Words of Radiance

“Tomorrow is the last day of the countdown,” Dalinar said. “Scribbled on the walls during highstorms. Whatever it is, whatever it was, we meet it tomorrow—and you are my backup plan, Shallan Davar. You will find this portal, and you will make it work. If the evil overwhelms us, your pathway will be our escape. You may be the only chance that our armies—and indeed, Alethkar itself—have for survival.”

* * *

Days passed, and Kaladin refused to let the rain overcome him.

He limped through the camp, using a crutch that Lopen had fetched for him despite objecting that it was too soon for Kaladin to be up and about.

The place was still empty, save for the occasional parshmen lugging wood from the forests outside or carrying sacks of grain. The camp didn’t get any news about the expedition. The king was probably being sent word via spanreed, but he didn’t share it with everyone else.

Storms, this place feels eerie, Kaladin thought, limping past deserted barracks, rain pattering against the umbrella that Lopen had tied to Kaladin’s crutch. It worked. Kind of. He passed rainspren, like blue candles sprouting from the ground, each with a single eye in the center of its top. Creepy things. Kaladin had always disliked them.

He fought the rain. Did that make any sense? It seemed that the rain wanted him to stay inside, so he went out. The rain wanted him to give in to the despair, so he forced himself to think. Growing up, he’d had Tien to help lighten the gloom. Now, even thinking of Tien increased that gloom instead—though he couldn’t avoid it. The Weeping reminded him of his brother. Of laughter when the darkness threatened, of cheerful joy and carefree optimism.

Those images warred with ones of Tien’s death. Kaladin squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish that memory. Of the frail young man, barely trained, being cut down. Tien’s own company of soldiers had put him at the front as a distraction, a sacrifice to slow the enemy.

Kaladin set his jaw, opening his eyes. No more moping. He would not whine or wallow. Yes, he’d lost Syl. He’d lost many loved ones during his life. He would survive this agony as he had survived the others.

He continued his limping circuit of the barracks. He did this four times a day. Sometimes Lopen came with him, but today Kaladin was alone. He splashed through puddles of water, and found himself smiling because he wore the boots Shallan had stolen from him.

I never did believe she was a Horneater, he thought. I need to make sure she knows that.

He stopped, leaning on the crutch and looking out through the rain toward the Shattered Plains. He couldn’t see far. The haze of rainfall prevented that.

You come back safely, he thought to those out there. All of you. This time, I can’t help you if something goes wrong.

Rock, Teft, Dalinar, Adolin, Shallan, everyone in Bridge Four—all out on their own. How different a place would the world be if Kaladin had been a better man? If he’d used his powers and had returned to the warcamp with Shallan full of Stormlight? He had been so close to revealing what he could do…

You’d been thinking that for weeks, he thought to himself. You’d never have done it. You were too scared.

He hated admitting it, but it was true.

Well, if his suspicions about Shallan were true, perhaps Dalinar would have his Radiant anyway. May she make a better run of it than Kaladin had.

He continued on his limping way, rounding back to Bridge Four’s barrack. He stopped when he saw a fine carriage, pulled by horses bearing the king’s livery, waiting in front of it.

Kaladin cursed, hobbling forward. Lopen ran out to meet him, not carrying an umbrella. A lot of people gave up on trying to stay dry during the Weeping.

“Lopen!” Kaladin said. “What?”

“He’s waiting for you, gancho,” Lopen said, gesturing urgently. “The king himself.”

Kaladin limped more quickly toward his room. The door was open, and Kaladin peeked in to find King Elhokar standing inside, looking about the small chamber. Moash guarded the door, and Taka—a former member of the King’s Guard—stood nearer to the king.

“Your Majesty?” Kaladin asked.

“Ah,” the king said, “bridgeman.” Elhokar’s cheeks were flushed. He’d been drinking, though he didn’t appear drunk. Kaladin understood. With Dalinar and that disapproving glare of his gone for a time, it was probably nice to relax with a bottle.