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Kaladin slumped to his knees. His Stormlight seemed to frighten off the enemies; everyone stayed away from him. Syl spun around him, begging for him to listen, but he couldn't hear her. The king... he thought, numb. Get...get to Elhokar...
There was still so much Syl didn't understand about humans, even her human. Sometimes especially her human. Some things about him made sense. That the weeks of rain during the Weeping that brought no Stormlight and no touch of her father's presence should make him sad, that made sense, even if the other humans didn't see it. But sometimes the same darkness came on him at other times, and Syl could see no reason. It had never come on him during a fight before, though, and this was worse than usual. He didn't even seem to hear her, and his thoughts came through their bond so slowly it was like he was wading through mud.
Elhokar had fallen to his knees. In one arm he held his terrified son, in the other hand he held...a sheet of paper? A sketch? Kaladin could almost hear Elhokar stuttering the words. Life...life before death... The hair on Kaladin's neck rose. Elhokar started to glow softly.
Another human saying the Words was making him better? Well, that made as much sense as Kaladin usually did. Perhaps a little more. They did need more people to fight in this battle. That still hurt Syl, but she was growing used to it. She could kill to protect. If she didn't, it wouldn't stop the killing, it would make it worse. And Kaladin felt responsible for Elhokar. Elhokar being able to protect himself might be lifting some of that weight from him. Syl found herself feeling grateful to the spren that was bonding Elhokar, even though it was a Cryptic. That was weird.
Strength...before weakness... "Do it, Elhokar," Kaladin whispered.
Syl cheered Elhokar and stuck two parshmens' axes together in her glee. Kaladin didn't even notice, even though she'd stopped two of the people from fighting, which was what he'd wanted so badly earlier.
Journey. Journey before... A figure emerged from the battle. A tall, lean man - so, so familiar. Gloom seemed to cling to Moash, who wore a brown uniform like the parshmen. For a heartbeat the battle pivoted on him. Wall Guard behind him, broken Palace Guard before.
Oh no. This was bad. Moash had tried to kill the king before. Moash had almost killed Kaladin, and made Syl's death permanent. Kaladin needed to get up! Elhokar wasn't ready yet and Moash was behind him! "Kaladin! Kaladin, stand up!"
"Moash, no," Kaladin whispered. Stormlight bled from him, leaving him empty, exhausted.
That wasn't working. Syl couldn't make herself be a Sylspear for anyone but Kaladin. He had to summon her. If Kaladin threw her as a spear at Moash, maybe that would be fast enough, but Kaladin wasn't reacting at all. She had to do something.
Moash lowered his spear to run Elkohar through the chest. Syl took the shape of a ribbon of light and rode the currents of air towards the door. She couldn't be a spear or a sword or a shield for Elhokar. But she was an honorspren. She bound things. It was one thing she had been able to do even unbonded, even without remembering herself.
So she stuck Moash's shoes to the floor and his uniform to his shoes and his body to his uniform and most especially to his socks.
His smooth spearthrust stuttered midair as his sleeves were suddenly stuck to his arms and themselves like they'd been drenched in glue. He tried to take a step to regain his balance and his feet wouldn't move. He dropped his spear, arms flailing wildly for balance, and Syl blew it out of his reach on a gust of wind.
"...destination," said Elhokar, and Stormlight exploded from him, knocking Moash, and nearly everyone who was standing within ten feet of the king, over backwards.
He fell awkwardly, because his feet were still stuck to his socks which were stuck to his boots, so he couldn't actually fall properly so much as sort of fold up like a chair. Syl giggled.
Kaladin was staring at the scene in front of him, but the shock and betrayal in his eyes was slowly giving way to something else, something much, much brighter.
The queen descended the stairs, wreathed in black smoke, eyes glowing red. She'd transformed, strange crystal formations having pierced her skin like carapace. Her chest was glowing bright with a gemstone, as if it had replaced her heart. It shone through her dress.
That was bad. Syl hurriedly rode the wind back to Kaladin, who had the presence of mind to summon her as a spear now (which was excellent) but was still out of Stormlight. Elhokar reached for his dead spren with the hand that wasn't holding his son, but then jerked it back with a cry almost as soon as he touched it, and he'd only sworn one oath - he wouldn't be able to call his Cryptic as a blade yet. The Queen's Guard was forming up around him, spears and crossbows at the ready. Moash was pulling himself to his feet, still clumsily, but Syl's sticking wouldn't last much longer. And Kaladin's hand was shaking on her spearhaft.
And then...light. Glowing Stormlight flooded the chamber as twin Radiants exploded out from the Sunwalk. Drehy and Skar swept through the enemy, driving them back with sweeping spears and Lashings.
They took up their station on either side of Elhokar, apparently preparing to face the queen, but Moash lunged for Elhokar again and Drehy had to turn to defend him. This still wasn't good. Whatever the queen had done, it was wrong, in a way Syl couldn't even describe to herself, and Kaladin was responding, but he wasn't fighting. Adolin took his arm. "Come on, bridgeboy. We need to get to the Oathgate."
Kaladin nodded, and Syl internally cheered for Elhokar again. "Drehy! Skar! We need to get the prince out of here!" Adolin called. "We'll regroup on the platform!"
They turned, but Elhokar hesitated, looking back at the queen. "Elhokar, this is no place for your son!" Adolin shouted, and Elhokar followed the bridgemen.
Together, they ran for the Sunwalk, and, hopefully, reinforcements.