for this. He knew that even if Kaladin’s gravitational Lashings worked, enough weight would keep the lid in place. In fact, it felt like the weights were alive. People, dozens of them, climbing on top of the lid. Of course. Why use stone when humans were heavy enough and far easier to move?
Kaladin pounded on the wood as he felt Syl panicking, unable to reach him. His Stormlight was fading, and it seemed the walls and the lid were closing in on him. He’d die in here, and it wouldn’t take long. All the Pursuer had to do was wait. They could seal it above, denying him fresh air.…
In that moment of pure terror, Kaladin was in one of his nightmares again.
Blackness.
Encircled by hateful shadows.
Trapped.
Anxiety mounted inside him, and he began to thrash in the water, screaming, letting out the rest of his Stormlight. In that moment of panic, he didn’t care. But as he fell hoarse from shouting, he heard—strangely enough—Hav’s voice. Kaladin’s old sergeant, from his days as a recruit.
Panic on the battlefield kills more men than enemy spears. Never run. Always retreat.
This water came from somewhere. There was another way out.
Kaladin took a deep breath and dove beneath the black water, feeling it surround him. His panic returned. He didn’t know which way was up and which was down. How could you forget which way the sky was? But all was blackness. He fished in his pouch, finally managing to think clearly. He got out a glowing gemstone, but it slipped from his fingers.
And sank.
That way.
He pointed his fist toward the falling light and engaged Navani’s device. He was in no state for delicacy, so he squeezed as tight as he could and lurched, towed by his arm farther into the darkness. He plunged past the fabrials and the Fused—she was swimming upward, and didn’t seem concerned with him.
His ears screamed with a strange pain the deeper he went. He started to breathe in more Stormlight, but stopped himself. Underwater, he risked getting a lungful of liquid. But … he had no idea how to get Light when submerged. How had they never thought about this?
It was good that the device kept pulling him, because he might not have had the presence of mind to keep moving on his own. That was proven as he reached the gemstone he’d dropped, a garnet, and found it sitting on the bottom of the tube. A bright sapphire glowed here too, the one he’d knocked free. He grabbed it and disengaged the gauntlet fabrial, but it took him precious seconds to think and search around.
The tunnel turned level here. He moved in that direction, engaging the device, letting it pull him.
His lungs started to burn. He was still surviving on the breath he’d taken above, and didn’t know how to get more Stormlight. He was still trailing blood as well.
Was that light ahead, or was his vision getting so bad that he was seeing stars?
He chose to believe it was light. When he reached it—more fabrial pumps—he shut off his fabrial, pointed his hand upward, and engaged the device again. Nightmares chased him, manifestations of his anxiety, and it was as if the world were crushing him. Everything became blackness once more.
The only thing he felt was Syl, so distant now, terrified. He thought that would be his last sensation.
Then he broke out of the water into the air. He gasped—a raw and primal action. A physiological response rather than conscious choice. Indeed, he must have blacked out anyway, for when he blinked and his senses returned, he found himself hanging by his aching arm from the ceiling in a reservoir beneath the tower.
He shook his head, and looked at his hand. He’d dropped the sapphire, and when he tried to breathe in Stormlight, nothing came. His pouch was empty of it. He must have fed off it while drifting in and out of consciousness. He was tempted to let himself sleep again.…
No! They’ll be coming for you!
He forced his eyes open. If the enemy had explored the tower enough to know about this reservoir, they would come looking to be certain he was dead.
He disengaged the fabrial and dropped into the water. The cold shocked him awake, and he was able to use the fabrial to tug himself to the side of the reservoir. He crawled out onto dry stone. Amusingly, he was enough a surgeon to worry about how he’d contaminated this drinking water. Of all the things