Then lights sparked to life in a wave across the field, the top of the wall, the street below. Gemstones that had been lying ignored, scattered from the broken bank, drank in Stormlight from Dalinar. They lit the ground with a thousand pinpricks of color.
“No!” Odium screamed. He stepped forward. “No, we killed you. WE KILLED YOU!”
Dalinar stood within a pillar of light and spinning gloryspren, one hand to each side, clutching the realms that made up reality.
Forgiven. The pain he’d so recently insisted that he would keep started to fade away on its own.
These Words … are accepted, the Stormfather said, sounding stunned. How? What have you done?
Odium stumbled back. “Kill him! Attack him!”
The parshwoman didn’t move, but Amaram lethargically lowered his hand from his face, then stepped forward, summoning his Shardblade.
Dalinar took his hand from the glowing pillar and held it out. “You can change,” he said. “You can become a better person. I did. Journey before destination.”
“No,” Amaram said. “No, he’ll never forgive me.”
“The bridgeman?”
“Not him.” Amaram tapped his chest. “Him. I’m sorry, Dalinar.”
He raised a familiar Shardblade. Dalinar’s Shardblade, Oathbringer. Passed from tyrant to tyrant to tyrant.
A portion of light split from Dalinar’s column.
Amaram swung Oathbringer with a shout, but the light met the Shardblade with an explosion of sparks, throwing Amaram backward—as if the strength of Shardplate were no more than that of a child. The light resolved into a man with shoulder-length wavy hair, a blue uniform, and a silvery spear in his hand.
A second glowing form split off into Shallan Davar, brilliant red hair streaming behind her, a long thin Shardblade with a slight curve forming in her hands.
And then, blessedly, Adolin appeared.
“Mistress!” Wyndle said. “Oh, mistress!”
For once, Lift didn’t have the will to tell him to shut up. She focused everything on those tendrils creeping up her arms, like deep, dark vines.
The assassin lay on the ground, staring upward, practically covered in those vines. Lift held them at bay, teeth gritted. Her will against the darkness until …
Light.
Like a sudden detonation, a force of light flashed across the field. Gemstones on the ground flared up, capturing Stormlight, and the assassin screamed, drawing in Light like glowing mist.
The vines shriveled, as the sword’s thirst was slaked by the Stormlight. Lift fell back on the stone and pried her hands off Szeth’s head.
I knew I liked you, a voice said in Lift’s mind.
The sword. So it was a spren? “You almost ate him,” Lift said. “You almost starvin’ ate me!”
Oh, I wouldn’t do that, the voice said. She seemed completely baffled, voice growing slow, like she was drowsy. But … maybe I was just really, really hungry.…
Well, Lift supposed she couldn’t blame someone for that.
The assassin climbed unsteadily to his feet. His face was crisscrossed with lines where the vines had been. That somehow left his skin grey in streaks, the color of stone. Lift’s arms bore the same. Huh.
Szeth walked toward the glowing column of light, leaving an afterimage behind him. “Come,” he said.
* * *
Elhokar? Dalinar thought. But no one else came through the column of light. And he knew. Knew, somehow, that the king was not coming.
He closed his eyes, and accepted that grief. He had failed the king in many ways.
Stand up, he thought. And do better.
He opened his eyes, and slowly his column of gloryspren faded. The power within him withdrew, leaving him exhausted. Fortunately, the field was covered in glittering gemstones. Stormlight in plenty.
A direct conduit to the Spiritual Realm, the Stormfather said. You renew spheres, Dalinar?
“We are Connected.”
I was bonded to men before. This never happened then.
“Honor was alive then. We are something different. His remnants, your soul, my will.”
Kaladin Stormblessed stepped up beside Dalinar before the rubble of the wall, and Shallan Davar stood on the other side. Jasnah emerged from the city and surveyed the scene with a critical air, while Renarin popped out behind her, then cried out and ran for Adolin. He grabbed his older brother in an embrace, then gasped. Adolin was wounded?
Good lad, Dalinar thought as Renarin immediately set to healing his brother.
Two more people crossed the battlefield. Lift he had anticipated. But the assassin? Szeth scooped the silvery sheath off the ground and slammed his black Shardblade into it, before stepping up to join Dalinar.
Skybreaker, Dalinar thought, counting them off. Edgedancer. That was seven.
He would have expected three more.
There, the Stormfather said. Behind your niece.
Two more people appeared in the shadow of the wall. A large, powerful man with an impressive physique, and a woman with long, dark hair. Their dark skin marked them as Makabaki, perhaps Azish, but their eyes were wrong.
I know them, the Stormfather said, sounding surprised. I know them from long, long ago. Memories of days when I did not fully live.
Dalinar, you are in the presence of divinities.
“I’ve grown accustomed to it,” Dalinar said, turning back toward the field. Odium had retreated into nothingness, though his Fused remained, as did most of the troops, and one strange spren—the one like black smoke. Beyond it, of course, the Thrill still encompassed the north side of the landing, near the water.
Amaram had ten thousand men, and maybe half of those had made it into the city so far. They had wilted before Dalinar’s display, but now …
Wait.
Those two only make nine, he thought to the Stormfather. Something told him there should be one more.
I don’t know. Perhaps they haven’t been found yet. Regardless, even with the bond you are just one man. Radiants are not immortal. How do you face this army?
“Dalinar?” Kaladin said. “Orders, sir?”
The enemy ranks were recovering. They lifted weapons, eyes glowing deep red. Amaram stirred as well, some twenty feet away. The Thrill had Dalinar most worried, however. He knew what it could do.
He glanced down at his arm, and noticed something. The lightning that had struck him earlier, shredding The Way of Kings, had broken his arm fabrial. The clasp was undone, and Dalinar could see the tiny gemstones Navani had placed to power it.
“Sir?” Kaladin asked again.
“The enemy is trying to crush this city, Captain,” Dalinar said, lowering his arm. “We’re going to hold it against his forces.”
“Seven Radiants?” Jasnah said, skeptical. “Uncle, that seems a tall order, even if one of us is—apparently—the storming Assassin in White.”