Glory at Twilight [Warbreaker Spoilers]

[Comatose]

So, I had a lot of fun writing the Ati and Leras piece a little while ago, so I thought I would try another speculative Cosmere History.  One of the pieces of Cosmere History I would love to know more about is the Five Scholars, and Shashara in particular.  Despite how little we know about her, her story has always really intrigued me, so this is my take on her.  Let me know what you guys think :).

[I know I might be suspending disbelief a little with what Vasher can see here, and what he’s capable of doing with the spy-glass, but let’s just say it works for now so I do not have to figure out how it actually works.  My angle is he has a good vantage point, and he’s doing a combination of looking through the glass and using his naked eye].

[Also, I know that Brandon has said that "Nightblood" is not the original name, and that Vasher only named it that after killing Shashara, but without another name to fill in I used Nightblood as a placeholder.]

Here are my two primary reference points:

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Red upon red, shades so subtle that the paint er must have been of the Third Heightening at least. Violent, terrible reds, clashing against one another like waves—waves that only vaguely resembled men, yet that somehow managed to convey the idea of armies fighting much better than any detailed realistic depiction could have.

Chaos. Bloody wounds upon bloody uniforms upon bloody skin. There was so much violence in red. His own color. He almost felt as if he were in the painting—felt its turmoil shaking him, disorienting him, pullingon him.

The waves of men pointed toward one figure at the center. A woman, vaguely depicted by a couple of curved brushstrokes. And yet it was obvious. She stood high, as if atop a cresting wave of crashing soldiers, caught in mid-motion, head flung back, her arm upraised.

Holding a deep black sword that darkened the red sky around it.

“The Battle of Twilight Falls,” Llarimar said quietly, standing beside him in the white hallway. “Last conflict of the Manywar.”

-Warbreaker Chapter 26

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Brandon Sanderson

Lightsong Sees the Painting of the Red Battle

This is our first major clue (though a subtle one at the same time) that there might be something to the religion of the Iridescent Tones. Lightsong does see something in this painting that an ordinary person wouldn't be able to. A well-crafted piece of art, made by a person channeling the Tones and connected to them via Breath, can speak to a Returned. Now, in this case, it doesn't work quite like Llarimar says it does—Lightsong doesn't actually prophesy about the black sword in the way the priest thinks. In other words, Lightsong isn't prophesying that he'll see the Black Sword (Nightblood) in the day's activities.

Instead, Lightsong is seeing an image of a previous war, which is prophetic in that another Manywar is brewing—and in both cases, Nightblood will be important to the outcome of the battle.

The person Lightsong sees in the abstract painting is Shashara, Denth's sister, one of the Five Scholars and a Returned also known as Glorysinger by the Cult of the Returned. She is seen here in Lightsong's vision as she's drawing Nightblood at the battle of Twilight Falls. It's the only time the sword was drawn in battle, and Vasher was horrified by the result.

It's because of her insistence on using the sword in battle, and on giving away the secret to creating more, that Vasher and she fought. He ended up killing her with Nightblood, which they'd created together during the days they were in love—he married her a short time before their falling out. That marriage ended with him slaying his own wife to keep her from creating more abominations like Nightblood and loosing them upon the world.

Nightblood is part of a much larger story in this world. He's dropped casually into this particular book, more as a side note than a real focus of what's going on, but his own role in the world is much, much larger than his supporting part here would indicate.

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"There's something particularly chilling about watching dead men kill living ones."  Shashara stepped back from the spyglass, but her eyes continued to dart back and forth across the battlefield, no doubt calculating the odds of their success.  

"What's that?"  Vasher stepped forward to join his wife, though he took little pleasure in what he saw.  As one of the leaders of this army, he felt obligated to make an appearance, but he would have much preferred to be back in their laboratory, puzzling out what exactly had went wrong with that sword. . .

Shashara laughed, it was strange to hear such a beautiful sound when men screamed and died below them.  The couple stood alone on a high platform, suspended in the air by giant Awakened ropes, giving them an impressive view of the battlefield below.  "Have I ever told you that you have the lyricism of a lifeless?" Her hair was a vibrant blonde, but Vasher had trouble discerning whether that was for appearances or a genuine show of emotion.   Is she enjoying this?  

"Oh, a couple of times."  It was an old joke, between them.  

Shashara's perfect lips quirked into a familiar smirk.   They had both chosen to reveal themselves as Returned for this battle, rather than concealing their divinity beneath facades of humanity.  The colours of Shashara's hair and eyes were dazzling, and her well tailored white uniform shone in the light of her Bio Chroma.  Aside from her shoes, which looked rather flimsy compared to standard military boots, she looked the part of a general. Today, Glorysinger was revealing herself in all her splendor.  

"You were saying?"

"It's just strange isn't it?  Before Lifeless, war was a contest of the living, and the dead were the defeated.  But who can win a a battle against the dead, and what does it mean to defeat your enemies if they will rise again as to join your army?  We Awaken them and preserve them, then we command them to kill so we can create more. The dead multiply as humanity diminishes. Not a very good survival strategy for the living, is it?"

"No, I do not think it is."

"Well, it's a good thing we picked the right side then.  Us dead people need to stick together."

"That. . . was not a funny joke."  

"The moment I trust your taste is the moment I know my sense of humour is lost beyond all hope."  Shashara stiffened suddenly as the battle seemed to shift below them. Vasher watched as her fingers played with the clasp on the weapon.  Her hands seemed to have a darker tone than was normal, their colour deepened by Nightblood's aura.

"It's not ready.  You know that."

"How are we to know anything without testing its potential?  It's sentient, isn't it? I can hear its voice even now. It can sense the evil down there Vasher.  It knows its purpose."

"The blades on Roshar. . ."

"Colours, who cares about the blades on Roshar.  Nightblood is more than some. . . splinter of divinity bound by foolish ideals.   I think even those poor fools who call themselves Heralds would fear what we've accomplished."  Her grip on the sword tightened.

"Shashara. . ."  She finally looked up from the battle to meet his eyes.  Her gaze was cold and determined. You are not the person you think you are.  You are a brilliant scholar and a fearless leader.  You drive me mad while being the love of my life. There are other ways.  Don't do this.

Shashara sighed and re-slung the weapon across her back.  "Oh, fine." She stepped towards him, and they embraced. "I don't know what I'd do without your love and support, dear one."

Vasher allowed himself a smile--only because Shashara's face was so buried in his shoulder that she could not see him, of course.  "Good thing you will never have to find out." He tightened his grip on her, wanting to hold on to the moment for as long as possible.  All too soon he could feel her begin to pull away.  Reluctantly, he let his hands fall to his sides.

Shashara smiled, letting her fingers linger as she straightened his scarf.  "Gag and hold to ground."

Vasher's eyes widened as one end of his scarf forced itself between his lips and down his throat, while the other encircled his body and yanked him to the floor of the platform.  From his new angle, he could see where Shashara had discarded one of her shoes when she walked over to him, and the patch of grey where she had leeched the colour from the floor.  

Shashara wasted no time, and was already reaching into her satchel taking out a length of starched cord and one of the little straw men Vasher had made her.  

"Hold things". The chord shot towards him, further restricting his movement.  "Explore and disarm". The straw man sprung to life in her hands and scampered over to Vasher.  It began to clamber over him, digging under his clothes and exploring hidden pockets, searching for hidden weapons or coloured objects it could remove.  Though the Command was simple, the visualization was complex, and difficult to master.

Shashara replaced her shoe, and then cautiously approached Vasher has he desperately tried to escape his bonds.  Breathing through his nose, he tried mouthing the words he needed to Break the Command on his scarf, desperately trying to force any air he could to make a sound.  She has more breath than you, fool.  You couldn't break her Commands even if you could make a sound.  

With the precision of a master inventor, Shashara methodically began stealing the colour from Vasher's clothing, using it to Awaken her own.  The tails of her own scarf rose, preparing to snatch arrows from the air or entangle would-be attackers, and tendrils of rope uncoiled from where they hung at her waste, reaching out like the tentacles of an octopus.  As she continued, her pant legs seemed to stiffen and the tassels on her sleeves sprung to life.

This can't be happening.  She won't do this to you. She can't.  

"I'm sorry to do this Vasher, but I won't let your softness stifle our vision.  Nightblood is the future, and we cannot let its potential be wasted for the sake of sentiment.  Just watch. You'll see." Shashara gave a few more careful Commands, causing Vasher's bonds to prop him upright and bring him over to the spyglass.  "There you are. Nightblood will make us proud. I promise."

Shashara turned and clambered over the edge of the railing, using her scarf, her sleeves, and the ropes at her belt to climb down to the ground.  The front lines had moved and been pushed into the shallows of the river below. With the magnificent waterfalls in the background, the sight might have been breathtaking if it weren't accompanied by the sound of the more grisly breath -taking going on, and the increasing redness of the waters down stream. 

Shashara came into view again, gliding across the land on the back of one of the giant ropes their Awakeners used as catapults.  In the brilliant uniform, with her hair, still blonde, flowing behind her, and her brilliant Bio Chroma, she seemed like a hero of out legend riding a serpentine dragon into battle.  

Hero, or villain?   The enemy archers and Awakeners recognized Glorysinger instantly, and began training their arrows and boulders on her, hoping to take out a powerful enemy before she could join the battle.  It was fruitless, of course.  Shashara was too well prepared and her Commands were the most nuanced in existence. The rope she rode wove deftly down the hill, dodging between the falling stones, while her scarf deftly plucked arrows from the air mid-flight.  Before the archers and Awakeners could get off a second round Shashara had joined the fray.

She didn't draw Nightblood.  As the large rope carried her through the battle, the cords at her waist unfurled lashed out, wrapping around necks and breaking them, or slamming soldiers, both living and Lifeless, into the ground.  Others found themselves flying backward, pulled back and held by their own uniforms. Though it was inefficient, the ninth heightening allowed her to Awaken using only the sound of her voice.  Vasher knew she kept some coloured scarves in her satchel for exactly that purpose.  The tails of her scarf continued to defend her, narrowly deflecting the few attacks that managed to catch her as she slid past.

Soon, Shashara had crossed to the other side of the battle.  The rope she was on arched, lifting her into the air. Though many of the living soldiers turned to regard her with wonder, the Lifeless continued to fight, ignorant of her glory.  With the falls to her back, Shashara looked down on the battlefield like a goddess descending from the heavens to smite her enemies. Arguably, that was exactly what she was.

And then she drew Nightblood.

She cried out as she held the weapon aloft, slamming nearby Lifeless to the ground with a forceful Command.  Nightblood began to leak black smoke, it’s flaw corrupting Shashara’s Breath.

An enemy Awakener, seeing an opportunity, sent a boulder flying towards her.  The hurtling stone met Nightblood and vanished, dissolving into smoke.

Shashara smiled.  Her rope turned and dove back into the fray.  A trail of black smoke followed in Shashara’s wake as both living and Lifeless were vapourized by Nightblood.

Finally, unable to watch anymore but unable to turn away, Vasher closed his eyes.

****

Later, when Vasher found her, Shashara was picking through corpses, scavenging for Breath to recover.  VaraTreledees, only recently arrived, glanced down at them occasionally as he discussed the battle with some of their officers.

“I can’t say I’m surprised you managed to free yourself, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you get away with keeping it a secret.”  Shashara smiled, but Vasher could hear the strain in her voice. Her Bio Chroma was significantly weaker than before, putting her just shy of the Eighth Heightening.  

“You don’t get to do that.”

“Specificity is a scholar’s friend, Vasher.  Vagueries are a waste of time.”

Vasher stepped forward, unconsciously increasing his size.  “You know what I mean.” His tone was low and menacing, but thankfully he kept the trembling in his hands from creeping into his voice.  

Shashara met his eyes for a moment and then shrugged, unconcerned with his anger.  “Fine then, pout if you need to. When you’re done sulking we can go over the Nightblood’s performance.  Now that we have a proto-type we can start discussing a test group.  We will need more Breath though, lots of it. It might be a good idea to get a team together to test the weapons so we can save our Breath for Awakening.  Conversely, I suppose we could teach others the Command and then handle testing personally, though I do worry about them being able grasp the nuances of the visualization.”  

Vasher stepped back.  “You want to create more?”

Sashara frowned.  “Of course I want to make more.  Did you see what it did, Vasher? I was. . . Nightblood was unstoppable.  A few more victories as decisive as that one and the war will be over.  A thousand Breaths is really a pittance when you think about it. If we equipped some elites with these weapons, and then backed them with a squad of lifeless, even Yesteel would have to admit our superiority.”  Sensing his hesitation, and no doubt anticipating his arguments, Shashara continued before he could get a word in. “And who is to say we need only create weapons? The potential of Type IV Biochormatic Entities could be limitless.  I know you disagree, but what if we could create Biochromatic poets, or even scholars? We know Roshar’s Radiants gained valuable counsel from the Spren. Think how our research could be enriched by getting an Awakened perspective.”

“No.”

“No?”  Shashara scoffed.

“No.”  

Shashara's eyes narrowed.  “I promised to be your wife, Vasher, not your slave.  You don’t control me. Here. . .” Vasher flinched as Shashara reached for Nightblood.  Noting his discomfort, Shashara smirked as she unslung the sheath from her back and held the weapon out for Vasher to take.  From anyone else, freely offering a weapon like Nightblood would have been a sign of trust.  Shashara made it seem like an act of defiance, emphasizing his failure to intimidate her.   She was handing him what might be the most deadly object in the Cosmere, confident that even then he would not be able to stop her from achieving her goals.

She’s right.  She’s always right.  He saw that now.  No matter what arguments he used, or what pressures he applied, he could not control Shashara.  Nalthis itself would be dissolved into nothing before she let anyone get in her way.

“Go on, take it.  If I can’t talk some sense into you, maybe Nightblood can. It was drowsy after the fight, but it’s seeming to wake up now.”  

Hesitating, Vasher took the sword.  Vasher?  Shashara was right.  Nightblood’s voice did sound strange.  Did you see me?  I think. . . I think I. . . um. . . I think I destroyed a lot of evil.  Shashara says I did verrrrry well. I think she’s going to make new friends for me.  

Vasher scowled.  “You can’t make friends Nightblood.  You’re a sword.” Shashara smiled and turned, searching for more Awakened clothing she could recover breath from.  

Who sayssss?  Shashara’s my friend.  And I think you are too.

“How do you know what friendship even is?”  

It’s. . . It’s like you and Shashara.  You’re friends. You do friend things. The sword’s voice, which Vasher couldn’t help but see as masculine, seemed to be growing more clear, and less muddled.  

Nearby, Vasher watched as Shashara recovered some breath from a fallen soldier’s tunic, causing her Bio Chroma to brighten slightly.   Giving a woman like Shashara an idealized appearance and Bio Chroma had always seemed painfully unfair. She could dazzle kings and charm the most skeptical of scholars with her mind and wits alone.  Adding inhuman beauty and a glowing aura seemed like overkill.

See?   Frieeeendsssss.   Are you two going to do that thing?

“I’m going to do something, Nightblood, but probably not what you think.”  

I mean that thing where you . . . DESTROY EVIL.

Shashara--Vasher’s brilliant, fearless, incredible wife--turned in surprise as Vasher drew Nightblood.   

“Don’t worry, I will.”