yet. I didn’t make the connection, though I had, of course, heard of
Windrunners.”
Windrunners. Merin had heard of them too, in legends and stories. One
574
BRAND ON SANDERS ON
of the Ten Epellion, Epoch Warriors dedicated to the preservation of the
peace of men.
“But—” he began, but Renarin cut him off again.
“And Lady Shinri,” Renarin said, turning to her. “I realize that your ex-
perience is limited, but how did you feel when you touched the Oathgate’s
opal? What did you see?”
She glanced at him, obviously still uncomfortable. “I didn’t see anything,”
she challenged.
“Ah, but you did,” Renarin said. “You felt things, knew things, that
others do not—if just for a moment. Tell me, Shinri, when were you born?”
Shinri frowned. “We need to go,” she said, tone growing cool. “If we
don’t get to the Oathgates, then—”
“Please,” Renarin said firmly. “Please answer my question.”
Merin frowned slightly. Something about Renarin had changed. It wasn’t
just his strange actions, it was something about the boy’s temperament.
He seemed far more confident, less withdrawn. The old Renarin would
never have been able to command a conversation, yet this one forced even
a courtly-trained lady into acquiescence.
“The sixty-fifth year of the century,” she said. “On the tenth day of
Mar-Kav.”
“You, Merin?” Renarin asked.
“The same year,” Merin said. “Nine-hundred and sixty-five. On the tenth
of Mar-Nolh.”
Renarin nodded. “And I was born on the seventeenth of Mar-Taln,
during the same year. Merin, Shinri, and Renarin. Jade, opal, and onyx.
Three births in the same year. Perhaps, rather than asking if I am mad, we should be wondering something else. What happened seventeen years ago
that awakened the old powers again?”
Merin stood quietly, unable to shake off the aura of those words. He
stood, holding Shinri’s bracelet, rubbing his thumb against the smooth
green stone . . . just like Renarin did with the shard of onyx held at his side. The air floated and curled in its uncaring way, its dancing performed only for Merin. The others could not see. Was it too much to believe that
Renarin saw something in those insane and scattered marks, something
plain and clear to him, but invisible to everyone else?
“We have to go,” Shinri said, her voice shocking Merin out of his stupor.
“Just a moment,” Merin said. “Renarin, my opal?”
Renarin reached into a cleft in the wall’s stone, retrieving the dark black opal Merin had shoved desperately through the hole between their cel s once
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 575
he realized the men intended to take him. Merin accepted the black stone,
then rammed the Shardblade’s pommel against the edge of the stone door,
knocking free the previous owner’s opal. The metal clasps immediately bent back, resting open, like the maw of an insect. Merin placed his own opal
inside, and the claw-like silver tines bent closed, locking the stone in place.
The change was immediate. The Blade glistened, shimmering like it was
made of a silvery liquid. It stretched slightly, thinning and adopting a slight curve. The patterns shimmered, forming the familiar glyphs that had once
lined Merin’s Blade, then outlining them in the same wave-like pattern.
The weapon’s hilt lengthened and formed to fit his grip, changing from
awkward to familiar in the passing of a few heartbeats. When the process
was finished, the weapon Merin held was indistinguishable from the one
that had been taken from him a few weeks before, that day after they had
discovered Aredor’s body.
Merin raised the Blade, its presence comforting him like that of an old
friend. The silvery metal glistened, and for the first time Merin realized that he had been wrong about the blade’s markings. The patterns weren’t those
of rivers or waves, as he had once assumed. No, they were imitations of the air patterns around him. If the winds were somehow solidified and trapped
in metallic form, they would look something like the Blade’s design. It had known him, even before he had known himself.
“Can we go now?” Shinri asked testily.
“Yes,” Merin said. “Lead us to the Oathgates.”
The first guard died before the other four realized they were under
attack. Merin cut down a second man, pushing his way into the Oathgate
chamber as the last three men reacted. As instructed, Renarin ducked
around the corner behind Merin, leaping at one of the soldiers and drawing his attention. Merin struck at the other two. One man raised his sword,
the fear starting to dawn in his eyes.
Few men, nobleman or citizen, could face a Shardbearer and maintain
still nerves. Apparently, a Shardbearer had guarded the room before—but it was the same man who had been ordered to bring Merin’s head. The other
soldiers were just regular men.
Merin’s Blade sheared his opponent’s weapon in half, then continued
on through flesh. Merin turned on the last soldier, who held his sword in
sweaty palms. He probably knew what to do—the way to attack a Shard-
bearer was to strike quickly, hoping that luck or skill would guide the blow.
A regular man could not defeat a Shardbearer in an extended fight.
576
BRAND ON SANDERS ON
The soldier was a younger man. Merin could see his tension, see him
preparing for his strike—the last one he would make.
Shinri’s voice suddenly snapped in the air. Merin gritted his teeth in
annoyance as the woman entered the room, oblivious to his suggestion that
she remain outside until the fighting was complete.
Merin’s opponent shot a glance at the soldier Renarin was fighting. Both
men lowered their weapons and backed from the room, keeping wary eyes
on Merin. A moment later they were gone, dashing down the hallway,
screaming for aid.
“What was that?” Merin demanded, lowering his weapon.
“I suggested that they go for help,” Shinri said, walking into the room.
“We’ll be through the Oathgates before they return, and our escape route
will hardly remain secret for long with these corpses laying around.”
Merin didn’t look down, ignoring her gesture. “Let’s go,” he said, turning and walking into the central chamber. The white marble floor was wondrous, yet the ten sculpted gateways—resplendent with cuts of stones and gems,
many of which Merin couldn’t name—made even the marble look drab.
“Why do you do that?” Shinri asked curiously, joining him among the
Oathgates.
“What?” Merin asked.
“You refuse to look at them,” Shinri said. “The men you kill.”
Merin gritted his teeth, not turning, careful to face away from the car-
nage near the room’s entrance. “That’s what they taught us,” he said. “Two years ago, when I was trained as a spearman. The veterans told us to focus on the fighting, not the dead at our feet. They said never to look down.”
“I see,” Shinri said curiously, studying his face with the infuriatingly
knowing look all the courtly women seemed to have mastered.
“Merin, we need to talk,” Renarin said, sheathing his sword and tugging
on Merin’s cloak. “We have to decide
where we’re going.”
Merin frowned. “What decision is there to make?” he asked. “We’re
going to Kholinar.”
“Maybe,” Renarin said. “We need to talk, though.”
“Choose quickly,” Shinri advised. “I intend to be in Thalenah before
those soldiers return, and you’ll need me to open the gate for you.”
Merin allowed himself to be drawn to the side. “What?” he asked. “Why
not Kholinar?”
“The city is likely to be besieged,” Renarin said. “King Ahven would
have been a fool not to send forces to watch both Kholinar and Orinjah.
They’re both in laits.”
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 577
“So?” Merin asked.
“Laits make wonderful positions for cities because of the rivers and the
climate,” Renarin said, “but they’re horribly difficult to defend. Trapped in a steep valley, your opponent always has the high-ground advantage. A
small containing force can usually hold a much larger one within a walled
city, given that city is in a lait. If I’d been Ahven, I would have immediately sent forces to hold Kholinar and Orinjah to keep Elhokar from receiving
reinforcements. It makes tactical sense.”
Merin frowned. “I don’t mean to offend, Renarin, but I thought you
didn’t know very much about tactics.”
“My problem has never been knowledge, Merin,” Renarin said. “Leader-
ship isn’t as much about what you know, but about how confidently you
display it. That’s immaterial now, however. I just . . . don’t think we should go to Kholinar. We’ll be trapped.”
Merin’s frown deepened as he noticed the onyx in Renarin’s hand and the
quick, tense exhales of wind coming from his nostrils. “Is this a guess . . .
or something else?”
“A little of both,” Renarin said. “Like I said—I made my projections
on too small a scale, which limited my view. I don’t think we should go to Kholinar.”
“Where then?” Merin asked.
“Lakhenran,” Renarin said confidently.
“Lakhenran?” Merin asked. “That’s part of Jah Keved—a conquered
kingdom. Why would you want to go there!”
“I don’t know,” Renarin said with equal confidence.
Merin sighed, shaking his head. “It isn’t that I don’t trust your opinion, but . . . I don’t know, Renarin. Can you really do what you say? I mean,
see the future?”
“It’s not like that,” Renarin said. “It’s like . . . I can see the very edges of something massive, some enormous wealth of information. I dare not
get too close. It’s tremendous, and if I step inside, I fear what I might see.
Yet, standing on the edges, I get hints of things. Possibilities. I see them in the way the numbers arrange, the way the permutations fall when random
elements are incorporated. You have to trust me.”
Merin turned, eyeing Shinri, who stood nervously beside the Thalenah
Oathgate. If soldiers returned, she would obviously have no qualms opening her own Oathgate and leaving Merin and Renarin behind.
Merin turned back to Renarin. Kholinar, with the safety of Lord
Dalenar’s wisdom, had seemed like such an obvious choice. But, at the
578
BRAND ON SANDERS ON
same time, there was going to be grave disappointment within those wise
eyes.
“My father won’t be there anyway,” Renarin said. “He’s marched on
Crossguard already.”
Renarin seemed so certain of himself now, so different from the quiet,
unassuming boy of before. “All right,” Merin said. “We’ll go to Lakhenran.
I hope you’re right about this.”
Merin turned back toward the Oathgates, but Renarin caught his arm.
“There’s something else,” Renarin whispered. “We need to take her
with us.”
Merin froze. “What?” he demanded quietly.
“Lady Shinri,” Renarin said. “She must not go to Thalenah. Even if we
only consider political reasonings, we need to keep her with us—she has
power over the Oathgates, Merin, and she’s the wife of the man invading
our homeland. We can’t let her just let her slip away.”
Merin felt his stomach turn. “You can’t be suggesting what I think you
are,” he said through gritted teeth. “The woman just saved my life!”
“And we should show our thanks by making certain she doesn’t fall
into enemy hands,” Renarin said. “I’ll take care of it. Just be ready to back me up.”
Merin closed his eyes. There wasn’t time for arguing, however. The room
would soon be flooded with Veden soldiers, and Shardblade or no, Merin
couldn’t fight an entire palace worth of soldiers.
“Lady Shinri,” he said. “Please open the Gate to Lakhenran.”
“Lakhenran?” She asked with surprise. “What wind takes you that
direction! Why not just go to Veden City itself!”
“Just do it, please,” Merin said.
She sighed, walking over to a rectangular Gate constructed of a ruddy
bronze metal, inset with smooth, bubble-like red gems. She reached out to
the large opal at the side of the Gate, and lay her hand upon it.
She made a sudden intake of breath, visible only to Merin, and held it.
Her eyes closed, and her face adopted a strangely excited look.
It’s like Renarin said, Merin realized. She sees things within the opal, things like the wind, or Renarin’s numbers.
Misty-white smoke fell from the top of the Gate, coating its center like
an undulating sheet. The Gate was active. Merin took a breath and strode
forward, through the sheet, and stepped into an empty, dome-like room
lit by several windows.
Renarin approached the Gate behind him. Merin could see him through
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 579
the patch of disturbed smoke, standing beside the still-enraptured Shinri.
Renarin met Merin’s eyes, then reached out and grabbed Shinri by the
shoulder, pushing her through the Oathgate before him.
Shinri yelped in surprise, her eyes snapping open and she stumbled—and
nearly fell—through the smoke. Renarin came through afterward, still
holding firmly to Shinri’s arm.
“What is this!” the girl screamed, struggling. “Let me go!” She twisted
in Renarin’s grip, turning to flail against him with a barrage of feminine punches. Renarin held her as best he could, but the woman was amazingly
agile. She squirmed and writhed in his grip, trying to leap toward the
still-open Oathgate and escape.
Merin sighed. Almighty forgive me, he thought. Because this certainly doesn’t feel very noble . . .
“Enough!” Merin snapped, raising his Shardblade, point-first toward
Shinri. “Close the gate, Lady Shinri. We don’t want the Vedens knowing
which Gate we chose.”
Shinri froze, eyes falling on the glimmering Blade just a few inches from
her chin. She looked up, enraged anger flaring in her eyes. “How dare you!”
“Listen,” Merin said. “The soldiers are coming on the other side. You
don’t have time to escape through another Oathgate anyway. Close the
portal. Otherwise they’ll pour through and take us captive. You think
they’ll let you have another chance to escape after this?”
Slowly, something coalesced in Shinri’s eyes—her rage cooling to an icy
hatred, then dropping behind a vei
l of control. Her face grew flat, and she shook off Renarin’s hands with a dignified motion. At that moment, Merin
noticed something odd—her sleeve was turned inside out, and the inside
lining of the cloth was unraveled in a twisted mess.
“You’re no better than him,” Shinri said, laying her hand on the Gate’s control opal. This time she did not close her eyes. The smoke dissipated,
and the Oathgate fell still.
Merin breathed in relief. A moment later, the doors to the Oathgate
chamber burst open, and two tenset worried soldiers piled into the room.
“Congratulations,” Shinri said. “You’ve managed to lead us from one
prison into another.”
chapter 64
JASNAH 14
Taln’s disappearance didn’t stop the influx of soldiers and
recruits—apparently, the momentum of the Herald rumors were too
strong to be bothered by something so trivial as the actual Herald’s absence.
The army was a frighteningly diverse group. Many of its members showed
surprising, even alarming, faith in Taln’s ability to defeat their pursuers. If these believers had been in charge, the army would have turned to follow
its god—not to help, but to watch in wonder as their Herald destroyed the
infidels.
Jasnah listened to such sentiments with stupefaction. Most of those
who spoke hadn’t even heard of the army a few weeks before, yet they
were already fanatically devoted to their ‘god.’ Granted, most of them were Elinrah believers, and while orthodox Vorinism had given up on the myth
of the Returns long ago, Elinrah still taught men to watch for signs of the coming Heralds. Yet Jasnah couldn’t help thinking that if these people’s
faith was truly as powerful and as loyal as they claimed, they wouldn’t be willing to transfer it to Taln so flippantly. They were exactly the sort of chaotic element that made her uncomfortable with religion.
Others in the army were far more skeptical. The mercenaries formed the
keenest edge of this sentiment, and Vinde—Kemnar’s lanky second—had
difficulty keeping the zealots from turning on their more secular comrades.
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 581
Even with Vinde’s policing force—formed from some of the army’s more
stable elements—there were occasional brawls. Of course, some of that
could be blamed on the overall tension in the army; for while there were a good number of both zealots and skeptics, the majority of the people were
Brandon Sanderson - [Stormlight Archive 01] Page 80
