Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,566

to explain what they’d found, but he was so tired. He plodded through the camp, towing his failure like a cart behind him, populated by swirling exhaustionspren.

And that was when they found him: women running up with spanreeds to the tower that were suddenly working again. Messengers surrounded by gloryspren, bringing amazing news. Navani in contact, the tower and Oathgates functioning. Dalinar listened to it in a daze.

Good news. Finally, good news.

He wanted to immediately get flown to Azimir so he could go see Navani, but he recognized the foolishness in that. He needed at least a short rest before enduring another lengthy flight, and there was that imminent highstorm to worry about. He ordered a message sent to his wife, promising to come to her before the day was out. Then he asked Jasnah and the Prime if he could meet with them after the storm.

After that, they left him to at last approach the small building he made his base. It felt like coming home. Of course, he’d lived enough of his life out on campaign that “home” had acquired a loose definition. Any place with a soft bed usually counted.

Urithiru really is safe now, Dalinar, the Stormfather said in his mind. I was so distracted by the dead spren that I didn’t notice at first. The Sibling has fully awakened. Another Bondsmith? The implications of this …

Dalinar was still trying to deal with those himself. Navani bonding a spren? That was wonderful, but he was so emotionally worn at the moment, he just wanted to sit and think. He pushed open the door to his house, stumbled through, and entered a vast golden field.

The ground shimmered as if infused with Stormlight. Dalinar pulled to a halt and turned around. The doorway was gone, the doorknob having vanished from his hand. The sky was a deep reddish orange, like a sunset.

He was in a vision. But he hadn’t heard the highstorm hit.

And … no. This wasn’t a highstorm vision. This was something else. He turned with trepidation, looking across the glimmering field to where a figure—clad in golden robes—stood on a nearby hilltop, facing away from Dalinar and staring out at the horizon.

Odium. Storms within, Dalinar thought, flagging. Not now. I can’t face him right now.

Well, a soldier couldn’t always pick his battlefield. This was the first time Odium had appeared to him in a year. Dalinar needed to use this.

He took a deep breath and pushed through his fatigue. He hiked up the hillside and eventually stopped beside the figure in gold. Odium held a small scepter like a cane, his hand resting on the ball at the top.

He appeared different from when Dalinar had last seen him. He still resembled a wise old man with a grey beard cut to medium length. A paternal air. Sagacious, knowing, understanding. Only now his skin was glowing in places, as if it had grown thin and a light inside was seeking to escape. The god’s eyes had gone completely golden, as if they were chunks of metal set into a statue’s face.

When Odium spoke, there was a harsh edge to his tone, his words clipped. Barely holding in his anger.

“Our Connection grows, Dalinar,” Odium said. “Stronger by the day. I can reach you now as if you were one of my own. You should be.”

“I will ever and always be my own,” Dalinar said.

“I know you went to see Ishar. What did he tell you?”

Dalinar clasped his hands behind him and used the old commander’s trick of remaining silent and staring in thought. Stiff back. Strong posture. Outwardly in control, even if you’re one step from collapsing.

“You were supposed to be my champion, Dalinar,” Odium said. “Now I see how you resisted me. You’ve been working with Ishar all along, haven’t you? Is that how you learned to bind the realms?”

“You find it inconvenient, don’t you?” Dalinar said. “That you cannot see my future. How does it feel to be human, Odium?”

“You think I fear humanity?” Odium said. “Humanity is mine, Dalinar. All emotions belong to me. This land, this realm, this people. They live for me. They always have. They always will.”

And yet you come to me, Dalinar thought. To berate me? You stayed away all these months. Why now?

The answer struck him like the light of a rising sun. Odium had lost the tower—Urithiru was safe and there was another Bondsmith. He’d failed again. And now he thought Dalinar had been working with Ishar.

Cultivation’s gift, though it