladar’s command, to the upper levels. He confirms that the attackers are parshmen.”

  “The Oathgates?” Renarin asked, hopeful. “Can they reach those, and open the way here?”

  “Not likely. The enemy is holding the plateau.”

  “Our armies have the advantage at Urithiru, Prince Renarin,” Teshav said. “Reports agree that the enemy strike force isn’t nearly large enough to defeat us there. This is obviously a delaying tactic to keep us from activating the Oathgate and bringing help to Thaylen City.”

  Kadash nodded. “Those Fused above the Oathgate held even when the stone monster outside was falling. They know their orders—keep that device from being activated.”

  “Radiant Malata is the only way for our armies to reach us through the Oathgate,” Teshav said. “But we can’t contact her, or any of the Kharbranth contingent. The enemy struck them first. They knew exactly what they had to do to cripple us.”

  Renarin took a deep breath, drawing in Stormlight that Teshav was carrying. His glow lit the room, and eyes all through the chamber looked up from spanreeds, turning toward him.

  “The portal has to be opened,” Renarin said.

  “Your Highness…” Teshav said. “You can’t fight them all.”

  “There’s nobody else.” He turned to go.

  Shockingly, nobody called for him to stop.

  All his life they’d done that. No, Renarin. That’s not for you. You can’t do that. You’re not well, Renarin. Be reasonable, Renarin.

  He’d always been reasonable. He’d always listened. It felt wonderful and terrifying at once to know that nobody did that today. The spanreeds continued their scratching, moving on their own, oblivious to the moment.

  Renarin stepped outside.

  Terrified, he strode down the street, summoning Glys as a Shardblade. As he approached the ramp up to the Oathgate, the Fused descended. Four landed on the ramp before him, then gave him a gesture not unlike a salute, humming to a frantic tune he did not know.

  Renarin was so frightened, he worried he’d wet himself. Not very noble or brave, now was he?

  Ah … what will come now? Glys said, voice thrumming through Renarin. What emerges?

  One of his fits struck him.

  Not the old fits, where he grew weak. He had new ones now, that neither he nor Glys could control. To his eyes, glass grew across the ground. It spread out like crystals, forming lattices, images, meanings and pathways. Stained-glass pictures, panel after panel.

  These had always been right. Until today—until they had proclaimed that Jasnah Kholin’s love would fail.

  He read this latest set of stained-glass images, then felt his fear drain away. He smiled. This seemed to confuse the Fused as they lowered their salutes.

  “You’re wondering why I’m smiling,” Renarin said.

  They didn’t respond.

  “Don’t worry,” Renarin said. “You didn’t miss something funny. I … well, I doubt you’ll find it amusing.”

  Light exploded from the Oathgate platform in a wave. The Fused cried out in a strange tongue, zipping into the air. A luminous wall expanded from the Oathgate platform in a ring, trailing a glowing afterimage.

  It faded to reveal an entire division of Alethi troops in Kholin blue standing upon the Oathgate platform.

  Then, like a Herald from lore, a man rose into the air above them. Glowing white with Stormlight, the bearded man carried a long silver Shardspear with a strange crossguard shape behind the tip.

  Teft.

  Knight Radiant.

  * * *

  Shallan sat with her back against the battlement, listening to soldiers shout orders. Navani had given her Stormlight and water, but was currently distracted by reports from Urithiru.

  Pattern hummed from the side of Veil’s jacket. “Shallan? You did well, Shallan. Very well.”

  “An honorable stand,” Radiant agreed. “One against many, and we held our ground.”

  “Longer than we should have,” Veil said. “We were already exhausted.”

  “We’re still ignoring too much,” Shallan said. “We’re getting too good at pretending.” She had decided to stay with Jasnah in the first place to learn. But when the woman returned from the dead, Shallan had—instead of accepting training—immediately fled. What had she been thinking?

  Nothing. She’d been trying to hide away things she didn’t want to face. Like always.

  “Mmm…” Pattern said, a concerned hum.

  “I’m tired,” Shallan whispered. “You don’t have to worry. After I rest, I’ll recover and settle down to being just one. I actually … actually don’t think I’m quite as lost as I was before.”

  Jasnah, Navani, and Queen Fen whispered together farther along the wall. Thaylen generals joined them, and fearspren gathered around. The defense, in their opinion, was going poorly. Reluctantly, Veil pushed herself to her feet and surveyed the battlefield. Amaram’s forces were gathering beyond bow range.

  “We delayed the enemy,” Radiant said, “but didn’t defeat them. We still have an overwhelming army to face.…”

  “Mmmm…” Pattern said, high pitched, worried. “Shallan, look. Beyond.”

  Out nearer the bay, thousands upon thousands of fresh parshman troops had begun to carry ladders off their ships to use in a full-on assault.

  * * *

  “Tell the men not to give chase to those Fused,” Renarin said to Lopen. “We need to hold the Oathgate, first and foremost.”

  “Good enough, sure,” Lopen said, launching into the sky and going to relay the order to Teft.

  The Fused clashed with Bridge Four in the air over the city. This group of enemies seemed more skilled than the ones Renarin had seen below, but they didn’t fight so much as defend themselves. They were progressively moving the clash farther out over the city, and Renarin worried they were deliberately drawing Bridge Four awa
y from the Oathgate.

  The Alethi division marched into the city with shouts of praise and joy from the surrounding people. Two thousand men wasn’t going to do much if those parshmen outside joined the battle, but it was a start—plus, General Khal had brought not one, but three Shardbearers. Renarin did his best to explain the city situation, but was embarrassed to tell the Khals that he didn’t know his father’s status.

  As they reunited with Teshav—turning her scribe station into a command post—Rock and Lyn landed next to Renarin.

  “Ha!” Rock said. “What happened to uniform? Is needing my needle.”

  Renarin looked down at his tattered clothing. “I got hit by a large block of stone. Twenty times … You’re not one to complain, anyway. Is that your blood on your uniform?”

  “Is nothing!”

  “We had to carry him all the way down to the Oathgate,” Lyn said. “We were trying to get him to you, but he started drawing in Stormlight as soon as he got here.”

  “Kaladin is close,” Rock agreed. “Ha! I feed him. But here, today, he fed me. With light!”

  Lyn eyed Rock. “Storming Horneater weighs as much as a chull.…” She shook her head. “Kara will fight with the others—don’t tell anyone, but she’s been practicing with a spear since childhood, the little cheater. But Rock won’t fight, and I’ve only been handling a spear for a few weeks now. Any idea where you want us?”

  “I’m … um … not really in command or anything.…”

  “Really?” Lyn said. “That’s your best Knight Radiant voice?”

  “Ha!” Rock said.

  “I think I used up all my Radianting for the day,” Renarin said. “Um, I’ll work the Oathgate and get more troops here. Maybe you two could go down and help on the city wall, pull wounded out of the front lines?”

  “Is good idea,” Rock said. Lyn nodded and flew off, but Rock lingered, then grabbed Renarin in a very warm, suffocating, and unexpected embrace.

  Renarin did his best not to squirm. It wasn’t the first hug he’d endured from Rock. But … storms. You weren’t supposed to just grab someone like that.

  “Why?” Renarin said after the embrace.

  “You looked like person who needed hug.”