Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,559

him. Sigzil stumbled as he drew too close, and Ishar lifted that same hand and slammed it against Sigzil’s chest, sending him sprawling backward to the stones.

Ishar then turned and raised his Shardblade in one hand to deflect one of Lyn’s strikes. Leyten came in, trying to flank, but he looked clumsy compared to the old Herald. Fortunately for the five, Ishar merely defended himself.

Despite earnestly trying, none could land a blow. It was as if … as if they were trying to hit where Ishar was, while he was able to move in anticipation of where they would be.

He is average among them? Dalinar asked. Then … who was the best?

Taln.

The one who sits in my camp? Dalinar thought. Unable to do more than mumble?

Yes, the Stormfather said. There was no dispute. But take care; Ishar’s skill as a duelist is a lesser danger. He has recovered his Honorblade. He is a Bondsmith unchained.

Ishar suddenly dashed forward, rushing into one of Sigzil’s attacks. The old man ducked the strike, then came up and touched Sigzil on the chest. When Ishar’s hand withdrew, he trailed a line of Stormlight behind him. He touched his hand to the ground, and Sigzil stumbled, gasping as his glow started to fade. Ishar had apparently tethered Sigzil to the stones with some kind of glowing rope that drained the Stormlight out and into the ground.

The other four followed, almost faster than Dalinar could track. One after another, tethered to the stone. Not bound, not frozen, but their Light draining away—and all of them stumbled, slowing, as if their lives were being drained with it.

Dalinar glanced at Szeth, but the Shin man had fallen to his knees, wide eyed. Storms. Dalinar should have known better than to depend on the assassin as a bodyguard. Navani had warned him; Szeth was nearly as unstable as the Heralds.

Dalinar didn’t want to see what happened when his troops ran out of Stormlight. He braced himself and thrust his hands between realms, then slammed them together as closed fists, knuckles meeting. In this, he united the three realms, opening a flash of power that washed away all color and infused the Radiants with Light.

Within the well of Light, Dalinar was nearly blinded—figures were mere lines, all shadows banished. Ishar, however, was distinct. Pale, eyes wide, whitened clothing rippling. He dropped his Blade and it turned to mist. Transfixed, he stepped toward Dalinar.

“How?” Ishar asked. The word sounded clear, an incongruity against the soundless rush of power surrounding them. “You … you open Honor’s path.…”

“I have bonded the Stormfather,” Dalinar said. “I need you, Ishar. I don’t need the legend, the Herald of Mysteries. I need the man Ash says you once were. A man willing to risk his life, his work, and his very soul to save mankind.”

Ishar strode closer. Holding the portal open was difficult, but Dalinar kept his hands pressed together. For the moment only he and Ishar existed here, in this place painted white. Ishar stopped a step or two from Dalinar. Yes, seeing another Bondsmith had shaken him.

I can reach him, Dalinar thought.

“I need a teacher,” Dalinar said. “I don’t know my true capabilities. Odium controls Urithiru, but I think with your help we could restore the Radiants there. Please.”

“I see,” Ishar said softly. He met Dalinar’s eyes. “So. The enemy has corrupted the Stormfather too. I had hoped…”

He shook his head, then reached out and pressed his hand to Dalinar’s chest. With the strain of keeping the perpendicularity open, Dalinar wasn’t able to move away in time. He tried to drop the perpendicularity, but when he pulled his hands apart, it remained open—power roaring through.

Ishar touched his hand to his own chest, creating a line of light between him and Dalinar. “I will take this bond to the Stormfather. I will bear it myself. I sense … something odd in you. A Connection to Odium. He sees you as … as the one who will fight against him. This cannot be right. I will take that Connection as well.”

Dalinar gasped, falling to his knees as something was torn from him—it felt as if his very soul was being ripped out. The Stormfather screamed: a terrifying, agonized sound, like lightning that warped and broke.

No, Dalinar thought. No. Please …

A shadow appeared on the field of whiteness. A shape—the shape of a black sword. This single line of darkness swiped through the line connecting Dalinar to Ishar.

The white cord exploded and frayed, trailing wisps of darkness.