Dawnshard

by Brandon Sanderson

  Rysn felt something fluttering around her. Glowing white arrowhead spren, moving like fish in an unseen stream, swirling around her and Cord. That roar reverberated in her ears, in her memory. It didn’t repeat, but a higher-pitched squeal echoed in the hallway. And then a small figure leaped up and landed on top of one of the skulls, flapping her wings and letting out a mighty—yet diminutive—roar.

  Chiri-Chiri had returned. Surely she hadn’t made that other roar, the one that had vibrated Rysn to the core. Yet Chiri-Chiri gave it her best, calling out again. She seemed . . . rather tiny atop the big skull, like a child with a wooden sword standing in a line of fully armored knights. Still, she hopped off the carapace skull and came loping across the stones, roaring and buzzing her wings to fly at the top of each leap. She yelled her little heart out, as angry as Rysn had ever seen her.

  The larkin bounded over to Rysn and hopped onto the table, then trumped with all her might at the three Sleepless. Nikli’s hordelings withdrew into his body, forming the semblance of a human again.

  Chiri-Chiri looked much better. The chalky white cast to her carapace had vanished, her natural violet-brown colors returning. She wasn’t terribly fearsome, considering her size, but she did her best, bless her. She stood between Rysn and Nikli. Growling, snapping, and howling in challenge.

  “Ancient Guardian,” Nikli said to Chiri-Chiri—still speaking Veden—standing up on the other side of the table. “We should have realized you would find your way to this chamber, but you are no longer needed to protect the secret. At the fall of your kind, mine took up the mantle.”

  “The secret,” Rysn said, “that has . . . somehow entered my brain.”

  “That will soon be fixed,” Nikli said.

  “These creatures . . .” Cord said. “They protected this place once, you said?” She shivered, and Rysn couldn’t blame her, after feeling those strange insects on her skin. Cord glanced down the hallway at the skulls, then back at Chiri-Chiri. “She’s one of them. She returned to protect the treasure.”

  “Coincidence!” Nikli said. “Chiri-Chiri simply reached the size where she needed to bond a mandra to continue growing.”

  “Others of her kind don’t grow at all,” Rysn said. “Chiri-Chiri did. She brought me here.”

  “The spren guided us,” Cord said. “This thing was the gods’ will.”

  “The force inside my mind asked me to choose,” Rysn said. “It wanted me to accept it, whatever it is.”

  “No it did not!” Nikli said. “The Dawnshard isn’t alive. It doesn’t want things. You have stolen it!”

  And Rysn knew, or at least felt, he was partially right. It wasn’t a living thing that she’d taken upon herself. It was . . . something else. A Command. It didn’t have a will, and it hadn’t led her here or chosen her.

  But Chiri-Chiri had done both.

  “Do you see them?” Cord asked, gesturing to the roof of the cavern. “Joining us, watching us? Do you see the gods?”

  Rysn took a deep breath, then turned her palms upward again. “It appears,” she said, “that I do have something you want. Shall we continue the negotiations?”

  “You are a thief!” Nikli said, his body dropping hordelings as he stepped toward Rysn. “You cannot bargain with stolen goods!”

  He reached for Rysn, but Chiri-Chiri reared up and let out another shout. This one was different somehow. Not a tantrum, not just a warning. An ultimatum. Something about the way it resonated in the room made Nikli hesitate.

  Think, Rysn. You need to give him something. Many traders tried to sell people a “bargain” they did not want, but that was not the path to a sustainable partnership. You had to give them something they actually needed.

  Nikli stepped forward again. Chiri-Chiri growled.

  “Do not assume we would not kill an Ancient Guardian if we had to,” Nikli said to her.

  “You claim to want to protect this thing,” Rysn said, “but all you threaten to do is destroy.”

  “If you knew what the Dawnshard was capable of . . .”

  “It’s now inside me. Whatever it is.”

  “Fortunately, you would not be able to employ it,” Nikli said. “It is beyond your capacity. But there are those in the cosmere who could use it for terrible acts.”

  Rysn glanced at the other two, noting how distressed their hordelings seemed. She heard uncertainty in Nikli’s voice now. And for the first time, she saw them as they truly were.

  Terrified.

  They were unraveling. They were failing. They clung to a secret that was escaping despite their best efforts. As Vstim had taught her, she saw through their eyes. Felt their fears, their loss, their uncertainty.

  “How far you have fallen,” she whispered. “You would murder the very guardians you revere? You would rip the Dawnshard forcibly from the mind of the one who bears it? You would become the things you pretend to defend against.”

  Nikli slumped to the ground. His skin split, making him look like a husk.

  Don’t give them what they say they want, she thought. Give them what they need.

  “You say you fight hidden enemies you cannot locate,” Rysn said. “They could use this thing, but I cannot. It seems to me that the safest place for it is in my mind.”

  “How?” Nikli demanded.

  “Your secret is escaping, Nikli. You know you can’t hold it in. The storm ever blows, and the walls crack. You furiously plug the leaks, but the entire structure is collapsing. Your lies undermine one another.

  “They will come. The ones you fear. How valuable would it be for you to be able to watch and see who they are? What if you could trap them, instead of innocent crews of sailors?”

  “Innocent?” Nikli asked. “You came for loot.”

  “Salvage,” Rysn said. “It sounds more civilized. Plus, you know that was only a small part of our quest here.”

  Nikli thought. “It is too dangerous,” he said. “If our enemies came here, they’d find our secret.”

  “Unless it wasn’t here,” Rysn said. “Unless it was somewhere completely unexpected—like in the mind of a random human woman. Who would assume you’d let one leave with something so powerful?

  “Nikli, too many people, when they get something valuable, sit on it and sit on it—anticipating the trade they will someday make. They imagine how grand it will be! How much they will earn! In the meantime, they eat scraps. Do you know how many die with that nest egg, never spent, never used?

  “What you want—the safeguarding of this mystery—is possible, but you need to be active. You need to make a trade, build alliances, and identify your enemies. Sitting here, hoping to simply hold on so tightly . . . it won’t work. Trust me, Nikli. Sometimes you need to accept what you’ve lost, then move forward. Then you can instead realize what you’ve gained.”

  He slumped, but many of the hordelings looked at her. It was unnerving, yet it seemed promising.

  “Nikli,” Rysn whispered. “Remember what I taught you. About coming to know the sailors. About the hazing. Not a perfect solution . . .”

  “But instead an imperfect solution,” he whispered, “for an imperfect world.” He remained like a husk, but his hordelings started buzzing to the other two swarms.

  After a long time of buzzing back and forth, Nikli spoke.

  “What would it take,” he said, “to make this deal?”

  “Not much. I can tell the story exactly as it happened, but leave out that mural. Cord and I swam down here, found the Plate and Soulcasters. You were going to attack us, to protect these treasures, but you were impressed by Chiri-Chiri—one of the Ancient Guardians of this place.

  “Her valiance in defending me made you pause. Because of the time we spent together, and because of my persuasive nature, I convinced you that we are not your enemies. You decided to let us go.”

  “People will hear of the Oathgate. You cannot hide that. Everyone will come to the island.”

  “Exactly!” Rysn said. “That’s what we want. Let the O
athgate be opened, and allow scholars to swarm this place! The enemies you fear? They will drive themselves mad searching the island for the secret that’s not here!”

  “Because it is in your mind,” Nikli said. “Something they’d never believe that we would allow. We, who protect planets, letting this power enter a mortal . . . An imperfect solution, yet perhaps . . .” He met her eyes. “There is a flaw. Your people might believe that we just let you go, but our enemies? They will push to find out the truth.”

  “So we need another layer,” Rysn said, nodding. “A secret for them to ‘discover.’ We tell everyone that you let us go because you were impressed. Or maybe something a little more . . . mythological. Cord, how would the stories say a meeting like this might play out?”

  Cord gave it some thought, then looked up again. “Luckspren. There are legends of them leading to treasure, yes? But there are always guardians of treasure. And in the stories, you complete their challenges, then get a reward.”

  “So we tell everyone that,” Rysn said, “but to our queens and other dignitaries we tell a more subtle lie, one very close to the truth. That I negotiated with you for the treasure—the Shardplate and Soulcasters, saying nothing of the thing in my mind. Those who spy and push for secrets will discover this.”

  “We would still need a trade,” Nikli said, “that is plausible. Something our enemies believe we’d trade to you. Yet my people have few wants. . . .”

  “But you do,” Rysn said. “You said it earlier. Your kind are bad at pretending to be humans—so our trade is for training. I agree to take some of you with me, and to show you how to be human. We train you.”

  “That . . .” Nikli said. “That could work. Yes, they’d believe that lie. The Soulcasters are practically useless to my kind. We keep them out of reverence, as they were offerings to the Ancient Guardians long ago. But one is with you, so it makes sense to trade them to you . . . and we do need training. It’s something we’ve often complained about.” He glanced toward Cord. “This one will know our secret.”

  “I am of the Peaks,” Cord said. “Guardians of the pool. You know I can be trusted.”

  Nikli buzzed with the others of his kind, then he looked Cord up and down. “If we agree to this deal, we will trade the Soulcasters to Rysn for training and aid in imitating humans. That armor you wear, however, has long been reserved for guardians of the Dawnshard. If you would bear it, you will bear that burden as well.”

  “I . . . will ponder this task,” Cord said. “I have many loyalties that come before this thing.”

  “If we are going to accept—and I cannot promise we will, as all the Sleepless must vote—this woman must be protected. She will need bodyguards!”

  “I will have the Dawnshard’s larkin guardian,” Rysn said. “Who is its true defender, if what you’ve said to me is true. I would welcome more help, but remember, the point of all this is to not hint at what I’ve done. Too many people watching me would defeat that purpose. I assume your hordelings can monitor me quietly. I wouldn’t be able to prevent you, and honestly, I’d rather know you’re there.”

  “Plus,” Cord said, “this thing will help with the lie—if your enemies spot you near Rysn, they will think you are training, as per the deal we have made.”

  “The deal we are considering,” Nikli said. “It is not agreed. You don’t even know what it is you’ve done, Rysn. You don’t understand what it is that is now inside your head.”

  “So . . . tell me?”

  Nikli laughed. “Mere words cannot explain. The Dawnshards are Commands, Rysn. The will of a god.”

  “I feel what you say is right, but . . . I had always imagined the Dawnshards as weapons, like the mythical Honorblades.” To be honest, she’d rarely heard the term “Dawnshard,” but she was pretty sure she’d always conflated them with Honorblades.

  “The most powerful forms of Surgebinding transcend traditional mortal understanding,” Nikli said. His body began to re-form, hordelings crawling back into place. “All their greatest applications require Intent and a Command. Demands on a level no person could ever manage alone. To make such Commands, one must have the reasoning—the breadth of understanding—of a deity. And so, the Dawnshards. The four primal Commands that created all things.” He paused. “And then eventually, they were used to undo Adonalsium itself. . . .”

  Cord whispered something in her own language.

  “So you do know,” Nikli said to her.

  “There are songs . . .” Cord said. “From long ago. Of when this . . . Command came through the pool.” She whispered again in her tongue, and it sounded like a prayer.

  Rysn was watching several hordelings that had slipped around near her. These looked strikingly like Chiri-Chiri in miniature.

  “We once assumed,” Nikli said, noticing her attention, “that the last of the lanceryn had died, and the few hordelings we had bred with them were all that remained. Inferior bloodlines, though they give us the ability to negate some applications of Stormlight. Yours is the third larkin we now know to have survived—but the only one that has grown mature enough to return here.”

  Chiri-Chiri had settled down on the table, though she watched the three Sleepless and clicked warningly.

  “Why . . . did you say she needed to return?” Rysn asked. “Will she grow sick again?”

  “Larger greatshells need to bond mandras—you call them luckspren—to keep from crushing themselves to death with their own weight. The mandras of this place are special. Smaller, yet more potent, than the common breeds. It is no simple thing to make a creature as heavy as a lancer—or larkin, as they are now called—fly. Chiri-Chiri will need to return every few years until she is fully grown.”

  “Fully grown?” Rysn said, turning again toward those skulls. “Oh storms . . .”

  “You should never have come here,” Nikli said. “You should have been dissuaded. But . . . we cannot deny that what you said is true. You were brought by the needs of an Ancient Guardian. And unfortunately, the rest of what you say is also true. Our secret leaks into the world. This Dawnshard is no longer safe. I must say . . . I had not anticipated being persuaded in this matter.”

  “It is the job of a trademaster to see a need, then fulfill it,” Rysn said. She felt the strange pressure in the back of her mind. It was a Command? How had it been in the mural, but now invaded her head? She hadn’t been able to read the writing. What kind of Command wasn’t written, but infused a subject like Stormlight in a sphere?

  Nikli stood up, his hordelings snapping together. He pulled his robe tight. “We will discuss.” Behind, the other two disintegrated completely, turning into piles. “Then we will vote. It will not take long, as the others have been relaying our conversation to all the swarms. We communicate faster than humans.”

  “Nikli,” Rysn said. “When you speak to them, I have a request. Among my people, during important treaty negotiations, both parties often bring a witness of integrity. Someone to speak to the moral character of the diplomats involved. Tell me, are you the same person who has traveled with me these months? You didn’t somehow replace the real Nikli?”

  “I am the same person you hired,” Nikli said. “My initial task was to watch the Ancient Guardian and assess whether she was being cared for. Beyond that, we had a reasonable guess that an expedition would soon come here via a Thaylen ship. And yours is the finest of the fleet. It was a simple decision to place me in the crew of the Wandersail.”

  “Then you’ve sailed with me,” Rysn said. “You know me. When you speak to the others, I want you to tell them—honestly—what you think of me.”

  “I don’t know if—”

  “All I ask is honesty,” Rysn said. “Tell them about me, and what kind of trademaster I am.”

  He nodded, then broke into hordelings—like a person who had frozen in cold Southern winds, then shattered.

  Cord knelt beside her. “You did well,” she whispered. “As well as anyone in the songs, when dealing with dangerous god
s. But you did not trick him.”

  “Hopefully this is better,” Rysn whispered back.

  Cord nodded, but then immediately began working on the Plate to get the last pieces powered. She plainly wanted to be ready, just in case.

  It wouldn’t be enough. Rysn waited, tense, watching the hordelings chitter and move, as if the many pieces were at least slightly autonomous. Nikli had said his conference with the others would not take long, but Rysn found the wait almost unbearable.

  After about five minutes, Nikli re-formed. “It is done.”

  “And . . . how did it go?” Rysn asked.

  “They . . . listened. The others think this is a promising idea you propose, and appreciate the dual nature of the lies, layered to trick our enemies. My kin insisted on two further terms, though. You must never bond a spren to become a Radiant.”

  “I . . . doubt Chiri-Chiri would be willing to share me,” she said. “I hadn’t considered it, not seriously.”

  “Also, you may not tell anyone what has happened to you,” Nikli said. “Unless you ask us first. I . . . explained to them that humans often need people to confide in. They pointed to Cord as one, but I suggested we might need more. If we are going to maintain this secret, and work with humans to protect the Dawnshard, there could be others we need. You will speak to us before you do these things, and you may only tell them what we agree to let you.”

  “I agree to these terms,” Rysn said, “so long as you promise that none of my crew are to be harmed by your kind. They are . . . still alive, aren’t they?”

  “Regrettably, there has been a conflict on the beach with some of our more . . . specialized hordelings,” Nikli said. “The Radiants have led the crew to the city to hide, and I believe three of the sailors have died. Those on the ship have been kept safe, per my request.”

  Rysn felt a twist in her stomach for those she’d failed. At the same time, she had worried that far more had died. This was much better than she’d feared.

  “And you,” Nikli said to Cord. “You will protect the Dawnshard, fight for its defense?”