to see that he’s beaten.”
“No,” Shallan said. “There’s something more.” Her eyes flicked down toward poor Renarin, completely overwhelmed as he tried to fight a Shardbearer.
For the briefest instant, she considered going down to help. Sheer stupidity; she’d be even more useless than Renarin down there. Why didn’t anyone else help them? She glared across at the gathered Alethi lighteyes, including Highlord Amaram, the supposed Knight Radiant.
Bastard.
Shocked at how quickly that sentiment rose inside of her, Shallan looked away from him. Don’t think about it. Well, as nobody was going to help, both princes seemed to stand a good chance of dying.
“Pattern,” she whispered. “Go see if you can distract that Shardbearer fighting Prince Renarin.” She would not interfere with Adolin’s fight, not as he’d obviously decided he needed to keep going for some reason. But she would try to keep Renarin from getting maimed, if she could.
Pattern hummed and slipped from her skirt, moving across the stone of the arena benches. He seemed painfully obvious to her, moving in the open, but everybody was focused on the fighting below.
Don’t you get yourself killed on me, Adolin Kholin, she thought, glancing back up at him as he struggled against his three opponents. Please . . .
Someone else dropped to the sands.
* * *
Kaladin dashed across the arena floor.
Again, he thought, remembering coming to Amaram’s rescue so long ago. “This had better end differently than it did that time.”
“It will,” Syl promised, zipping along beside his head, a line of light. “Trust me.”
Trust. He’d trusted her and spoken to Dalinar about Amaram. That had gone wonderfully.
One of the Shardbearers—Relis, the one in black armor—trailed Stormlight from a crack in the vambrace on his left forearm. He glanced at Kaladin as he approached, then turned back away, indifferent. Relis obviously didn’t think a simple spearman was a threat.
Kaladin smiled, then sucked in some Stormlight. On this bright day, with the sun blazing white overhead, he could risk more than he normally would. Nobody would see it. Hopefully.
He sped up, then lunged between two of the Shardbearers, ramming his spear into Relis’s cracked vambrace. The man let out a shout of pain and Kaladin pulled his spear back, twisting between the attackers and getting close to Adolin. The young man in blue armor glanced at him, then quickly turned to put his back toward Kaladin.
Kaladin put his own back toward Adolin, preventing either of them from being attacked from behind.
“What are you doing here, bridgeboy?” Adolin hissed from within his helmet.
“Playing one of the ten fools.”
Adolin grunted. “Welcome to the party.”
“I won’t be able to get through their armor,” Kaladin said. “You’ll need to crack it for me.” Nearby, Relis shook his arm, cursing. The tip of Kaladin’s spear had blood on it. Not much, unfortunately.
“Just keep one of them distracted from me,” Adolin said. “I can handle two.”
“I— All right.” It was probably the best plan.
“Keep an eye on my brother, if you can,” Adolin said. “If things go sour for these three, they might decide to use him as leverage against us.”
“Done,” Kaladin said, then pulled away and jumped to the side as the one with a hammer—Dalinar had named him Elit—tried to attack Adolin. Relis came in from the other side, swinging, as if to cut right through Kaladin and hit Adolin.
His heart thumped, but training with Zahel had done its job. He could stare down that Shardblade and feel only a mild panic. He twisted around Relis, dodging the Blade.
The black-Plated man glanced at Adolin and took a step in that direction, but Kaladin lunged as if to strike him in the arm again.
Relis turned back, then reluctantly let Kaladin draw him away from the fight with Adolin. The man attacked quickly, using what Kaladin could now identify as Vinestance—a style of fighting that focused on defensive footing and flexibility.
He went more offensive against Kaladin, but Kaladin twisted and spun, always getting just out of the way of the attacks. Relis started cursing, then turned back to the fight with Adolin.
Kaladin slapped him on the side of the head with the butt of his spear. It was a terrible weapon for fighting a Shardbearer, but the blow got the man’s attention again. Relis turned and swept out with his Blade.
Kaladin pulled back a hair too slowly, and the Blade sheared the pointed end off his spear. A reminder. His own flesh would put up less resistance than that. Severing his spine would kill him, and no amount of Stormlight