Brandon Sanderson - [Stormlight Archive 01]

by The Way of Kings Prime (ALTERNATIVE VERSION) (pdf)

  Yet, standing before troops again, making soldiers out of common men—

  this was something Taln understood. There was a comforting familiarity

  to it.

  He had quickly updated his knowledge of modern strategies by speaking

  with Kemnar and the other soldiers. The use of mobile towers was a newer

  invention, developed as bow technology—historically useless against the

  crystal-boned Khothen—came into favor. Awakeners, thankfully, were

  rarely used in battle. Taln well remembered the chaos of the Awakener

  Wars of the Third Epoch—wars the Heralds themselves had sparked to

  overthrow Kanar.

  Modern battles revolved around Shardblades, as Taln would have

  projected. Versatile formations of men, organized by armament, formed the

  landscape upon which Shardbearers dueled. The formations of men weren’t

  unimportant, of course—they were used to gain position and strategic

  dominance on the battlefield. The Shardbearers, however, were the focus

  of the battles themselves.

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  So, the first thing Taln taught his men was not to be frightened of a

  Shardblade.

  His teachings bothered Meridas, and that was all the more reason to

  continue them. The nobleman shot troubled glares toward the soldiers as

  Taln allowed each one to hold his Blade and take a few swings, hopefully

  dispelling some of the mysticism surrounding the weapons. Taln showed

  them the delicate art of parrying a Shardblade, teaching them to slap the

  weapon on the flat of its blade, deflecting it without letting one’s spearhaft touch the sharpened edge. He forced them to face him, one man at a time,

  and spar with him until they learned to focus less on the weapon and more

  on their opponent.

  Even Kemnar, who was normally so accepting, found this training a

  little unnerving. Shardblades, weapons forged to protect mankind from

  a demonic threat, were coveted and revered. It troubled the noblemen

  to see their mythological aura dispelled. Taln did not stop his training.

  Demystifying Shardblades was only a small step—in seven months, these

  men would have to face the Khothen themselves. Even during the days

  of the Epoch Kingdoms, when men had believed in the Stormshades and

  been trained to fight them, Taln had seen many a brave man frozen by fear

  when faced by a legendary demonic horror.

  And so, he trained them—not for Jasnah’s war, but for the one that

  would come afterward. He taught them discipline, then explained why

  it would save their lives more often than would any spear or shield. With

  the increased numbers from Marcabe, they were nearly two hundred

  strong. Not an army, but a reasonable task force. Their weapons were poor

  in quality, their armor non-existent, but their will was strong, and Taln saw that their training was good. By the time a week had passed, he had them

  marching with discipline, and Meridas was able to increase his pace from

  the leisurely march he had kept during the first few days.

  Taln could see the effect the increased speed had on Jasnah. She was

  shorter than most of the men in the group, and was unaccustomed to walking with a natural stride. Her life had been one of ease, at least physically, and her body protested at the strain of forced marching. Yet he knew she would endure. There was warrior’s determination in her eyes; not all battles were fought with spear and sword, and though her life had left her physically

  weak, it had given her a will as strong as that of any general. He didn’t

  patronize her, saying little of her travails. Her body would accustom itself to the exercise, and she would be stronger for it. In the months to follow, she would need a body as tough as her mind to survive Khothen invasions.

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  The one who surprised him most was Brother Lhan. The plump monk

  joined in the battle training with the other men, though Taln had never

  suggested he do so. In fact, Taln had expected Lhan to have as much

  trouble as Jasnah. If the monk felt the pains of extended walking, followed by intense spear training, he didn’t show it. In fact, he continued to work even after the training, for each night—or, rather, morning, since they

  slept during the day—he gave a recitation from the Arguments. He quoted flawlessly, despite his claims that he had never had the patience for memorization. Taln could see the appreciation in his soldiers’ eyes. Meridas gave them legitimacy, Taln gave them skill, but Lhan gave them faith.

  “Kemnar, would you take over for me?” Taln asked.

  The bald warrior nodded, and Taln clapped him on the shoulder before

  leaving the sparring area. Morning was approaching, almost time for

  the men to bed down, and a light was pooling on the horizon. The soldiers

  continued their practice around him, Kemnar taking charge as Taln left.

  There was little for him to do, however—the squad commanders saw that

  their men performed the proper exercises and formation practices. Kemnar

  simply had to walk among them, being seen inspecting the practice.

  Several things were evident from the landscape around them. The first

  was the undeniable fact that Riemak, cradle of Vorinism and most noble

  of the Epoch Kingdoms, had fallen. The roads, once the kingdom’s pride,

  had fallen into disuse. Or perhaps ‘disuse’ was an understatement. The few scattered trails they passed were so weathered it was difficult to tell if they had really once been roads, or if their apparitional lines were simply tricks of the eye. Everything was overgrown with rockbuds and weathered by

  highstorm floods. The occasional stone bridges they passed were worn and

  often broken, and rubbled remains of villages and towns were regularly

  reported by the scouts.

  However, scattered among the shadows of what had once been, one

  could find the facts of what now existed. Riemak, or the area it had once

  covered, was not as empty as Taln had been led to believe. Frightened,

  defensive villages farmed inavah among the hills, their buildings huddled

  and weathered by cromstone—as if they were trying to mask their presence

  from outsiders. Meridas sent men to trade with these when possible, and

  the reception they received was cold at best. Still, Jasnah’s gems were valued commodities, as they would allow for trade across Alethkar’s border. Taln

  worried at the necessity of exposing themselves, but knew that there

  was little he could do. The trompings of several hundred feet left broken

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  rockbuds and trampled foliage. If the men who chased them were able to

  discern their initial direction, finding their trail once they passed out of the barren inavah fields would not be a problem. Taln simply had to count

  on their head start, and the enemy’s hopeful lack of horses, to keep his

  men away from their pursuers.

  He sighed, ladling a precious bit of water to his lips as his men trained in their formations. They shouldn’t have to worry about pursuit. Men should

  not fight men—they had a much more dangerous foe to consider. Men

  would give parlay. The Khothen only sought death. Even the slaughter

  at Ral Eram’s palace would be tame by comparison to what the Storm-

  shades would do if they caught the people unaware. But thinking about

  the infantile quarrels of men—even for the hundredth time—would not

  change t
he situation. He dropped the ladle, noting how low their water

  stores were. Fortunately, the highstorms would begin again in about a week.

  Of course, those would bring their own problems.

  He found Lady Jasnah sitting beneath her canopy—little more than

  four sticks with an awning, it was nonetheless the closest thing they had

  to a tent. She sat on her blanket, massaging her feet, but stiffened and

  stopped as soon as she noticed Taln. He had to smile at her appearance.

  Despite their extended march, despite the hardships she suffered, Lady

  Jasnah forced herself to maintain the proprieties of a perfect Aleth noblewoman. She insisted upon enough water to wipe herself clean at the end

  of each day, and she kept her hair immaculately braided despite her lack of serving women. In fact, her bearing was still that of the calm, commanding noble woman—the only clues to her predicament lay in her humble clothing

  and the slight tan her fair skin had begun to adopt.

  As usual, she wore no gemstones—no rings, no hairjewels, not even a

  pendant. It was so striking an irregularity that Taln was surprised he hadn’t made the connection to her Awakening powers long before she revealed

  them.

  Taln waved away the pair of guards who stood guarding the lady’s tent.

  They glanced at Jasnah for confirmation, which she hesitantly gave. These

  men, at least, were loyal only to her. That was good.

  Taln squatted down as the men left, seating himself on a short boulder

  beside her blanket. Jasnah stared up at him with a cool expression. It

  probably angered her that he should see her weak, but he was of little mind to put up with feminine stubbornness, so he ignored the glare. He reached

  into his cloak pocket and removed a small bag. From this he dumped a

  small pile of gemstones.

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  She paled just slightly. “What are those?”

  Taln raised an eyebrow.

  Jasnah rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she said dryly. “I know they’re gemstones.

  What are they for?”

  “You know that too,” he said calmly. “The funds you gave me were mostly

  sapphires and emeralds—I had to do a great deal of searching in Marcabe

  to find a good sampling of each Polestone.”

  Jasnah glanced down, eyes drawn to the gemstones despite her obvious

  distaste. Yes, she had the look of an Awakener. He should have seen it, the way her eyes lingered on the stones, the way she obviously had to force her hands to remain in her lap. She had Kemnar handle all of her funds, so she would never have to touch currency, and never wore gemstones—all so

  she could try and pretend that she wasn’t an Awakener.

  He remembered that call. It wasn’t an easy lure to resist, especially at

  first. In fact, though he had long since overcome the call himself, a piece of Taln felt dead whenever he touched gemstones this Return. Where they

  had once sung, they were now strangely silent to him—just as they had been to him before the creation of his nahel Bond. He gritted his teeth against the memories of Awakening, focusing on Jasnah.

  “You have to learn,” he told her.

  She looked away from the stones, regarding him with hostile, angry eyes.

  “We have had this discussion.”

  “Your abilities are a gift from the Almighty,” Taln said sternly. “He would not have given them to you if He didn’t wish you to use them.”

  “The Almighty?” Jasnah snorted. “You’ll need a better argument than

  that, Taln.”

  “Very well, then,” Taln said. “What of your people? What of duty to

  your kingdom? With leather, I could make armor for these soldiers. With

  steel and Awakener’s fire, I could forge better weapons. With the power of Awakening, we could carry a simple pouch of zircons and emeralds, rather

  than lug four pullcarts full of water and grain. This is a military expedition, and so far you have been useless to it. Meridas provides leadership and I give the men training, but you are only a liability—especially since you refuse to make use of the one invaluable ability you could provide.”

  Jasnah recoiled, her face growing even more icy. “You speak to me of

  duty? You, who care nothing for this expedition or its people save that

  it takes you closer to the Holy City? You, who would have left Ral Eram

  without even a fight, sneaking away from the invaders without giving

  warning? Yes, Lhan told me of your plans that day, when you knew of the

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  attack and were preparing to run. One wonders why you even got involved?

  Did you go to the invaders to see if, perhaps, they might make a more

  powerful ally? After all, what are kingdoms and deaths to you—you’ve lived three thousand years. Considering all that experience you’ve supposedly

  had, one would think that you’d be leading the armies of man, not traipsing along with a half-equipped band of untrained soldiers, having abandoned

  the First Capital to invaders. If you really are one of the Ten Heralds, then I do hope the other nine are more competent than yourself, otherwise it’s a wonder mankind hasn’t been destroyed already.”

  The other nine . . . How could she know? How did she see what he

  was—the least of ten, surely an embarrassment to the others? Who was

  he, a simple soldier, to be chosen to join them? Kings, men of great

  wisdom, brave heroes and masterful knights, all of them—all of them

  except Taln. Taln the footman. Taln, who should have never been made one

  of them. Taln, who had doubted their course, the capture of the Magnatah, the formation of the nahel Bond. Memories buried beneath three millennia surfaced, bright and hot as when they had first been imprinted. The

  other Heralds must be working to save Roshar, for if it were up to Taln,

  mankind was doomed. If it had been up to him, mankind would have been destroyed long ago . . .

  The flames came again, the first time since the dueling competition.

  The canopy disappeared in an explosion of burning strips of cloth. The sky overhead bubbled with fire, and all was red around him. The stones melted

  to lava. His flesh curled, black. And the howling began. Horrid, chilling

  screams. The screams of a thing that should be dead, but could not die. It appeared from the burning whiteness, a creature wreathed in darkness, a

  pitiful yet horrifying monstrosity. And it came for him. He stood to face

  it, hand groping for his Shardblade.

  “Taln!”

  Her voice was pure, and almost he could hear her Soul Tone in the

  call. Hostility had been replaced with concern, and he saw her, kneeling

  with fright amidst churning lava and smoking fires. She didn’t burn. She

  never did.

  “Taln, I like not that look in your eyes,” she pled. “What is happening?

  Taln, speak to me!”

  Lava cooled beneath his feet and the fires above withered. The canopy

  reformed itself, growing from ashen sticks back into normal, wooden

  beauty.

  Taln exhaled, seating himself. He held out a forestalling hand to calm

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  Jasnah’s concern, but she pulled forward anyway, laying a hand on his knee.

  “What was it?” she asked quietly. “What did you see?”

  “I . . .” It was not a thing he could explain, for it was not a thing he

  yet understood. Something was . . . very wrong with this Return. “It is

  nothing, Jasnah,” he said. “Just . . . burdens. When you’ve lived as long as I, you pick up many of them.” He paused, then sm
iled tiredly. Suddenly

  he felt exhausted. “We certainly are growing proficient at manipulating

  one another. I thought we’d agreed not to squabble any more.”

  Jasnah blushed slightly, moving to sit back in her original position. She

  froze, however. Her unshod foot had touched one of the gemstones, which

  had been carelessly dropped from uncertain hands when the fires came.

  The Polestones now lay scattered across the stones at Taln’s feet.

  Jasnah sat for a moment, and he knew what she would be feeling. She

  could hear the Pole Tone, the pure and resonant sound of an unsoiled

  Essence. She heard it, but not with a regular sense. She heard it vibrating with her own soul, and she would find it beautiful. It would be even more

  powerful for her than it had been for him—the Elin, by virtue of their

  Bond, had powerful Soul Tones, unchangeable by Awakening. Though he

  had used the power for many, many years, he had never been very strong at

  it, and his body had never displayed any of the changes Awakening caused.

  He was far better at Stonewarding.

  Jasnah stiffened suddenly, pulling her leg away. Taln stooped down,

  gathering up the gemstones. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have tried to shame you into Awakening. I am just amazed that your kingdom would

  pass up an Awakener—during most eras, your kind were far too valuable not

  to train.”

  “They’re still valuable,” Jasnah said. “My father and uncle would have

  forced me to join with the Awakeners, had they known of my skill.”

  Taln paused, frowning. Then he dumped the rest of the gems in the

  pouch. “How is that possible? What of the Charan? Please tell me that it has not been forgotten? We worked so hard to institute it.”

  “The Charan is still performed,” Jasnah said. Her voice was slow, and had an absent quality to it—not distracted, just reserved. “I discovered my abilities before I came of age.”

  “Ah,” Taln said. It was rare—very rare. Usually, a soul had to hear another Soul Tone for its own latent power to mature. That was one of the prime

  reasons for the Charan—to use Awakening on every young adolescent so that if they had skill themselves, it could be discovered. For a child to learn Awakening without the Charan . . .

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