“Watch for an ambush,” he told Syl as they burst from the corridor and into the Breakaway market. This large room, truly cavernous, was four stories high and packed with shops along the ground. Many were along roadways that Navani—reluctantly adapting to the will of the people—had laid out in the way they wanted. Other parts were snarls of tents and semipermanent wooden structures.

Central to the layout was the enormous well. Kaladin wasn’t high enough to see over the buildings and make it out, but he knew the location. The Edgedancer clinic was nearby, though it was now staffed by ordinary surgeons. He hoped his parents and little brother had made it safely there, where the other surgeons would hide them. They’d checked a few days back and found his father’s clinic empty.

Storms. If he lost his family …

“The Pursuer!” Syl said. “He was waiting by the other entrance.”

Kaladin reacted just in time, deactivating the fabrial and dropping to the ground, where he tucked and rolled. The relentless Fused appeared from his ribbon of light and dropped to the ground too, but Kaladin rolled to his feet out of the creature’s reach.

“Your death,” the creature growled, crouched among terrified marketgoers, “is growing tedious, Windrunner. How is it you recovered all of your Lashings?”

Kaladin launched himself into the air, activating the device and shooting upward. It jerked his arm painfully, but he’d grown used to that—and Stormlight worked to heal the soreness. He’d also practiced his old one-handed spear grips. Hopefully that training would serve him today.

He wasn’t nearly as maneuverable with this device as he was with Lashings. Indeed, as the Pursuer gave chase as a ribbon, Kaladin’s only real recourse was to cut the device and drop past him. Near the ground, Kaladin pointed his hand to the side and reengaged the device, then went shooting out across the crowd in the general direction of the well. Maybe—

He lurched to a stop as the first of the device’s weights bottomed out. A heartbeat later the Pursuer slammed into him, grabbing him around the neck and hanging on.

“Kaladin!” Syl shouted. “Heavenly Ones! Over a dozen of them! They’re streaming in through the tunnels.”

“Good,” Kaladin said with a grunt, dropping his spear and grappling against the Pursuer with the hand he could move.

“Good?” she asked.

He couldn’t both grapple and twist the dial on his fabrial—the one that would activate the second weight. But he could deactivate the device using one hand, so he did that, dropping them ten feet to the ground. The Pursuer hit first with a grunt. He hung on though, rolling Kaladin to try to pin him.

“Turn … the dial,” Kaladin said to Syl, using both hands to struggle with the Pursuer.

“When you die,” the creature said in his ear, “I will find the next Radiant your spren bonds and kill them too. As payment for the trouble you have given me.”

Syl zipped down to his left wrist and took the shape of an eel, pushing against the raised section at the center of the dial. She could turn a page, lift a leaf. Would she be strong enough to—

Click.

Kaladin twisted in the Pursuer’s grip, barely managing to press his left hand to the creature’s armored chest. Activating the device sent them both moving upward—but slowly. Storms, Kaladin hadn’t thought this through. He’d only be able to lift as much as the counterweight. Apparently he and the Pursuer together were about that heavy.

Fortunately, rather than taking advantage of the slow movement, the Pursuer paused and glanced at Kaladin’s hand, trying to figure out what was happening. So, as they inched upward, Kaladin was able to rip his right hand free. He reached for the scalpel he’d affixed in a makeshift sheath at his belt, then brought it up and rammed it into the Pursuer’s wrist, slicing the tendons there.

The creature immediately let go, vanishing, leaving a husk behind. Once that dropped off of Kaladin, he immediately went darting up into the sky, pulled by his hand in an awkward motion that nearly ripped his arm from its socket.

“This … isn’t that effective, is it?” Syl asked.

“No,” Kaladin said, slowing himself by relaxing his grip. He went to draw in more Stormlight, but realized he still had plenty raging in his veins. That was one advantage of the fabrial; he didn’t use up Light nearly as quickly.

The Heavenly Ones circled him in the air, but kept their distance. Kaladin searched for the Pursuer—the creature had used two bodies. He had a third one to waste before the fight became dangerous for him, so he wouldn’t retreat yet.

There, Kaladin thought, noting the red ribbon weaving between Heavenly Ones. The motions looked timid, uncommitted, and Kaladin took a moment to figure out why. The Pursuer was trying to delay Kaladin; each moment wasted was another one that might lead to the Sibling being corrupted.

Below, the market streets were quickly emptying of people. Kaladin’s fears about them revolting weren’t being realized, fortunately—but he couldn’t spend forever in a standoff with the Pursuer. So he disengaged the device and started falling.

This finally made the Pursuer dart for him, and Kaladin quickly reengaged the device—lurching to a halt. He twisted—though he couldn’t move his left arm—and prepared his knife. This sudden motion made the Pursuer back off, however. Could the creature … be afraid? That seemed implausible.

Kaladin didn’t have time to reflect, as he needed to engage the Pursuer a third time for his plan to work. So he turned away, inviting the attack—and receiving it as the Pursuer committed, darting in and forming a body that grabbed for Kaladin. Despite trying to speed away, Kaladin wasn’t quite able to evade the creature’s grip.

Kaladin was forced to let the Pursuer grab him around the neck as he stabbed the creature in the arm between two plates of carapace, trying to sever the tendons. The monster grunted, his arm around Kaladin’s throat. They continued to soar about thirty feet off the ground. Kaladin ignored the tight grip and maneuvered the scalpel. Perhaps if he could force the Pursuer to waste Voidlight healing …

Yes. Cut enough times to be worried, the Pursuer let go and flew away, seeking a place to recover. Panting, Kaladin used the device to drop to the ground. He landed on an empty street between two tents. People huddled inside both, crowding them.

Kaladin forced himself to jog to where he’d dropped his spear. Heavenly Ones circled above, preparing to attack. Syl moved up beside him, watching them. Two dozen now. Kaladin searched them, hoping …

There. He raised his spear toward Leshwi, who hovered apart from the others, wearing clothing too long for practical battle—even in the air. This event had caught her unaware.

Please, he thought. Accept the fight.

That was his best hope. He couldn’t fight them all at once; he could barely face the Pursuer. If he wanted any chance of getting to the node, he’d need to fight a single opponent—one who wasn’t as relentless as the Pursuer.

He worried he’d already wasted too much time. But if he could get Leshwi to agree to a duel …

She raised her spear toward him.

“Syl,” he said, “go to the well and find the fabrial of the node. It’s probably a sapphire, and should have a glass sphere nearby like the one we saw before.”