The Way of Kings Author: Sanderson Brandon copyright / DMCA form · DOWNLOAD EPUB The Way of Kings (The Stormlight Archive) · Read more. THE WAY OF KINGS TOR BOOKS BY BRANDON SANDERSON Warbreaker The Mistborn Trilogy Mistborn The Well of Ascension The Hero of Ages Elantris BRANDON SANDERSON THE WAY OF KINGS Book One of THE STORMLIGHT ARCHIVE A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I finished the first draft. Widely acclaimed for his work completing Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time saga, Brandon Sanderson now begins a grand cycle of his own, one every bit as.
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You can find it at osakeya.info just search for Brandon Sanderson. There is a collection of all his books. The Way of Kings: Book One of the Stormlight Archive (The Stormlight Archive series) by Brandon Sanderson. Read online, or download in DRM-free EPUB. Author: Brandon Sanderson. A really well acclaimed Whitney Awards - Best Novel of the Year (won) for The Way of Kings () Goodreads.
Men trade kingdoms for Shardblades. Wars were fought for them, and won by them. One such war rages on a ruined landscape called the Shattered Plains. There, Kaladin, who traded his medical apprenticeship for a spear to protect his little brother, has been reduced to slavery. In a war that makes no sense, where ten armies fight separately against a single foe, he struggles to save his men and to fathom the leaders who consider them expendable. Brightlord Dalinar Kholin commands one of those other armies.
Like his brother, the late king, he is fascinated by an ancient text called The Way of Kings. Troubled by over-powering visions of ancient times and the Knights Radiant, he has begun to doubt his own sanity.
Across the ocean, an untried young woman named Shallan seeks to train under an eminent scholar and notorious heretic, Dalinar's niece, Jasnah. Though she genuinely loves learning, Shallan's motives are less than pure. You are all wonderful people, and I'd give you Shardblades if I could.
This is turning into an epic acknowledgments. But there are still a few more people that need notice. The writing of these words is happening right around the one year anniversary of me hiring the Inevitable Peter Ahlstrom as my personal assistant, editorial aid, and extra brain.
If you go through previous acknowledgments pages, you'll always find him there.
He's been a dear friend of mine, and an advocate of my work, for years. I'm lucky to now have him working for me full time.
He got up at three a.
When you next see him at a convention, download him a block of cheese. I would also be remiss if I didn't thank Tom Doherty for letting me get away with writing this book. It's because of Tom's belief in this project that we were able to get away with the novel being so long, and a personal call from Tom was what managed to get Michael Whelan to do the cover.
Tom has given me more here than I probably deserve; this novel at the length it boasts, with the number of illustrations and artwork it contains is the type that would make many publishers run away at full speed. This man is the reason Tor consistently releases such awesome books. Finally, a moment on Michael Whelan's wonderful cover. For those who haven't heard the story, I started reading fantasy novels indeed, I became a reader in the first place back as a teenager because of a beautiful Michael Whelan cover painting.
He has a unique ability to capture the true soul of a book in a painting-I always knew I could trust a novel with one of his covers. I've dreamed of someday having a painting of his on one of my books. It seemed something I was unlikely ever to receive. To finally have it happen-and on the novel of my heart that I've been working on for so long-is an amazing honor. The Way of Kings Prologue: To Kill Part One: Above Silence 1: The Illuminating Storms UNITY RYSN Dying SIDES BAXIL Storm's Illumination DUNNY FEAR CODES WORDS The Silence Above TRUST Skyeels Map of the Lumberyard Shallan's Sketchbook: Shalebark Shallan's Sketchbook: Rockbuds Navani's Notebook: One Shallan's Sketchbook: Plants Navani's Notebook: The enormous stone beast lay on its side, riblike protrusions from its chest broken and cracked.
The monstrosity was vaguely skeletal in shape, with unnaturally long limbs that sprouted from granite shoulders. The eyes were deep red spots on the arrowhead face, as if created by a fire burning deep within the stone. They faded. Even after all these centuries, seeing a thunderclast up close made Kalak shiver.
The beast's hand was as long as a man was tall. He'd been killed by hands like those before, and it hadn't been pleasant. Of course, dying rarely was.
He rounded the creature, picking his way more carefully across the battlefield. The plain was a place of misshapen rock and stone, natural pillars rising around him, bodies littering the ground. Few plants lived here. The stone ridges and mounds bore numerous scars. Some were shattered, blasted-out sections where Surgebinders had fought.
Less frequently, he passed cracked, oddly shaped hollows where thunderclasts had ripped themselves free of the stone to join the fray. Many of the bodies around him were human; many were not. Blood mixed. Though none of the bodies around him stirred, an indistinct haze of sounds hung in the air. Moans of pain, cries of grief.
They did not seem like the sounds of victory. Smoke curled from the occasional patches of growth or heaps of burning corpses. Even some sections of rock smoldered. The Dustbringers had done their work well. But I survived, Kalak thought, hand to breast as he hastened to the meeting place. I actually survived this time. That was dangerous. When he died, he was sent back, no choice. When he survived the Desolation, he was supposed to go back as well.
Back to that place that he dreaded. Back to that place of pain and fire. What if he just decided,,,not to go? Perilous thoughts, perhaps traitorous thoughts.
He hastened on his way. The place of meeting was in the shadow of a large rock formation, a spire rising into the sky. As always, the ten of them had decided upon it before the battle. The survivors would make their way here. Oddly, only one of the others was waiting for him. Had the other eight all died? It was possible. The battle had been so furious this time, one of the worst. The enemy was growing increasingly tenacious. But no.
Kalak frowned as he stepped up to the base of the spire. Seven magnificent swords stood proudly here, driven point-first into the stone ground. Each was a masterly work of art, flowing in design, inscribed with glyphs and patterns. He recognized each one. If their masters had died, the Blades would have vanished. These Blades were weapons of power beyond even Shardblades. These were unique. Jezrien stood outside the ring of swords, looking eastward.
Even after all these centuries, Jezrien looked young, like a man barely into his thirtieth year.
His short black beard was neatly trimmed, though his once-fine clothing was scorched and stained with blood. He folded his arms behind his back as he turned to Kalak. Though he hadn't worn a crown in centuries, his royal manner lingered. He always seemed to know what to do. Only one of us died this time. His was the only Blade unaccounted for. He died holding that passage by the northern waterway.
Taln had a tendency to choose seemingly hopeless fights and win them. He also had a tendency to die in the process. He would be back now, in the place where they went between Desolations. The place of nightmares.
Kalak found himself shaking. When had he become so weak? How long had it been? Centuries, perhaps millennia, of torture. It was so hard to keep track. Those fires, those hooks, digging into his flesh anew each day. Searing the skin off his arm, then burning the fat, then driving to the bone. He could smell it. Almighty, he could smell it! We weren't certain if you had survived. A,,,a decision has been made. It is time for the Oathpact to end.
There is a chance we might end the cycle of Desolations. Black smoke rose from a small patch to their left. Groans of the dying haunted them from behind. There, in Jezrien's eyes, Kalak saw anguish and grief. Perhaps even cowardice. This was a man hanging from a cliff by a thread. Almighty above, Kalak thought.
You're broken too, aren't you? They all were. Kalak turned and walked to the side, where a low ridge overlooked part of the battlefield.
There were so many corpses, and among them walked the living.