Words of Radiance

“Where did you get the Shardblade, madman? Tell me. Most Blades are accounted for through the generations, their lineage and history recorded. This one is completely unknown. From whom did you take it?”

“Kalak will teach you to cast bronze, if you have forgotten this. We will Soulcast blocks of metal directly for you. I wish we could teach you steel, but casting is so much easier than forging, and you must have something we can produce quickly. Your stone tools will not serve against what is to come.”

“He said something about bronze. And stone?”

“Vedel can train your surgeons, and Jezrien… he will teach you leadership. So much is lost between Returns…”

“The Shardblade! Where did you get it?”

“How did you separate it from him, Bordin?”

“We didn’t, Brightlord. He just dropped it.”

“And it didn’t vanish away? Not bonded, then. He couldn’t have had it for long. Were his eyes this color when you found him?”

“Yes, sir. A darkeyed man with a Shardblade. Odd sight, that.”

“I will train your soldiers. We should have time. Ishar keeps talking about a way to keep information from being lost following Desolations. And you have discovered something unexpected. We will use that. Surgebinders to act as guardians… Knights…”

“He’s said this all before, Your Majesty. When he mumbles, uh, he just keeps at it. Over and over. I don’t think he even knows what he’s saying. Eerie, how his expression doesn’t change as he talks.”

“That is an Alethi accent.”

“He looks like he’s been living in the wild for some time, with that long hair and those broken nails. Perhaps a villager lost their mad father.”

“And the Blade, Elhokar?”

“Surely you don’t think it’s his, Uncle.”

“The coming days will be difficult, but with training, humanity will survive. You must bring me to your leaders. The other Heralds should join us soon.”

“I am willing to consider anything, these days. Your Majesty, I suggest you send him to the ardents. Perhaps they can help his mind to recover.”

“What will you do with the Shardblade?”

“I’m certain we can find a good use for it. In fact, something occurs to me right now. I might have need of you, Bordin.”

“Whatever you need, Brightlord.”

“I think… I think I am late… this time…”

How long had it been?

How long had it been?

How long had it been?

How long had it been?

How long had it been?

How long had it been?

How long had it been?

Too long.

I-8. A Form of Power

They were waiting for Eshonai when she returned.

A gathering of thousands crowded the edge of the plateau just outside of Narak. Workers, nimbles, soldiers, and even some mates who had been drawn away from their hedonism by the prospect of something novel. A new form, a form of power?

Eshonai strode toward them, marveling at the energy. Tiny, almost invisible lines of red lightning flared from her hand if she made a fist quickly. Her marbled skin tone—mostly black, with a slight grain of red streaks—had not changed, but she’d lost the bulky armor of warform. Instead, small ridges peeked out through the skin of her arms, which was stretched tightly in places. She’d tested the new armor against stones and found it very durable.

She had hairstrands again. How long had it been since she’d felt those? More wondrous, she felt focused. No more worries about the fate of her people. She knew what to do.

Venli pushed to the front of the crowd as Eshonai reached the edge of the chasm. They looked across the void at one another, and Eshonai could see the question on her sister’s lips. It worked?

Eshonai leapt the chasm. She didn’t require the running start that warform used; she crouched down, then threw herself up and into the air. The wind seemed to writhe around her. She shot over the chasm and landed among her people, red lines of power running up her legs as she crouched, absorbing the impact of the landing.

People backed away. So clear. Everything was so clear

.

“I have returned from the storms,” she said to Praise, which could also be used for true satisfaction. “I bring with me the future of two peoples. Our time of loss is at an end.”

“Eshonai?” It was Thude, wearing his long coat. “Eshonai, your eyes.”

“Yes?”

“They’re red.”

“They are a representation of what I’ve become.”

“But, in the songs—”

“Sister!” Eshonai called to Resolve. “Come look upon what you have wrought!”

Venli approached, timid at first. “Stormform,” she whispered to Awe. “It works, then? You can move in the storms without danger?”

“More than that,” Eshonai said. “The winds obey me. And Venli, I can feel something… something building. A storm.”

“You feel a storm right now? In the rhythms?”

“Beyond the rhythms,” Eshonai said. How could she explain it? How could she describe taste to one with no mouth, sight to one who had never seen? “I feel a tempest brewing just beyond our experience. A powerful, angry tempest. A highstorm. With enough of us bearing this form together, we could bring it. We could bend the storms to our will, and could bring them down upon our enemies.”