Brandon Sanderson - [Stormlight Archive 01]

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


  pull them back and threaten the stability of their purpose.

  Yet, if he were no Herald . . . Her warmth was so comforting at his side.

  But what then? He would still remember. If the anxiety of wondering

  at his sanity were so great, how much more potent would his insecurity

  be if he thought he’d abandoned the world to destruction? How could he

  live? Even considering such things made his uncertainty rise, and the fires began to smolder. He contained them by looking at her.

  He looked into hopeful eyes. “I will have to think about this, Jasnah,” he said.

  Think. Think about what? Admitting that he was insane, that everything

  he knew and remembered was nothing more than a delusional lie? Yes, he told himself, that is exactly what I will consider. I must confront this.

  “I will think,” he repeated.

  “. . . and we’ll have to move in through the north, through the valleys,

  to mask our approach. Even still, they’re bound to have . . .” Meridas

  trailed off, looking up from his map as he noticed Taln standing in the tent doorway.

  Aneazer frowned openly at the intrusion, but Meridas was far better at

  hiding his displeasure.

  “What is this?” Taln asked. “The scouts have returned with news of

  Kholinar? Why was I not informed?”

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  “We thought this beneath your notice, holy one,” Meridas said with a

  smooth voice. “It is only a preliminary report, and your divine presence

  hardly needs—”

  “I may or may not be insane, Meridas,” Taln interrupted. “But I am

  definitely not an idiot. Do not patronize me.”

  Meridas simply smiled.

  “What did the scouts find?” Taln asked, striding forward and regarding

  the tabletop map. Aneazer had brought more than men to their expedition—

  his supply carts carried tents, furniture, and some surprisingly detailed

  landscape maps. His knowledge of eastern Alethkar was so remarkable, in

  fact, that it was suspicious. One had to wonder what his plans might have

  included, should Alethkar have fared worse in the Pralir wars.

  “Kholinar is besieged,” Aneazer said. “Held by a force of several thousand.”

  “How many is ‘several,’ Aneazer?” Taln said, scanning the map. A smaller

  section had been arranged with a crudely-sketched layout of Kholinar

  and the surrounding territory, and this was marked with several troop

  groupings. The larger map, which showed the surrounding geography, told

  him something that the other two had already noticed—that their own

  army would have to change its route slightly. With care, they might be

  able to get within a few hours march of the city without being discovered.

  “Three thousand foot, six hundred heavy infantry, and perhaps five

  hundred archers—with towers.”

  Taln grunted.

  “Smaller than our force in numbers,” Meridas pointed out.

  “But with the advantage of location, not to mention the archers,” Taln

  said. “I am new to this epoch’s methods of war, but I suspect that those

  towers will be problematic.”

  Aneazer nodded. They had been forced to leave the man’s own towers

  behind in the name of speed, and their force had barely two hundred

  archers. “We do have the advantage of Shardbearers, I would assume,” he

  said.

  “Yes,” Meridas said. “Most armies carry barely one Blade per tensquad.

  Assuming averages hold true, this force will be lucky to be armed by three or four Shardbearers. Fewer probably, since they haven’t attacked the city itself yet. It might be best for us to skirt this army entirely. We need to join with the bulk of Alethkar’s forces.”

  There was a sudden commotion outside the tent, marked by the presence

  of an angry feminine voice. Beside the table, Meridas rolled his eyes and

  Aneazer smiled in amusement.

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  “We should probably suffer her,” Meridas said with a sigh. “She won’t

  leave us alone until she’s been placated. Her brother indulged her by allowing her to play general with his armies.”

  “Surely you don’t—” Aneazer said.

  Meridas laughed. “By the winds, no. Elhokar is a soft-hearted brother,

  and he indulged her far too much. You can see the result. The woman will

  learn her place once our wedding is official.” If he caught Taln’s dark look at that last comment, he gave no obvious indication. “Anyway, for now

  there is little to do besides let her in and humor her momentarily, so that we may be rid of her quickly.”

  “As you say, Lord Meridas,” Aneazer said, waving for an attendant to

  relay the message. Taln himself hadn’t had any trouble gaining entrance—

  the army was still ostensibly his, and they couldn’t very well bar him

  from the command tent. Jasnah, obviously, was not afforded the same

  consideration.

  She stalked into the tent chamber a few moments later. Another woman

  might have thrown a tirade, but she simply shot Meridas a thin-eyed glance, then strode over to regard the various maps.

  “We are too late to bring my brother warning, then,” she said.

  Meridas raised an eyebrow.

  “After taking Ral Eram from the inside, the invaders could hope to keep

  the city’s fall a secret,” Jasnah replied, “but they could never lay a siege like this without word eventually reaching my brother. At least we know

  that Alethkar hasn’t been conquered yet.”

  “We don’t know that,” Meridas said. “The invaders could have already

  destroyed King Elhokar’s army, then sent separate divisions to capture the larger cities and quell rebellion.”

  Jasnah shook her head. “This is too small a force,” she said. “And it’s

  arranged for an extended siege, not an offensive. It is meant to cut off

  Dalenar’s retreat, and to disrupt his supplies. If the invaders had won,

  they would not have wasted any time before taking Kholinar—it holds

  an Oathgate and, other than Ral Eram, is the most important city in the

  kingdom. The invaders wouldn’t waste time with a siege—they would

  attack quickly and decisively. Trying to starve the city would be an act of foolishness, consider the number of Awakeners it holds.”

  “She’s probably right,” Taln agreed. He didn’t look toward Jasnah. Every

  time he met her eyes, he saw the appeal therein.

  “We need to attack,” Jasnah decided. “We can’t leave this enemy at our

  backs, and freeing Kholinar would be a powerful aid to our allies.”

  THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 691

  “Yes, well,” Meridas said, “we will consider it.”

  Jasnah ignored him, leaning down closely, running her finger along

  the map as if tracing a path. “We can do it easily,” she said. “They won’t be expecting a force to come upon them from the west. We should send

  a smaller contingent to strike toward the gates quickly from the east, and they will assume it’s a breaking force, meant to try and bring a message

  from Elhokar’s army into the city. They’ll react quickly, pulling their forces forward to defend the city gates, exposing them to fire from Kholinar itself and leaving their towers relatively unguarded at the back of the main body.

  We can send mounted Shardbearers to cut down the towers, then attack

  from the east and retain the height advantage as we come down the lip of

  the Lait.”
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  “As I said, Jasnah,” Meridas said with obvious annoyance, “we are quite

  capable of—”

  “No, wait, Meridas,” Aneazer said, pulling at his frazzled grey beard,

  studying the map with consternation. “The woman’s words have merit.”

  “Kholinar undoubtedly still has troops guarding its walls,” Jasnah con-

  tinued. “When they see our attack, they’ll raise the gates and sally, trapping the Veden army between two hostile foes. They’ll be boxed—armies to the

  north and south, arrows falling from the west, and a lait cliffside to their west. Their towers will have fallen, and I doubt the force has even a single Shardbearer—it would be foolish to waste Shardblades on what is intended

  to be little more than a blockade.”

  Meridas frowned. “It is too early to make definite plans,” he finally said.

  “Let us get closer to Kholinar, where we can perform better reconnaissance, then we will develop a firm strategy.”

  Aneazer nodded in agreement, and after a brief pause, Jasnah nodded

  as well, admitting the truth to Meridas’s words. The two noblemen left

  together, Meridas postulating whether or not the Awakener knew how to

  create Shinavar Dalaltatan, and suggesting that the two try the vegetable

  for their evening repast. Taln stood, feeling a sudden tension as Jasnah’s eyes fell on him, then hurried out of the tent without looking at her. She remained behind, beside the battle map, watching him go.

  He stepped out into the late afternoon light, taking a deep breath to still his tension. He knew it was foolish to avoid her, as if he were a child fleeing before the censure of a displeased parent. And yet, those eyes of hers only lent fuel to his own questionings and uncertainties. He had to decide, but he couldn’t do so with her looking at him like that.

  The aggregate Herald’s Army was arrayed before him. Aneazer’s troops

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  were wel -disciplined, their dark brown tents arranged in careful squadrons of a hundred men, each one emblazoned with the Zar glyph. Zar: Preparation.

  Indeed, this was no despot’s ragged, bullying collection of thugs. This was a true army. Its presence helped discipline within Taln’s own troops. The

  men became stronger and more unified simply by being forced to march

  alongside Aneazer’s superior warriors. The two groups of men retained a

  division, true, but the whole was a far more effective group than Taln’s men had been on their own.

  Yes, this was an army now. The men were beginning to feel like soldiers,

  and their training reflected that. Taln had once told Jasnah that he would not lead these men under false pretenses. He had persuaded himself to continue even after he had discovered her manipulations, for he felt that training the men would help them against the Khothen. But, if he was no Herald, then

  he had perpetuated lies of the most blasphemous degree. His self-righteous proclamation that ‘intention mattered’ now seemed laughable. What of the

  intentions of a madman? What good did it matter to the soldiers whether

  they had been gathered by a man who sincerely thought himself a Herald

  or not? The result was the same. They had been lied to.

  Taln sighed, walking away from the command tent. Years of conditioning

  kept his head high, his step firm, despite his inner turmoil. That too was a lie. The men saw him, and gathered strength from his supposed confidence.

  But that was the way it had always been, hadn’t it? His questioning was

  like a rodent, digging and gnawing at a wall that had been poorly patched.

  Jasnah’s questions unearthed shames and uncertainties Taln had thought

  long buried. Even during his moments of greatest confidence, they had

  been there—a tiny but unnoticed leak in the presumably indestructible

  wall of his own morality. He knew, even when he tried to forget, that the

  Heralds were not what mankind presumed them to be. He knew secrets,

  things that his brethren hid from their own people. Burdens taken in the

  name of the greater good.

  But what were these things? Ravings? Reflections of his own paranoia?

  As he walked, he saw the horse pens. Aneazer kept two tensets of the

  animals; Taln had known kings with less fine stock. He remembered

  the difficulty in bringing the beasts to Roshar, and—upon visiting again

  eight hundred years later for the Second Return—he remembered his relief

  upon discovering that mankind had found a way to breed and keep horses

  despite Roshar’s harshness. Almost every other sign of Lhar had died out,

  but horses remained. What of these memories? These things seemed so

  logical to him—was his mind so wounded that it could fill in holes in its

  THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 693

  own reasonings, accepting for fact things that others would have found

  laughable?

  This army would go to war in just a few days. He had little time to decide.

  If he determined that he was not a Herald, then he could no longer ride

  at their head—this much he promised. He would not lie to others as he

  had lied to himself. Yet, if he was a Herald, he had no business going to

  war on Alethkar’s behalf. After the destruction of Kanar, Jezrien and Nale had decided that Heralds could not engage in the politics of men. The Elin were to leave the wars of mankind alone unless absolutely necessary for the protection of the greater good. As a Herald, it was Taln’s duty to move on.

  Probably to Thalenah, which he had heard retained a very stable monarchy.

  And if you are a Herald, where are the others? The swords had been buried for hundreds of years. If he was a Herald, then he was alone. That in itself was almost a powerful enough worry to make him wish to be mad, rather

  than face the prospect of protecting Roshar on his own.

  And, behind all of his fears and deliberations sat those beautiful, con-

  cerned eyes. Even more powerful than uncertainty was another emotion he

  had never thought to feel again. There had never been time or opportunity

  for it before, and now that it came upon him, he was completely surprised

  by its appearance—and equally uncertain how to deal with it.

  Taln sighed, looking east, toward Kholinar and the concerns of men. He

  would soon be forced to make a decision, one way or another.

  chapter 75

  DALENAR 7

  Dalenar pulled off his helm, wiping the blood from his brow

  as he led his horse back toward his army’s main body. Beside him,

  Echathen’s voice rang with the mutterings of a tenset curses.

  Light infantry marched around them. What had begun as a tensquad

  had taken serious casualties, leaving barely five hundred men alive. The

  ambush should have gone far better. It wasn’t that Dalenar had expected

  to do serious damage to the Veden army—this ambush, like others, had

  simply been another delaying tactic. As long as the Vedens feared ambush,

  they would move more carefully, and Dalenar’s struggling force could stay

  ahead. No, this day’s skirmish had not been intended to deal any serious

  damage.

  Elhokar Kholin had obviously thought differently.

  “Kenalhin, Kepralin, and Kechahin!” Echathen swore, using the first

  three names of the Almighty. One of Echathen’s tributing lords, Lord Ten-

  mach, had been among those killed this day. Tenmach’s squad had been cut

  off from the main troop, flanked by enemy forces who should have been

  detained by Elhokar’s tensquad. Elhokar, however, hadn’t stayed back as
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  the plan dictated—instead, he had pushed his troops forward, trying to cut through to the Veden commanders. By the time Elhokar had realized the

  futility of the action, Dalenar’s force had already suffered massive casualties.

  Dalenar glanced behind. The Veden force was there, of course, ever

  THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 695

  behind them like a dark mold on the horizon. They weren’t giving specific

  chase to Dalenar’s group—their leader, whoever it may be, was too clever

  for that. For all he knew, Dalenar’s hasty retreat was leading into a second, more devastating ambush. The invaders had a two-to-one advantage in

  troops—they were big enough to be confident, but still too small to take

  hasty risks. That was, perhaps, the only reason why the Aleth forces

  were still alive.

  The men marching with Dalenar were a morose, solemn lot. Morale

  was terrible, as could be expected—no army liked to be on the perpetual

  retreat. However, the Aleth forces suffered from an even greater problem,

  and the men could sense it. Though Dalenar and Elhokar’s armies remained

  separated out of principle, they were required to rely on one another to

  work against the invaders. They camped beside on another, and coordinated

  delaying tactics. However, neither group held the obvious command.

  The army was like two pigs tied to one rope. Each move was a struggle,

  each plan a potential disaster. Elhokar refused to meet with Dalenar face

  to face, instead insisting that they communicate via messengers. The sense of disorder, mixed with the foe behind, left the men with very little to rely upon.

  The main troop had already set camp in the evening light—or, more

  appropriately, it had set up two separate camps that happened to sit next to one another. Dalenar made for the western camp, which was slightly larger.

  To the right, he could see Elhokar’s own ambush force marching into camp.

  Dalenar reined in his horse as the men lethargically made their way

  toward the mess tent. He looked over at Echathen. The Khardin man

  had always been a soldier of great energy, but even he was beginning to

  show signs of fatigue. His Plate was a mismatch of pieces, half his regular light-blue, half scavenged from the suits of the fallen—it would take

  several weeks for his own twisted and scarred pieces to reform themselves.

 

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