Chapter Text
Kalak spared a glance back before the last sight of the fortress vanished from the horizon behind the cliff line as they moved east along the coast. He’d fallen to the back of the group as he fought down the creeping doubts in the back of his mind. Sekeir had asked him before leaving if he was really sure he knew what he was doing and he truthfully had not been able to answer the spren.
There had been a tense atmosphere in the air between the two of them as Kalak left. Sure, Sekeir could be bothersome and condescending but he had always cared about his well-being. He was one of the few Kalak had shared his pain with over the years. He knew when Kalak was having one of his bad days and did whatever he could to shelter him when it happened.
What was he doing here leaving the safety of Lasting Integrity? These kids, they didn’t understand. They only had the smallest taste of the desolation. They knew nothing of damnation.
Damnation... could he really go back?
The willshaper sighed deeply taking in a lungful of the cold air and continued warily on his journey. He didn’t like to admit he was not fond of travelling like this, on foot and especially in Shadesmar. He realised he couldn’t afford to travel his preferred method. Not after he and Kaladin had just bared their souls to one another. Their trust with one another was held together with the thinnest thread. He knew things that would terrify his eldest grandson... if only he knew the truth.
’He’s not ready... Just like when he was an even younger child he wasn’t ready to know who I was.’ It was not being unfaithful to him if he wasn’t ready yet to hear everything.
He was however at least dressed for the long walk, unlike the usual robes he wore whilst living in the fortress city he was now dressed in a mix of long robes and leather armour. On his feet were a pair of thick military style walking boots. A single dagger tucked into his belt was the only weapon he carried, with the exception of Jezrien’s twin daggers still wrapped up inside his pack. Gifts for his other two remaining grandsons. While Kaladin was the eldest and got the sword he didn’t want to appear to be playing at favourites, the others would get something from him too.
Reaching camp that first night had been decided after the Davar girl had gotten a stone in her boot and then after dislodging it had been too stiff to get back up again off the ground from the days march. The three men had all immediately felt pity on the red-haired woman fawning over her and making the camp as she sat there having to endure a full leg massage from her loving husband.
Sitting around the fire that evening Kaladin had been the one to tend the stew on the fire before serving out a portion to each of the humans. A fifth bowl was poured before Kalak had realised what was happening, grimacing as the meal was pushed into his hands. He had to admit the warmth radiating from the bowl was comforting as he stared down at what he held. Food, sustenance, a sign of humanity.
Sighing deeply and hoping nobody would notice he placed the bowl down untouched to his side. “Kaladin’s cooking is bad, but it’s not that bad.” Shallan quipped. It seemed the Davar girl was extremely observant. Curse that lightweaver as she had pulled attention onto him. Kalak grit his teeth.
“I will eat it later.” He lied, it was enough to take the heat off him as most eyes turned back to their own meals and present conversation.
“It’ll go cold.” Kaladin was still watching him with a worried expression.
Kalak could easily see the boy’s father in him, the surgeon that was always concerned for others before himself. Had Kaladin noticed he had not eaten anything the night before or had any breakfast in front of them either? The willshaper looked away, he didn’t want to see that pity in those eyes.
“Here let me get your waterskin, I haven’t seen you drink anything all day.” Kaladin muttered still showing obvious signs of worry for the herald and before Kalak could stop him Kaladin had walked over to where Kalak had laid out his bedroll. On top of his blanket the man had taken off his belt as well as his leather wrist guards. His waterskin had been attached to his belt but as soon as Kaladin picked it up Kalak’s outstretched hand dropped limply back down to his side.
Kaladin’s gaze narrowed before tossing the completely empty waterskin at him. Kalak’s caught it deftly with a single hand and a grunt. “You are like a spren, aren’t you?” Kaladin chastised.
Everyone was staring at him now, all of them confused with the exception of Kaladin whom had discovered the truth. “You don’t eat or drink, do you?”
“No.” He muttered, voice barely louder than a whisper.
“That can’t be right, I saw him with a cup of drink at dinner.” Adolin was scratching at his increasingly growing and itchy beard. Kaladin glanced between Adolin and Kalak folding his arms and expecting answers.
“It makes humans feel more comfortable when I... pretend.” He solemnly announced. The cup had been empty. Over the years he had just started holding an empty one at functions. Twiddling it between his fingers and taking pseudo sips every so often. It had made him feel human again and while he had not needed to do it in front of the Sons of Honour or with family... Or even in private, it had shifted into a habitual practice. Almost as if it were some kind of nervous tick that made him feel more comfortable rather than the humans that surrounded him.
“Oh.” Kaladin’s voice dropped, flushed with guilt he moved to take his seat reclaiming his own bowl of stew. “Sorry.” He muttered with a sincerity that he hadn’t meant to out Kalak with something his grandfather was clearly a little sensitive about. He had just wanted to point out what he perceived as an obvious deception. Kalak didn’t hold it against him as he shook his head lightly.
“Has it always been like that?” Shallan asked leaning in curiously.
“No...” Kalak hesitantly answered. How much did he reveal? It was just another torture he had to endure. ’They won’t understand.’ He squeezed his eyes closed.
“Is it a herald thing?” Adolin was the one to ask this time between the mouthful of food he was shovelling into his face.
“It’s a Braize thing.” Kalak scoffed with a click of his tongue in a tut. They were all looking at him, eyes wide and bright wanting to hear more. None of them knew what Braize was really like. It was no wonder the first mention of damnation would have grabbed their attention.
He didn’t want to talk about it. He wanted to pretend every sentence he endured was just a dream. Perhaps he could work through this by explaining it as if it were a story he was telling of something awful that happened to someone else.
“I’m sure you have heard the basics of the oathpact. With the death of our bodies in the physical realm we are reborn again on Braize.” Kalak rocked backward and forward subtly as he spoke causing Kaladin to frown with concern once more. The boy didn’t interrupt however.
“Braize isn’t like Roshar, it’s an entirely different planet. There is no food there, water... Or even air.” They all stared at him with their undivided attention. “Only an immortal can survive there, like a herald, or a fused or a shard.”
If you could even call what he did there surviving. It was just existing, nothing more.
“When we are reborn on Braize suffocating happens so quickly I can’t really remember what that’s like. Our bodies adapt after that first death and we no longer require air to breathe.” Kalak continued.
“Dying of thirst comes next. Dehydration can take a few days and as you can imagine, is painful. Well right up until you become delirious and then I suppose the hours before the death aren’t too bad.” He chuckled darkly.
“Hunger is the worst, starvation is slow and painful. Your body is essentially eating itself to survive. By that point we are almost begging for the fused to find us because any pain they would inflict on us would pale in comparison.”
The staring continued as they looked at him in new abject horror.
“When we returned to Roshar we would have to endure these same deaths again, but in reverse as our bodies adapted once more to the change. At some point we just decided to not eat or drink again after one of our returns, it saved us a lot of suffering in the long run.”
“All we had to do was give up a little piece of our humanity for this small comfort.” Kalak smirked as he said it so flippantly.
Suddenly they were all looking down at the bowls of stew in their hands in a new light, well all except one as Skar cleared his throat pointing halfheartedly down toward the bowl still settled by Kalak’s foot. “So uhh... can I eat that if you’re not?”
“Skar!” Shallan gasped reaching out to slap the windrunner highmarshal across the arm.
“Ow! What?” Skar would feign ignorance but reached out for Kalak’s bowl anyway as he passed it to the other man all the same. Kalak actually found the request rather amusing. He preferred that they took the explanation as lightly as Skar was. It was much preferred to pity or attempts to fix him.
He knew he could try to take a sip of water, or a bite of food but not here in the middle of nowhere (or two days from nowhere more specifically). Truthfully though he had never learnt to eat or drink again after the last desolation because he had been a coward.
- - - -
Kalak was the first to wake the next morning, he’d slept on the opposite side of the fire to the kids. Seeing them laying in a neat row cuddled up and spooning one another brought a thin smile to the elders lips, memories of how once upon a time he’d been close to his brothers and sisters in arms.
Quietly he’d sat up adjusting his travel clothing before pulling on his thick leather boots and slowly doing up the laces.
Skar had woken up not too long after Kalak as the pair merely gave each other a stiff nod. The willshaper did keep watch of what the windrunner was up to out of the corner of his eye as he seemed to be prowling about lingering over Shallan’s belongings. After a few minutes he had pried a sketchbook out of Shallan’s bag and a pencil from a side pouch before sitting down and scribbling into the book.
Kalak quirked a single brow but didn’t move any closer to see what the man was doing drawing. That didn’t seem very vorin, actually it was the last thing he’d expected to see. After a few more minutes the others were waking up, Shallan made sure that everyone was completely awake by screeching at Skar when she noticed him with her drawing pad.
Gloved hands were attempting to snatch the book back from Skar without much luck. “Ah ah, not yet! Just gimme a moment I’d almost done.” Skar was laughing as he tried to dodge Shallan with all the grace and reflexes of a windrunner.
“What are you drawing?!” Shallan huffed, she no longer seemed upset but was fighting to prevent herself from grinning.
He was holding the book up as high as the short man could manage to try to prevent Shallan from seeing the picture. Kaladin however didn’t have any trouble seeing what was on the page before snorting with a laugh of his own. “Needs more drool.” He chuckled while flashing Shallan a menacing glance.
At last, Skar lowered the sketch book as Adolin, Syl, Aella and Pattern moved over to see the masterpiece. “I do not look like that!” Shallan protested but all of them were laughing amongst themselves. Even from the other side of the snuffed-out fire pit where even the embers from last night had gone cold during the night he caught a glimpse of the picture.
Skar certainly was no artist but he’d drawn a cartoon of Kaladin, Adolin and Shallan snuggled up together asleep. Kaladin had a raincloud over his head with an angry face on it, the Stormfather perhaps? Shallan was sleeping with her mouth wide open drooling into a puddle and Adolin was hugging a large shardblade rather than his wife. The herald merely shook his head in disbelief and further amusement before starting to tie on the straps of his leather bracers.
The kids sure did have an unusual but cosy relationship that Kalak felt himself envying as time went on. He shared blood along with something much darker with Kaladin and yet he was an outsider in comparison to his grandson’s other travelling companions.
Before setting off that morning they had all stood on the beach and everyone except the lightweaver and her spren were lined up doing a sword kata but without any swords in hand. ’That’s cute.’ The willshaper scoffed to himself as he observed from afar. Had Vasher shown them that? It looked like something that old man would do.
After a day of walking and the group had made camp again for their second night under the ever present weak shadesmar sun. An everstorm was passing in the skies overheard, nobody but Kalak seemed to be paying it any mind. Every lick of red that flashed in the constant shifting skies caused Kalak to flinch as he lay under his blanket. His iron grip on it was brought up pulling it closer to his throat as he swallowed nervously as it provided a glaring stark reminded of the desolation that hung directly above his head.
The kids were un-phased completely more interested in each other. Adolin had begged all day for a chance to inspect Kaladin’s new longsword. The real word for it was actually play. Adolin had spent ages pawing over it with a pout of longing before finally standing behind the camp testing out its balance and grip with a few difficult sword katas. Maya and Aella were stood close by watching and seemingly impressed by the display.
Back by the fire it was Skar’s turn to make dinner but Shallan had taken on the role of sous-chef attentively, she wanted to learn how to cook for herself should the need ever arise. Pattern lurked behind them both humming loudly if Skar put too much or too little of an ingredient into the pot – much to Skar’s frustration. Testament was sat down on Shallan’s bed mat staring down at a particularly interesting glossy black pebble – if dead-eyes could even stare.
As for Kaladin he was sat on a boulder nearby cross legged, Syl to his side gently leaning against her radiant in comfort. Kalak had not even been surprised to catch Kaladin drawing in Shallan’s sketch pad, not after Skar had that morning.
“Well, let’s see it.” Shallan asked as she dusted her hands and moved to where Kaladin was sat. He watched from where he lay in silence pleased for the distraction from the nightmares above as Kaladin turned the book around showing the page as Skar walked up behind Shallan to join her.
“Bridge four!” Skar grinned before giving Kaladin a crisp salute of some sort – though Kalak had never seen anyone cross both arms together before. What had that been about?
“That’s not how you draw the glyph for bridge four.” Shallan sighed shaking her head.
“What do you mean? Of course it is.” Kaladin drawled, even from over here on the other side of their little camp Kalak could hear the hurt in his voice.
“I think our fearless bridge leader would know.” Skar smirked.
“Yeah.” Kaladin scowled back, not even attempting to correct Skar with the whole fearless leader part.
Shallan took the book from him turning it back around to point at the rough cross shaped pattern at the top of the glyph with the pencil she’d pulled from Kaladin’s loose grip. “These lines should be straight. You’ve made them curve upward. That’s weird.” Shallan explained.
“I took some creative license.” Kaladin answered with a shrug.
“You can’t just do that with glyphs.” Shallan insisted.
“Why not? Looks better that way and Skar could still read it.” The man in question was nodding. Of course he would agree with everything and anything Kaladin said. Kalak had rarely witnessed loyalty so fierce.
“Ugh... Men.” Shallan complained as she stomped back to the fire putting her book away safely.
The good news for Kalak was that nobody disturbed him. Nobody offered him food when they served up their dinner amongst themselves and nobody probed him with questions about nightmares he had lived through. He could live like this, blissfully ignored. Honestly it made him more comfortable than having to force himself to answer questions he didn't want too or take part in meaningless chit-chat with these strangers. Kaladin at least he could entertain, he wanted to get to know him more and desired that connection but the others all still made him feel uneasy.
Another day of walking and they safely arrived at their final destination within the cognitive realm. Kalak hung back as he always did while Kaladin and Shallan pointed out the markers they had scored into the rocks, evidence they claimed, that meant honours perpendicularity would be opened right here the next day. The same spot where they had arrived at.
“Wedding will only be two days away once we get back, nervous?” Skar asked his Highprince while they were all sat by the fire. Kalak was sat with his knees up to his chest, hands outstretched in front of him warming them against the hot embers. He was paying a close attention to the current line of conversation since he knew very little, actually practically nothing, about Kaladin’s relationship with Jasnah Kholin.
“I can’t believe it’s going to be that soon...” Kaladin mused seemingly avoiding the question entirely. The younger windrunner sure did seem to have a habit of avoiding answering awkward questions and nobody seemed to either notice or call him out on it which Kalak thought was of some interest.
Sometimes it was as if they all treated the man like a wounded animal, giving him more space and patience then they would otherwise give one another. He didn’t think it was for an authoritative reason either considering they were happy to slap him about or call him names like ‘bridgeboy’. There was something there though, like an unspoken agreement between Kaladin’s friends as they occasionally choose their words a little more carefully or tiptoed around him as if walking on fragile rockbuds.
“Don’t worry bridgeboy, I’m sure my cousin and aunt already have everything planned so you won’t have to lift a finger.” The blonde Kholin prince grinned.
“I don’t mind doing work.” Kaladin protested not liking being painted as a man whose skipped the physical realm to avoid helping.
“Even picking what colour napkins to use?”
“I’d pick blue.”
Adolin rolled his eyes, as if the answer wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world and he should have never asked. “Alright what type of song will you dance to?”
“Dance?” Kaladin asked pulling a face.
“You know, the thing where you put one foot in front of the other to music." Adolin teased seeing the confusion evident in the soon-to-be groom's face. Kaladin didn’t respond though as he continued to stare blankly at the fire instead.
“For Kelek’s sake Kal, you know how to dance right?” Adolin spluttered out but immediately regretted his choice of words as he clapped a hand over his mouth. Wincing he looked over and met Kalak’s cold brown gaze. The willshaper merely narrowed his eyes a little more deepening his frown. “Sorry.” Adolin muttered bashfully turning back to his friend.
“Not really.” Kaladin finally admitted. “Is it something I can get out of?” He pondered mostly worried about embarrassing himself and Jasnah. It wasn’t just a small wedding either, everyone was going to be there.
“It’s really not that hard, here let me show you some basic steps.” Shallan leapt to her feet reaching out to tug Kaladin’s arm encouraging him to stand. He was not keen on this but his friends weren’t giving him much choice as Shallan began moving his hands about telling him how to stand and where to hold her.
The windrunner had been internally taking notes right up until he saw the crem-eating grin on Skar and Adolin’s faces as the two lay on their blankets beside one another on their fronts. Perched up on their elbows they were munching happily on a piece of flatbread each while looking on as if this were the most entertaining thing they had ever witnessed.
Kaladin practically growled at the pair as he eyed them from over Shallan’s shoulder only to be swatted in his chest by the woman herself. “Pay attention to me, not them.” The red-head chided.
When Shallan finally led Kaladin into moving it was as disastrous as Adolin and Skar had hoped for. Each time he stepped on one of Shallan’s feet, stumbled on his own long legs or froze after forgetting what to do there was a chorus of cackling from the blankets. Kaladin was growing more and more frustrated with every mistake.
“Maybe this isn’t working." Shallan finally conceded a she limped back over to her seat pulling off her boots to rub her already sore feet from travelling only made worse by the added weight of Kaladin’s giant feet on several occasions.
Kalak stiffened as he heard a rustling noise from behind the camp, a couple of lesser spren were being drawn closer to the group. The others had not noticed yet and even if they did would they know what these serpentine spren even were with their red and white scales that resembled petals of a flower. The way they shimmied up and down made their scales look like falling fragments of shame in the physical realm.
Feeling a strong urge to intervene on behalf of his grandson the herald pulled himself to his feet. A single hand was firmly placed on Kaladin’s shoulder holding the young man in place before pointing directly towards the smug blonde. “You. Kholin. Get up.” It was time for Kalak to show these idiots what to do because Chana help them, the whole lot of them were hopeless.
Adolin walked over with a soft pout on his lips, the look evaporating from his features and replaced with one of sheer panic as Kalak roughly grabbed the back of his collar shoving him forcefully in front of Kaladin whom was watching wide-eyed. “You two are going to dance.” Kalak’s gruff baritone commanded.
Neither wanted to protest against what the herald was suggesting but both did so anyway. “He’s a guy.” Kaladin noted suspiciously.
“Just pretend for a few minutes he is Jasnah.” Kalak grumbled feeling exhausted already and having second doubts.
“Not as pretty.” Kaladin muttered under his breath but Adolin had heard all the same.
“Liar.” Adolin whispered aggressively back.
“Not as smart either.” Kaladin quipped.
“Enough! Adolin do the same steps as Shallan showed him but this time you’ll be the man and Kaladin will follow your lead.” The willshaper snapped and begrudgingly the boys followed his command and this time with Adolin taking the lead it was much easier for Kaladin to go with the flow and adapt. The first sequence of the steps had been robotic and stiff as they found themselves incredibly uncomfortable but by the time they were on their third attempt they were completed relaxed, all of the tension had washed away.
“This is all good but, I’m meant to be in Adolin’s position right? So how does this help me?” Kaladin asked as he rubbed the back of his neck with a hand after the pair had broken off from their practice.
“You said Jasnah is smart.” Kalak answered simply which only further confused Stormblessed.
“Smartest woman on Roshar.”
“Then I’m sure the smartest woman on Roshar will realise that the citizens of Hearthstone didn’t have a ballroom.” He scoffed but seeing the vacant expression on Kaladin’s face he continued to elaborate. “Jasnah grew up in a palace, I’m sure she will be able to make adjustment and take the lead.”
The suggestion brought relief to the young windrunner and for the rest of the evening the lurking shamespren didn’t make a second appearance.
- - - -
The next morning the group were fast to pack up their camp placing their bags down in a pile ready to grab and go the moment the portal back to the physical realm was opened. They weren’t exactly sure on the time it would be but all of them understood they had to be ready at a moment's notice. The longer Dalinar held honours perpendicularity open the more difficult it was to sustain.
Kaladin had been feeling anxious all morning, a tightening in his chest as he wondered how he was going to explain to Jasnah that he had invited their enemies to their wedding. It was bad enough he kept adding people to the guest list without first consulting her. Well at least Kalak had yet to write to Nale and Ishar to even see if they would come last minute, there was still time if Jasnah put her foot down. Not just his future wife either, Urithiru belonged to Dalinar and Navani and they had the ultimate say in the matter.
His thoughts on how everyone would react to the news was interrupted by an explosion of light. Bright against the endless darkness of the Shadesmar sky so much that Kaladin had to half turn his head away using a forearm to spare his eyes from the blinding light.
“Dalinar’s here, let’s go!” Syl leapt up and down on her feet in budding excitement while the humans all went to retrieve their packs. Skar hopped ahead of them with a spring in his step disappearing into the light-filled void.
“See you soon Maya.” Adolin smiled fondly at the hollow cultivation spren he left behind, she almost looked sad would that dead-eyes could show emotion. Testament got a small pat on the shoulder from Shallan as the couple left next the living spren following close behind.
Kaladin took in a deep breath letting it out in a long sigh as he took a large step forward only to feel a weight against his chest stopping him in his path. Kalak was stood to his side, a single arm outstretched in front of Kaladin to bar his way.
“Lash us through the portal.” Kaladin looked at Kalak a little confused by the request at first but as he looked back at the light he suddenly remembered – land was sea in the physical realm. The bridge between the realms had been opened right beside the ocean of beads but it was still very much on land. Kaladin nodded applying the gravitational lashings to the herald first after taking in a deep breath of stormlight then rose into the air beside him.
They were met with an equally bright sun and sky as Kaladin blinked several times upon floating there in the physical realm letting his brown eyes slowly adjust after almost a week of the darkness of Shadesmar.
“That’s just great.” Shallan whined with a flap of her arms down to her sides. Skar, Adolin and Shallan were all stood on the beach their clothes soaked through from their knees downward. Well at least that was the case for Adolin, the short two in the group it was almost up to their waist.
A dry Peet was stood beside them on the shore and in the air alongside Kaladin and Kalak was a smirking Leyten. The final man and the cornerstone of the little recovery party was Dalinar whom now had closed the perpendicularity. He’d been standing in the shallows but the water hadn’t crossed over his boots.
Kaladin chuckled to himself, thankful that because of the willshaper’s last second observation they would at least have dry socks on their flight home. He adjusted his own lashings in order to bring him closer toward his grandfather, whom was now casually drifting about two meters off the ground above the sand.
Before Kaladin could even reach him the glow that surrounded the herald was snuffed out and the windrunner’s lashings had been dismissed. Kalak dropped to the ground into a crouch before standing up straight again and brushing down his robes.
“How did you do that?” Kaladin asked as he lingered in the sky with a slight cock to his head.
“You aren’t the first windrunner to lash me kid. After a few epochs you tend to pick up a trick or two.” Kalak retorted gruffly but choose not to elaborate leaving Kaladin stumped. The herald had turned now facing Dalinar, a familiar face from his past though this time he wasn’t playing the part of Restares and Dalinar was not passed out drunk.
“Kelek'Elin, it is an honour to meet you.” The Urithiru ruler reached out with a hand. Kalak was hesitant to take it looking at the outstretched appendage with some consideration before finally taking hold. “Likewise, King Dalinar. Though perhaps we should spare the introductions until we are back at the tower.”
With everyone in agreement with Kalak’s wariness as they lingered on the edge of enemy Tukar lands the four windrunners took to the skies lashing their precious cargo with them for the final stretch of the journey home.