The Way of Kings Prime

by Brandon Sanderson

  Jasnah gritted her teeth at what she had to do next. She could not quiet this man on her own, not now that he was so popular. Or, at least, without Kemnar she couldn’t do so as quickly as was required. She would have to do something unpleasant.

  “Come,” Jasnah said. “We need to bring this to Lord Meridas’s attention.”

  Meridas had acquired himself a tent a few towns back. She didn’t know what he’d traded for it; she certainly hadn’t given him any gemstones. He hadn’t thought to get one for her—though he had mentioned with a leering smile that she was welcome to come and ‘share’ it with him any time she wished.

  Two guards stood at the tent’s entrance, and they watched her approach with wary eyes. They reflected Meridas’s newest method of subverting her. His oath required him to follow her commands, but only in as much as she could give them to him. If he barred her entry to his presence, she couldn’t make him do what she said. The guards straightened their postures as she stopped in front of the tent. She could easily read their orders from their faces. She was not to be admitted.

  “Tell Lord Meridas,” she said loudly, almost shouting, “that I command him to let me see him.”

  The men flushed at the idea of a lady ‘commanding’ their general. Jasnah stood back, folding her arms, waiting. The guards made no move to relay her message, but that didn’t matter. After several heartbeats, an annoyed voice came from inside the tent.

  “Let her enter,” Meridas snapped.

  Jasnah smiled. Even dishonest Aleth noblemen considered themselves honorable, a fact which she had exploited on more than one occasion.

  The guards parted as Jasnah brushed past, though they didn’t give Vinde leave to enter behind her. The inside of the tent was lit by a single lantern burning a weak flame. At least he understood the need to conserve. The tent itself was hardly lavish, without rugs or cushions—only the thick Shennah walls. Meridas himself sat on a barrel, using one of the emptied pullcarts as a ‘table’ upon which he studied Kemnar’s map of the landscape.

  He looked up as she entered. His clothing was showing signs of misuse. For the first time, she realized how grateful she was for Taln’s instance upon her practical clothing. Her sencoat and trousers, designed for travel, were sturdy and colored to mask stains. Now that water for washing was more plentiful, she had been able to keep them clean and in good repair. Meridas’s once-fine outfit, however, was well-worn. Though seasilk was hearty, several of his tassels were torn, and the cuffs of his trousers were frayed. The bright red color highlighted the cromstains from highstorms and from sleeping on the ground.

  “Well?” Meridas asked with annoyance. “You realize your little display outside is going to weaken morale. It won’t do good for the men to see their commander bowing to the whims of a female. Hopefully they will just see it as a man indulging his betrothed.”

  “You left me little choice,” Jasnah said, folding her arms and rebuffing his scorn. “I had to see you. There’s an Elinrah prophet in the camp preaching that he’s the real leader of the army.”

  Meridas waved a dismissive hand. “I know,” he said, turning back to his map. “Is that all?”

  “Well? What are you going to do?” Jasnah asked.

  “About the prophet?” Meridas asked. “Nothing. You may go.”

  Jasnah clenched her jaw. “You will lose control, Meridas. I have little fondness for your leadership, but letting you command is better than giving the army up completely. You have to move to counter this man—discipline him publicly, perhaps even execute him.”

  Meridas shook his head. “The man is irrelevant. We will reach Jorevan soon.”

  “All right,” Jasnah said. “And what do you plan to do about that? What do we do if Aneazer attacks? The scouts report flat landscape ahead, giving us little opportunity for cover. If Aneazer has archers, then we’ll need to—”

  Meridas held up a hand, silencing her with a suffering glance. “It is under control,” he said.

  Jasnah flushed. The implication was obvious—if he didn’t give her information, she couldn’t command him to do other than what he planned. Fortunately, that tactic depended upon her remaining ignorant.

  “Meridas,” Jasnah said evenly, “I command you to tell me what you are planning.”

  His eyes flashed with frustration. Finally, he waved her toward a second sitting barrel. “Fine,” he snapped. “I will hold to my bargain, woman, though there is little reason now that the madman is gone.”

  “The bargain was for my hand, not his,” Jasnah said, not sitting. “His absence doesn’t affect what is between us. Your plans, Meridas.”

  “I have heard of this Lord Aneazer, though I have never traded with him personally,” Meridas said. “He is not a man to be regarded with any levity. He is said to maintain a standing force of nearly three thousand men, all well-armed. If a city defies him, he has no qualm slaughtering half its population to bring the other half into line. He exacts heavy tributes on his cities, and suffers no dissent.”

  Jasnah felt her heart drop at the description. “There is no trading with him then?”

  “Of course there is,” Meridas said dismissively. “His control over the area and its caravans proves he is a man of logical rulership. He understands the line between domination and destruction, and knows how to retain leadership in a chaotic land. He is indeed a man who can be bargained with, assuming one has something he wants.”

  “Of which we have nothing,” Jasnah said.

  “On the contrary,” Meridas replied. “We have something he wants very much. He often sends raiding parties to collect ‘recruits’ for the garnet mines he controls just to the north of Jorevan. He also supplies labor to other cities in the wilderness.”

  “Labor?” Jasnah asked. “You mean slaves!”

  Meridas shrugged. “I only know that we have brought him a very nice selection of workers. Most of them will be useless to us—the mercenaries and veterans we can bring to Alethkar, but the romantic zealots and the alms-seekers are only a bother. We can probably shed a good six to seven hundred members of the group without much loss.”

  Despite herself, Jasnah felt her legs quiver slightly. “You are a monster,” she hissed. “These people trust us. You would sell them as slaves to a tyrant!”

  Meridas regarded her with hard eyes. He held up a finger. “Do not lecture me, woman. Since this expedition began, you have ignored my council. I would have led us to safety in Kholinar. Instead, you saw fit to meander through a dead land following the whims of a lunatic.”

  “I—”

  “No,” Meridas interrupted. “You will listen, woman. You gathered these people. You used them, lied to them, and manipulated them. You let them believe that the madman was a Herald. You have led them to the fangs of a warlord, and are now trying to coax them inside his mouth. What did you think to do? Fight Aneazer, stand against his three thousand?”

  “We could disband,” Jasnah said.

  “And send the people to die,” Meridas said. “We have no food, woman. These are stormlands, not some fertile lait. If you abandon the people now, where will they go? The cities we’ve passed have no food for them. Those you send off on their own will starve before they find a place that can support them.” Meridas leaned forward, looking her in the eye. “You killed this people, Jasnah. I will save them. They will be slaves, yes, but they will live. Besides, Aneazer treats his laborers fairly. They have food, which is more than can be said of most the people in this winds-cursed land.”

  Jasnah sank down onto the sitting barrel, stunned, Meridas’s accusations repeating in her mind. He let her sit there for a few moments before continuing.

  “You will say nothing, of course,” he said, not looking up from his map. “It will be difficult to get the army into a position where it can be dismantled and safely turned over, but leave that to me. We should reach Jorevan sometime tomorrow, and I assume that Aneazer will confront us before then. By the evening of the next day, I plan to have horses and pro
per supplies, then make good time for Kholinar.”

  “There must be a better way, Meridas,” Jasnah said.

  “If you think of one, then I will be very surprised,” the man replied. He glanced over at her. “No more complaints about my foolishness? I thought not. The problem with you, Jasnah, is that you have always underestimated me. That is one flaw your madman did not display, which was why I was happy to see him go.”

  “And if he returns?” Jasnah demanded, surprising herself by asking the 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.

  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 servitude. 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 followed 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 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. Something 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 illumination dispelled 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.

  “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 before 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 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.