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“Brightness,” another man said. “We can try—but there are dozens of stairwells, and not a lot of materials for barricades.”
“Then we’d best start small,” she said. “Have all our troops retreat to this level; we’ll try to hold the second and third floors.”
“And if they just fly down the outside and come in the windows on this floor?” the nervous young man asked.
“We barricade ourselves in here tight,” Navani said. “Storms. The Soulcasters—”
“—don’t work, like the other fabrials.”
Damnation. “We have garrison stores?” she asked, hopeful.
“I’ve sent men to recover them,” Teofil said, pointing at a map of the third floor. “Dumps are here and here.”
“With those, we can hold for weeks,” Navani said. “Plenty of time for my husband to return with our forces.”
The officers looked at one another. Her scribes, clustered near the doorway, stood quietly. After her furious rush to get here—often pushing through confused crowds—it felt unnerving to be in such silence. She almost felt as if the entire tower were bearing down on top of her.
“Brightness,” Teofil said. “They pushed straight for the plateau outside. They have the Oathgates—and are working them somehow, though other fabrials aren’t functioning. Singers will soon flood this tower. But disregarding that, I don’t think barricades would be a prudent strategy.
“Yes, I plugged the stairwells to slow them, but they have stormforms, and I have reports of Fused who can move through stone. They’ll blast and burn away what we put in front of them. If you want us to hold, we’ll hold as long as we can—but I want to make certain you understand the situation fully. In case you want to consider a different plan.”
Halls above. She pressed her hands against the table, forcing order upon her thoughts. Don’t feel like you need to decide everything, she told herself. You’re not a general.
“Advice?” she asked.
“Surrender is distasteful,” Teofil said, “but might be our best option. My soldiers are brave, and I vouch for them—but they cannot stand for long against Regals and Fused. Can you think of any way to restore the Radiants?”
She eyed the maps. “I suspect whatever the enemy did to the Radiants has to do with a specific construction of garnets in the crystal pillar. If we can retake that room, I might be able to reverse all this. I can’t guarantee anything, but it’s my best guess and probably our best hope.”
“That would mean reclaiming part of the first floor,” Teofil said. “We’d have to push down the stairs into the basement…”
Nearby, other officers shuffled and muttered at that idea. Teofil met Navani’s eyes and nodded. He didn’t advise standing in a hopeless fight against a superior enemy. But if she could offer a chance of success, even with a difficult gamble, that was different.
“That will be bloody,” a soldier said. “We’ll have to advance on the position of enemy Surgebinders.”
“And if we fail, we’ll have given up most of our ground,” said another man. “This is basically an in-for-all maneuver. Either we seize the basement, or … that’s it.”
Navani looked over the maps again, determined to think this through, though each minute she debated would make their task that much more difficult.
Teofil is right, she decided. This tower is too porous to hold for long against an enemy with powers. Trying to hold these center rooms wouldn’t work. The enemy would be electrocuting men in large batches, breaking formations, terrifying her troops.
She had to strike before everyone in the tower started feeling like that frightened captain. Before the enemy momentum grew too large to overcome.
They had one hope. Move now.
“Do it,” she ordered. “Throw everything we have into recovering that pillar in the basement.”
Again the room fell silent. Then Teofil barked, “You heard the queen! Shuanor, Gavri, grab your men from the upper floors! Withdraw, leaving only a harrying force to cover the retreat. Radathavian, you command that. Withdraw slowly, making those Heavenly Ones bleed as they have to advance on you. Fused might heal, but they still hurt.
“The rest of you, pull your men to the foot of the grand staircase. We’ll muster there, then make our push! We will carve a hole to the basement steps, then fight down and clear a path for the queen. By the blood of our fathers!”
They scrambled into motion, the various lesser officers calling for runners to deliver orders. Navani didn’t miss their delayed response. They’d moved only after hearing the command from Teofil. These soldiers would fall over themselves to do her bidding when it came to peacetime requests, but during a fight …
Navani glanced at Teofil, who leaned in next to her and spoke in a soft voice. “Pardon them, Brightness,” he said. “They likely don’t much like following a woman’s orders. Masculine arts and all that.”
“And you?” she asked.
“I figure the Blackthorn has studied every military text known to man,” he said. “And we could do worse for a general than the person who likely read ’em to him. Particularly if she’s willing to listen to a little sense. That’s more than I can say for some highlords I’ve followed.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“What we needed most was for someone to make the decision,” he said. “Before you came, they were all balking at doing what I wanted. Storming fools. Almost anyone worth his Stormlight is on the front lines somewhere, Brightness.”
He glanced at the others as they sent runners with orders. Then he spoke even softer to Navani. “We’ve got some solid troops mixed among them here, but many of these are Roion’s men. Best I could tell, there was a single Shardbearer in the tower who wasn’t a Radiant. Tshadr, a Thaylen man.
“His rooms were on the fourth floor. I sent a runner, but she returned just before you arrived. Those Heavenly Ones went straight for him, Brightness. Must have known exactly where his quarters were. The enemy has his Plate now; may the Almighty accept his soul to the eternal battlefield.”
Navani breathed out. Taravangian must have told the enemy where to find the Shardbearer.
“There might be one other Shard we could take,” Teofil said, gesturing toward a spot on the third-floor map. “A black Blade. Speaks to people when they come close…”
“The assassin in that cell is a Lightweaving,” Navani whispered. “We sent the real man with my husband in secret, and he took the sword with him.”
“Damnation,” Teofil muttered.
“What are our chances, Battalionlord?” she asked. “Our actual chances, in your estimation?”
“Brightness,” he said, “I’ve tried fielding regular troops against Regals. It doesn’t go well—and it will be worse here. Normally these close quarters would benefit us fighting defensively. But in corridors we’re limited to small clashes of squads. And if their squads can throw lightning…”
“I came to the same conclusion,” she said. “Do you think this order of mine foolish?”
He slowly shook his head. “Brightness, if there’s a chance to turn this tide right now, I think we need to take it. We lose the tower, and … well, it will be a disaster for the war. If there is even a possibility you can wake the Radiants, I’ll risk everyone we have on that chance.”
