Words of Radiance

by Brandon Sanderson

  Eshonai attuned Annoyance. “What was that?”

  “No,” Zuln repeated. “It is not right.”

  “I would have us all be in agreement,” Davim said. “Zuln, can you not listen to reason?”

  “It is not right,” the dullform said again.

  “She is dull,” Eshonai said. “We should ignore her.”

  Davim hummed to Anxiety. “Zuln represents the past, Eshonai. You shouldn’t say such things of her.”

  “The past is dead.”

  Abronai joined Davim in humming to Anxiety. “Perhaps this is worth more thought. Eshonai, you . . . do not speak as you used to. I hadn’t realized the changes were so stark.”

  Eshonai attuned one of the new rhythms, the Rhythm of Fury. She held the song inside, and found herself humming. These were so cautious, so weak! They would see her people destroyed.

  “We will meet again later today,” Davim said. “Let us spend time considering. Eshonai, I would speak with you alone during that period, if you are willing.”

  “Of course.”

  They rose from their places atop the pillar. Eshonai stepped to the edge and looked down as the others filed down. The spire was too high to jump from, even in Shardplate. She so wanted to try.

  It seemed that every person in the city had gathered around the base to await the decision. In the weeks since Eshonai’s transformation, talk of what had happened to her—then the others—had infused the city with a certain mixture of anxiety and hope. Many had come to her, begging to be given the form. They saw the chance it offered.

  “They’re not going to agree to it,” Venli said from behind once the others were down. She spoke to Spite, one of the new rhythms. “You spoke too aggressively, Eshonai.”

  “Davim is with us,” Eshonai said to Confidence. “Chivi will come too, with persuasion.”

  “That isn’t enough. If the Five do not come to a consensus—”

  “Don’t worry.”

  “Our people must take that form, Eshonai,” Venli said. “It is inevitable.”

  Eshonai found herself attuning the new version of Amusement . . . Ridicule, it was. She turned to her sister. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew exactly what this form would do to me. You knew this before you took the form yourself.”

  “I . . . Yes.”

  Eshonai grabbed her sister by the front of her robe, then yanked her forward, holding her tightly. With Shardplate it was easy, though Venli resisted more than she should have been able to, and a small spark of red lightning ran across the woman’s arms and face. Eshonai was not accustomed to such strength from her scholar of a sister.

  “You could have destroyed us,” Eshonai said. “What if this form had done something terrible?”

  Screaming. In her head. Venli smiled.

  “How did you discover this?” Eshonai asked. “It didn’t come from the songs. There is more.”

  Venli did not speak. She met Eshonai’s eyes and hummed to Confidence. “We must make certain the Five agree to this plan,” she said. “If we are to survive, and if we are to defeat the humans, we must be in this form—all of us. We must summon that storm. It has been . . . waiting, Eshonai. Waiting and building.”

  “I will see to it,” Eshonai said, dropping Venli. “You can gather enough spren for us to transform all of our people?”

  “My staff have been working on it these three weeks. We will be ready to transform thousands upon thousands over the course of the final two highstorms before the lull.”

  “Good.” Eshonai started down the steps.

  “Sister?” Venli asked. “You are planning something. What is it? How will you persuade the Five?”

  Eshonai continued down the steps. With the added balance and strength of Shardplate, she didn’t need to bother with the chains to steady herself. As she neared the bottom, where the others of the Five were speaking to the people, she stopped a short distance above the crowd and drew in a deep breath.

  Then, as loudly as she could, Eshonai shouted, “In two days, I will take any who wish to go into the storm and give them this new form.”

  The crowd stilled, their humming dropping off.

  “The Five seek to deny you this right,” Eshonai bellowed. “They don’t want you to have this form of power. They are frightened, like cremlings hiding in cracks. They cannot deny you! It is the right of every person to choose their own form.”

  She raised her hands above her head, humming to Resolve, and summoned a storm.

  A tiny one, a mere trickle compared to what waited. It grew between her hands, a wind coursing with lightning. A miniature tempest in her palms, light and power, wind spinning in a vortex. It had been centuries since this power had been used, and so—like a river that had been dammed—the energy waited impatiently to be freed.

  The tempest grew so that it whipped at her clothing, spinning around her in a swirl of wind, crackling red lightning, and dark mist. Finally, it dissipated. She heard Awe being sung throughout the crowd—full songs, not humming. Their emotions were strong.

  “With this power,” Eshonai declared, “we can destroy the Alethi and protect our people. I have seen your despair. I have heard you sing to Mourning. It need not be so! Come with me into the storms. It is your right, your duty, to join with me.”

  Behind her on the steps, Venli hummed to Tension. “This will divide us, Eshonai. Too aggressive, too abrupt!”

  “It will work,” Eshonai said to Confidence. “You do not know them as I do.”

  Below, the other members of the Five were glaring up at her, looking betrayed, though she could not hear their songs.

  Eshonai marched to the bottom of the spire, then pushed her way through the crowd, being joined by her soldiers in stormform. The people made way for her, many humming to Anxiety. Most who had come were workers or nimbleforms. That made sense. The warforms were too pragmatic for gawking.

  Eshonai and her stormform warriors left the town’s center ring. She allowed Venli to tag along behind, but paid the woman no heed. Eshonai eventually approached the barracks on the leeward side of the city, a large group of buildings built together to form a community for the soldiers. Though her troops were not required to sleep here, many did so.

  The practice grounds one plateau over were busy with the sounds of warriors honing their skills, or—more likely—newly transformed soldiers being trained. The second division, a hundred and twenty-eight in number, were away watching for humans entering the middle plateaus. Scouts in warpairs roamed the Plains. She’d set them on this task soon after obtaining her form, as she had known even then that she would need to change the way this battle worked. She wanted every bit of information about the Alethi and their current tactics that she could get.

  Her soldiers would ignore chrysalises for the time being. She would not lose soldiers to that petty game any longer, not when each man and woman under her command represented the potential of stormform.

  The other divisions were all here, however. Seventeen thousand soldiers total. A mighty force in some ways, but also so few, compared to what they had once been. She raised her hand in a fist, and her stormform division raised the call for all soldiers in the listener army to gather. Those practicing set down their weapons and jogged over. Others left the barracks. In a short time, all had joined her.

  “It is time to end the fight against the Alethi,” Eshonai announced in a loud voice. “Which of you are willing to follow me in doing so?”

  Humming to Resolve moved through the crowd. So far as she could hear, not a one hummed to Skepticism. Excellent.

  “This will require each soldier to join me in this form,” Eshonai shouted, her words being relayed through the ranks.

  More humming to Resolve.

  “I am proud of you,” Eshonai said. “I am going to have the Storm Division go among you and take your word, each of you, on this transformation. If there are any here who do not wish to change, I would know of it personally. It is your decision, by right, and I will not forc
e you—but I must know.”

  She looked to her stormforms, who saluted and broke apart, moving in warpairs. Eshonai stepped back, folding her arms, watching as these visited each other division in turn. The new rhythms thrummed in her skull, though she stayed away from the Rhythm of Peace, with its strange screams. There was no fighting against what she had become. The eyes of the gods were too strongly upon her.

  Nearby, some soldiers gathered, familiar faces beneath hardened skullplates, the men bearing bits of gemstone tied to their beards. Her own division, once her friends.

  She could not quite explain why she had not chosen them at first for the transformation, instead picking two hundred soldiers from across many divisions. She’d needed soldiers who were obedient, but not known for their brightness.

  Thude and the soldiers of Eshonai’s former division . . . they knew her too well. They would have questioned.

  Soon, she had gotten word. Of her seventeen thousand troops, only a handful refused the required transformation. Those who had declined were gathered on the practice grounds.

  As she contemplated her next move, Thude approached. Tall and thick-limbed, he had always worn warform save for two weeks as a mate to Bila. He hummed to Resolve—the way for a soldier to indicate a willingness to obey orders.

  “I am worried about this, Eshonai,” he said. “Do so many need to change?”

  “If we do not transform,” Eshonai said, “we are dead. The humans will ruin us.”

  He continued to hum to Resolve, to indicate he trusted her. His eyes seemed to tell another story.

  Melu, of her stormforms, returned and saluted. “The counting is finished, sir.”

  “Excellent,” Eshonai said. “Pass word to the troops. We’re going to do the same thing for everyone in the city.”

  “Everyone?” Thude said to Anxiety.

  “Our time is short,” Eshonai said. “If we do not act, we will miss our opportunity to move against the humans. We have two storms left; I want every willing person in this city ready to take up stormform before those have passed us. Those who will not are given that right, but I want them gathered so we may know where we stand.”

  “Yes, General,” Melu said.

  “Use a tight scouting formation,” Eshonai said, pointing toward parts of the city. “Move through the streets, counting every person. Use the non-stormform divisions too, for speed. Tell the common people that we’re trying to determine how many soldiers we will have for the coming battle, and have our soldiers be calm and sing to Peace. Put those people who are willing to transform into the central ring. Send those who are unwilling out here. Give them an escort so that they do not get lost.”

  Venli stepped up to her as Melu passed the word, sending ranks out to obey. Thude rejoined his division.

  Every half year, they did an accounting to determine their numbers and see if the forms were properly balanced. Once in a while, they would need more volunteers to become mates or workers. Most often, they needed more warforms.

  That meant this exercise was familiar to the soldiers, and they took easily to the orders. After years of war, they were accustomed to doing as she said. Many had the same depression that the regular people expressed—only for the troops, it manifested as bloodlust. They just wanted to fight. They would probably have charged head-on against the human encampments, and ten times their own numbers, if Eshonai ordered.

  The Five all but handed this to me, she thought as the first of the unwilling began to trickle out of the city, guarded by her soldiers. For years I’ve been absolute leader of our armies, and every person among us with a hint of aggression has been given to me as a soldier.

  Workers would obey; it was their nature. Many of the nimbles who hadn’t transformed yet were loyal to Venli, as the majority of them aspired to be scholars. The mates wouldn’t care, and the few dulls would be too numb of brain to object.

  The city was hers.

  “We’ll have to kill them, unfortunately,” Venli said, watching the unwilling be gathered. They huddled together, afraid, despite the soft songs of the soldiers. “Will your troops be able to do it?”

  “No,” Eshonai said, shaking her head. “Many would resist us if we did this now. We will have to wait for all of my soldiers to be transformed. They will not object then.”

  “That’s sloppy,” Venli said to Spite. “I thought you commanded their loyalty.”

  “Do not question me,” Eshonai said. “I control this city, not you.”

  Venli quieted, though her humming to Spite continued. She would attempt to seize control from Eshonai. It was an uncomfortable realization, as was the realization of how deeply Eshonai herself wanted to be in control. That didn’t feel like her. Not at all.

  None of this feels like me. I . . .

  The new rhythms’ beats surged in her mind. She turned from such thoughts as a group of soldiers approached, towing a shouting figure. Abronai, of the Five. She should have realized that he’d be trouble; he maintained mateform too easily, avoiding its distractions.

  Transforming him would have been dangerous, she thought. He has too much control over himself.

  As the stormform soldiers pulled him to Eshonai, his shouts beat against her. “This is outrageous! The dictates of the Five rule us, not the will of a single person! Can’t you see that the form, the new form is overriding her! You’ve all lost your minds! Or . . . or worse.”

  It was discomfortingly close to the truth.

  “Put him with the others,” Eshonai said, gesturing toward the group of dissidents. “What of the rest of the Five?”

  “They agreed,” Melu said. “Some were reluctant, but they agreed.”

  “Go and fetch Zuln. Put her with the dissenters. I don’t trust her to do what is needed.”

  The soldier didn’t question as she towed Abronai away. There were perhaps a thousand dissenters there on the large plateau that made up the practice grounds. An acceptably small number.

  “Eshonai . . .” The song was sung to Anxiety. She turned as Thude approached. “I don’t like this, what we’re doing here.”

  Bother. She had worried that he would be difficult. She took him by the arm, leading him a ways off. The new rhythms cycled through her mind as her armored feet crunched on the stones. Once they were far enough away from Venli and the others for some privacy, she turned Thude to look him in the eyes.

  “Out with it,” she said to Irritation, picking one of the old, familiar rhythms for him.

  “Eshonai,” he said quietly. “This isn’t right. You know it’s not right. I agreed to change—every soldier did—but it’s not right.”

  “Do you disagree that we needed new tactics in this war?” Eshonai said to Resolve. “We were dying slowly, Thude.”

  “We did need new tactics,” Thude said. “But this . . . Something’s wrong with you, Eshonai.”

  “No, I just needed an excuse for such extreme action. Thude, I’ve been considering something like this for months.”

  “A coup?”

  “Not a coup. A refocusing. We are doomed if we don’t change our methods! My only hope was Venli’s research. The only thing she turned up was this form. Well, I’ve got to try and use it, make one last attempt to save our people. The Five tried to stop me. I’ve heard you yourself complain about how much they talk instead of acting.”

  He hummed to Consideration. She knew him well enough, however, to sense when he was forcing a rhythm. The beat was too obvious, too strong.

  I almost convinced him, she thought. It’s the red eyes. I’ve instilled in him, and some of the others of my own division, too much of a fear of our gods.

  It was a shame, but she’d probably have to see him, and her other former friends, executed.

  “I see you’re not convinced,” Eshonai said.

  “I just . . . I don’t know, Eshonai. This seems bad.”

  “I’ll talk you through it later,” Eshonai said. “I don’t have time right now.”

  “And what are you go
ing to do to those?” Thude asked, nodding toward the dissenters. “This looks an awful lot like a roundup of people who don’t agree with you. Eshonai . . . did you realize your own mother was among them?”

  She started, looking and seeing her aging mother being guided to the group by two stormforms. They hadn’t even come to her with the question. Did that mean they were extra obedient, following her orders no matter what, or were they worried she would weaken because her mother refused to change?

  She could hear her mother singing. One of the old songs, as she was guided.

  “You can watch over that group,” Eshonai said to Thude. “You and soldiers you trust. I’ll put my own division in charge of the people there, you at their head. That way, nothing will happen to them without your agreement.”

  He hesitated, then nodded, humming to Consideration for real this time. She let him go and he jogged over to Bila and a few others of Eshonai’s former division.

  Poor, trusting Thude, she thought as he took command of guarding the dissenters. Thank you for rounding yourself up so neatly.

  “This was handled well,” Venli said as Eshonai walked back to her. “Can you control the city long enough for the transformation?”

  “Easily,” Eshonai said, nodding to the soldiers who came to give her a report. “Just make certain you can deliver the proper spren and in the proper quantities.”

  “I will,” Venli said to Satisfaction.

  Eshonai took the reports. Everyone who had agreed was gathered in the center of the city. It was time to speak to them and deliver the lies she’d prepared. That the Five would be reinstated once the humans were dealt with, that there was no reason to worry. That everything was just fine.

  Eshonai strode into a city that was now hers, flanked by soldiers in the new form. She summoned her Blade for effect, the last one her people owned, resting it on her shoulder.

  She made her way to the center of the city, passing melted buildings and shacks built from carapace. It was a wonder that those things survived the storms. Her people deserved better. With the return of the gods, they would have better.

  Irritatingly, it took some time to get the people ready for her speech. Some twenty thousand non-warforms gathered together was quite a sight; looking upon them, the city’s population did not seem nearly so small. Still, this was a fraction of their original numbers.