If Different Authors Wrote the Stormlight Archive

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On 12/10/2017 at 3:43 PM, The Allomantic Metalhead said:

Someone really needs to do an H.P. Lovecraft one (I'll try, but all that prose makes my head spin).

I feel the death rattles and the unmade already do that one without any help.


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2 hours ago, Ookla the Foxed said:

I feel the death rattles and the unmade already do that one without any help.



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Veil Marlow

Spoilered because it's a scene from OB


It was the time of night when any sensible person would be in bed, but the grisly murders had gotten under my skin and I needed answers. I walked through the market section of town, the garrish light of cheap spheres bled pools of color on the dirty streets.

I walked into a rundown bar, the whole place smelled like sweat and desperation with a pungent undercurrent of fear. I saw it in their haunted faces, in the way they slumped in their chairs like sacks of tallow, trying to drown their troubles in a sea of violet, only to find the bottom of the cup came too soon, these people were afraid.

A group of disheveled off duty soldiers huddled near the bar, nervously glancing over the shoulders. I pushed past them and leaned against the makeshift bar, a stack of old crem covered crates stained with moss and wine. Rolling a sphere across my knuckles I turned to the bar keep and said, "What's the strongest thing you got friend?".

The barkeep ignored me and kept polishing the dirty glasses with an even dirtier rag, stopping occasionally to spit on the glasses as he continued to spread the dirt evenly around the glass.

Tipping my wide brim hat back, I leaned in towards the barkeep and said "Sure hope that spit you're cleaning the glasses with isn't the strongest thing you've got. Give me a double shot of Horneater white."

The barkeep, a middle aged Thaylen with a gut like a sow, and a chin like a chull, dropped the glass he had been cleaning and looked up sharply, his dull eyes reflecting only the faintest glimmer of my sphere.

"Horneater white? A scrawny thing like you, it'll kill you."

I let my emerald chip drop into a dirty cup on the crate. Lit by the sickly green light I used a small bit of stormlight to change my face slightly, deeping the recesses of my eyes, hollowing my cheeks. I looked like an animate corpse and when I spoke the barkeep blinked his piggy eyes in shock, "I'm not going to repeat myself, friend".

The barkeep reached shakily inside the crate and retrieved a dusty jug and set it on the bar. With a motion too fast to track, I pulled out my belt knife and stabbed the cork, and then pulled it out of the jug. My eyes began to water from the pungent vapors as I poured a generous bracer of the milky white poison into my cup.

I tipped back my drink and slammed the empty cup back down on the bar.  My throat felt like it was being scourged by the fires of Damnation itself, warmth radiating outward to the rest of the my body like heat from a blast furnace. Pattern hummed with the dull mechanical buzz of a broken span reed as the liquid fire coursed through me.

"You have answers, and I have questions. I need to know if you've heard about any peculiar murders recently."

*EDITED* so that it's in first person, duh.

Edited by hoiditthroughthegrapevine

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Thanks @Ammanas!

I actually forgot to make it first person (duh), pretty hard to sound like a hard boiled detective when the story is in 3rd person.

I edited it, and I think it's a lot better now, sounds a lot more like Veil Marlowe in Urithiru.


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On 8/15/2015 at 8:53 AM, Mrs.K.Stormblessed said:



I did, in fact, just log in to share my JRR Tolkien / Sanderson mash-up. I feel there is room for more than one - as awesome as yours is:


JRR Tolkien:


Kaladin peered out from behind the slate-grey rock. The Parshuk-Hai appeared to be retreating. He could no longer see their fell helms printed with the fell white hand of S-odium.


"I think they've gone," he whispered, sinking back in exhaustion.

"Oi think you're right, Mr Kaladin, sir", whispered Teftwise from beside him. "We're nearly at the chasm of Doom. Let's go Mr Kaladin, sir."

"I can't Teftwise, I can't. I'm exhausted - this quest is too hard for me. I've failed, Teftwise. I always fail."

"No you haven't Mr Kaladin, sir. Oi might not be able to carry that stormlight-infused, gem encrusted instrument of evil for you - but I CAN carry you!"

Shifting his bridge to his left shoulder, Teftwise hefted his limp master onto his right and set off on sturdy, hairy feet up the fell mountain leading to the chasm of Doom.



"We're here, Mr Kaladin sir", muttered Teftwise, peering gingerly into the broiling lava beneath them, "We've done it."

"No Teftwise. I won't do it. The ring is mine. I deserve it, I have suffered greatly, people have died - all the people have died and its all my fault. That makes me sad and angry and I deserve a present. The ring is mine". Teftwise had never seen his master look like this before; his face leered as he waved the ring aloft and stepped away from the edge of the fell chasm.


"A-r-gggh", screamed Kaladin, as a shardblade severed his finger. "Szollum".


A pair of large, childlike eyes gleamed behind the giant blade, wielded by the spiderlike creature in a billowing white loincloth.


"Stinker," screamed Teftwise, swinging his frying pan wildly at the fell assassin causing him to drop his blade which vanished.


"My precious", crooned Szollum, cradling Kaladin's ring-adorned finger. "You Truthless Bridgehobbits stole my precious. It's mine, mine."


Stepping backwards, he waved the bloodied finger and teetered on the edge of the precipice as Teftwise, enraged by the hurt done to his master, lifted his bridge and rammed the fell creature into the lava beneath.


"We did it, Mr Kaladin, sir", Teftwise yelled crawling towards his master who was lying on the floor, cradling his bloodied hand and attempting to regrow his finger despite the absence of any stormlight. "Let's go home."


"No, Teftwise. We can't. See how the land begins to shake. This land belongs to S-odium and, as he falls, so do the rocks. We have saved the Roshire - but not for us. It ends here for us - here at the end of all things." Kaladin lay back, exhausted.


"Well, if this the end, Mr Kaladin-sir, it don't seem right to end without a song to mark the occasion" and planting his brave, hairy hobbit-foot on the fell rocks, he began to sing:







Much rustling of pages and sounds of desperate thumbing as thousands [tens] of readers skip the song to the refrain of "Not a song. For the love of Stormlight, not a song, please"




As Teftwise finished the 427th verse, he heard the chitinous sound of a chasmfiend apporaching.


"Mr Kaladin-sir, we're saved. Look it's Gandalinor, on the back of a chasmfiend. The fiends, they've come to rescue us."


"So, they have Teftwise, so they have."


Fade to black, in preparation for the twenty 'final'  goodbye scenes.


(With apologies to anyone who doesn't skip the "epic poetry" in a Tolkien novel. You are a better person that I!)



I am crying so hard right now. I have never seen anything more beautiful.


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I'll give something different a shot.  Contains OB spoilers.  

Hirohiko Araki


Moash sprawled out in the dirt, trembling.  "Please, forgive me!" he cried.

Kaladin swiped his finger across his cap, eyes narrowed.  "Ask for forgiveness from Elhokar, the man whom you killed.  I never had any intention of forgiving you in the first place."

The highprince trembled, his teeth grit in fear and frustration.  "O-Odium paid me in advance.  I'll give you that." 

Kaladin sighed, shoving his hands into his uniform pockets.  "Give me a storming break," he muttered.  "You truly are the lowest scum in history."

"You can't pay back what you owe with money!"

Sylphrena materialized into existence, taking the form of a hulking warrior with wild hair and vicious eyes.  With a roar, she launched a powerful fist into Moash's jaw, sending him flying upwards to be met with another punch, and another, and another.  Syl unleashed a barrage of blows, her hands flying too fast for the eye to see.  Each punch was punctured by a feral battle cry which echoed off of walls and buildings.  On and on this savage beatdown went, until, with one final, vicious haymaker, Moash was sent careening into the upper floor of some building, where his broken body smashed through a wall and came to rest amidst the rubble. 

Syl vanished into the wind, and Kaladin scribbled a few glyphs onto a piece of parchment.  "Here's your receipt," he said.  He turned away, the paper etched with the glyphs bearing his name fluttering away upon the wind.

<=To be continued==


Edited by Duwang

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If Dalinar wrote Oathbringer as Patrick Rothfuss:


I have won shards from Alethi brightlords. I burned the town of Rathalas. I have visited the Nightwatcher and left with both a boon and a curse. I became a killer at an age before most even learned to fight. I walk paths during storms that others fear in the weeping. I have destroyed kingdoms, beaten kings and met gods that would make worldhoppers weep.

My name is Dalinar Kholin, Blackthorn. You may have heard of me.


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If Andrew Hussie wrote the Stormlight Archive:

1. Everyone dies at least once

2. Everyone is gay or bi

3. Everything is even weirder

4. Did I mention everyone would die?


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On 7/14/2018 at 5:06 PM, winter devotion said:

If Andrew Hussie wrote the Stormlight Archive:

1. Everyone dies at least once

2. Everyone is gay or bi

3. Everything is even weirder

4. Did I mention everyone would die?

Kaladin: Have you ever heard of THE EVERSTORM

Shallan: The what

Kaladin: The <b>Everstorm</b>


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Putting each chapter into a Spoiler section so this post doesn't take up too much space.


Captain Kaladin: The Weeping Soldier

by Joe and Anthony Russo


Chapter 1



"It's a simple mission," Dalinar Kholin told Captain Kaladin, leader of Bridge Team Four, his elite special forces unit.  "We've located a small Parshendi fortress in the middle of the Shattered Plains, and we have reason to believe that they're holding the Natanatan Star, a powerful fabrial from the ancient days, within.  You and your team are to retrieve it."

"Yes, sir." Kaladin acknowledged the order.

"We'll also be sending along one of my agents as backup."  Dalinar gestured across the planning room at a petite, red-haired girl sitting nearby, observing the proceedings.  She seemed to be drawing sketches of Kaladin and his men, of all things.

Kaladin sighed, his feet starting to hurt already.  "Agent Davar, sir?" he asked, suppressing a groan.

"Whatever personal issues you two may have, she's one of our best."

"Yes, sir."  If only there were some way to disagree with that, but unfortunately it was the truth.

* * *

Bridge Team Four was fast and highly mobile.  Years of training had left the soldiers in peak physical condition, and with Captain Kaladin's Lashings significantly decreasing the weight of their bridge, they practically flew across the Shattered Plains.  Run, lower, push, cross, raise, and repeat again and again, until they approached their target.

Agent Davar smiled at Captain Kaladin playfully.  "Do you have any plans for the weekend?" she asked as they reached the plateau nearest the fortress, which was located down in the chasms.

"No," he said, his tone a bit sullen.  Conversations with Agent Davar tended to be problematic one way or another, and he already didn't like where this one was going.

"If you were to ask out Brightness Kastira of the Highprince's scribes, she would probably say yes."

A storming lighteyed woman, Kaladin thought.  He looked at her, trying his hardest not to glower.  "That's why I don't ask."  He had the men set the bridge down near the edge of the plateau, then reached in, pulling out a large section of solid, heavy wood from the middle of it, the boards cleverly cut to rest easily within the larger structure, but come free when he pulled.  On the back side were solid leather straps, which he slipped one arm through, holding the bridge section as a shield.  Then he took a running leap off the edge of the plateau.

Agent Davar stared in shock as he plummeted; she hadn't seen him use this particular trick before.  "Did he just..."

"Yes," Moash grinned at her.  "Yes he did."

Captain Kaladin fell for several long seconds, then Lashed himself upwards, very precisely arresting his momentum so he would touch down lightly on the ground outside the fortress.  He ran up the wall, sneaking in just behind a patrolling Parshendi guardsman, who he easily and silently choked into unconsciousness.  The next group of guards he ran across would not be dispatched so simply, however.  There were three of them, and they saw him approaching and began to sing, chanting to their strange, almost hypnotic rhythm.

Kaladin threw his bridge-shield, Lashing it at one of the Parshendi to make it fly incredibly fast, then recalled it to himself when it hit its target with a crunch of carapace and bone, and used it to bowl over a second Parshendi, before dashing forward, touching the third and Lashing him upwards.  The marble-skinned warrior screamed as he "fell" into the sky.  He ran down the length of the fortress's outer wall, taking a few more sentries by surprise.  One of them saw him and reached for a bell rope to sound the alarm, but Kaladin quickly drew a knife from his belt and threw it at the Parshendi's hand all in one fluid motion, pinning it to the wall before crossing the distance in a few quick steps and sticking his spear in the warrior's throat, cutting off his foe's cries of alarm and pain.

"Don't move," a heavily-accented voice ordered from behind him.  He could hear the distinctive sound of a bowstring being drawn.  Then he heard an arrow loosed, but coming from a different direction, and the Parshendi behind him grunted in pain and collapsed, his drawn bow releasing harmlessly into the dirt.  He turned and saw Moash, who had taken the slower but more prudent route of rapelling down the canyon and scaling the fortress wall with ropes.

The bridgeman grinned at him.  "Looked like you needed some help," he teased as the rest of the bridge team began to drop down from the wall, plus Agent Davar.

She picked things up right where she had left off up above, giving him a carefree smile as if they weren't in the middle of a raid behind enemy lines.  "The physician's assistant from the next barracks over seems nice," she suggested.

Kaladin rolled his eyes at her.  "Secure the armory, then find me a date," he grumbled.

"As you command," she snarked, ducking through a door.  Once out of sight of Kaladin, she breathed in Stormlight and got to work, making her way to the armory. 

The sentry guarding the door to the armory was surprised to see an attractive, curvaceous Parshendi in mateform step towards him, smiling and giggling flirtatiously.  He looked at her curiously, not recognizing this one.  Was she newly assigned to this outpost?  But what was a mate, of all things, doing in the middle of a military posting?

All such curiosity was cut off abruptly as she came close enough to leap forward and kick him in the knee.  His legs buckled, and then suddenly the mate was holding a gleaming, shining blade where there had been none a moment before.  Pain filled him for a brief instant as she drove it through his body, and then there was nothing.

Agent Davar dispelled the disguise, smiling grimly to herself as she stepped into the armory, quickly lashing out with Pattern, dispatching one Parshendi, then a second, then a third, their eyes smoking as they fell.

The infused ruby in the earring she wore buzzed softly, the metal setting pressed firmly against her skull, conveying the vibrations into her ear.  "Shallan, what's your status?" the Bridge Leader asked.  She ignored his question; stealth was too important at the moment as she snuck up behind a Parshendi guard.

"Status, Shallan!" Kaladin repeated, more urgently this time.

"Hang on!"  She leaped onto the Parshendi's back, calling upon her Soulcasting to transmute its carapace into smoke so she could drive a dagger into its neck with no resistance.  Her call brought a pair of guards running, but she quickly dispatched them with a flurry of kicks and strikes.  Adolin's training paid off well, and soon the last three lay motionless on the ground.  "Armory is secure."  She saw one of the guards stirring, so she grabbed a mace from a nearby weapon rack and quickly knocked him unconscious again.

As Captain Kaladin made his way towards the command room, his own spanvoice conveyed reports from Sigzil, Skar and Moash, that various parts of the fortress were secure.  Teft, however, had a different report.  "Davar missed the rendezvous.  This quarter is not secure; hostiles are still in play."

"Shallan," Kaladin murmured, "circle back to Teft and clear the area."  No response. "Shallan!"

He had barely an instant's warning, just time to raise his shield as a hulking Parshendi ambushed him from a side corridor, knocking him off his feet.  Kaladin rolled and came up in a fighting stance, but was knocked down again, his solid bridge-shield absorbing a blow that should have killed him.  He got his feet underneath him, dropping his shield this time; against a larger foe, mobility was more important than protection.  The Parshendi charged him, and he dodged, hop-stepping back, then kicking the opponent in the knee, yielding a satisfying crunch of carapace.  The warrior staggered, but remained standing, so Kaladin leaped forward and kicked the Parshendi in the face, dropping his opponent.  But a moment later, the Parshendi got to his feet again.

Kaladin rushed the warrior before he could get back on guard, shoving him up against a door which crashed open.  The Parshendi fell, Kaladin landing atop him and quickly knocking him out cold with a blow to the head.  He briefly wondered why the door had been unlocked, when Davar's voice spoke up from across the room. "Well, this is awkward."

He looked around and saw he was in the fortress's archive room, with scrolls, books and maps lining the walls.  Agent Davar had her sketchbook and was copying maps at a surprising pace.  "What are you doing?" Kaladin asked her.

"Retrieving information.  It's a good habit to get into."

He glowered at her openly this time.  "Teft needed help.  Our mission is to retrieve the Natanatan Star."

"No, that's your mission," she said, smiling as she pointed to a table in the corner where the fabrial sat.  "And you've done it beautifully."



Chapter 7



As Captain Kaladin returned to his bunk, he was surprised to see Highprince Dalinar inside, resting on the bed, looking the worse for wear.

"Is there a problem, sir?" Kaladin asked.

The Highprince grunted softly as he sat up.  "I had a fight with the woman I'm courting."

Kaladin raised an eyebrow.  "I didn't know you were looking for a new wife."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me."

Kaladin sighed.  "I know.  That's the problem."  There was still a slight tinge of bitterness in his voice after their argument earlier that day.

"I'm sorry, I had noplace else to go," he said.  But he held a reed pen in his hand, quickly drawing on a scrap of parchment.  He showed it to Kaladin, a quick set of glyphs.  SPIES LISTEN KHOLIN TREASON MEN

Kal's eyes widened.  "Who else knows about your courting?"

He drew more glyphs.  YOU ME  "Only my friends."

"Are we friends, sir?"

"That's up to you."

Suddenly there was a thunderous crashing noise, and a small hole erupted in the barracks wall.  Dalinar fell to the ground, groaning and bleeding.  A firearm?  Kaladin had heard of the strange weapons, wielded by a few Worldhoppers, but he had never seen one before, and now it appeared somebody had used one to strike down his Highprince.

Dalinar groaned, pressing a painrial to the wound in his side.  "Don't trust anyone," he gasped out, looking up at Kaladin, just as his door burst open and Drehy stepped inside, holding a spear.

"What happened?"  Then he looked down.  "Highprince?"

"He's been shot with a firearm," Kaladin said.  "Get him to the surgeons. I'm in pursuit."

Grabbing his shield, he dashed out into the warcamps, Lashing himself up into the air to get a good view.  He could see a white-robed sprinting across the rooftops, a mask covering the lower half of his face, one arm gleaming metal, seemingly covered in Shardplate armor, but who ever heard of someone wearing one Shardplate arm and not the rest of the suit?  Well, if that isn't suspicious as Damnation itself, Kal thought to himself as he Lashed himself in the fleeing assassin's direction.

The assassin looked back, saw Kaladin in pursuit, and took flight, much to the Bridge Leader's surprise.  Kaladin Lashed himself into the air to follow, and the two soared out over the Shattered Plains.  As Kaladin slowly gained on the assassin, he sucked in Stormlight from his spherepouch and infused it into his shield, throwing it at the fleeing white-robed man.

To his surprise, the assassin whirled and caught the shield in his metal-clad hand.  The assassin stared as Kal approached.  "What are you?" he asked, his voice strangely accented.

"Windrunner.  Same as you."

This seemed to unnerve the assassin.  "Are they all coming back, then?"

Captain Kaladin wasn't quite sure what he meant by that, but if it caused his opponent so much consternation... "Yes, all of them."

The assassin's eyes narrowed.  "No! They said I was Truthless!"  His face, what little of it was visible above the mask, reddened deeply, and he infused a great deal of stormlight into the shield, throwing it back at Kaladin. The bridgeman grunted with the impact as he caught it, trying to suck the light back out of it before it could knock him too far back, but by the time he had control of his movement again, the assassin had Lashed himself away and was gone, too far for Kaladin to pursue.



Chapter 9



"Hello, Captain," Highprince Sadeas said as Kaladin entered the palace's planning room.

"Highprince," Kaladin nodded, acknowledging Dalinar's closest friend.

After a bit of small talk, Sadeas about his and Dalinar's history on the battlefield together, the Highprince got down tobusiness.  "Captain, why was Dalinar at your barracks last night?"

Kaladin was about to tell him, but something made him think better of it.  "I don't know, sir."  It wasn't technically a lie; the Highprince had been struck down before he could get to the point of whatever it was he was there to discuss.

"Did you know there was a hidden spanvoice in your barracks?"

"I did.  He told me."

"Did Dalinar tell you he was the one who put it there?"

Kaladin simply looked at him, remaining silent for the moment.

"The Natanatan Star was stolen by an infiltrator and handed off to the Parshendi.  Our Truthwatchers have tracked him to a safe house in Thaylen City.  Payment was recently delivered through a series of cutouts, who we've carefully tracked back to a disbursement originating in the House Kholin treasury."

Captain Kaladin's eyes narrowed.  "Are you saying Dalinar stole the Star himself, and then sent us after it?"

"The prevailing theory is that the whole thing was an excuse to have you assassinate the Parshendi commander.  Some say Dalinar has been seeking to negotiate peace with them in secret, and when talks went sour, well... he wanted to ensure that nobody knew."

Kaladin frowned.  "If you truly knew Dalinar Kholin, you'd know that's not true."

Sadeas nodded.  "Why do you think I'm talking with you?  You were the last one to speak with Highprince Dalinar alive.  I don't think that's an accident, and I don't think you do either.  So I'm going to ask again: why was he there?"

"He told me not to trust anyone," Kaladin said.

"I wonder," Sadeas mused, "if that included him."

I wonder if that included you, Kaladin couldn't help but think, but he kept the notion to himself.  "I'm sorry.  Those were his last words."  He picked up his bridge-shield and turned to leave.

"Captain," Sadeas stopped him before he reached the door.  "Somebody murdered my friend.  I'm going to find out why.  If anyone gets in my way, they will regret it."

Kaladin nodded to him as he left.  "Understood."



Chapter 11



Captain Kaladin fled to the only place he could think of.  After Moash's betrayal, even the Bridge Four quarters weren't safe.  So where was the one place no one would expect he would go, the one person no one would believe he would trust?

Agent Davar wasted no time when he walked into her quarters.  "I know who killed Dalinar."


"Most of the Lightweavers don't even believe he exists.  Those who do, call him the Weeping Soldier.  He's said to have murdered dozens of high-ranking targets over the past century."

"Sounds like a ghost story."

"I saw him," she said, her eyes taking on a haunted look. "He murdered my father."

Kaladin thought he heard a brief buzzing sound, a faint voice murmuring something about "fascinating lies," but when he glanced around the room, there was no one but himself and Shallan present.  Nnngh, that fight took a lot out of me.  I still haven't slept...

"Chasing after him is a dead end.  I've tried.  Like you said, he's a ghost story."

Kaladin nodded grimly.  "Well, he's mixed up in our last mission.  Did you take Memories of the material you were copying?  Let's find out what the ghost wants."



Chapter 14



Shallan turned to look at Kaladin as they flew towards Camp Urithiru together.  "Something I wonder about.  And you don't have to answer, but if you don't, it's kind of an answer anyway, you know?"

"What is it?" he asked, irritated as usual with her chatter.

"Was that your first kiss in seven years?"

"Was it that bad?" Kaladin asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.  Storming lighteyed woman. She shouldn't be able to do that to me.

"I didn't say that."

"You kind of implied it."

"No I was just wondering if..."

"No, it was not my first kiss in seven years.  I was a slave, not dead."

"Nobody special, though?"

"Believe it or not, Brightness, it's kind of difficult to find somebody with shared life experience."

He was expecting a snappy comeback, but Shallan froze briefly, staring out into nothingness for a few moments.  "...I suppose."  Then she seemed to compose herself.  "Just make something up, then."

"Like you do?"

"Truth is a matter of perception.  You are to a person who they believe you to be."

Kaladin frowned.  "That's a tough way to live."

"Good way to not die, though."  Once again, Kaladin thought he heard the soft, buzzing voice, but he shook his head slightly, dismissing it.

"It's difficult to trust someone when you don't know who they really are."

She looked thoughtful at that.  "Who do you want me to be?" she asked after a moment.

Who indeed?  "How about a friend?"

"There's a chance you might be in the wrong business, Stormblessed."  She gave him a look, and he could see, for a brief moment, a crushing weight of pain behind her eyes, hinting at years of traumatic experiences that had shaped the woman beside him.

Then she smiled. Oh, storms.  She smiled anyway.  It was the single most beautiful thing he had seen in his entire life.

"How do you do that?"

She shrugged.  "Helps if you're crazy.  Now, I believe we're coming close?"  She pointed, and Kaladin could see the old training camp in the distance, rapidly approaching.



Chapter 16



Kaladin and Shallan stepped into the hidden archive room beneath Camp Urithiru, holding up spheres against the darkness of the underground chamber.  But as they got more than a few steps in, fabrial lanterns set in the walls and ceiling began to illuminate.  They saw an open cavern, with a massive pillar rising from the center, set with gemstones of every description, all set so close together that it almost appeared as if the pillar was itself a giant gem, an agglomeration of lesser polestones.

Shadows swirled and danced about the pillar as Shallan stepped up to take a closer look.  "What in the Almighty's third name is this?"  As she approached, the shadows slowly coalesced into a distorted face.  It looked at the two of them, then began to speak.

"Kaladin, called Stormblessed.  Captain of Bridge Team Four.  Shallan Davar.  AKA Veil, AKA Brightness Radiant, betrothed of Adolin Kholin."

Kaladin's eyes widened.  "What is this?  Some kind of knowledgespren?"

"I am not a spren," the shadowy face said.  "I may not be the man I was when the Captain took me prisoner two years ago, but I am."

Kaladin squinted slightly, trying to make out the details of the face.  Then his eyes widened with recognition.

"You know this... thing?" Shallan asked.

"Amaram Zola was a soldier working for a secret apocalyptic cult known as the Sons of Honor.  They sought to engineer a new Desolation, in the hopes of returning the Heralds to the world.  They worked for the Red Mist, a dark spren who was captured by the Highprince.  The organization died with his defeat."

The face of Amaram leered down at him.  "Cut off one head," he recited, "two more shall take its place."  The motto had always sounded ridiculous before, but this time it sent a chill down his spine.  "My death has only made me that much greater.  Liberated from the confines of mortality, I exist as a being of pure intelligence."

"So... a spren," Shallan said flatly.

"No," the face replied, his tone turning boastful.  "Something far greater, a Cognitive Shadow, possessed of wisdom and insight no mere spren could hope to match.  We have been rebuilding the Sons of Honor in secret, inside your very warcamps!"

"Insight..." Kaladin said, latching onto the word.  "Are you involved with the Insight?  What is it?"

"A most fascinating question," Amaram sneered.  "But I am afraid you will be too dead to appreciate the answer!"

"Kaladin!" Syl whispered urgently in his ear.  "There's a squad of Windrunners flying in, led by Moash, all of them with Shards!"

They were badly outnumbered.  "We have to run," he said to Shallan.

She blinked. "How do you know?"

"Just trust me!" They scrambled back out to the surface and took flight, just moments before the Windrunner strike team arrived.

"He's gone," Moash said into his spanvoice.  "Send the asset."



Chapter 20



Captain Kaladin hauled Jakamav up to the roof of the palace.  "What is Amaram Zola's plan?"

"Never heard of it," Jakamav blustered.

"What do you know about the Natanatan Star?" Kaladin asked, slowly advancing on him.

"Some fancy fabrial," he shrugged, stepping backwards as Kaladin stepped forwards, until he stumbled against the crenels at the edge of the rooftop.  Kaladin grabbed him by his coat, hauling him up off the ground a few inches, and Jakamav simply scoffed.  "Is this little display meant to insinuate that you're going to throw me off the roof?  Because it's really not your style, Stormblessed."

Kaladin set him down.  "You're right, it's not."  He took a step back and glanced at Shallan.  "It's hers!"

Before Jakamav could react, Shallan kicked him in the gut, sending him plummeting, screaming, off the edge of the palace.  Then she turned to him and, nonchalant as ever, began to recommend yet another one of the Highprince's scribes for Kaladin to court.  Before she could irritate him too much, though, Teft flew in, carrying Jakamav back to the rooftop and depositing him in a heap at Kal's feet.

Jakamav cowered as the three Radiants stood over him.  "Amaram's plan is to use Cognitive insights to choose targets for the Star," he whimpered out between gasps of breath.

"What targets?"

"You!  Six highprinces.  A Selay gerontarch.  The king of Jah Keved.  Anyone who's a threat to the Sons of Honor and their plans."

"And the Star?"

"An ancient weapon.  It can sever people's bonds to the Cognitive Realm, leaving them unable to think clearly."

Shallan's face went grim.  "Unable to resist," she said as the implications dawned on her.

"Unable to resist, ever again," Jakamav agreed, his voice grim.  "A thousand at a time."



Chapter 23



The Weeping Soldier stalked through the streets of the warcamp, sending civilian family members and camp followers fleeing in panic.  He approached slowly, his menacing figure moving with casual, deliberate ease.  Then he paused, cocking his head to the side as he heard something.  Agent Davar's voice, hiding behind a cart.  It sounded as if she were calling for help on a spanvoice.

The assassin smiled grimly beneath his mask, pulling out a rare fabrial grenade and rolling it beneath the cart.  As it detonated, he was surprised to see Agent Davar leap out from the opposite direction, trying to overbear him and tackle him to the ground.  It was a trick, then, a Lightweaving!  He kept his footing, and quickly reached up, guarding his neck with his Shardplate-armored hand as Davar pulled out a garrotte wire and attempted to choke him.  Shaking himself, he threw her off of him and to the ground.

He reached for a gun.  Recognizing the offworld weapon, Shallan fled, ducking and weaving, but she heard a shot and pitched forward, hitting the ground before she even consciously registered the pain.  She lay there, trying to suck in Stormlight to heal the wound as the Soldier came closer, raising the gun to finish her.

Right as he was about to fire, Kaladin flew in, interposing himself and his shield, glowing faintly with a Reverse Lashing, a trick Kal used to make any attacks fly straight towards the shield no matter where they were aimed.  The Weeping Soldier fired several rounds, then, realizing it did no good, he discarded his gun and closed with Kaladin, trading blows for a few moments before he grabbed the shield in incredibly strong hands, wresting it from Kal's grasp and using it to knock his foe back.

Kal stumbled to his feet and charged, then was forced to dodge to the side as the Soldier once again infused the shield with a Lashing and sent it flying towards him at high speed.  It embedded itself in the wall of a nearby building, and Kaladin didn't have time to pull it free before the Soldier was upon him.  Kal dodged and ducked, trying to avoid swing after potentially-lethal swing of that armored fist, before he was finally able to maneuver himself up next to the shield.  Grabbing it, he bashed the enemy Windrunner in the chest, then grabbed him by the mask, pivoting his hips and torso to throw the man several feet through the air.

The Weeping Soldier's mask fell free as the Soldier hit the ground.  As he rose to his feet, his face finally bare to the world, Shallan gasped, slack-jawed, staring at him.  Finally, a single, disbelieving word escaped her lips.




I could do more, but this has already taken the better part of a day to write up.  Hope you enjoyed it!


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I think it’s more accurate to say that’s an interpretation by the Russos of Brubaker’s work... Ed Brubaker wrote the original Winter Soldier story.

If you did a variant where Helaran was responsible for a revolt you’d have Judd Winick instead...

Edited by Kingsdaughter613

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Mark Z. Danielewski:


[Edit: I realize I did Mistborn instead dangit :P]

Edited by Ripheus23

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