Brandon Sanderson - [Stormlight Archive 01]

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

  question. She looked Meridas in the eyes. “When Taln comes back, do you

  really think he will let you betray this people?”

  Meridas paused, showing the faintest flash of uncertainty. He studied

  her eyes. Slowly, his hesitance was replaced with a self-satisfied smile. “You know he’s not coming back, no matter what you say. I can see the truth in

  your eyes, Jasnah. You think he is dead. He won’t let me betray this people?

  Why not, when he has already betrayed you?”

  Meridas shook his head, turning back to his map. “Your brother always

  said you thought yourself far more clever than you are,” he noted. “I see

  good evidence of that trait. It is a good thing I like your face, otherwise I would seriously reconsider this union.” He studied the map for a moment

  longer before waving at her with an off-handed gesture. “You may go.

  Prepare yourself—it has been four days, and there will likely be a highstorm this night.”

  Jasnah huddled in the screaming darkness. She crouched in a nook

  between two touching boulders, the cloth of her canopy stretched a few

  inches overhead to form a slight barrier between herself and the storm.

  Even still, water streamed from a tenset different slits and cracks, soaking her with its chill fingers. Wind whipped and buffeted the canvas, blowing

  across her sodden form, making her shiver anew with each passing.

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  It will end, she told herself miserably. It’s a summer storm. It will be quick.

  No longer than an hour. Future comfort was little consolation in the face of the cold wind, however. Her teeth chattered with a pathetic sound, her

  hair matted to her head as she pushed herself farther into the stone crack, though the boulders retained little warmth.

  Think of the men outside, she reminded herself. They don’t even have the meager protection of your canopy. They’re wrapped in their bedrolls—if they even have one—suffering far more than you.

  Thoughts of the men, however, only reminded her of Meridas’s intentions.

  On the morrow, the majority of them would be sold into permanent servi-

  tude. The one thing they retained in their pitiful lives, their freedom, would be taken away. Meridas wouldn’t even get a good deal for them. The despot

  Aneazer could probably demand slaves from the villages he controlled,

  and would have little shortage of workers. Yet Jasnah did not doubt

  Meridas would be able to bargain for his own freedom—even if Aneazer

  held the upper hand, he would be a fool to fight and lose trained soldiers when he could simply ride away with the enemy army under his control.

  How had she gotten herself into such a situation? What was she doing in

  the wilds, suffering before an open highstorm, waiting to betray those who fol owed her? She had assumed herself competent because of her experience

  in the Pralir wars and with the courts of Alethkar. Now that she had true

  control, however, she had led her followers nearly to their dooms. Meridas was right. She had failed.

  The reason was obvious. She shouldn’t have listened to Taln. Shortly

  before, she had spoken bold words about the madman’s return, but Meridas

  had seen through them. Taln wasn’t coming back, and why should she hope

  for him to? Giving heed to Taln’s judgement had brought her to disaster.

  Why? Why was she such a fool? She knew he was mad, and yet she gave

  him leave to do virtually whatever he wished.

  She had also made too many concessions to Meridas. He had been the

  first one to bring unnecessary troops along, simply because he wanted to

  wrestle command from her. And, foolishly, she had given him leave. Politics was a game of compromise and balance. Commanding troops, however,

  required absolute strength and no concessions. She had played one as if it were the other, never understanding the difference. And now she had failed.

  The wind curled around her stones, pulling up the cloth and spraying

  her with a fresh burst of rain.

  She couldn’t even blame her failure on Taln, not with any seriousness.

  He couldn’t help himself. He had proven that he could not distinguish

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  between reality and fiction. He truly thought that the Holy City would

  hold a solution to their problems. She should have been more clear-headed.

  Taln had pulled her along with his delusions, despite her resistance, and

  now he was dead.

  The storm finally blew itself out, the rains falling slack and the wind

  slowing to a slight breeze. Jasnah remained curled in her makeshift tent,

  back pressed against the uncomfortable stone, face and body draped by the

  thick canopy cloth. Chill water trickled down her face.

  She had to find another way. She had to think. She couldn’t let Meridas sell the people that had come to the army, men who had come answering

  her subtle prompting. She had been the one to encourage Taln’s reputation, the one determined to manipulate his madness into giving her an army. The

  people were her responsibility. Taln was dead, but he was not the only

  one that could resist Meridas. She would find a way. Perhaps—

  Jasnah paused, suddenly coming alert. She had heard something. Some-

  thing that sounded like . . .

  Hoofbeats. The camp was under attack.

  She threw off her cloth covering, spraying droplets of rainwater into the

  night air, and scrambled to her feet. Her intended call of warning, however, never left her throat.

  Jasnah froze, staring at the monstrous creature that stood before her

  in the darkness. It seemed to absorb the starlight, a massive black scar,

  darker even than the sky behind it. It stood twice her height, and a pair

  of twisting wings billowed in the air behind it, their motion a furtive and abstract black upon black. The body was a bulbous mass, indistinct, with

  strangely placed limbs.

  She could make out no details, but she could feel that it was there.

  The thing seemed to pull upon her, weakening her, taking her life and

  replacing it with awful, horrifying despair. Fear wouldn’t let her scream; it wouldn’t even let her shiver. Stories she’d heard since childhood, stories that frightened even the aged, told of the death that came with highstorms.

  Demons. Khothen. Stormshades.

  A light sputtered to life a short distance away—one of her guards lighting a lantern. The il umination dispel ed both darkness and imagination, taking away the fear and replacing it with reality. The light revealed no monster, but instead a man, sitting on horseback, his cloak fluttering in the wind behind him. His head was bowed slightly, leaving the eyes and face darkened, but

  she recognized the powerful, lean body and the Shardblade tied at the

  horse’s flank.

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  “Taln,” she whispered.

  He seemed . . . tired. His body slumped in the saddle slightly, and when

  he looked up, his face was wearied. His eyes were dark with something

  beyond lack of light, and the weak illumination left his face pocked and

  haunted with shadows. He turned, sliding out of the saddle and landing

  firmly on the wet stone despite his obvious fatigue, then reached over and twisted the Shardblade, allowing the supernaturally sharp edge to slice

  away its own bonds.

  He turned, standing before her. A short distance away, the guard set

  down his lantern then ran to spread the news. Taln stared down at her, half of his face hidden in darkness. Standing befo
re her as he was, he seemed

  massive—like a boulder, not a man. She reached a hand forward, to-

  ward him, but stopped. She pulled the arm back, against her sodden chest.

  “It is done,” Taln said quietly.

  “What?” Jasnah asked.

  “Those who followed no longer hunt this people.”

  Jasnah shivered within her wet clothing. For the first time, she noticed

  that Taln’s outfit was colored with irregular darkness. Blood stains. His

  face was smeared with something that looked like soot, though most of it

  had washed away in the storm.

  “You fought them all?” Jasnah asked. “A thousand men?”

  Taln smiled, the weak expression eerie in the darkness. “No,” he said.

  “Herald I may be, but I have the body of a man. With my powers, and

  with a small passway to defend . . . perhaps I could have fought them, for a time. Without either, I had to use other methods. The ones that still live will not continue the chase.”

  On the other side of the camp, lights winked to life as people woke. The

  stir seemed to be going too quickly—pieces of the camp were awakening

  that couldn’t possibly have gotten the news yet.

  “What . . . ?” she asked.

  “That will be Kemnar,” Taln said, stepping away from her and seating

  himself on one of her boulders with a deep sigh. “With the horses, and

  our captive.”

  “Captive?” Jasnah asked.

  “Go and see,” Taln said. He no longer seemed dark or menacing, only . . .

  exhausted. Like a man who bore some great weight. He looked up at her,

  and for the first time since his arrival she saw in him the man she had

  known. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll be fine. I just need to . . . rest.”

  Jasnah nodded, though she was hesitant to leave him. The irrational side

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  of her worried that he wouldn’t be there when she returned. She forced

  herself into motion, ignoring the cold winds and her numb, shivering body.

  She hurried across the camp, seeking out the source of the far disturbance.

  As she did so, she heard ecstatic calls of ‘The Herald has returned!’ She had to force herself not to join in the celebrations.

  Taln had returned. That didn’t, of course, mean that her problems

  had been fixed—they were still out of food, and they were still marching

  toward a hostile army four times their size—but suddenly everything

  seemed easier to face. It was silly, she knew, but never had she been so

  happy to be proven wrong.

  There were about two tenset horses in all. Jasnah found them at the edge

  of the camp. Kemnar stood nearby, carefully giving a group of soldiers

  instructions on equine care. He smiled when he saw her, then turned back

  to his explanation. All of the animals bore saddles and saddlebags, but none of them bore mounts—save one. As soon as she saw him, she realized why

  Kemnar was having so much trouble keeping the other soldiers’ attention.

  The newcomer wore black.

  His features were obviously inhuman, which meant he had been an

  Awakener for a long time indeed. His face was . . . sharp, and too linear.

  Like most Awakeners, it was hard to distinguish specific differences

  between his face and those of a regular person. The fine edges of his

  features, such as the nose and eyes, were just . . . too distinct. The smoothed parts, such as the cheeks, were too smooth. He didn’t blink—in fact,

  he didn’t even move. Not a muscle twitched as he sat, looking toward

  Kemnar.

  And then, he was looking at her. Jasnah started. The man hadn’t seemed

  to move at all. Instead, it was as if . . . he had simply ceased to be in one location, and appeared in a second. He sat there, staring at her for a long moment, drawing her attention so soundly that she jumped when Kemnar

  touched her elbow.

  “Unnerving, eh?” he asked. “I can never catch him moving, even if I’m

  looking at him when he does. It’s like he isn’t real, but a series of paintings of a person, each in a slightly different position.”

  Jasnah nodded. The creature was still staring at her. “Where . . . ?”

  “He was with the Veden army,” Kemnar said. “That’s how they moved

  so quickly. They didn’t have to carry food with them, or even stop to gather water. Taln’s saddlebags carry a sack of emeralds as big as your head, and mine carry another one filled with zircons.” Kemnar paused, and when

  he continued, she could hear discomfort in his voice. “Convenient way to

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  travel, I guess, if you can put up with the company. Those things are . . .” He trailed off, his voice becoming guilty.

  He’d forgotten that I’m one of them.

  She forced herself to turn from the creature, instead looking at Kemnar.

  He was a bit ragged and tired from a long ride, but overall he looked

  well. He’d let his beard get a little longer than he usually did, but there was an excited twinkle in his eyes.

  “You have news,” she said. “What happened out there? What did he do

  to the invaders?”

  “I don’t know everything,” Kemnar said. “But I can guess.”

  “Why don’t you know for certain?” Jasnah asked. “Weren’t you with

  him?”

  Kemnar shook his head as the two of them backed away from the ring

  of torches and the men caring for the newly-acquired horses. “No,” he

  continued. “Taln lost me the second day of our travels—he was gone when

  I woke up. Do you have any idea how hard it is to track a single person in the stormlands? Fortunately, I knew the general direction of the army. I

  found them, but . . .”

  “What?” Jasnah prompted.

  “Well,” Kemnar said. “Everything seemed normal, and there was no

  sign of Taln. The army stopped for the night, and I made my own camp a

  short ways back. That night there was a disturbance. I didn’t know what it was at the time, but I talked to some deserters a few days later. Apparently, someone had killed every single one of the guards on watch that night. He

  left the bodies, decapitated, beside their watch posts, with strange patterns carved into the ground around them. I saw some of these when I followed

  the army the next day. Taln obviously cut them with his Shardblade, but the army didn’t know that. They only saw eerie patterns in the stone, odd things that looked kind of like glyphs, but somehow not quite right.”

  Jasnah frowned. “He was trying to scare them?”

  Kemnar smiled in the wan light. “Yes, and it worked. Each night, Taln

  killed every man set on watch, until they began to set their watches closer and closer and set more and more men up at night. That, however, only

  made the army more tired when it marched the next day—slowing it

  considerably. Then Taln started killing the scouts and their horses too.

  Soon, no one wanted to ride point, and the scouts they did send always

  stayed within view of the army. This slowed them even further, since they

  couldn’t watch for gullies or wash-outs.

  “If they sent out patrols to villages, those patrols never returned. If

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  anyone went to the privy alone at night, they were found beheaded when

  morning came. By the fourth day, the desertions began—and Taln let them

  leave without being killed. Well, that probably didn’t help morale any, and soon the Vedens had to set watches on their own men. Taln even go
t into

  camp sometimes and killed these watches, though I don’t know how he

  did it unseen.”

  Kemnar stopped.

  “And?” Jasnah said.

  “And that’s all I know,” he confessed. “The next night, he found me

  and told me not to follow any more. He gave me a few horses that he had

  stolen, kept one for himself, and told me to stay where I was. He said that if he didn’t return in three days, I was to ride and find you and tell you what I knew.”

  “And you did what he commanded?” Jasnah asked with annoyance. “You

  stayed there?”

  “My lady,” Kemnar said flatly. “He was not in a mood to be disobeyed.

  I thought it wise to accommodate him.”

  Jasnah paused, thinking back to the dark, unnerving expression Taln had

  borne when he first arrived back in camp. “All right,” she said. “There’s little we can do about it now. What happened then? He returned, I assume?”

  Kemnar nodded. “There was a highstorm late the next evening—that

  was four days ago—and he found me a day later. He led a group of horses,

  one of them bearing the Awakener. When I asked him about the army, he

  simply said that it would follow us no more.”

  Jasnah folded her arms in dissatisfaction. Kemnar looked away guiltily,

  and she saw—really saw—for the first time how tired he was. “Go and get

  something warm to eat,” she told him, “then get some rest. I’ll deal with

  Talenel.”

  Kemnar smiled. “Thank you, my lady,” he said, bowing. Then he dis-

  appeared into the night. Jasnah stood, watching the men remove saddles

  and hobble the horses, another bringing grain for the beasts to eat. The

  Awakener climbed down from his mount, and it was as Kemnar had said—

  he didn’t seem to move. It was as if with him, her eyes didn’t work—they

  registered him as if she were blinking rapidly, only catching sight of him for brief glimpses, each one freezing him mid-motion. Yet he changed

  positions from sitting horseback to standing beside the animal—he just

  did it without any apparent motion.

  Jasnah shivered as she watched, though this time it really was from the

  cold. Her sodden clothing was plastered to her skin—it probably wouldn’t