The Way of Kings - By Brandon Sanderson Page 0,460

Kaladin’s tone. He looked northeastward, toward where a figure in slate grey suddenly appeared on a rock outcropping, fighting against another figure in Shardplate. “He’s so close….”

Kaladin took a deep breath. “I’ll go for him. You lead the retreat. Hold the bridge, but only the bridge.”

Adolin glared at Kaladin. He took a step, but something in his armor gave out, and he stumbled, going to one knee. Teeth gritted, he managed to rise. “Captainlord Malan,” Adolin bellowed. “Take your soldiers, go with this man. Get my father out!”

The man Kaladin had spoken to earlier saluted crisply. Adolin glared at Kaladin again, then hefted his Shardblade and stalked with difficulty toward the bridge.

“Moash, go with him,” Kaladin said.

“But—”

“Do it, Moash,” Kaladin said grimly, glancing toward the outcropping where Dalinar fought. Kaladin took a deep breath, tucked his spear under his arm, and dashed off at a dead run.

The Cobalt Guard yelled at him, trying to keep up, but he didn’t look back. He hit the line of Parshendi attackers, turned and tripped two with his spear, then leaped over the bodies and kept going. Most Parshendi in this patch were distracted by Dalinar’s fight or the battle to get to the bridge; the ranks were thin here between the two fronts.

Kaladin moved quickly, drawing in more Light as he ran, dodging and scrambling around Parshendi who tried to engage him. Within moments, he’d reached the place where Dalinar had been fighting. Though the rock shelf was now empty, a large group of Parshendi were gathered around its base.

There, he thought, leaping forward.

A horse whinnied. Dalinar looked up in shock as Gallant charged into the open ring of ground the watching Parshendi had made. The Ryshadium had come to him. How… where…? The horse should have been free and safe on the staging plateau.

It was too late. Dalinar was on one knee, beaten down by the enemy Shardbearer. The Parshendi kicked, smashing his foot into Dalinar’s chest, throwing him backward.

A hit to the helm followed. Another. Another. The helm exploded, and the force of the hits left Dalinar dazed. Where was he? What was happening? Why was he pinned by something so heavy?

Shardplate, he thought, struggling to rise. I’m wearing… my Shardplate….

A breeze blew across his face. Head blows; you had to be careful of head blows, even when wearing Plate. His enemy stood over him, looming, and seemed to inspect him. As if searching for something.

Dalinar had dropped his Blade. The common Parshendi soldiers surrounded the duel. They forced Gallant back, making the horse whinny. He reared. Dalinar watched him, vision swimming.

Why didn’t the Shardbearer just finish him? The Parshendi giant leaned down, then spoke. The words were thick with accent, and Dalinar’s mind nearly dismissed them. But here, up close, Dalinar realized something. He understood what was being said. The accent was nearly impenetrable, but the words were in Alethi.

“It is you,” the Parshendi Shardbearer said. “I have found you at last.”

Dalinar blinked in surprise.

Something disturbed the back ranks of the watching Parshendi soldiers. There was something familiar about this scene, Parshendi all around, Shardbearer in danger. Dalinar had lived it before, but from the other side.

That Shardbearer couldn’t be talking to him. Dalinar had been hit too hard on the head. He must be delusional. What was that disturbance in the ring of Parshendi watchers?

Sadeas, Dalinar found himself thinking, his mind confused. He’s come to rescue me, as I rescued him.

Unite them….

He’ll come, Dalinar thought. I know he will. I will gather them….

The Parshendi were yelling, moving, twisting. Suddenly, a figure exploded through them. Not Sadeas at all. A young man with a strong face and long, curling black hair. He carried a spear.

And he was glowing.

What? Dalinar thought, dazed.

Kaladin landed in the open circle. The two Shardbearers were at the center, one on the ground, Stormlight trailing faintly from his body. Too faintly. Considering the number of cracks, his gemstones must be almost spent. The other—a Parshendi, judging by the size and shape of the limbs—was standing over the fallen one.

Great, Kaladin thought, dashing forward before the Parshendi soldiers could collect their wits and attack him. The Parshendi Shardbearer was bent down, focused on Dalinar. The Parshendi’s Plate was leaking Stormlight through a large fissure in the leg.

So—memory flashing back to the time he rescued Amaram—Kaladin got in close and slammed his spear into the crack.

The Shardbearer screamed and dropped his Blade in surprise. It puffed to mist. Kaladin whipped his spear free and dodged backward. The Shardbearer