The Way of Kings

It was the worst kind of battle, the kind that was close. Often, you’d lose far fewer men in a skirmish where your enemies quickly gained the upper hand. When that happened, your commander would order the retreat to cut his losses. But close battles… they were brutal, blood-soaked things. Watching the fighting – the bodies dropped to the rocks, the weapons flashing, the men pushed off the plateau – reminded him of his first fights as a spearman. His commander had been shocked at how easily Kaladin dealt with seeing blood. Kaladin’s father would have been shocked at how easily Kaladin spilled it.

There was a big difference between his battles in Alethkar and the fights on the Shattered Plains. There, he’d been surrounded by the worst – or at least worst-trained-soldiers in Alethkar. Men who didn’t hold their lines. And yet, for all their disorder, those fights had made sense to him. These here on the Shattered Plains still did not.

That had been his miscalculation. He’d changed battlefield tactics before understanding them. He would not make that mistake again.

Rock stepped up beside Kaladin, joined by Sigzil. The thick-limbed Horneater made for quite a contrast to the short, quiet Azish man. Sigzil’s skin was a deep brown – not true black, like some parshmen’s. He tended to keep to himself.

“Is bad battle,” Rock said, folding his arms. “The soldiers will not be happy, whether or not they win.”

Kaladin nodded absently, listening to the yells, screams, and curses. “Why do they fight, Rock?”

“For money,” Rock said. “And for vengeance. You should know this thing. Is it not your king who Parshendi killed?”

“Oh, I understand why we fight,” Kaladin said. “But the Parshendi. Why do they fight?”

Rock grinned. “Is because they don’t very much like the idea of being beheaded for killing your king, I should think! Very unaccommodating of them.”

Kaladin smiled, though he found mirth unnatural while watching men die. He had been trained too long by his father for any death to leave him unmoved. “Perhaps. But, then, why do they fight for the gemhearts? Their numbers are dwindling because of skirmishes like these.”

“You know this thing?” Rock asked.

“They raid less frequently than they used to,” Kaladin said. “People talk about it in camp. And they don’t strike as close to the Alethi side as they once did.”

Rock nodded thoughtfully. “It seems logical. Ha! Perhaps we will soon win this fight and be going home.”

“No,” Sigzil said softly. He had a very formal way of speaking, with barely a hint of an accent. What language did the Azish speak, anyway? Their kingdom was so distant that Kaladin had only ever met one other. “I doubt that. And I can tell you why they fight, Kaladin.”

“Really?”

“They must have Soulcasters. They need the gemstones for the same reason we do. To make food.”

“It sounds reasonable,” Kaladin said, hands still clasped behind his back, feet in a wide stance. Parade rest still felt natural to him. “Just conjecture, but a reasonable one. Let me ask you something else, then. Why can’t bridgemen have shields?”

“Because this thing makes us too slow,” Rock said.

“No,” Sigzil said. “They could send bridgemen with shields out in front of the bridges, running in front of us. It wouldn’t slow anyone down. Yes, you would have to field more bridgemen – but you’d save enough lives with those shields to make up for the larger roster.”

Kaladin nodded. “Sadeas fields more of us than he needs already. In most cases, more bridges land than he needs.”

“But why?” Sigzil asked.

“Because we make good targets,” Kaladin said softly, understanding. “We’re put out in front to draw Parshendi attention.”

“Of course we are,” Rock said, shrugging. “Armies always do these things. The poorest and the least trained go first.”

“I know,” Kaladin said, “but usually, they’re at least given some measure of protection. Don’t you see? We’re not just an expendable initial wave. We’re bait. We’re exposed, so the Parshendi can’t help but fire at us. It allows the regular soldiers to approach without being hurt. The Parshendi archers are aiming at the bridgemen.”

Rock frowned.

“Shields would make us less tempting,” Kaladin said. “That’s why he forbids them.”

“Perhaps,” Sigzil said from the side, thoughtful. “But it seems foolish to waste troops.”

“Actually, it isn’t foolish,” Kaladin said. “If you have to repeatedly attack fortified positions, you can’t afford to lose your trained troops. Don’t you see? Sadeas has only a limited number of trained men. But untrained ones are easy to find. Each arrow that strikes down a bridgeman is one that doesn’t hit a soldier you’ve spent a great deal of money outfitting and training. That’s why it’s better for Sadeas to field a large number of bridgemen, rather than a smaller – but protected – number.”