Brandon Sanderson: Elantris

And Shuden did it all with his eyes closed. Lukel couldn't be certain. but he thought he saw something else-a slight glow following Shuden's movements in the dawn shadows.

Yelling a battle cry-more to motivate himself than frighten his foes-Lukel grabbed the table leg and swung it at a soldier. The wood bounced off the man's helmet, but the blow was powerful enough to daze him, so Lukel followed it with a solid blow to the face. The soldier dropped and Lukel grabbed his weapon.

Now he had a sword. He only wished he knew how to use it.

The Dakhor were faster, stronger, and tougher, but Hrathen was more determined. For the first time in years, his heart and his mind agreed. He felt power-the same strength he had felt that first day when he had arrived in Arelon, confident in his ability to save its people.

He held them off, though just barely. Hrathen might not have been a Dakhor monk, but he was a master swordsman. What he lacked in comparative strength and speed he could compensate for in skill. He swung, thrusting his sword at a Dakhor chest, slamming it directly in between two bone ridges. The blade slid past enlarged ribs, piercing the heart. The Dakhor gasped, dropping as Hrathen whipped his sword free. The monk's companions, however, forced Hrathen to retreat defensively into the alleyway.

He felt Sarene stumbling behind him, pulling off her gag. "There are coo many!" she said. "You can't fight them all."

She was right. Fortunately, a wave moved through the crowd of warriors. and Hrathen heard the sounds of battle coming from the other side. Eventeo's honor guard had joined the affray.

"Come on," Sarene said. tugging his shoulder. Hrathen risked a glance behind him. The princess was pointing at a slightly ajar door in the building next to them. Hrathen nodded, battering away another attack, then turned to run.

Raoden burst from the water, gasping reflexively for breath. Galladon and Karata jumped back in surprise. Raoden felt the cool blue liquid streaming from his face. It wasn't water, but something else. Something thicker. He paid it little heed as he crawled from the pool.

"Sule!" Galladon whispered in surprise.

Raoden shook his head, unable to respond. They had expected him to dissolve-they didn't understand that the pool couldn't take him unless he wanted it to.

"Come." he finally rasped, stumbling to his feet.

Despite Lukel's energetic assault and Shuden's powerful attack, the other townspeople simply stood and watched in dumb stupefaction. Lukel found himself

desperately fighting three soldiers; the only reason he stayed alive was because he did more dodging and running than actual attacking. When aid finally did come. it was given by an odd source: the women.

Several of Sarene's fencers snatched up pieces of wood or fallen swords and fell in behind Lukel, thrusting with more control and ability than he could even feign to know. The brunt of their onslaught was pushed forward by surprise, and for a moment Lukel thought they might actually break free.

Then Shuden fell, crying out as a sword bit into his arm. As soon as the Jindo's concentration broke. so did his war dance, and a simple club to the head knocked him from the battle. The old queen, Eshen, fell next, a sword rammed through her chest. Her horrible scream, and the sight of the blood streaming down her dress, unnerved the other women. They broke, dropping their weapons. Lukel took a long gash on the thigh as one of his foes realized he had no clue how to use his weapon.

Lukel yeIled in pain and fell to the cobblestones. holding his leg. The soldier didn't even bother to finish him off.

Raoden dashed down the side of the mountain at a horrifying pace. The prince leapt and scrambled, as if he hadn't been practically comatose just a few minutes earlier. One slip at this pace. one wrong step, and he wouldn't stop rolling until he hit the foot of the mountain.

"Doloken!" Galladon said, trying his best to keep up. At this rate they would reach Kae in a matter of minutes.

Sarene hid beside her unlikely rescuer, holding perfectly still in the darkness.

Hrathen looked up through the floorboards. He had been the one to spot the cellar door. pulling it open and shoving her though. Underneath they had found a terrified family huddled in the blackness. They had all waited quietly, tense. as the Dakhor moved through the house then left out the front door.

Eventually, Hrathen nodded. "Let's go,' he said. reaching over to lift the trapdoor.

"Stay down here," Sarene told the family. "Don't come up until you absolutely have to."

The gyorn's armor clinked as he climbed the steps, then peeked cautiously into the room. He motioned for Sarene to follow, then moved into the small kitchen at the back of the house. He began pulling off his armor, dropping its pieces to the floor. Though he gave no explanation. Sarene understood the action. The bloodred gyorn's armor was far too distinctive to be worth its protective value.

As he worked, Sarene was surprised at the apparent weight of the metal.

"You've been walking around all these months in real armor? Wasn't that difficult?"

"The burden of my calling," Hrathen said. pulling off his final greave. Its bloodred paint was now scratched and dented. "A calling I no longer deserve." He dropped it with a clank.

He looked at the greave, then shook his head, pulling off his bulky cotton underclothing, meant to cushion the armor. He stood bare-chested, wearing only a pair of thin, knee-length trousers and a long, sleevelike band of cloth around his right arm.

Why the covered arm? Sarene wondered. Some piece of Derethi priest's garb? Other questions were more pressing. however.

"Why did you do it. Hrathen?" she asked. "Why turn against your people?" Hrathen paused. Then he looked away. "Dilaf 's actions are evil." "But your faith..

"My faith is in Jaddeth. a God who wants the devotion of men. A massacre does not serve Him."

"Wyrn seems to think differently."

Hrathen did not respond, instead selecting a cloak from a nearby chest. He handed it to her, then took another for himself. "Let us go."

Raoden 's feet were so covered with bumps, lacerations, and scrapes that he no longer related to them as pieces of flesh. They were simply lumps of pain burning at the end of his legs.

But still he ran on. He knew that if he stopped, the pain would claim him once again. He wasn't truly free-his mind was on loan. returned from the void to perform a single task. When he was finished, the white nothingness would suck him down into its oblivion again.

He stumbled toward the city of Kae, feeling as much as seeing his way.

Lukel lay dazed as Jalla pulled him back toward the mass of terrified townspeople. His leg throbbed, and he could feel his body weakening as blood spilled from the long gash. His wife bound it as best she could, but Lukel knew that the action was pointless. Even if she did manage to stop the bleeding, the soldiers were only going to kill them in a few moments anyway.

He watched in despair as one of the bare-chested warriors tossed a torch onto the pile of Elantrians. The oil-soaked bodies burst into flames.

The demon-man nodded to several soldiers, who pulled out their weapons and grimly advanced on the huddled townspeople.

"What is he doing?" Karata demanded as they reached the bottom of the slope. Raoden was still ahead of them, running in an unsteady gait toward Kae's short border wall.

"I don't know," Galladon said. Ahead, Raoden grabbed a long stick from the ground, then he started to run, dragging the length of wood behind him.

What are you up to, sule?Galladon wondered. Yet he could feel stubborn hope rising again. "Whatever it is, Karata, it is important. We must see that he finishes." He ran after Raoden, following the prince along his path.