The Way of Kings Prime

by Brandon Sanderson

  For ill or gain, he had made his decision.

  A sudden panic struck her. She had hoped that he would wait, at least until the battle was over, to decide. Now she realized that was not possible. He had delayed as long as his conscience would allow, but the scouts would return within the hour. After that, it was to battle—and he would either stay with certainty in his Heraldship, or go with his madness honestly declared. If he did expose himself, the men would have to ride into battle with an uncertain morale, having just listened to their leader swear himself a madman.

  He could yet destroy their army before the enemy had a chance to strike.

  Taln’s eyes were grim. Was that because he had finally realized the depth of his fantasies? Or, instead, was it because he knew she would be disappointed in his decision to remain a ‘Herald?’ Jasnah wished sharply that she had never brought this decision before him.

  She paused a short distance from his stone perch, and he stood. He still refused to wear Plate, though he bore his Shardblade in a calm grip. He had traded his noble, seasilk cloak for the simple brown one he had been given in the monastery. What did that mean?

  “You are in danger,” she said quickly. “Meridas has replaced your honor guard. I’m afraid he intends you to suffer an ‘accident’ on the battlefield.”

  Taln snorted. “Meridas is the least of my problems at the moment,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. He stood quietly for a moment, eyes distracted. Then he looked right at her, eyes decisive. “I—” he began, but didn’t get beyond that first word before Jasnah interrupted.

  “Don’t speak!” she pled. “I don’t want to hear what you have decided.”

  Taln paused. Then he frowned. “What game do you play, woman?”

  “No game,” Jasnah promised. “I . . . oh, Taln. I had no right to ask you to betray yourself. This is who you are—even if your memories are false, they are what give you life.”

  “Perhaps you had no right to ask the question,” Taln said. “But you certainly have no right to make the decision for me, Jasnah. Let me speak my piece.”

  “I can’t,” Jasnah said. “It’s not a decision you should have to make. At least give it more thought.”

  “I have put it off long enough,” Taln said with a shake of his head. He looked down at her with those solemn brown eyes of his. “You realize that, either way, I cannot lead this army any longer. As a Herald I must leave you here; as a man I must step down from my position of lies. Either way, I will not ride to battle at the head of the Herald’s Army.”

  And without him, it would fall. Even as he spoke, a plan occurred to Jasnah, though she cursed herself for it. Must everything be a deal to you, Jasnah? She had told him yes, and for once she had spoken with complete honesty.

  “Those aren’t the only two options, Taln,” she said. “As a Herald you could ride with us, then reap the benefits of a befriended nation.”

  Taln shook his head. “That is what you offered before, but it isn’t enough. I would need more than just a ‘friendly kingdom,’ Jasnah, I would need a nation that believed in me.”

  “And you would have it,” Jasnah said. “I vow to you, Talenel. Help me fight off the invaders that threaten my kingdom, and I will see that you have whatever resources you need. I will profess you a Herald with my loudest voice, and build you allies amongst the courts of Roshar. You say the Stormshades will come in one year. I give my oath that when this invasion is repelled and Alethkar is safe, our nation will prepare for the Return as if what you say were true. We will train our armies as you proscribe. We will stockpile and plan. We will listen to your preachings, and we will obey. If your demons do attack Roshar, then they will at least find one kingdom ready for them.”

  Taln listened to the speech, the confusion in his eyes shining again. His frown deepened. “Your king would honor this vow?”

  “I don’t know,” she confessed. “But my uncle, Lord Dalenar Kholin, will. Even if he doesn’t hold the crown when we return, he is a powerful man—even more powerful than my brother. You’d like him, Taln. He’s a lot like you—a little stuffy and incorrigibly proper, but honest and good. I promise you he will honor my vow.”

  Taln fell silent, considering. His grip on the Shardblade tightened unconsciously. “You have a sure talent, Jasnah—whenever I think I see clearly, you can make smoke to dim my understanding.”

  Smoke. Onyx.

  He looked into her eyes. “Do you always get what you wish?”

  “Usually,” Jasnah admitted. Though I have often regretted wanting the wrong things. Especially recently.

  “A Herald cannot be a man, Jasnah,” he said quietly. “If this is who I am to be, then I will live it as best I can. No more questioning. I will be a Herald, and you must understand what that means. Heralds are . . . above the regular concerns of men”

  “I understand,” Jasnah replied softly, trying to keep things from breaking inside. She had to remain strong. “I would rather know you as Talenel the Herald than be with you as Taln the broken madman.”

  Their eyes locked, and lingered, something unspoken passing between them. She would never know his answer—she would never know whether or not he had been willing to give up everything he was in order to be with her. With shame, she admitted that she would also never truly know whether she had forbidden him to decide for his own good, or simply because she wanted to keep the army together.

  Taln dropped to one knee, driving his Blade into the rock. He bowed his head before her in an oddly humbling gesture. “Thank you,” he whispered. Then he stood, strong-backed and sure again, Talenel the Steadfast, a Herald determined to protect Roshar from the demons of its mystic past.

  Jasnah watched him go, something unacknowledged crumbling within her. If only she could do as he did, abandon reason in favor of fantasy. What would it be like to ignore the harsh truths of the world, replacing them with beliefs far more palatable?

  But she could not. Whatever it was within her that placed logic over fancy and truth over delusion was also the thing that gave her strength. She would rather find success in the real world than have all the pretend treasures of Taln’s false one.

  It’s gone, she realized, somewhat stunned. It’s over. I never deserved him anyway.

  And she knew then what she had to do. Distasteful, yes, but necessary. Someone had to be practical, even if practicality brought pain. She was accustomed to that.

  She found Meridas going over his battle orders with Aneazer and some of their officers. Kemnar was there, as were all the Shardbearers—this was not a time for political bickering, and even Meridas could see that. Jasnah stood quietly, close enough to be noticed but not close enough to be intrusive. She watched Meridas with a calm look, catching his eyes. A few moments later he excused himself to walk over to her.

  When he arrived, his eyes were curious, and he spoke no insults. He obviously sensed a change in her. “Yes?” he asked quietly.

  “You plan to have Taln killed,” Jasnah said calmly. “Do not try to deny it. You replaced his honor guard, and I see the hatred in your eyes when you see him. You loathe that this is ‘his’ army, and you hate how he looks at me.”

  Meridas’ eyes thinned. “You wish me to return his honor guard to the way it was before.”

  “It would do little good,” Jasnah said. “You are a resourceful man, Meridas. I do not doubt that you will find a way to remove Taln sooner or later. I do wonder how you intend to keep the army together without him, however.”

  Meridas raised an eyebrow. “You overestimate his worth, my dear. If our . . . illustrious Herald were to fall to an enemy blade today, the army would not suffer grievously. We need him at the beginning of the battle, true, lest the men break during the initial assault. However, once the battle is through, we will have the resources of Kholinar. That means pay for the men and promises of titles for the officers. I think you will find that worldly rewards will replace spiritual ones quite nicely for the great percentage of the troops.”

&nbs
p; Jasnah frowned. “It appears that we have need to deal. The madman must live. The cost matters not, Meridas, as long as you see that he is not harmed.”

  Meridas snorted, eyes flashing with jealousy. “What?” he demanded in a quiet hiss. “I am to make certain your lover remains so that you can bed him behind my back? You would marry me, true, but only to make a fool of me before the court!”

  Jasnah regarded him flatly. “Taln is bound by an honor beyond what you can understand, Meridas,” she said. “He would do no such thing. You have my oath of honor.”

  He calmed, eyeing her distrustfully. Yet there was enough decency in him not to question her word. “You wish an accord?” he asked. “Very well—you have only one thing to offer. It will happen in Kholinar this evening, after we defeat the enemy force. No more complaints, no more evasions, and no more deals. You are far too proficient at promising the same thing over and over for greater rewards. This evening we will wed.”

  “Agreed,” Jasnah said, feeling a coldness within. “I will take your hand, Meridas. But there shall be no heirs until this war is finished with Taln still alive.”

  Meridas’s expression darkened. “Very well, but I add my own stipulations. First, I will be free of my oath. No more obedience to your commands. Second, should the madman die from actions beyond my control, you will provide an heir once the war is through.”

  “I am to trust his life to your generosity?” Jasnah asked.

  “You are to trust it to my word,” Meridas spat. “I will not kill your beloved, Jasnah. As long as you don’t make a fool of me in court, I care nothing for his life. Warfare, however, is unpredictable—as you well know. I will not have my future dependent upon a madman’s ability to keep himself from harm. I will see that he is protected as best I can. Should something unforeseen happen, however . . . well, you are a woman of great resources. I’m certain you will be able to determine that I had nothing to do with the death. I give my oath that he will not die by my hand or intention. I will give my allies the same command.”

  He would offer no more. Jasnah closed her eyes and nodded. When she opened them, Meridas bowed slightly, then returned to his plannings.

  chapter 77

  Taln 13

  As Taln suspected, Jasnah was wrong about Meridas’s intentions. The nobleman’s soldiers didn’t try to kill Taln—in fact, they were frustratingly over-protective. Taln stood, ringed by a double-line of Aneazer’s best troops, fuming at his inability to take part in the battle. Even Meridas and Aneazer themselves weren’t so well coddled.

  It was probably a subtle insult of some kind. That would be like Meridas, keeping Taln from the fighting out of a supposed wish to protect him. Still, there was good reason to place Taln where he was. His honor guard stood at the top of a hill, his banner—gold with a brown taln glyph—flying to reassure and give strength. He would have placed his troop in the middle of the battlefield, where it would lend even greater morale, but he was more confident in his ability to keep himself alive than any mortal man would have a right to be.

  Any mortal man. He was a Herald. The only things he had were his memories, and they had served him well so far. Denying who he was would present far too great a risk. If he held to his memories, the only thing he risked losing was Jasnah. If he abandoned them, he risked the future of mankind. It was good that Jasnah understood that.

  Besides, the solution she had presented was a very good one. He didn’t gamble much—not really. A year was not so long to wait. If the Khothen did not invade, then he could revisit his personal searchings. If they did attack, then all of Roshar would have been better because of his determination. It was a very good compromise.

  Jasnah’s battle plan worked well too. Either the Aleth forces had tried before to get a breaking force into the castle, or the Vedens were expecting such a move, for they reacted with remarkable speed once the diversionary force was spotted. The invaders gathered their ranks, moving carefully into intercepting positions without exposing themselves to much bowfire from the walls. Fortunately, their speed and positioning left their towers behind, and exposed their forces to an easy ambush.

  Meridas might not have approved of the plan’s origin, but he made use of it with finesse. Within a few tenset minutes of the call to attack, the Veden forces were surrounded on three sides. The towers fell quickly, captured rather than destroyed.

  From his vantage, Taln could easily see the workings of the battle—both armies were only of moderate size. Much of what he saw unsettled him. The Aleth Shardbearers were by far the central forces on the battlefield. The Aleth spearmen, trained carefully in their formations, worked at positioning the enemy troops. The Shardbearers were the ones who caused the most destruction. With proper support, a single Shardbearer could break an enemy formation, leaving tensets of corpses before him. The spearmen could then move in, decimating the fallen line. Where resistance was stronger, the Shardbearers simply slew more men.

  The twin edges of ambush and Shardblades proved overwhelming. Taln couldn’t see faces below, but he could feel the panic in the movement of the Veden lines. Even without Taln, the Aleth force still had fourteen Shardbearers—an incredible number. Soon, Veden dead covered the ground, and Taln felt less displeased about being left behind. His presence was needed in this battle, but his Blade certainly was not, and the slaughter did not make for an appealing temptation.

  This is what his Brethren had feared—Shardblades turned against men. This was one of the reasons prohibitions against conquering and fighting other men had been placed in both the Arguments and The Way of Kings. The Heralds had suffered men to have Shardblades because of the weapons’ awesome effectiveness against the Khothen. Obviously, Blades were even more effective against men.

  Meridas himself dueled the Veden commander. The bout was short, and once the man fell, his sub-commanders were within their honor to surrender—which they quickly did. The Vedens had lost nearly half of their force in a matter of a couple of hours.

  Taln stomached the destruction, as he had so many other times. Time had done odd things to his perceptions of death. He had seen so many people pass—mighty lords and simple farmers, scholars and tyrants. Yet, time had not dulled his concern for them. Indeed, their lives were the whole of his purpose. He fought through the eternities to protect them, and loathed seeing their lives spent so easily.

  “Come,” he said to his unwanted honor guard, riding down toward the battlefield. He could already see the gates opening again, the besieged Aleth nobility coming out to greet their saviors. Taln shunned their fanfares, turning away as Meridas rode proudly toward a group of well-clothed aristocrats.

  “My lord?” one of his guard captains asked as Taln led them away from the gates, toward the battlefield itself. “Should you not present yourself to those inside the walls?”

  “Later,” Taln said, climbing off of his horse as they neared the area that had seen the most fighting. The groans of men were low in the air, as if the sounds themselves were weak and dying. Most of the living wounded bore the mangled wounds of spearheads rammed under or past armor. Of the men hit with Shardblades, there were few in one piece, let alone alive. Tired soldiers moved among the carnage, searching out the survivors.

  “We did not fight,” Taln told his men. “So we can use our strength for this effort. Help me find the wounded and tend to their injuries.”

  Mouths turned down at the prospect of doing such menial, grisly work, but Taln’s orders left little room for complaint. Reluctantly, the honor guard followed him across the bloodstained rocks while their fellow officers rode into Kholinar to feast.

  It was dark before Taln finally released his soldiers from their task. Bloodied and weary, the twenty men probably wished they were among the wounded themselves. Taln sighed, laying one final soldier down in the healer’s tent. Aneazer’s force was weak on healers and attendants for the sick, but Lord Dalenar’s betrothed had sent men from the city to see to the work. And there was much to be done. It was surprisi
ng how tenaciously a man could grip life, how long he could lay among the dead, whispering for help through strength-sapped lips.

  Taln did what he could. He understood the body as only one who had used the nahel to heal could. He was no surgeon—his understanding was instinctual, rather than specific. However, he had lived a very, very long time, and had acquired many skills over the centuries. He put to use what he had, training his men quickly and helping the healers by moving bodies and bandaging wounds.

  Taln stood wearily. There was still work to be done, but it would have to be someone else’s duty. Taln had avoided his political responsibilities long enough. If he was going to prepare Alethkar, as Jasnah’s oath said he could, then he was going to need to keep up at least some proprieties. He left the tent behind, promising to send soldiers to help move the wounded—those who survived the night—inside the walls the next day, before a highstorm could drench them.

  He left the lighted tents behind, the fresh, unbloodied air outside strange to his senses. The great city of Kholinar glowed with triumphant torches on the walls. Taln paused for a moment, staring up. The celebrations seemed odd, compared to the suffering he had left behind, but he knew they were necessary. Victory must be encouraged, the men rewarded, for they were still an uncertain and untried force. A quick success now would give them a great deal of motivation.

  Kholinar. It looked . . . old. Not broken or unkempt; its walls were still as sure as they had been centuries before. Yet there was something to the massive city. It looked as Taln felt—aged without wrinkles, tired without frailty. Some things from the past, at least, lived on. This was Bajerden’s city, and here he had learned philosophy and truth from the lips of Jezrien, Ishar, and Balear—the wisest of the Heralds. From his discussions with them, especially Jezrien, had come the grand work The Way of Kings. Yes, some things did endure. There was goodness in men, though ofttimes their foolishness overrode it.

  Taln entered the city without fanfare or recognition. Dressed in his common cloak, his clothing stained dark with the blood of the wounded, he might seem like just another wearied soldier who had drawn the unpleasant duty of seeing to the wounded. The streets were busy with people, some soldiers, the majority civilians. Apparently Lord Dalenar’s call to arms had been very well-received, and most of the city’s men had gone with him to battle against their king.