The Way of Kings - By Brandon Sanderson Page 0,466

tired as he felt, then arranged themselves in a subtly hostile formation. They clung to their spears, as if certain he’d try to take them away. They had saved him, yet they obviously didn’t trust him.

“I’m sending my wounded back to my camp,” Dalinar said. “You should go with them.”

“You’re confronting Sadeas?” Kaladin asked.

“I must.” I have to know why he did what he did. “I will buy your freedom when I do.”

“Then I’m staying with you,” Kaladin said.

“Me too,” said a hawk-faced man at the side. Soon all of the bridgemen were demanding to stay.

Kaladin turned to them. “I should send you back.”

“What?” asked an older bridgeman with a short grey beard. “You can risk yourself, but we can’t? We have men back in Sadeas’s camp. We need to get them out. At the very least, we need to stay together. See this through.”

The others nodded. Again, Dalinar was struck by their discipline. More and more, he was certain Sadeas had nothing to do with that. It was this man at their head. Though his eyes were dark brown, he held himself like a brightlord.

Well, if they wouldn’t go, Dalinar wouldn’t force them. He continued to ride, and soon close to a thousand of Dalinar’s soldiers broke off and marched south, toward his warcamp. The rest of them continued, toward Sadeas’s camp. As they drew closer, Dalinar noticed a small crowd gathering at the final chasm. Two figures in particular stood at their forefront. Renarin and Navani.

“What are they doing in Sadeas’s warcamp?” Adolin asked, smiling through his fatigue, edging Sureblood up beside Dalinar.

“I don’t know,” Dalinar said. “But the Stormfather bless them for coming.” Seeing their welcome faces, he began to feel it sink in—finally—that he had survived the day.

Gallant crossed the last bridge. Renarin was there waiting, and Dalinar rejoiced.

For once, the boy was displaying outright joy. Dalinar swung free from the saddle and embraced his son.

“Father,” Renarin said, “you live!”

Adolin laughed, swinging out of his own saddle, armor clanking. Renarin pulled out of the embrace and grabbed Adolin on the shoulder, pounding the Shardplate lightly with his other hand, grinning widely. Dalinar smiled as well, turning from the brothers to look at Navani. She stood with hands clasped before her, one eyebrow raised. Her face, oddly, bore a few small smears of red paint.

“You weren’t even worried, were you?” he said to her.

“Worried?” she asked. Her eyes met his, and for the first time, he noticed their redness. “I was terrified.”

And then Dalinar found himself grabbing her in an embrace. He had to be careful as he was in Shardplate, but the gauntlets let him feel the silk of her dress, and his missing helm let him smell the sweet floral scent of her perfumed soap. He held her as tightly as he dared, bowing his head and pressing his nose into her hair.

“Hmm,” she noted warmly, “it appears that I was missed. The others are watching. They’ll talk.”

“I don’t care.”

“Hmm… It appears I was very much missed.”

“On the battlefield,” he said gruffly, “I thought I would die. And I realized it was all right.”

She pulled her head back, looking confused.

“I have spent too much of my time worrying about what people think, Navani. When I thought my time had arrived, I realized that all my worrying had been wasted. In the end, I was pleased with how I had lived my life.” He looked down at her, then mentally unlatched his right gauntlet, letting it drop to the ground with a clank. He reached up with that callused hand, cupping her chin. “I had only two regrets. One for you, and one for Renarin.”

“So, you’re saying you can just die, and it would be all right?”

“No,” he said. “What I’m saying is that I faced eternity, and I saw peace there. That will change how I live.”

“Without all of the guilt?”

He hesitated. “Being me, I doubt I’ll banish it entirely. The end was peace, but living… that is a tempest. Still, I see things differently now. It is time to stop letting myself be shoved around by lying men.” He looked up, toward the ridge above, where more soldiers in green were gathering. “I keep thinking of one of the visions,” he said softly, “the latest one, where I met Nohadon. He rejected my suggestion that he write down his wisdom. There’s something there. Something I need to learn.”

“What?” Navani asked.

“I don’t know yet. But I’m close to figuring it out.” He held her close