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Shouldn’t he be rewarded for all he had accomplished? Gavilar was weak. He intended to give up his momentum and rest upon what Dalinar had won for him. Well, there was one way to make certain the war continued. One way to keep the Thrill alive.
You mustn’t worry yourself about Rayse. It is a pity about Aona and Skai, but they were foolish—violating our pact from the very beginning.
Some days, it seemed you couldn’t break Kaladin Stormblessed with all the stones on Roshar. Then one of his men would get wounded, and you’d see him crack.
“It will be a privilege to carry him one last time, for my family.” “One last time?” Kaladin said. “We take to the skies, Stormblessed,” Lunamor said. “We will walk no more in coming days. This is the end.”
Kaladin took his place at the front. Together they carried the bridge on one final run—reverently, as if it were the bier of a king, being taken to his tomb for his eternal rest.
THEY ARE THE SPREN OF PARSHMEN LONG DEAD. THEY ARE THEIR KINGS, THEIR LIGHTEYES, THEIR VALIANT SOLDIERS FROM LONG, LONG AGO. THE PROCESS IS NOT EASY ON THEM. SOME OF THESE SPREN ARE MERE FORCES NOW, ANIMALISTIC, FRAGMENTS OF MINDS GIVEN POWER BY ODIUM. OTHERS ARE MORE . . . AWAKE. EACH REBIRTH FURTHER INJURES THEIR MINDS.
THEY ARE REBORN USING THE BODIES OF PARSHMEN TO BECOME THE FUSED. AND EVEN BEFORE THE FUSED LEARNED TO COMMAND THE SURGES, MEN COULD NOT FIGHT THEM. HUMANS COULD NEVER WIN WHEN THE CREATURES THEY KILLED WERE REBORN EACH TIME THEY WERE SLAIN. AND SO, THE OATHPACT
THEY GAVE THEMSELVES UP. AS ODIUM IS SEALED BY THE POWERS OF HONOR AND CULTIVATION, YOUR HERALDS SEALED THE SPREN OF THE DEAD INTO THE PLACE YOU CALL DAMNATION. THE HERALDS WENT TO HONOR, AND HE GAVE THEM THIS RIGHT, THIS OATH. THEY THOUGHT IT WOULD END THE WAR FOREVER. BUT THEY WERE WRONG. HONOR WAS WRONG.
HONOR LET THE POWER BLIND HIM TO THE TRUTH—THAT WHILE SPREN AND GODS CANNOT BREAK THEIR OATHS, MEN CAN AND WILL. THE TEN HERALDS WERE SEALED UPON DAMNATION, TRAPPING THE VOIDBRINGERS THERE. HOWEVER, IF ANY ONE OF THE TEN AGREED TO BEND HIS OATH AND LET VOIDBRINGERS PAST, IT OPENED A FLOOD. THEY COULD ALL RETURN.
ONCE ONE BROKE, ALL TEN HERALDS RETURNED TO ROSHAR. THEY FOUGHT. THEY LED MEN. THEIR OATHPACT DELAYED THE FUSED FROM RETURNING IMMEDIATELY, BUT EACH TIME AFTER A DESOLATION, THE HERALDS RETURNED TO DAMNATION TO SEAL THE ENEMY AGAIN. TO HIDE, FIGHT, AND FINALLY WITHSTAND TOGETHER
THE BEARER OF AGONIES. THE ONE ABANDONED IN DAMNATION. LEFT TO WITHSTAND THE TORTURES ALONE.
NO. THAT IS A DEEPER SECRET, ONE I WILL NOT SPEAK.
“Yes. The answer is obvious. We need to find the Heralds.” Kaladin nodded in agreement. “Then,” Jasnah added, “we need to kill them.”
“It’s feminine,” Drehy added. “Drehy,” Kaladin said, “you are literally courting a man.” “So?” Drehy said.
“Honor cared only for bonds. Not the meaning of bonds and oaths, merely that they were kept. Cultivation only wants to see transformation. Growth. It can be good or bad, for all she cares. The pain of men is nothing to her. Only I understand it. Only I care, Dalinar.”
Her hair streamed behind her, a stark auburn red. She flew with arms outstretched and eyes closed, grinning. Kaladin had to keep adjusting her speed to keep her in line with the others, as she couldn’t resist reaching out to feel the wind between her freehand fingers, and waving to windspren as they passed. How does she smile like that?
Her heedless joy made him want to show her how to really fly.
“You need to be with people to be happy, Kaladin. I know you do.”
I thought Brightness Shallan was the persona. But the spy—that’s the false identity.” “Wrong,” Shallan said. “They’re both equally false.”
“You married—” “Yes, I married a soldier. It’s my fault for not being strong enough to deal with the consequences. Thank you, Dalinar. You’ve made that very clear.”
The sum total of stupid people is somewhere around the population of the planet. Plus one.”
“Storms, no. I’d have applauded.”
“You don’t care about how you’ll be remembered?” “I’ll remember myself, which is enough.
“You want to change the world, Shallan. That’s well and good. But be careful. The world predates you. She has seniority.”
That wasn’t so uncommon a feeling for him. He felt good lots of days. Trouble was, on the bad days, that was hard to remember. At those times, for some reason, he felt like he had always been in darkness, and always would be. Why was it so hard to remember? Did he have to keep slipping back down? Why couldn’t he stay up here in the sunlight, where everyone else lived?
Adolin Kholin was simply a good person. Powder-blue clothing and all. You couldn’t hate a man like him; storms, you kind of had to like him.
Sometimes she felt like a thing wearing a human skin. She was that thing in Urithiru, the Unmade, who sent out puppets to feign humanity.
Just another spren, Shallan/Veil/Radiant thought. That’s what I am. Emotion made carnal.
euu pqp
Failure is the mark of a life well lived. In turn, the only way to live without failure is to be of no use to anyone.
“Do you wish,” Wit asked, “that you could go back to not being able to see?” “No,” she whispered. “Then live. And let your failures be part of you.”
“The Ideal of Law,”
Regardless of the reason, Kaladin had lived. He always did.
In his rooms, he pulled a book off the shelf. Bound in hogshide, with thick paper. He held The Way of Kings as if it were a talisman that would drive back the pain.
“My daughter used to work there, before she ran off chasing stupid dreams.”
‘The question,’ she replied, ‘is not whether you will love, hurt, dream, and die. It is what you will love, why you will hurt, when you will dream, and how you will die. This is your choice. You cannot pick the destination, only the path.’”
“It’s not like I can blame him. It’s not as if he’s trying to be like he is.”
“Do you have a weapon?” he asked. “Nope. Can’t read.” “Can’t . . .” Dalinar looked down at his book. “I meant a real weapon, Lift.” “Oh! Yeah, I’ve got one a those.” She thrust her hand to the side. Mist formed into a small, glittering Shardblade. . . .
Kaladin looked over his shoulder toward Syl, who held him lightly by the arm. She nodded. “The Words, Kaladin.”
“I will take responsibility for what I have done,” Dalinar whispered. “If I must fall, I will rise each time a better man.”
“Maybe you don’t have to save anyone, Kaladin. Maybe it’s time for someone to save you.”
“I will protect those I hate. Even . . . even if the one I hate most . . . is . . . myself.”
“Shallan, we don’t have an army yet,” Dalinar said. “Lightweave one up for
A glowing figure stood on some rubble beyond, holding Amaram’s enormous Shardbow. The weapon seemed to match Rock, tall and brilliant, a beacon in the darkness.
Oathbringer, My Glory and My Shame. Written by the hand of Dalinar Kholin.
