Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive, #3)

by Brandon Sanderson

He sounded smaller than Dalinar was accustomed to. Like the quintessential bully, the Stormfather didn’t know how to face someone stronger than himself.

Through his bond, Dalinar sensed weeping. The Stormfather had kept Odium back, but storms, he had paid a price. The most powerful spren on Roshar—embodiment of the tempest that shaped all life—was crying like a child, whispering that Odium was too strong.

When you boys next meet the swordsman who taught you that morning kata, warn him that I’m looking for him.” “Zahel?” Adolin said. “You know Zahel?” “We’re old friends,” she said. “Notum, have your sailors been cutting those bales of cloth into the shapes I requested?” “Yes,” the captain said. “But I don’t understand—” “You soon will.” She gave Kaladin a lazy salute. He returned it, sharper. Then she nodded to them and walked up toward the main deck.

“Permission to stab him a little, sir,” said Teft, the bridgeman leader. “How do you stab someone ‘a little,’ soldier?” “I could do it,” Lyn said. “I’ve only started training with a spear. We could claim it was an accident.”

I am … I am well today.” He stopped and squeezed his pale grey eyes shut. “That’s good, isn’t it?” “Yes. But it is not a day to be heartless. So I worry.” Heartless? What did he mean? “Do you need to sit out the meeting?” Navani asked. Taravangian shook his head quickly. “Come. Let us go. I will be better … better once we’ve started. I’m sure.”

Fuck this guy.

It’s nonsense, he thought. Is it claiming that the first parshmen who came to invade had no carapace? But how would the writer know that parshmen should have carapace? And what is this about songs.… It clicked. “That was not written by a human,” Dalinar whispered.

Humans are the cancer.

It’s true, isn’t it? he thought at the Stormfather. Storms … we’re not the defenders of our homeland. We’re the invaders.

“Oh, Kal,” she whispered, then squeezed his arm. “Maybe someday you’ll learn how to be there for the living, not just for the dead.”

I … understand now as I never did before. The ancient Radiants didn’t abandon their oaths out of pettiness. They tried to protect the world. I blame them for their weakness, their broken oaths. But I also understand. You have cursed me, human, with this capacity.

Taravangian has said we may use his vessels to return to our empire, without needing to use the Oathgates.”

Fuck that guy.

“I’m sorry, Dalinar,” Taravangian said softly from behind. Dalinar turned, surprised to find the old man sitting on the steps. “I assumed everyone had the same information, and that it would be best to air it. I didn’t expect all of this.…” “This isn’t your fault,” Dalinar said. “And yet…” He stood up, then walked—slowly—down the steps.

Fuuuuuuck this guy.

“Wandersail,” Rysn said, reading the ship’s name. “Babsk, you are a romantic. Don’t tell me you believe that old story?” “One can believe in a story without believing it happened.” He smiled.

This woman extended into eternity. THIS WILL BE YOUR BOON. I WILL NOT MAKE OF YOU THE MAN YOU CAN BECOME. I WILL NOT GIVE YOU THE APTITUDE, OR THE STRENGTH, NOR WILL I TAKE FROM YOU YOUR COMPULSIONS. BUT I WILL GIVE YOU … A PRUNING. A CAREFUL EXCISION TO LET YOU GROW. THE COST WILL BE HIGH. “Please,” Dalinar said. “Anything.” She stepped back to him. IN DOING THIS, I PROVIDE FOR HIM A WEAPON. DANGEROUS, VERY DANGEROUS. YET, ALL THINGS MUST BE CULTIVATED. WHAT I TAKE FROM YOU WILL GROW BACK EVENTUALLY. THIS IS PART OF THE COST. IT WILL DO ME WELL TO HAVE A PART OF YOU, EVEN IF YOU ULTIMATELY BECOME HIS. YOU WERE ALWAYS BOUND TO COME TO ME. I CONTROL ALL THINGS THAT CAN BE GROWN, NURTURED. THAT INCLUDES THE THORNS. She seized him, and the trees descended, the branches, the vines. The forest curled around him and crept into the crevices around his eyes, under his fingernails, into his mouth and ears. Into his pores. A BOON AND A CURSE, the Mother said. THAT IS HOW IT IS DONE. I WILL TAKE THESE THINGS FROM YOUR MIND. AND WITH THEM, I TAKE HER.

“You know, Cultivation warned me that my memories would return. She said she was ‘pruning’ me. Do you know why she did that? Did I have to remember?” I do not know. Is it relevant? “That depends upon the answer to a question,” Dalinar said. He carefully closed the book atop the dresser before the window, then felt the symbols on its cover. “What is the most important step that a man can take?”

“We’ll be fine.” Adolin glanced at Pattern, Syl, and the spren of his sword. “Right, guys?” “Mmmm,” Pattern said. “I do not like being stabbed.” “Wise words, friend. Wise words.” Adolin gave Shallan a kiss, then they took off running toward the bridge.

Don't die, Adolin.

“Besides, she’s not that kind of smart. She’s the other kind.” “What other kind, Your Imperial Majesty?” Vizier Dalksi asked. Her hair was powder white, peeking out beneath her formal headdress. “The kind that knows when it’s wrong to betray a friend.

whose law should the Skybreakers follow? That of humans, or that of the real owners of this land?” There seemed to be no choice. Nin’s logic was sound. No choice at all … Don’t be stupid, the sword said. Let’s go fight those guys. “The parshmen? They are the rightful rulers of the land,” Szeth said. Rightful? Who has a right to land? Humans are always claiming things. But nobody asks the things, now do they? Well, nobody owns me. Vivenna told me. I’m my own sword. “I have no choice.” Really? Didn’t you tell me you spent a thousand years following the instructions of a rock? “More than seven years, sword-nimi. And I didn’t follow the rock, but the words of the one who held it. I…” … Had no choice? But it had always been nothing more than a rock.

Unaided and defenseless, Dalinar Kholin stepped into the gap in the broken wall, and there faced the nightmare alone.

“A Fused escaped from this city a short time ago,” Dalinar said, “carrying an enormous ruby. I don’t know why they wanted it, and I’d rather not find out. Can you steal it back?” “Sure. Easy.” “You’ll find it with a Fused who can move with a power similar to your own. A woman.” “Like I said. Easy.” “Easy? I think you might find—” “Relax, grandpa. Steal the rock. I can do that.” She took a deep breath, then exploded with Stormlight. Her eyes turned a pearly, glowing white. “It’s just us two, then?” “Yes.” “Right. Good luck with the army.”

Odium rested his hand on the shoulder of the huddled Dalinar Kholin. “It’s done, Dalinar. The pain has passed. Stand up and claim the station you were born to obtain.”

Bet.

“Jasnah,” Ivory said, becoming full size as he stepped free of her collar. He leaned down. “Jasnah, this is right. Somehow it is.” He seemed completely stunned. “It is not what makes sense, yet it is still right. How. How is this thing?” Renarin pulled back from her, his tearstained eyes going wide. “I saw you kill me.” “It’s all right, Renarin. I’m not going to.” “But don’t you see? Don’t you understand what that means?” Jasnah shook her head. “Jasnah,” Renarin said. “My vision was wrong about you. What I see … it can be wrong.”

Because humans can change. LIKE CANCER.

The most important step a man can take. It’s not the first one, is it? It’s the next one. Always the next step, Dalinar. Trembling, bleeding, agonized, Dalinar forced air into his lungs and spoke a single ragged sentence. “You cannot have my pain.”

“Journey before destination,” Dalinar said. “It cannot be a journey if it doesn’t have a beginning.” A thunderclap sounded in his mind. Suddenly, awareness poured back into him. The Stormfather, distant, feeling frightened—but also surprised. Dalinar? “I will take responsibility for what I have done,” Dalinar whispered. “If I must fall, I will rise each time a better man.”

“Syl?” She pulled him tight. “Maybe you don’t have to save anyone, Kaladin. Maybe it’s time for someone to save you.”

He closed his eyes, breathing out, listening to a sudden stillness. And within it a simple, quiet voice. A woman’s voice, so familiar to him. I forgive you. Dalinar opened his eyes,

Oh, no. I'm CRYING.

“I’m broken.” “Who isn’t? Life breaks us, Teft. Then we fill the cracks with something stronger.” “I make myself sick.” “Teft,” she said, a glowing apparition in the darkness, “that’s what the Words are about.” Oh, Kelek. The shouts. Fighting. His friends. “I…” Storm you! Be a man for once in your life! Teft licked his lips, and spoke. “I will protect those I hate. Even … even if the one I hate most … is … myself.”

I knew I liked you, a voice said in Lift’s mind. The sword. So it was a spren? “You almost ate him,” Lift said. “You almost starvin’ ate me!” Oh, I wouldn’t do that, the voice said. She seemed completely baffled, voice growing slow, like she was drowsy. But … maybe I was just really, really hungry.… Well, Lift supposed she couldn’t blame someone for that.

Those two only make nine, he thought to the Stormfather. Something told him there should be one more. I don’t know. Perhaps they haven’t been found yet.

The listener, obvs.

Kaladin, Syl said. You don’t need another reason to berate yourself. She was right. Storms, he could be down on himself sometimes. Was that the flaw that had prevented him from speaking the Words of the Fourth Ideal? For some reason, Syl sighed. Oh, Kaladin. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said.

He braced himself for a scream, but none came, and the Blade fell into his hand after ten heartbeats. “I’m sorry,” he said, lifting the glistening weapon. “And thank you.” He headed toward one of the nearby clashes, where men were shouting for help.

Amethyst crystals broke Amaram’s armor all up the arms. How did Kaladin defeat … whatever this thing was? Stab it in the face? Syl suggested. It was worth a try.

The Thrill colored his sight red, inflicting a deep longing for the fight, the conflict, the challenge. If he rejected it, he would drive the Thrill away. “Thank you,” Dalinar said, “for giving me strength when I needed it.” The Thrill thrummed with a pleased sound. It drew in closer to him, the faces of red mist grinning with excitement and glee.

“Ten spears go to battle,” he whispered, “and nine shatter. Did that war forge the one that remained? No, Amaram. All the war did was identify the spear that would not break.”

He’d once believed he had been four men in his life, but he now saw he’d grossly underestimated. He hadn’t lived as two, or four, or six men—he had lived as thousands, for each day he became someone slightly different. He hadn’t changed in one giant leap, but across a million little steps. The most important always being the next, he thought as he drifted in the red mist.

“Thank you,” he whispered again to the Thrill, “for giving me strength when I needed it.” The Thrill churned close around him, cooing and exulting in his praise. “Now, old friend, it is time to rest.”

The Blackthorn was crying as he cradled the gemstone. “Dalinar?” Kaladin asked, worried, jogging over. “What happened?” “It is over, Captain,” Dalinar said. Then he smiled. So were they tears of joy? Why had he seemed so grieved? “It’s over.”

“Shallan…” Adolin said, taking her hand. “What?” Veil asked. “Something’s wrong.” “Of course it is,” Radiant said. “This fighting has left us all thoroughly worn out.” Adolin searched her eyes. She bled from one, to the other, and back. A moment of Veil. A moment of Radiant. Shallan peeking through— Adolin’s hand tightened around her own. Shallan’s breath caught. There, she thought. That’s the one. That’s the one I am. He knows.

“Almost time to get the men back to work,” Teft noted. “King Taravangian wants us to fly wounded up from the triage stations to the Oathgate.

Fuck that guy.

“You … didn’t become king of Jah Keved by accident, did you?” Dalinar asked. Taravangian shook his head. It seemed obvious to Dalinar now. Taravangian was easy to dismiss when you assumed he was slow of thought. But once you knew the truth, other mysteries began to fit into place.

Fuck him.

Thaylens were strange though. What else could you say about a people who liked it so far south, in the cold? The local language was practically chattering teeth.

He touched the window shutters. “Vargo?” Adrotagia asked. “Letting in fresh air?” “No, unfortunately. Something else.” He opened the shutters. And was suddenly in a place of infinite light. The ground beneath him glowed, and nearby, rivers flowed past, made of something molten colored gold and orange. Odium appeared to Taravangian as a twenty-foot-tall human with Shin eyes and a scepter.

Damnit, Taravangian.

“You think,” Adolin said, “Taravangian might have done it?” “No,” Dalinar said.

Fool!

We took Shardblades from the women, he thought, glancing at the one hung on the wall above his desk. And they seized literacy from us. Who got the better deal, I wonder?

That a thing is hated is not proof that it’s great art, but the lack of hatred is certainly proof that it is not.”

“I can’t leave Mama.” “That’s too bad,” Wit said. He raised the doll to his lips, then whispered a choice set of words. When he set it down, it started to walk on its own. A soft gasp sounded inside the shadows. The little doll toddled toward the street. Step by step by step … The girl, maybe four years old, finally emerged from the shadows and ran to get the doll.

“It’s either go with me now,” Wit said to the wall, “or wait it out and get captured. I honestly don’t even know if you’ve the mind to listen. But if you do, know this: I will give you truths. And I know some juicy ones.” The guards reached him. Wit pushed against them, slamming himself against the wall again. Something slipped from one of the cracks in the wall. A moving Pattern that dimpled the stone. It crossed to his hand, which he tucked into his rags as the guards seized him under the arms and hauled him out into the gardens, then tossed him among the beggars there. Once they were gone, Wit rolled over and looked at the Pattern that now covered his palm. It seemed to be trembling. “Life before death, little one,” Wit whispered.