The Way of Kings - By Brandon Sanderson Page 0,487

darkness. Like a highstorm, only wrong.

“At least tell me this,” Dalinar said. “What time are we seeing? Is this the past, the future, or something else entirely?”

The figure didn’t answer immediately. Then he said, “You’re probably wondering if this is a vision of the future.”

Dalinar started. “I just… I just asked…”

This was familiar. Too familiar.

He said that exact thing last time, Dalinar realized, feeling a chill. This all happened. I’m seeing the same vision again.

The figure squinted at the horizon. “I cannot see the future completely. Cultivation, she is better at it than I. It’s as if the future is a shattering window. The further you look, the more pieces that window breaks into. The near future can be anticipated, but the distant future… I can only guess.”

“You can’t hear me, can you?” Dalinar asked, feeling a horror as he finally began to understand. “You never could.”

Blood of my fathers… he’s not ignoring me. He can’t see me! He doesn’t speak in riddles. It just seems that way because I took his responses as cryptic answers to my questions.

He didn’t tell me to trust Sadeas. I… I just assumed…

Everything seemed to shake around Dalinar. His preconceptions, what he’d thought he’d known. The ground itself.

“That is what could happen,” the figure said, nodding into the distance. “It’s what I fear will happen. It’s what he wants. The True Desolation.”

No, that wall in the air wasn’t a highstorm. It wasn’t rain making that enormous shadow, but blowing dust. He remembered this vision in full, now. It had ended here, with him confused, staring out at that oncoming wall of dust. This time, however, the vision continued.

The figure turned to him. “I am sorry to do this to you. By now I hope that what you’ve seen has given you a foundation to understand. But I can’t know for certain. I don’t know who you are, or how you have found your way here.”

“I…” What to say? Did it matter?

“Most of what I show you are scenes I have seen directly,” the figure said. “But some, such as this one, are born out of my fears. If I fear it, then you should too.”

The land was trembling. The wall of dust was being caused by something. Something approaching.

The ground was falling away.

Dalinar gasped. The very rocks ahead were shattering, breaking apart, becoming dust. He backed away as everything began to shake, a massive earthquake accompanied by a terrible roar of dying rocks. He fell to the ground.

There was an awful, grinding, terrifying moment of nightmare. The shaking, the destruction, the sounds of the land itself seeming to die.

Then it was past. Dalinar breathed in and out before rising on unsteady legs. He and the figure stood on a solitary pinnacle of rock. A little section that—for some reason—had been protected. It was like a stone pillar a few paces wide, rising high into the air.

Around it, the land was gone. Kholinar was gone. It had all fallen away into unplumbed darkness below. He felt vertigo, standing on the tiny bit of rock that—impossibly—remained.

“What is this?” Dalinar demanded, though he knew that the being couldn’t hear him.

The figure looked about, sorrowful. “I can’t leave much. Just these few images, given to you. Whoever you are.”

“These visions… they’re like a journal, aren’t they? A history you wrote, a book you left behind, except I don’t read it, I see it.”

The figure looked into the sky. “I don’t even know if anyone will ever see this. I am gone, you see.”

Dalinar didn’t respond. He looked over the sheer pinnacle, down at a void, horrified.

“This isn’t just about you either,” the figure said, raising his hand into the air. A light winked out in the sky, one that Dalinar hadn’t realized was there. Then another winked out as well. The sun seemed to be growing dimmer.

“It’s about all of them,” the figure said. “I should have realized he’d come for me.”

“Who are you?” Dalinar asked, voicing the words to himself.

The figure still stared into the sky. “I leave this, because there must be something. A hope to discover. A chance that someone will find what to do. Do you wish to fight him?”

“Yes,” Dalinar found himself saying, despite knowing that it didn’t matter. “I don’t know who he is, but if he wants to do this, then I will fight him.”

“Someone must lead them.”

“I will do it,” Dalinar said. The words just came out.

“Someone must unite them.”

“I will do it.”

“Someone must protect them.”

“I will do it!”

The figure