Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive, #3)

by Brandon Sanderson

“A thoughtful me,” Gavilar said. “An . . . exhausted me. Enjoy Oathbringer. You earned it.” “Oathbringer?” “Your sword,” Gavilar said. “Storms, didn’t you listen to anything last night? That’s Sunmaker’s old sword.” Sadees, the Sunmaker. He had been the last man to unite Alethkar, centuries ago. Dalinar shifted the Blade in his lap, letting the light play off the pristine metal. “It’s yours now,” Gavilar said. “By the time we’re done, I’ll have it so that nobody even thinks of Sunmaker anymore. Just House Kholin and Alethkar.” He walked away. Dalinar rammed the Shardblade into the stone and leaned back, closing his eyes again and remembering the sound of a brave boy crying.

“If someone insulted my biceps, I wouldn’t attack him,” Dalinar said. “I’d refer him to a physician, because obviously something is wrong with his eyes.”

“Someone offed old Sadeas, and I missed it?” “What would you have done? Helped him?” “Storms, no. I’d have applauded.”

Adolin stopped in place and grinned at Kaladin. “Did you just say ‘punchy guys’?” “You know, ardents who train to fight unarmed.” “Hand to hand?” “Hand to hand.” “Right,” Adolin said. “Or ‘punchy guys,’ as everyone calls them.” Kaladin met his eyes, then found himself grinning back. “It’s the academic term.” “Sure. Like swordy fellows. Or spearish chaps.” “I once knew a real axalacious bloke,” Kaladin said. “He was great at psychological fights.” “Psychological fights?” “He could really get inside someone’s head.” Adolin frowned as they walked. “Get inside . . . Oh!” Adolin chuckled, slapping Kaladin on the

The woman studied him, and reluctantly Kaladin summoned Syl as a Shardblade. Noro’s eyes bulged, and Ved nearly fainted—though Beard just grinned. “I’m here,” Kaladin said, resting the Sylblade on his shoulder, “on orders from King Elhokar and the Blackthorn. It’s my job to save Kholinar. And it’s time you started talking to me.” She smiled at him. “Come with me.”

Elhokar whispered something to his son. Kaladin couldn’t hear the words, but the child stopped weeping. He looked up, blinked away tears, and finally let his father pick him up. Elhokar cradled the child, who in turn clutched his stuffed soldier. It wore blue armor.

“The only honest officer in the army,” Renarin said, “the honorable soldier. Noble, like the Heralds themselves. Our father. The greatest man in Alethkar.”

Yelig-nar had great powers, perhaps the powers of all Surges compounded in one. He could transform any Voidbringer into an extremely dangerous enemy. Curiously, three legends I found mention swallowing a gemstone to engage this process. —From Hessi’s Mythica, here

Moelach was said to grant visions of the future at different times—but most commonly at the transition point between realms. When a soul was nearing the Tranquiline Halls. —From Hessi’s Mythica, here

Jasnah joined the group, delivering a stack of papers to her mother. “May I see?” Ialai asked. “No,” Jasnah replied; Dalinar hid a smile in his drink. “What secrets are you keeping?” Ialai asked. “What happened to your uncle’s grand talk of unification?” “I suspect that each monarch in this room,” Jasnah said, “would prefer to know that state secrets are allowed to remain their own. This is an alliance, not a wedding.” Queen Fen nodded at that.

A Blade that bleeds darkness and cannot be defeated. I can give it to you.

Renarin Kholin was a liar. He was no Truthwatcher. That is a spren of Odium, Ivory said. Corrupted spren. But . . . a human, bonded to one? This thing is not.

“That’s a nice rock,” she said, completely serious. “Thank you.” “Where did you get it?” “I found it on the battlefield below. If you get it wet it changes colors. It looks brown, but with a little water, you can see the white, black, and grey.” “Oooooh.”

“Kal,” Skar said as Kaladin slapped him on the back. “There’s something we didn’t mention by spanreed.” Kaladin frowned as Drehy returned to the fire and picked up one of the figures there. A child? In rags. Yes, a frightened little boy, maybe three or four years old, lips chapped, eyes haunted. Elhokar’s son. “We protect those,” Drehy said, “who cannot protect themselves.”

You are less a human being, and more a lump of dung with aspirations.