Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,367

down the center of the hallway, or else he’d drift to the side and end up scraping across the wall. He also had to be acutely aware of the device, as it was remarkably easy to flip the activation switch accidentally by brushing his hand against something.

He kept practicing, and was able to go back and forth for quite a while before the device stopped working. He lurched to a halt midflight, hanging in the center of the hallway.

He rested his feet on the ground and deactivated the device. The weight he’d been using had hit the bottom. That had lasted him quite a long time—though much of that time had been resetting and moving around. In actual free fall, he probably wouldn’t have longer than a few minutes of flight. But if he controlled the weight, using it in short bursts, he could make good use of those minutes.

He wouldn’t be soaring about fighting Heavenly Ones in swooping battles with this. But he could get an extra burst of speed in a fight, and maybe move in an unexpected direction. Navani intended him to use it as a lift. It would work for that, certainly. And he intended to practice going up and down outside once it was dark.

But Kaladin also saw martial applications. And all in all, the device worked better than he’d expected. So he walked to the end of the hallway to set up again.

“More?” Syl asked.

“You have an appointment or something?” Kaladin asked.

“Just a little bored.”

“I could crash into another wall, if you like.”

“Only if you promise to be amusing when you do it.”

“What? You want me to break more fingers?”

“No.” She zipped around him as a ribbon of light. “Breaking your hands isn’t very funny. Try a different body part. A funny one.”

“I’m going to stop trying to imagine how to manage that,” he said, “and get back to work.”

“And how long are we going to be doing this decidedly unfunny crashing?”

“Until we don’t crash, obviously,” Kaladin said. “I had months to train with my Lashings, and longer to prepare for my first fight as a spearman. Judging by how quickly the Fused found the first node, I suspect I’ll have only a few days to train on this device before I need to use it.”

When the time came—assuming Navani or the Sibling could give him warning—he wanted to be ready. He knew of at least one way to quiet the nightmares, the mounting pressure, and the mental exhaustion. He couldn’t do much about his situation, or the cracks that were ever widening inside him.

But he could stay busy, and in so doing, not let those cracks define him.

The sand originated offworld. It is only one of such amazing wonders that come from other lands—I have recently obtained a chain from the lands of the dead, said to be able to anchor a person through Cognitive anomalies. I fail to see what use it could be to me, as I am unable to leave the Rosharan system. But it is a priceless object nonetheless.

—From Rhythm of War, page 13 undertext

Jasnah had never gone to war. Oh, she’d been near to war. She’d stayed behind in mobile warcamps. She’d walked battlefields. She’d fought and killed, and had been part of the Battle of Thaylen Field. But she’d never gone to war.

The other monarchs were baffled. Even the soldiers seemed confused as they parted, letting her stride forward among them in her Shardplate. Dalinar, though, had understood. Until you stand in those lines, holding your sword and facing down the enemy force, you’ll never understand. No book could prepare you, Jasnah. So yes, I think you should go.

A thousand quotes from noted scholars leaped to her mind. Accounts of what it was like to be in war. She’d read hundreds; some so detailed, she’d been able to smell the blood in the air. Yet they all fled like shadows before sunlight as she reached the front of the coalition armies and looked out at the enemy.

Their numbers seemed endless. A fungus on the land ahead, black and white and red, weapons glistening in the sun.

Reports said there were about forty thousand singers here. That was a number she could comprehend, could analyze. But her eyes didn’t see forty thousand, they saw endless ranks. Numbers on a page became meaningless. She hadn’t come to fight forty thousand. She’d come to fight a tide.

On paper, this place was the Drunmu Basin in Emul. It was a vast ocean