Chapter Text
Oroden was delivering prescriptions to families on the lower levels. He had snuck some extra fathom bark for Sharn to help with her phantom pain. Father was supplied more than he would need for the month anyway. Sharn’s apartment was his last stop, so she invited him to join the family for lunch in the breakaway.
They bought food from the street vendors and sat by the sheer window to eat. Sharn’s brother asked Oroden about his sword training.
“I wish I could learn. Of course the ardents won’t teach me because I’m dark-eyed.” Kol complained for the hundredth time.
Oroden sighed, pink irritationspren floated to him. He was tired of his dark-eyed friends needling him about this. “I barely know how to hold a sword, Kol. I can’t teach you.”
Kol rolled his eyes. “No need to be humble. You’re good at everything.”
“Well,” Oroden said slowly, “If you want me to teach you glyphs, or to read, or surgery –“
“Ugh. No. Those are all for women.” Kol slouched back on the bench.
Oroden rolled his eyes. “They’re not all –“
“What is that?” Kol stood up suddenly and ran to the window.
Sharn and Oroden followed his gaze. A mass of clouds casting darkness was steadily approaching Urithiru.
“Is that a stormwall?” Kol asked.
“Like the Everstorm?” Oroden asked. “That would come from the west.”
“Like a Highstorm.” Sharn breathed out, watching the darkness with wonder.
Oroden frowned at the approaching storm. A crowd was rapidly forming around the large window to watch the storm’s approach. It seemed like every single shockspren and awespren in the tower had gathered to greet the storm. Patrolling Windrunners were circling the tower to find open windows to retreat to while the people milling around the mountain grounds raced inside.
Uncle Lopen gave Oroden a small wave as he fell sideways past the window. He was directing Windrunners to ensure everyone outside made it to safety, closing doors and windows as they went. One final sweep and the last Windrunners retreated into the tower just before the remaining sunlight was swallowed by the storm.
Oroden watched the snow swirling in massive gusts of wind. He could just hear the howling through the glass and the buzz of the crowd. He flinched at a flash of light and muffled crack that cut through the noise. Children screeched and ran to hide behind their mothers. He heard low murmurs asking what this meant, and laughter from older children delighting in the novelty, and –
The barrier was down for the first time in fifteen years.
Oroden moved the instant he registered that fact. He was on the lowest level, so he just had to fight through the crowd and make it to the alleys. Windrunners didn’t patrol there. Sharn and Kol didn’t pay any attention to him, they probably thought he wanted to get a better vantage to view the storm. And Lopen had seen him with his friends and should assume he stayed. That should buy him time.
As he wound his way through the residential halls, he felt strange thrumming from the walls, perhaps from the strata itself. Like it had just been revived, and its heart was pumping blood through its arteries. Oroden sped up almost to a jog to escape the feeling of being watched. He glanced behind him. No Windrunners. He was probably just shaken by the strange storm.
He made it to one of the vents that he knew led to the outside of the tower. He couldn’t use the vents very often, but his lanky frame could just barely crawl through this one. He tried to keep an ear out for Lift but didn’t think it would help since the wind and crackling thunder seemed to be amplified in the tight crawlspace.
He dropped out the other side of the vent onto the rocks and took off in a dash. He was forced to slow when he reached deeper snow. He hadn’t walked through snow before. He forced himself to ignore the spiky coldspren gathering around his feet.
There was no rain. He had been told the Highstorms brought crem-filled rain. Adin had explained how difficult pottery was without it. So he must have been right, about this not being a highstorm.
The wind and snow buffeted his face as he trudged through the deep snow. It felt like ice was slicing his skin. He breathed into his hands and held them to his face, hoping to warm it up. When he rubbed his hands together, he saw blood on his palm. His cheek had actually been sliced, and he was too numb to feel the pain. He took out his surgeon’s apron to use as a makeshift hood to protect his face from the ice.
The lightning wasn’t striking in his area at least. He didn’t actually know what would happen if he was struck by it. His father had focused his education on injuries and illness common inside the tower.
There were windspren, hundreds of them in fact, swirling around in the storm. Breathing became easier as one flew past him. He used the soft glow they gave off to navigate jagged rock formations.
The next time he went to warm up his hands he noticed the dark purple colour in the tips. Damnation. He hadn’t expected it to be this cold. He was shivering so violently his teeth were chattering, and his fingers were going to necrotize if he didn’t warm them up soon.
He turned briefly to look at Urithiru. It was bigger than he realized, looking at it from the outside like this. He could go back. He probably didn’t even need to go inside the tower, just find a sheltered cave or nook to wait out the storm. But the closer he was to the tower, the greater chance for a Windrunner to find him. Hopefully he had until the storm passed before they would search for him, but he wanted to be away and hidden before they tried.
Oroden turned back, following the path of the wind to speed him along. He just had to get low and find some sort of shelter. Quickly. Except he couldn’t see anything, even with the windspren. The snow obscured his vision too much. There were windspren circling around him, making it even more difficult to see anything apart from a brighter blue light heading directly towards him.
He stumbled over a rock, catching himself on his knees. The wind had died down around him, though the snow further out was still billowing at full force. He was too damn cold. He struggled to stand up and found he couldn’t uncross his arms. Violet fear spren gathered around his feet, following his footsteps in the snow. He stumbled again, apparently on nothing.
Oroden gasped in the still, cool air. He was still in the snow where he’d fallen, but now he was sitting, or leaning on something. No, someone.
Oroden scrambled away from whoever was holding him, the coat around his shoulders falling away, a tattered grey gloomspren fluttering around him. He turned to face the man, probably Uncle Lopen.
Oroden glanced around to make sure he was still on the mountains around Urithiru, then he looked back at his brother.
“Am I dead or are you alive?”
Kaladin chuckled softly. “I’m alive.”
Oroden debated asking questions, but he wouldn’t have forever before the Windrunners started looking for him. So he got up and started walking deep into the mountains.
“Hey!” Kaladin called as Oroden trudged from him. “Where are you going?”
“Away.”
“And then?” Kaladin floated just in front of him.
Oroden shrugged.
“You will need to return to the tower eventually.”
Oroden scowled. “I don’t see why.”
Kaladin returned a flat stare.
“Well, where are you going?” Oroden asked.
“Back to Urithiru, tonight.”
“I suppose you expect me to return.” Oroden grumbled.
Kaladin sighed. “There’s not really anywhere else to go.”
Oroden stopped in his tracks and turned back to Urithiru. It was still so massive. And there were lights darting out of the windows. Damnation. Oroden resumed his slow trudge.
“If I don’t escape now, I never will.” Oroden muttered.
“The barrier is down permanently. You can leave through an oathgate.”
Oroden faltered. “All the oathgates are closed.”
“Then you can leave with a proper coat. And food.”
Red and white petals fell around Oroden, and he felt his face heat uncomfortably in the cold air. Fantastic, he would literally die of embarrassment if his blood was drawn away from his brain and heart.
“At least let me lash you further down.” Kaladin offered his hand.
Oroden stopped and looked at his brother’s calloused palm. He hesitantly grasped the hand.
Kaladin tapped his shoulder. Oroden was filled with stormlight and was slowly pushed off the snow. Then the wind caught him, pushing him towards Kaladin as they fell over the side of the mountain. Grasses withdrew in their wake.
Kaladin set them down in a cave and handed Oroden his blue coat. Oroden slipped his arms through.
“What about you?” Oroden asked, eyeing Kaladin’s billowy shirt.
“I can’t get cold,” Kaladin said.
“Oh yeah, Windrunner stuff. So you’re gonna leave me in these mountains?”
Kaladin raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Oroden grunted. He took a breath before he spoke. “I don’t think Mother and Father will let me leave, if they can stop me.”
“How? You’re an adult, it’s not like they can force you to stay if it’s possible to leave.”
“Can you tell them that? Because they dismiss me every time I raise it.” Oroden crossed his arms, pink motes surrounded him. “They say, ‘Oh Oroden, we just want you to be safe. Kaladin would want you to be safe. Just stay here and be a surgeon with your father.’”
Kaladin chuckled nervously. “Sure. I’ll do that.”
Oroden watched his brother. He had been confident before but suddenly seemed like an awkward teenager himself.
“Actually, maybe I will return to the tower. I’d like to see how you explain yourself to Mother. Maybe you could teach me how to handle her. Or prove such a poor comparison that they get off my case.”
Oroden looked around the cave. The cliff was rocky and sloped. He could probably climb down, and there were tunnels leading further in.
“The tunnels on this mountain lead back to Urithiru.” Kaladin hesitated. “I can leave some windspren with you to guide you back.”
Oroden nodded absently. “I suppose.”
He turned to face his brother. It was more than awkwardness making Kaladin look young. He only looked a few years older than Oroden. Kaladin glanced over his shoulder distractedly.
“That dream was real, wasn’t it?” Kaladin started at Oroden’s question. “I should have realised earlier. Maybe if I’d told any of the Kholins…” Oroden shook his head to refocus his thoughts. “How long can you stay with me here?”
“Technically until the end of the storm. But it’s harder the further I am from the storm wall. I don’t know how much longer I can actually maintain this.”
Oroden assumed as much. He looked over the cliff. “Can we go further down?”
Kaladin grinned, placing a hand on Oroden’s shoulder to lash him, and took them into the storm again.