Isles of the Emberdark

by Brandon Sanderson

What were those odd pieces of metal stuck to their cheeks? Ribbed, like ripples of waves, those didn’t seem like armor. More ornamental.

Its ability to fly baffled explanation; the only thing Dusk’s people knew about the process was that the Ones Above had requested the courtyard launchpad be made entirely of steel.

This creature stood seven feet tall, and was encased entirely in steel. Armor, thick and bulky, with smooth, rounded edges—and a smoky grey light glowing at the joints. The helmet likewise glowed from a slit-like visor that appeared to have glass behind it. An arcane symbol—reminding Dusk vaguely of a bird in flight—was etched into the front of the breastplate.

“Tell me. Is there a place on your planet where people vanish unexpectedly? A place, perhaps, where an odd pool collects something that is not quite water?”

If you do not accept my protection, you will become a vassal of the Scadrians, these ‘Ones Above.’ Your planet will become a farming station, like many others, used to feed their expansion efforts. Your birds will be stripped from you the moment it becomes possible to do so.”

The alien thrust out his armored hand, and smoke—or mist—coalesced there out of nowhere. It formed into a gun, longer than a pistol, shorter than a rifle. Wicked in shape, with flowing metal along the sides like wings, it was to Saplings’s pistol what a shadowy deep beast of the ocean was to a minnow. The alien raised his other hand, snapping a small box—perhaps a power supply—to the side of the rifle, causing it to glow ominously.

What a meaningless comment, Dusk thought. Why do homeislers feel the need to speak when there is nothing to say?

Thank you for putting up with me all these years. I know I’ve been quite the pain at times.” He didn’t reply. Because yes, she had been. But she’d also been forgiving of him.

So many words. Dusk smiled at them anyway. Words didn’t always have to have meaning, if their tone conveyed emotion and personality.

“No,” she said. “Dusk, we’re each a new person every day. The world changes, and is new each day, and we must change with it. That’s the blessing the gods give us. The blessing to be able to become someone new.”

“Sometimes,” Dusk said, “you can’t know the way. Sometimes, you have to strike out anyway.

The human ability to sense direction was a liar straight from Gofi, the trickster island. People grew up in familiar environs, which led them to falsely trust instincts they didn’t actually have—for memory was different from navigational sense. Without landmarks, people were helpless.

For now, he sailed. Which was the proper term, even without a sail, because words were stupid sometimes.

“I took a dream And made it mine I took a them And made they mine.”

Perhaps he shouldn’t dislike words. They were living things, and maybe they could sense his aversion. Was that why they so often turned against him?

“I took a morrow And made it mine I took a sorrow And made it thine…”

“Don’t you literally worship a Scadrian?” Nazh asked. “That’s different,” Ed said. “He is nice. Plus, he’s the only known living Shard who has performed the—”

This was a useful machine, this engine. Another reminder that progress wasn’t all bad. Machetes replaced obsidian or stone knives. Motors replaced paddles. Except one day, that march of progress had turned him into the thing that was no longer needed. Progress was a wave. It first caught you in it and carried you, but the moment you slipped off the crest, you went crashing into the surf and maybe never came back up.

“Yes…subastrals are all unique, influenced by the people living in the Physical Realm nearby. Most common are variations on obsidian ground, like you see in Roshar, often inverted from the oceans. That has curious individuality when closer to the planet, but becomes a glassy, featureless plain farther out, eventually giving way to the unsea except where people travel Shadesmar with regularity.

“The more aware of the cosmere the people on a planet become, the larger the space between their planet and other planets grows in Shadesmar. Additional reality just…manifests, pushing things around, like a crumpled piece of paper unfolding!”

Interesting, the things you could learn without questions if you let someone fill the air with their thoughts.

“You…talk to the birds?” Starling asked. “When there is something to say, I do,” he replied,

Thing was, her master always said he wouldn’t get involved. He claimed that his eyes were turned toward bigger issues, that he couldn’t get bogged down in details. The “details,” however, were usually people. And he was very bad at ignoring people. She’d actually chosen Hoid over her uncle, no matter how much she loved Frost, because he chose to get involved.

Her uncle might not have heard her, but her master had.

“Star,” Hoid said. The surf tickled their toes—neither of them wore shoes. It would have felt wrong. “Do you know why I left you and the crew?” “I assumed something important came up,” she said. “Someone who needed your help. I…admit I felt abandoned at times, but I knew you must have had a good reason.” “Yes. I got bored.”

“I lied. I didn’t get bored, Star. I saw something in you…saw that you were ready.

don’t consider someone for an apprentice because they can turn a phrase or memorize stories—I learned that lesson. I can teach those skills anyway. But someone who cares, even when the cosmere does everything it can to beat that sensibility out of them…well, that’s impressive.”

“So their first plan was bad. You made many bad plans when we traveled together. What did I do?” “Made fun of me.” “After that.” She thought back. “You pushed me.” “As you need to push them. That’s your job. We’re not captains at war, Star. We don’t lead by running ahead with weapon raised. We lead from behind.” “How does one lead,” she said, “from behind?” “By standing at the back of the wagon,” Hoid said, “and pushing

“You’re different today,” Starling said, kneeling beside him as he checked a patch of soil. “We are all different every day,” he whispered. “Each day, the world changes. And we must change with it.”

“Where do we go first?” he asked. “I have no idea,” she said. “Do you have any suggestions?” “That depends on what we’re looking for.” “I suppose…we’re searching for tomorrow.” “Well that is easy, then. In my experience‚ it will find you on its own.” He hefted his pack. “Shall we?”