Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,554

he knew what he was saying. Which … he wasn’t certain he did. Transporting a bunch of unconscious people would be slow, and there was a highstorm outside.

“Rlain,” Venli said to Awe. “You gave orders to a Fused.”

He shrugged. “It’s all about an air of authority.”

“It’s more than that,” she said. “How?”

“I had good teachers,” Rlain said, though he was a little surprised himself. He was a spy, used to staying back, letting others lead while he watched. Today, though, there hadn’t been anyone else. And having been rejected by both sides, he figured he was an outsider—and therefore as close to a neutral party as there could be in this conflict.

Everyone worked together to move the unconscious Radiants and the wounded. Even Leshwi and the five other Heavenly Ones each carried a wounded soldier. Rlain spent the time checking the balconies up above. The dozens of Heavenly Ones who hadn’t joined the battle had now vanished. Carrying word to Raboniel, undoubtedly. Or marshaling their personal forces to stop this rebellion.

Once everyone was together, Rlain waved for them to follow as he started the hike out. Venli hurried up beside him.

“How are we going to work the Oathgate?” she whispered.

“I know the mechanism,” Rlain said. “I assume we can use your Blade to figure it out.”

Venli hurried at his side as they entered a corridor. “My Blade?”

“You told me you cut Lift out of her cell with a Shardblade. I wondered why they let you have one instead of giving it to a Fused, but now I can piece it together. Yours is a living Radiant Blade—which can work the Oathgates. I guess your Voidlight lets you summon it?”

Venli hummed to Anxiety. “I don’t have a Blade, Rlain.”

“But—”

“I was lying! I used my powers to get her out. Timbre says I’m a long way from earning my own Blade!”

Damnation. “We’ll figure something out,” he said. “Right now, we need to keep moving.”

Radiant.

—Musings of El, on the first of the Final Ten Days

A black storm.

Black wind.

Black rain.

Then, piercing the blackness like a spear, a lance of light.

Kaladin Stormblessed.

Reborn.

Kaladin exploded through the darkness, surrounded by a thousand joyful windspren, swirling like a vortex. “Go!” he shouted. “Find him!”

Though it felt like he’d been falling for hours, he had spent most of that time in the place between moments. If he was still falling through the sky, mere seconds had passed, and his father was falling somewhere below him.

Still alive.

Kaladin pointed downward, reaching out, preparing himself as hundreds of windspren met the storm and blew it back, creating an open path. A tunnel of light leading toward a single figure tumbling in the air, distant.

Still alive.

Kaladin’s Lashings piled atop one another as Syl spun around him, laughing. Storms, how he’d missed her laughter. With his hand outstretched, Kaladin watched as a windspren slammed into it and flashed, outlining his hand with a glowing transparent gauntlet.

A dozen others slammed into him, joyful, exultant. Lines of light exploded around him as the spren transformed—being pulled into this realm and choosing to Connect to him.

He watched that tiny tumbling figure as it drew closer and closer. The ground, so near. They’d fallen the length of the tower and hundreds of feet below it in the storms.

The ground rose up to meet them.

Almost. Almost. Kaladin stretched out his hand, and—

* * *

Not worthy.

The words echoed against Navani’s soul, and for the moment she forgot Moash. She forgot the tower. She was someplace else.

Not good enough.

Not a scholar.

Not a creator.

You have no fame, accomplishment, or capacity of your own. Everything that is distinctive about you came from someone else.

“Lies,” she whispered. And they were.

They truly were.

She pressed her hand to the pillar. “Take me as your Bondsmith. I am worthy, Sibling. I say the Words. Life before death.”

No. So soft. We are … too different.… You capture spren.

“Who better to work together than two who believe differently?” she said. “Strength before weakness. We can compromise. Isn’t that the soul of building bonds? Of uniting?”

Moash kicked Raboniel away and she hit the wall, limp as a doll.

“We can find the answers!” Navani said, blood dribbling from her lips. “Together.”

You … just want … to live.

“Don’t you?”

The Sibling’s voice grew too soft to hear. Moash looked down the hallway toward Navani.

So she closed her eyes and tried to hum. She tried to find Stormlight’s tone, pure and vibrant. But she faltered. Navani couldn’t hear that tone, not right now. Not with everything falling apart, not with her life seeping away.

She