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Dabbid pulled in closer to Rlain, trembling. Rlain looked toward the singer guards. Four of them.
No. He wasn’t going to fight them. And not only because of the numbers. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s ask your superior, so I can get on with my duty.”
They pulled him away, and Dabbid followed, whimpering softly as they were led—step by step—farther from their goal. Well, if the Sibling wanted him down there for some reason, they’d have to find a way to get him out of this.
* * *
The Pursuer lunged for Kaladin. Kaladin, however, was ready. He activated Navani’s device, which was still attached to his belt. That tugged Kaladin backward faster than a man could leap, and so he stayed out of the Pursuer’s grip.
By this point, the singers had cleared most of the atrium of civilians. They’d lined the walls with soldiers—but not the flat side of the room with the window—though crowds continued to watch from the hallways and the balconies. Trusting in Kaladin.
Heavenly Ones hovered above the circular chamber, as if to judge the contest. In effect it was an arena. Kaladin projected as much strength and confidence as he could. He almost started to feel it, the worn-out, weathered fatigue retreating.
He needed the Pursuer to believe. To understand. That he had far more to lose from this contest than Kaladin did.
And he seemed to. For as Kaladin reached the other side of the room and disengaged Navani’s device, the creature ejected his second body and shot toward Kaladin as a ribbon. He wanted to end this battle quickly.
The window had darkened from the approaching stormwall, which announced the highstorm. It hit with a fury that Kaladin could barely hear, and spheres became the room’s only source of light.
Kaladin seized the Fused out of the air as he formed, and they clashed again. That was the Pursuer’s third body. If he ejected this time, he’d have to go recharge, or risk forming a fourth body—and being killed.
They went to ground again, rolling as they wrestled, Kaladin trying to maneuver his knife. The Pursuer could heal with Voidlight, but the more of that he lost, the more likely he’d have to retreat.
This time the creature offered no taunts as he tried to get a grip on Kaladin’s head. Likely to smash it into the ground, as he knew Kaladin’s healing wasn’t working properly. That gave Kaladin a chance to stab upward, forcing the Pursuer to grab his arm instead.
“You’re no soldier,” Kaladin said loudly, his voice echoing to all of those listening. “That’s what I realized about you, Defeated One. You’ve never faced death.”
“Silence,” the Pursuer growled, twisting Kaladin’s wrist.
Kaladin grunted, then rolled them both to the side, narrowly protecting his wrist from serious damage. He dropped the knife. Fortunately, he had found others.
“I’ve faced it every day of my life!” Kaladin shouted, rolling on top of the Fused. “You wonder why I don’t fear you? I’ve lived with the knowledge that death is hounding me. You’re nothing new.”
“Be. QUIET!”
“But I’m something you have never known,” Kaladin shouted, slamming the Pursuer down by his shoulders. “Thousands of years of life can’t prepare you for something you’ve never met before, Defeated One! It can’t prepare you for someone who does not fear you!”
Kaladin pulled out his boot knife and raised it. The Pursuer, seeing that coming, didn’t do what he should have. He didn’t try to grapple or knee Kaladin’s stomach. He panicked and shot away as a ribbon of light, fleeing.
He materialized a short distance away in front of the watching soldiers. His fourth body. His last one. The one he was vulnerable in. He turned to look back at Kaladin, now standing atop his husk.
“I am death itself, Defeated One,” Kaladin said. “And I’ve finally caught up to you.”
* * *
Venli found a mob of people blocking the central corridor as she tried to reach the atrium. She attuned Anxiety and pushed through the press. Since she was a Regal, people did make way. Eventually she reached the front of the crowd, where a group of warforms stood in a line, blocking the way forward.
She suspected she knew what was happening. Rlain and his friends had already begun their rescue plan. She was too late.
“Make room,” Venli demanded to Derision. “What is happening?”
One of the warforms turned. Venli didn’t know him personally, but he was one of the Pursuer’s soldiers. “Our master is fighting Stormblessed,” he said. “We’re to keep a perimeter, prevent people from interfering.”
Venli craned her neck, tall enough to see that the room was being guarded by about a hundred of the Pursuer’s troops, though she also saw some of Raboniel’s personal guard—which she’d picked up from Leshwi.
Venli attuned the Terrors. What now? Could she help? She found, as she searched, that she genuinely wanted to. Not because Timbre was pushing her, and not because this was merely the path she was on. But because of the songs of the stones. And the whispers of those who had come before her.
“I’m the Voice of the Lady of Wishes,” Venli said. “You think that your blockade applies to me? Step aside.”
Reluctantly, the soldiers made way for her. And once she had a clear view, she couldn’t help but pause. There was something about the way Stormblessed fought. Even grappling with the Pursuer, rolling across the ground, there was a certain determination to him. He freed himself from the grapple, then somehow leaped back twenty feet, though his powers shouldn’t have been working that well.
The Pursuer became a ribbon and chased him, but Stormblessed didn’t run. He reached out and seized the Pursuer right as he appeared. Fascinating. She could see why Leshwi found the human so interesting.
There was nothing Venli could do about this battle. She had to think about Rlain, and Lirin and his family. She searched the air and located Leshwi hovering nearby.
Venli made her way over to Leshwi as Stormblessed stood tall atop the Pursuer’s husk. The lady floated down. She would not interfere in a duel such as this.
“This looks bad for Stormblessed,” Venli whispered.
“No,” Leshwi said to Exultation. “The Pursuer has used all of his husks. He will need to flee and renew.”
“Why doesn’t he?” Venli asked.
“Look,” Leshwi said, and pointed at the silent atrium. A perimeter of soldiers with humans crowded behind them, peeking through. Fused in the air. All staring at the two combatants.
An incredible soldier, who seemed immortal and impervious, completely in control.
And a Fused, who somehow looked small by comparison.
* * *
Teft dodged through the infirmary. He didn’t dare engage Moash directly; instead he tried to stay out of reach. Buying time. For what though?
Moash drifted closer to them, eyes glowing.
“Stormblessed isn’t going to come in and help, is he?” Phendorana asked softly, floating beside Teft.
“Kaladin can’t be everywhere at once,” Teft said. “He’s just one man, though he often forgets that.” He jumped backward over a body. Lift had stirred, and was quietly pulling herself across the ground toward one of the nearby Radiants, her legs dragging behind.
Good girl, Teft thought. He needed to keep Moash’s attention.
