The Way of Kings

“Where’d you learn to heal men like that?” Teft asked. Several of the nearby bridgemen turned toward him at the question.

“I wasn’t always a slave,” Kaladin whispered.

“These things you did, they won’t make a difference,” Rock said, walking up. The massive Horneater squatted down. “Gaz makes us leave behind wounded who cannot walk. Is standing order from above.”

“I’ll deal with Gaz,” Kaladin said, resting his head back against the stone. “Go return that knife to the body you took it off. I don’t want to be accused of thievery. Then, when the time comes to leave, I want two men in charge of Leyten and two men in charge of Hobber. We’ll tie them to the top of the bridge and carry them. At the chasms, you’ll have to move quickly and untie them before the army crosses, then retie them at the end. We’ll also need someone to lead Dabbid, if his shock hasn’t passed.”

“Gaz won’t stand for this thing,” Rock said.

Kaladin closed his eyes, declining further argument.

The battle was a long one. As evening approached, the Parshendi finally retreated, jumping away across the chasms with their unnaturally powerful legs. There was a chorus of shouts from the Alethi soldiers, who had won the day. Kaladin forced himself to his feet and went looking for Gaz. It would be a while yet before they could get the chrysalis open – it was like pounding on stone – but he needed to deal with the bridge sergeant.

He found Gaz watching from well behind the battle lines. He glanced at Kaladin with his one eye. “How much of that blood is yours?”

Kaladin looked down, realizing for the first time that he was crusted with dark, flaking blood, most belonging to the men he’d worked on. He didn’t answer the question. “We’re taking our wounded with us.”

Gaz shook his head. “If they can’t walk, they stay behind. Standing orders. Not my choice.”

“We’re taking them,” Kaladin said, no more firm, no more loud.

“Brightlord Lamaril won’t stand for it.” Lamaril was Gaz’s immediate superior.

“You’ll send Bridge Four last, to lead the wounded soldiers back to camp. Lamaril won’t go with that troop; he’ll go on ahead with the main body, as he won’t want to miss Sadeas’s victory feast.”

Gaz opened his mouth.

“My men will move quickly and efficiently,” Kaladin said, interrupting him. “They won’t slow anyone.” He took the last sphere from his pocket and handed it over. “You won’t say anything.”

Gaz took the sphere, snorting. “One clearmark? You think that will make me take a risk this big?”

“If you don’t,” Kaladin said, voice calm, “I will kill you and let them execute me.”

Gaz blinked in surprise. “You’d never–”

Kaladin took a single step forward. He must have looked a dreadful sight, covered in blood. Gaz paled. Then he cursed, holding up the dark sphere. “And a dun sphere at that.”

Kaladin frowned. He was sure it had still glowed before the bridge run. “That’s your fault. You gave it to me.”

“Those spheres were newly infused last night,” Gaz said. “They came straight from Brightlord Sadeas’s treasurer. What did you do with them?”

Kaladin shook his head, too exhausted to think. Syl landed on his shoulder as he turned to walk back to the bridgemen.

“What are they to you?” Gaz called after him. “Why do you even care?”

“They’re my men.”

He left Gaz behind. “I don’t trust him,” Syl said, looking over her shoulder. “He could just say you threatened him and send men to arrest you.”

“Maybe he will,” Kaladin said. “I guess I just have to count on him wanting more of my bribes.”

Kaladin continued on, listening to the shouts of the victors and the groans of their wounded. The plateaus were littered with corpses, bunched up along the edges of the chasm, where the bridges had made a focus for the battle. The Parshendi – as always – had left their dead behind. Even when they won, they reportedly left their dead. The humans sent back bridge crews and soldiers to burn their dead and send their spirits to the afterlife, where the best among them would fight in the Heralds’ army.

“Spheres,” Syl said, still looking at Gaz. “That doesn’t seem like much to count on.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I’ve seen the way he looks at them. He wants the money I give him. Perhaps badly enough to keep him in line.” Kaladin shook his head. “What you said earlier is right; men are unreliable in many things. But if there’s one thing you can count on, it’s their greed.”

It was a bitter thought. But it had been a bitter day. A hopeful, bright beginning, and a bloody, red sunset.

Just like every day.

The Legend

Alethi Warcamps