Chapter 5: Adolin's death

The aftermath of battle.

ELEVEN YEARS AGO

Dalinar came to himself, gasping, in the hold of a ship sailing to take him home. His crew of Thaylen merchants and sailors refused to go with him. They insisted that he not kill anyone.

So he went. He would not murder. Though he had nightmares about the Permeating Stormfather, and of his men being captured, this kind of thing had to be done with a plan.

And he was glad to know that he had a plan.

He rowed back alongside the ship, where he stifled a sigh. What was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he used Stormlight in this way?

He felt the Thrill thrumming inside him. The emotion drove him forward.

Ships burned before him, and his own engines struggled to match those of the enemy. His own captain shouted to pull out of this dangerous storm.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do to stop it. As his flagship approached the city, Dalinar began to realize that his ships were just delaying the enemy. They’d need to act now.

He shouted, angerspren boiling around him like pools of blood.

“I know you,” he shouted at the Thaylen merchants, drawing their attention. “I’m close enough to your city that I can smell your spice. Open your chests and get in here!”

They did so, instinctively opening their salutes. Dalinar sent for Navani, expecting her to be on hand to offer assistance. She was on shore, away from the storms, studying the psychology of fighting.

Dalinar reached in his pocket for the spheres the Stormfather had given him. He could buy those in bulk, for their extraordinary powers. But could they really use those? Not many people in the world—not like the Alethi, who would sell them—would be able to use them.

Suddenly, the Blackthorn felt he didn’t need Shards to numb the Thrill. All he needed was the will to endure it, the energy to keep fighting.

“Action now!” he shouted, reaching the door into his cabin. “Action now, or we’ll send for your healer!”

He jumped, throwing aside the back door and climbing into the front room of the ship. It was still in the water when Dalinar reached it, and he stepped out, reaching the smoking balcony and soaring up toward the clouds.

The captain’s cabin was on the top deck, and up above the deck hung full length sails. He could see the city from this vantage, and was astounded by how little destruction there was. Many of the walls of the city were ripped free, and entire sections had been ripped out. Scarred stones by the hundreds of carved with the words “This is Warcamps twenty-seven.”

“And that was only the first tier?” Dalinar asked, recognizing the wall that ran from the deck up to the clouds. It had not been damaged in the recent storms.

“Destruction is imminent,” the captain said. “I can see your passion, Dalinar. Your loyalty. But you must remember, I will not be your captain. You will have another highprince to lead you.”

“I…” The Thrill suddenly faded. “You are right, Captain. I’m sorry.” He took the captain’s rap on the shoulder before continuing on deck. “I’ll be there, taking calls now. What do you know of the third tier?”

“Nothing,” Dalinar said. “I don’t know of any other.”

“We’ll send one of our best,” the captain said. “One of our few remaining ships that has not been captured. We might be able to scare off some of the enemy, give us some space to maneuver.”

Dalinar hesitated. “How long have we been able to hold this third tier?”

“Long enough,” the captain said. “I fear, Dalinar, that this tier alone might be too small to adequately hold. We’ve fought monsters of stone. Dalinar Kholin, you are a relic. A watchword carried by the blood of my ancestors.”

“You wish me to die here,” Dalinar said. “I wish to follow a greater god. No. I wish to die and watch my people die. No honor on this side.