Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,338

to the storm to be given light by the Rider’s touch. Several of the others whispered behind her, their voices attuned to Amusement. They thought she had decided to adopt mateform, which she’d always been adamant she would never do.

Her mother had smiled when she’d asked, explaining that few ever intended to adopt mateform. She acted as if it was simply something that happened, that an urge overtook you, or you sat too close to the exit during a storm—then poof, the next thing you knew, you’d become a silly idiot looking to breed. It was embarrassing to think others assumed Venli was doing that now.

She reached the wet stone at the edge of the shelter, where rainspren clustered with eyes pointed upward and grasping claws below. The wind and thunder were louder here, like the war calls of a rival family, trying to frighten her away.

Perhaps it would be best just to give the gemstone to her mother, and let her go try to find the new form. Wasn’t that what this was about?

No, Venli thought, trembling. No. It’s not.

Months spent trying to find new forms had gotten her nowhere—while Eshonai gained more and more acclaim. Even their mother, who had called her explorations foolish, now spoke of Eshonai with respect. The person who had found the humans. The person who had changed the world.

Venli had done what she was supposed to. She’d remained with her mother, she’d spent endless days memorizing songs, dutiful. But Eshonai got the praise.

Before her nerves betrayed her, Venli stepped out onto the hillside, entering the storm. The force of the wind made her stumble and slide down the slick rock. In an eyeblink she went from sheltered, song-filled warmth to icy chaos. A tempest with sounds like instruments breaking and songs failing. She tried to hold to the Rhythm of Resolve, but it was the Rhythm of Winds by the time she scrambled behind a large boulder and pressed her back against the stone.

From there, her mind devolved to the Rhythm of Pleading, bordering on panic. What was she doing? This was insanity. She’d often mocked those who went out in the storms without shields or other protections.

She wanted to return to the shelter, but she was too frightened to move. Something large crushed the ground nearby, causing her to jump, but a moment of darkness in the howling tempest prevented her from seeing how close the impact had been. As if the lightning, the wind, and the rain all conspired against her.

She reached into her pocket and took out the gemstone. What had seemed so bright before now seemed frail. The red light barely illuminated her hand.

Break it. She was supposed to break it. With fingers already numb from the cold, she searched around, eventually finding a large stone. The ground was shattered here in a circle the size of a listener. She retreated to the relative shelter of the boulder, shivering as she held the gemstone in one hand, the rock in the other.

Then silence.

It was so sudden, so unexpected, that she gasped. The rhythms in her mind became as one, a single steady beat. She looked upward into pure blackness. The ground around her seemed dry all of a sudden. She slowly turned around, then huddled down again. There was something in the sky, something like a face made from clouds and natural light. The impression of something vast and unknowable.

YOU WISH TO TAKE THIS STEP? a not-voice said, vibrating through her like a rhythm.

“I…” This was him, the spren of highstorms—the Rider of Storms. The songs called him a traitor.

YOU HAVE SPENT SO LONG AS CHILDREN OF NO GOD, the rhythm said to her. YOU WOULD MAKE THIS CHOICE FOR ALL OF YOUR PEOPLE?

Venli felt both a thrill and a terror at those words. So there was something in the gemstone?

“My … my people need forms!” she shouted up toward the vast entity.

THIS IS MORE THAN FORMS. THIS POWER CHANGES MORTALS.

Power?

“You served our enemies!” she called to the sky. “How can I trust what you say?”

YET YOU TRUST THE GIFT OF ONE OF THOSE ENEMIES? REGARDLESS, I SERVE NO ONE. NOT MAN OR SINGER. I SIMPLY AM. FAREWELL, CHILD OF THE PLAINS.

CHILD OF ODIUM.

The vision ended as abruptly as it had begun, and Venli was again in the storm. She nearly dropped her burdens in shock, but then—huddling against the gleeful wind—she set the glowing gemstone on the ground. She gripped the rock in her hand, slick with rain.