Kaladin rose into the air on a streak of light.
He hit the stone and rolled with it, twisting and tumbling in the air. His glow diminished severely.
The boulder lurched. It somehow changed momentum, tossed away from Kaladin like a pebble flicked off the table. It crested the city wall, narrowly missing the monster that had thrown it. Adolin faintly heard spren begin to scream, but that was drowned out by the sounds of rock falling and people on the streets shouting.
Kaladin renewed himself with Stormlight from his pack. He was carrying most of the gemstones they’d brought from Urithiru, a wealth from the emerald reserve, to use in their mission and in opening the Oathgate.
Drehy rose into the air beside him, then Skar, who had Lashed Shallan upward as well. Adolin knew she was basically immortal, but it was still strange to see her here, on the front lines.
“We’ll distract the Fused,” Kaladin shouted to Adolin, pointing at a group of figures flying through the air in their direction. “And—if we can—we’ll seize the Sunwalk. Get in through the palace, and meet with us in the eastern gallery!”
They zipped off. In the near distance, the monster started pounding on the gates there, cracking and splintering the wood.
“Forward!” Azure yelled.
Adolin charged, running up beside Elhokar and Azure. They reached the palace grounds and surged up the steps. At the top, soldiers in very similar uniforms—black and a darker blue, but still Kholin—withdrew, shutting the palace’s front doors.
“King’s Guard,” Adolin shouted, pointing at a group of men in red who had been designated as Elhokar’s honor guard. “Be sure to watch the king’s flanks as he cuts! Don’t let the enemy strike at him as the door falls!”
Men crowded up the steps, taking positions along the front of the palace’s front porch. They held spears, though some were lighteyed. Adolin, Azure, and Elhokar each went to a separate door atop the steps. Here, the front of the palace roof—held up by thick columns—shielded them from the stones that the creature was flinging.
Teeth gritted, Adolin rammed his Blade into the crack between the thick wooden palace door and the wall. He swiped upward quickly, cutting through both hinges and the bar that had been thrown on the inside. After another slice down the other side freed the door, he stepped back into position. It fell inward with a crash.
Immediately, the enemy soldiers inside rammed spears outward, hoping to catch Adolin. He danced back, and didn’t dare swing. Wielding a Shardblade with one hand was a challenge, even when you didn’t have to worry about hitting your own men.
He skipped to the side and let the Wall Guard attack the doorway. Adolin, instead, moved over beside a group of soldiers who had come with Highlord Urimil. Here, Adolin cut through a section of the wall, making an improvised doorway that the soldiers shoved open. He moved down the long porch, opening another, then a third.
That done, he peeked in on Elhokar, who had stepped through his felled door, and was now inside the palace. He swept about himself with his Blade in a one-handed grip, shield held in the other. He opened a pocket in the enemy soldiers, having killed dozens already.
Careful, Elhokar, Adolin thought. Remember, you don’t have Plate. Adolin pointed at a platoon of soldiers. “Reinforce the King’s Guard, and make sure he doesn’t get overwhelmed. If he does, shout for me.”
They saluted, and Adolin stepped back. Azure had cut down her door, but her Shardblade wasn’t as long as the other two. She was leading a more conservative attack, cutting the ends off spears as they rammed out toward her men. As he watched, she stabbed an enemy soldier who tried to push through. Remarkably, his eyes didn’t burn, though his skin did go a strange ashen grey as he died.
Blood of my fathers, Adolin thought. What’s wrong with her Blade?
Even with all the opened doorways, getting into the palace was slow going. The men inside had formed shield-wall rings around the doorways, and the fighting mostly happened with men using short spears to stab at each other. Some platoons of Wall Guard brought in longer pikes to break the ranks of defenders, preparing for a surge.
“You men ever flank-shielded a Shardbearer?” Adolin said to the nearest squad of soldiers.
“No sir,” said one of the men. “But we’ve done the training.…”
“It’ll have to do,” Adolin said, taking his Blade in two hands. “I’m going in that center hole. Stay close and keep the spears off my sides. I’ll be careful not to catch you in my sweeps.”
“Yes, sir!” their squadleader said.
Adolin took a deep breath, then approached the opening. The interior bristled with spears. Like the proverbial whitespine’s den.
At Adolin’s instruction, a soldier on his side faced his men and did a countdown with one hand. As the last finger dropped, the soldiers at the doorway fell back. Adolin charged through into the palace entry hall, with its marble floors and high vaulted ceilings.
The enemy thrust a dozen spears at him. He ducked low, taking a slice on the shoulder as he did a two-handed sweep, cutting a group of soldiers at the knees. The enemy dropped, their legs ruined by the Shardblade.
Four men followed him in and raised shields at his sides. Adolin attacked forward, hacking the fronts off spears, cutting at hands. Storms … the men he fought were too silent. They’d cry in pain if stabbed, or grunt with exertion, but they otherwise seemed muted—as if the darkness smothered their emotions.
Adolin took his Blade in an overhead grip and fell into Stonestance, swiping down with precise cuts, felling man after man in a careful, controlled set of strikes. His soldiers protected his flanks, while the wide reach of the Blade protected his front.
Eyes burned. The shield line wavered. “Fall back three steps!” Adolin shouted to his men, then transitioned to Windstance and swept outward with wide, flowing sweeps.
In the passion and beauty of dueling, he sometimes forgot how terrible a weapon Shardblades were. Here, as he rampaged among the faltering line, it was all too obvious. He killed eight men in a moment, and completely destroyed the defensive line.
“Go!” he shouted, pointing with his Blade. Men surged through the doorway and seized the ground just inside the entry hall. Nearby, Elhokar stood tall, his narrow Shardblade glittering as he called commands. Soldiers fell, dying and cursing—the true sounds of battle. The price of conflict.
The enemy finally broke, falling back through the entry hall—which was too large to hold—toward the narrower hallway leading to the eastern gallery.
“Pull out the wounded!” Azure called, stepping in. “Seventh Company, hold that far side of the room, make sure they don’t try to rush back in. Third Company, sweep the wings and make sure there aren’t any surprises.”
Curiously, Azure had removed her cloak and wrapped it half around her left arm. Adolin had never seen anything like it; perhaps she was accustomed to fighting in Plate.
Adolin got some water, then let a surgeon bandage the shallow cut he’d taken. Though the depths of the palace felt like caverns, this entryway was glorious. Walls of marble, polished and reflective. Grand staircases, and a bright red rug down the center. He’d burned that as a child once, playing with a candle.
Cut bandaged, he joined Azure, Elhokar, and several of the highlords, who were studying the wide corridor that led to the eastern gallery. The enemy had formed an excellent shield wall here. They’d settled in, and men in the second rank had crossbows ready and waiting.