Dawnshard (The Stormlight Archive, #3.5)

by Brandon Sanderson

“When Aimia fell,” he explained, “the Na-Alind—a family among the greatshelled gods of the Reshi—took in the last of the larkin. Greatshells do not think or speak like people do, and the ways of our gods are strange. But best we can tell, there was a promise among them. To protect these, their cousins.

“In ancient times, larkin grew to larger sizes,” Talik said. “They’re supposed to remain small these days. Hidden. Lest men hunt them again.”

“Oh. By her ‘home,’ you mean Aimia. Well, that’s not impossible. The Royal Navy has set up a few outposts on the main island.” “Not the main island of Aimia, Rysn,” Talik said. “You need to take her to Akinah. The lost city.” He shook his head. “It is an impossible voyage. No one has stepped foot on the island in generations.”

“There is . . . something on that island,” Navani said. “Something that is able to undermine the powers of the Knights Radiant. My soldiers reported seeing swarms of small shadows darting through the clouds. And legends about Aimia speak of mythical creatures that feed off Stormlight.”

Wavespren danced atop the tips of whited caps across a field of shimmering blue.

This is not unexpected, Yelamaiszin sent. It had a smooth, calming buzz. It was First, the oldest of the swarms on Roshar. Nikli was the Twenty-Fourth, youngest of them. I like the Bondsmith, for example, though I know he will destroy us.

You like these humans, Nikliasorm. That is good. We are so bad at imitating them, and you learn well from your travels. More of us should spend time studying humans, to become like them.

Humans are a fire that must be contained, Yelamaiszin said with its calm buzz. You are young. You were not yet Separated during the scouring.

Alalhawithador, the angriest of the swarms.

Arclomedarian crosses us again, said Yelamaiszin, the First. It meddles more and more. It has met with these new Radiants.

You are young, Yelamaiszin sent, calm and sure. Youth is beneficial in some ways. You learn faster than us, for example. Nikli could imitate humans better than the others. When the swarm that had become Nikli had been Separated, it had already contained hordelings evolved for this subterfuge. Nikli had further evolved them, and was now certain that the body didn’t need the tattoos to cover the seams in its skin.

At this point of conflict, the question was sent to all of the swarms—all twenty that still accepted the leadership of the First—to

Half wanted to let the humans reach the storm—where they would either fall to the winds or enter the

realm of the Sleepless.

It hurts us to kill Radiants, let alone one of the Sighted, said Yelamaiszin, the First.

“Aluminum,” Lopen said, still floating above the deck a few feet. “Yeah, it’s weird stuff. Can block a Shardblade, Rua tells me, if it’s thick enough. They get it from Soulcasting, though only a few can make it, so it’s pretty rare.” “Can get from trade,” Cord said. “In Peaks. We trade.” “Trade?” Huio said. “Who trade?” “People in spren world,” Cord said. Huio cocked his head, rubbing his chin. “He is strange metal,” Cord said. “Does strange things to spren.”

drinking the Light from a big garnet gemstone. The others called him silly, but he thought the different colors tasted different.

“Lopen,” Huio said in Herdazian. “This aluminum has fascinating properties; I believe the captive spren are reacting to its presence, almost like prey react to a predator. When I touch this foil to the stone, they push to the other side of their confines. I hypothesize that the aluminum interferes with their ability to sense not only my thoughts of them, but the thoughts of their conjoined half.”

santhid.

The large marine creatures were incredibly rare. She had believed them extinct, but had enjoyed stories from her babsk about them. They supposedly rescued drowning

sailors, or trailed ships for days, improving the moods of those on board. More spren than animal, they were somehow able to magnify peace and confidence.

Sailors screamed, backing away, dropping the ropes as if they’d suddenly burst aflame. Rysn started, then pulled herself up on the railing to look down. Was the santhid alive? It was moving. More undulating, quivering . . . Disintegrating. Before her eyes, the santhid broke apart into hundreds of scuttling pieces. Cremlings—crustaceans the length of a person’s thumb—swarmed in the water. Rysn struggled to grasp what she was seeing. Had the hooks disturbed creatures that had been eating the dead santhid? But there were so many, and the entire beast was breaking apart. Including the shell.

Storms. It was as if . . . as if the body had been made up of cremlings. Or sealings, as the ones in the ocean were sometimes called.

“Aimia shouldn’t have existed, Brightness,” Nikli said. “It . . . well, it should always have been like it is now. Barren. Too cold for much to grow. It isn’t like Thaylenah, with favorable ocean currents nearby. “But those old Aimians, they knew ways to make it lush, alive. There are . . . stories of fantastical devices that transformed Aimia from wasteland to paradise. I guess it was beautiful. I’ve imagined it that way, when hearing the stories. But . . .”

“Well, the people who attacked Aimia quickly realized that destroying these devices would catastrophically undermine the place.” He shrugged. “That’s really all I know. Without these . . . fabrials, I guess they were? Without them, the island couldn’t sustain a nation.

“What is it, naco?” Lopen asked. Rua pointed at the water nearby, and Lopen saw a shape in the depths—or at least a dark shadow. Size was difficult to judge because he didn’t know how deep the thing was, but Rua was insistent. It was one of them. The things that had feasted on Stormlight, draining the Windrunners who had tried to investigate the storm before.

However, instead of crawling up her legs and attacking her, some of the cremlings pooled on the deck nearby. Then, in a bizarre display, they began to fit together. Like people grabbing hands and forming a line, the cremlings interlocked their wriggling legs, putting their backs outward. The bits of flesh and skin on them fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

Humanlike feet formed, then legs. Cremlings crawled up, pulling together into a writhing heap that became a torso—then finally the full figure of a nude man, lacking genitals. The head came last, eyes popping into place as cremlings squeezed inside the “skull.” Lines of tattoos hid the seams in the skin.

For a moment, the look of it was nauseating—the figure’s stomach pulsed with the creatures moving within. Lumps twitched on the arms. The skin of the legs split as if sliced open, revealing the insectile horrors within. Then it all seemed to tighten and settle down, and appeared human. A near-perfect likeness, though the lines a...

“We had not expected to find one of the Sighted on this trip,” Nikli said in Veden. “You have long guarded Cultivation’s Perpendicularity. It is regrettable that you joined this expedition. We do not kill your people lightly, Hualinam’lunanaki’akilu.”

“But you are persistent, as I said. Some of us knew it would come to this. Some who are less idealistic than I. For what it is worth, Rysn, I’m sorry. I genuinely enjoyed our time together. But the very cosmere is at stake. A few deaths now, however regrettable, will prevent catastrophe.”

Rysn’s eyes were immediately drawn to the incredible mural that dominated the far wall. It depicted a sun being shattered into pieces.

That mural . . . it was circular and—inlaid with golden foil—it seemed to glow with its own light. The writing on parts of it was unfamiliar to Rysn; she hadn’t seen the script during any of her travels. It wasn’t even the Dawnchant.

The peculiar letters were art themselves, curling around the outside of the exploding sun—which was divided into mostly symmetrical pieces. Four of them, each in turn broken into four smaller sections.

Four sections, each broken into four parts would equal 16. Is this a depiction of the Shattering of Adonalsium?

She swore she could feel the heat of that sun, burning, washing over her. It was not angry, though she knew it

was being ripped apart like a person on some awfu...

The use of the word “shard” leads me to believe that this is a depiction of the Shattering of Adonalsium.

You were brought here, she thought to herself, by one of the Guardians of Ancient Sins.

Yes, she thought. You were. There are few of them left. And so the Sleepless take up the task.

Scuttling sounds. Hundreds of little footsteps on the stone coming from behind.

“There is nothing to negotiate, Rysn,” Nikli said. “I’m sorry. But I have a duty to the entire cosmere.”

“Everyone wants something,” Rysn said, sweat trickling down the sides of her face. “Everyone has needs. It is my job to connect the needs to the people.” “And what is it you assume I need?” Nikli asked. She met the thing’s gaze. “You need someone to keep your secrets.”

“Very well,” Cord said. “I challenge you! You must duel me now to the death!” “I think you’ll find I cannot be defeated by a mortal,” Nikli said. “You don’t know what you’re asking.” “Is that a yes?” Cord bellowed. “If you insist.” “Ha!” she said. “You have been tricked, god! I am Hualinam’lunanaki’akilu, the daughter of Numuhukumakiaki’aialunamor, the Fal’ala’liki’nor, he who drew the Bow of Hours at the dawn of the new millennium, heralding the years of change! If you were to kill me, you would be violating the ancient pact of the Seven Peaks, and so must now forfeit the battle!” Nikli blinked in what seemed like a very human show of utter confusion. “I . . . have no idea what any of that means,” he said. “. . . You don’t?” Cord asked. “No.”

“Is Cord right?” Rysn said. “Are you protectors of life?” “We . . .” Nikli said. “We have seen the end of worlds, and vowed never to let such an awful event happen again. But we will kill the few to protect the many, if we must.”

Does Rysn know what the cosmere is? Or is she just repeating the word because she’s heard Nickli say that’s what he’s protecting?

His cousin exploded with light. A blast of something frigid washed over Lopen, and he found himself disturbing a large frost pattern on the ground in the shape of a glyph. As the creature’s arm reached Huio, mist appeared in the man’s hand—forming the biggest, most awesome Shardhammer Lopen had ever seen. Huio slammed it with all his might against the monster’s arm, and the carapace cracked and split, spraying violet goo across the stones.

“Wrong,” Nikli said. “We wish to avoid losing control of a force that could destroy the cosmere. That is what we want, though we do desire to accomplish it with as little suffering as is reasonable.”

“Besides, the crew that remains on the ship saw my kind. The sailors will have to die, even if we come up with an accommodation between us.”

It was unnerving how—in the gesture—each of his fingers came free a little, revealing the insectile legs beneath.

“As I and my kind are not native to this planet, we prefer the term ‘hordelings.’ ”