Running out of Time

by Calcifur

Summary:

Kaladin gets hit by an anti-light weapon. The logical decision? Take it out and wait until he could take in stormlight. But what if the weapon hit a critical spot? And taking it out means instant death?
So Kaladin has to find another way out of choosing between anti-light poisoning or exsanguination.

OR

Kaladin makes a wrong choice on the battlefield which ends up almost killing him. Thankfully, the people who love him come to his rescue.
So the only reasonable thing would be to tell them he loves them back before he runs out of time.

Notes:

So remember when i said I’ll write an AU to my AU in my other work ‘Spears up his sleeve’ where Kaladin confesses first and then one person agreed with me?
Here you go.

You don’t need to read my other work to understand this by the way. It can totally be read as it’s own work.

That being said, KAL WHUMP KAL WHUMP KAL WHUMP KAL WHUMP KAL WHU-
THANK YOU NAVANI/RABONIAL FOR INVENTING ANTI LIGHT ITS DELICIOUS

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: No right choice

Antagonising a bunch of Heavenly Ones by coming in their way of killing all his men was something Kaladin was used to doing. Unfortunately for them, he was never going to regret it. He missed Leshwi. She made the chaos of war feel like it had some semblance of balance to it. He’d thought of Heavenly Ones in general as slightly honourable, but he was quickly learning that not every battle he participated in was going to have Leshwi’s soldiers, and the other ones were just as insane as any other Fused. It had been so long since he’d last seen her.

It was both relieving and disappointing that they didn’t have to get to fight on opposite sides anymore.

He’d just dealt with a group of Fused with some minor reinforcement needed from Drehy when he spotted another small group of Heavenly Ones flocking towards an arrow formation of ground soldiers trying to defend against them. Drehy spotted an incoming attack on one of his newer batch of squad. So Kaladin and Drehy nodded to each other and flew off in opposite directions.

Kaladin already had Syl summoned as a spear as he cut through the ranks of the Heavenly Ones. They disbanded slightly at his arrival, so he used the opportunity of having their attention to steer them away from the ground troops. They must have caught what they were doing but they let him anyway. That must have meant they had chosen him as their new target.

Just storming perfect. But it was what he’d tried doing in the first place, so he couldn’t complain.

Four on one were slightly unfair odds, but Kaladin thought he could handle it long enough for other Windrunners to get to him.

Give yourself some more credit, Kaladin, Syl said. I think four on one are very unfair odds.

I don’t know how that gives me more credit, Kaladin replied as he dodged a lance strike meant to have cleaved through his throat.

At this point, he’d gotten so used to aerial combat that he could let his body fight on it’s own. It was a rhythm of reflex. Strike, dodge, cut, block, parry, stab and repeat.

Syl didn’t reply. Because Kaladin was actually starting to find this a little difficult and needed to focus, so she did too.

Aerial battles were no longer the way they used to be. Kaladin could let himself feel slightly comforted in the past because the Heavenly Ones used to have a structure the Windrunners could exploit, and he supposed it helped them too. But now the time for honourable one-on-ones and unspoken duels that felt more like a dangerous dance was over.

This was war. And the Heavenly Ones no longer felt any qualms about employing all the dirty tricks they had. Kaladin supposed he couldn’t blame them for wanting an end to this meaningless fight.

His armourspren sent a vague sense of alarm and Kaladin figured out by some instinctive sense that he needed to look out for his left. Indeed, that stab had been close, aimed at his heart where his gemheart would have been if he were Fused. He sent gratitude back to his armour and got triumph in return. He was getting good at this; reading his armourspren and letting them help in more ways than just. . . forming his armour.

On your right. This time the warning came from Syl as a lance struck him in the head. His neck whipped to the side but he didn’t let the disorientation give opportunity to the other Fused.

A Heavenly One went in for an attack from his front and Kaladin Lashed himself upwards, then decided to keep going, play this on his own terms. But a fifth Heavenly One blocked his escape from above with a clean swipe that Kaladin only managed to block at the last minute.

Now, five was just too much. It was downright unfair. Surely this wasn’t allowed.

Everything is fair in love and war, Syl said sarcastically, but he could tell her voice was tense.

You need to stop reading those war books Adolin tells you about, Kaladin said. He grunted as he took a hit to his side, significantly shattering his plate.

Actually, it’s from one of those books the ladies read. I think it’s a proverb. Spear on your back.

Kaladin just managed to Lash himself sideways to avoid that spear. This wasn’t good. He was getting quickly surrounded. He couldn’t handle this alone. Kaladin decided to signal to one of his men. . . and promptly realised he was far too away from them than he’d initially realised.

Taln’s hands, he’d let them isolate him! He could barely see the other Windrunners fighting off somewhere in the distance like tiny dots darting in the sky.

That was too sloppy on his part. Time to get this over with.

He shifted Syl to a curved smaller blade and spun in the air, catching a Fused near the throat between his carapace but not enough to fell him. The Fused still chocked slightly on his own blood, falling back to give himself time to heal. Kaladin turned just in time to summon Syl as a warhammer and slammed her into the side of a Heavenly One, took a calculated hit on his shoulder to summon Syl as a spear and stab through that exposed spot just near the gemheart of another Heavenly One. That one went out instantly, eyes burning black.

He twisted out of the reach of a lunge, and parried a strike with his spear, feeling metal slide on metal with a shrill sound. He could see another Fused about to stab him in the side so he snapped out a common army knife from his thigh and stabbed the one in front still locked into the parry in his eye. The Fused shrieked and pulled back, giving Kaladin time to dodge the stab from his side and cut the head off the Heavenly One with the stabbed eye.

Two down. Maybe now he could finally manage to fly closer to reinforcements.

They’re getting angry, Syl warned.

Understandably so.

Kaladin dodged a swipe, blocked a slash and actually had to summersault in the air out of the range of a stab. He was mostly on the defensive now. His quick moment of catching them off guard over.

A Heavenly One feinted to the left, then brought his spear in a long swipe. At the same moment, a Fused from his side came in to skewer him on his lance. Kaladin could block both at once if he timed it righ—

A flash of light from the corner of his eye. A knife coming at him from afar. Time seemed to slow for a fraction of a moment.

If he dodged that knife he’d run himself straight into that lance, shardplate or not. If he blocked the attacks, he was definitely getting stabbed. He couldn’t block from all three sides at once.

Quick thinking, meant everything on the battlefield sometimes, unless when it didn’t because nothing meant anything in a war and you died anyway. Kaladin’s mind went through all these possible scenarios in a blink of an eye. And came to one instant decision.

He’d have to take a possibly fatal hit from one side.

He hadn’t decided which when, at the same instant, he saw Leshwi, flying straight towards him from another direction, full speed. Kaladin panicked, then felt relief, then panicked again, because she was shooting in their direction. It was  actually her.  She had her long lance summoned.

The spear of the Heavenly One in front of him cut clean through the slowed moment in half. Reflexively, Kaladin blocked, deciding his plate could either block that incoming knife or he could take it out and heal.

Kaladin! Syl screamed, voice pitched high. Stormlight! Expel your stormlight! Now!

Normally, Kaladin might have thought about the fact that expelling all his stormlight would mean he’d fall straight to his death. But right then, the sheer sudden panic and fear in Syl’s voice frightened him as well.

So in one burst of blinding light, Kaladin automatically pushed out every drop of stormlight he had in him. It made the Heavenly One in front and even Leshwi, at a distance, shield their eyes.

Something slammed into Kaladin’s chest with a thump. His shoulder jerked to the side from the impact. The agony followed only an instant later.

Then Kaladin was plummeting to his death under the force of gravity welcoming him back under it’s embrace with open arms.

Syl screamed. Leshwi’s mouth opened up above in a roar Kaladin couldn’t hear.

He almost brought his hand forward to summon Syl and challenge her to a duel, mindless of the fact that he was very much incapable of it in more ways than one in the moment. But then his eyes were closing.

Kaladin went out before he hit the ground.

Chapter 2: Knights in shining armour

Notes:

Been a while. I had a very bad no good downright horrible week, and it looks like im going to keep having some bad weeks according to the plan. This chapter was already written in my wips but i didnt even have the time to just update it.

My other fic’s last chapter will be on hold for now. Id written quite a bit but the chapter wasn’t finished. For now, it seems like I’ll be off this site for a while :(
But who knows! Maybe not! :D we’ll see

Anyway, sorry for leaving this on a cliffhanger then saying im gonna disappear. Hopefully I’ll be able to update soon. The cliffhanger is a gift <3 so yall dont forget about me

Kaladin opened his eyes on the ground, rough stone biting into his skin, and felt numb, ears ringing deaf, vision blurry. He blinked rapidly a few times, hard, until his vision settled somewhat and the ringing faded to the back of his mind and sound filtered in.

“. . .adin. Kaladin! Kaladin!”

He blinked again, mouth parted slightly as he shifted slowly on his back with an involuntary groan. There was ice bleeding into his heart and it gave him the strange feeling that he was actually freezing inside out. But that wasn’t right. He could feel the sweat breaking out on his skin.

A familiar zap jolted his cheek and he snapped his eyes open to see Syl hovering above his vision, panic clearly written in her eyes.

“. . .Syl?” he croaked, taking some time to find his voice, throat raw. It took him several moments to formulate words in his mind, then even more to actually get them out of his mouth. Stormfather, was he concussed right now?

“You’re awake!” Syl said, “I thought I’d messed up. Oh Kal, I messed up big time!”

He didn’t understand what any of that meant. There was a battle going on around him. He could hear the clash of steel weapons ringing out, but it felt distant, muffled, like he was underwater. He felt like an eternity passed between each blink but he was sure only moments passed, because he was still where he laid every time.

Was this a nightmare then? That certainly explained why he felt so numb. And so many of his nightmares started exactly like this. Kaladin, in a battlefield, alone, disconnected, as people he knew killed each other around him, or died because of his incompetence. He felt dread creeping up his chest at the prospect of witnessing something similar again.

But he. . .he remembered fighting in the sky. He didn’t remember falling.

He really should do something about that concussion, though it didn’t seem too bad. He inhaled a soft wisp of stormlight, feeling it work on cuts and bruises he hadn’t known he’d had, suppressing a sigh of relief and—

Pain.

A shock of it burst through his chest. Kaladin choked out a gasp, cutting off a scream. It took away his vision momentarily. He curled in on himself on his side, all alarm bells blaring in his mind, unable to parse where the pain originated and where it ended.

“Stop!” Syl screamed. “Stop! Kaladin, don’t do that!”

Kaladin let out something akin to a low whine as his stormlight ran out. The pain subsided, but it felt more like it was spreading through his heart in waves rather than piercing him with agony. He scrabbled at his chest where it felt the deepest and his fingers closed around a hilt of a blade instead.

He blinked again, panting hard as he looked down on himself. A dagger was buried hilt deep into his shoulder. . . he didn’t remember getting hit. . .

That explained the pain however, just not the unnatural intensity of it.

He realised then that he wasn’t concussed, however much of a miracle that was, because he’d clearly fallen from the sky mid fight. It was shock. That explained the cold. . . No, it actually didn’t. Kaladin knew what shock felt like. He was quite experience with getting stabbed actually. This cold was. . . It was internal.

“I’m sorry,” Syl said, sounding more panicked than before, voice wavering. “I’m sorry. I should have told you to dodge instead of expelling your stormlight. Of course, you’d fall to the ground without your Lashings— it was— so stupid. I’m sorr—“

“Hey,” Kaladin cut in softly, hearing her words but unable to process them in his head, feeling lightheaded from the pain. “Hey, it’s. . .I’m alive, aren’t I? It’s okay.”

Probably not for long, considering he was just lying down like this in the middle of a battlefield, exposed. He should at least try to get to shelter and try again with the stormlight, but the mere possibility of moving made his body scream in protest.

Syl scrunched her brow at his tone, so he must have not sounded as reassuring as  he’d tried to.

“Take it out, Kaladin. It’s messing with you,” she urged, truly panicked now, trying to put her hands around his wound but hissing and flying away from the blade still sticking inside him.

“. . .what?” he asked, taking several moments to realise she meant the dagger. “Syl, you know it’s dangerous to remove—“

Kaladin froze.

Anti-light.

His blood chilled, and this time with fear. He remembered suddenly what Syl was talking about. She’d screamed at him mid flight to expel his stormlight. He’d removed the last drop in a sudden explosion  just in time to get hit in his shoulder, near his chest. And didn’t remember the rest, until now.

“Syl,” he hissed, panic shooting through his veins. His eyes widened in alarm. “Are you alright? The anti-light— are you unharmed?”

Where was he? Why hadn’t he gotten attacked yet? When exactly did he get hit? From where? Who? All he remembered was separating from his Windrunner squad to get close to the ground so he could help the ground troops getting surrounded near the west, which explained why he wasn’t mortally injured from the fall alone.

“I’m fine. Worry about yourself first. Kaladin, you— take it out. Now.”

Kaladin wrapped his hand around the hilt again with a shaky exhale. He gritted his teeth, bracing himself when—

A shadow loomed over him. The crunch of carapaced feet hitting stone near him. Kaladin felt more than heard the whizz of a weapon descending upon him. Syl shouted in warning.

A desperate jolt of adrenaline gave him more strength than he had. He rolled sideways onto his knees, but not without a cry of pain tearing through his teeth at the movement as it jarred his injured shoulder. A spear tip hit the ground with a sharp clang where his throat had been a moment ago. A Regal Warform growled an angry rhythm as he pulled his spear back. Kaladin braced his chest as he stumbled sideways onto his feet again as he dodged a swipe pathetically. But he just sort of staggered on unsteady feet, hitting a protruding rock formation and leaning heavily on it, one hand hovering near his chest.

The blade was still inside him. Nausea churned in his stomach. And he just knew he couldn’t dodge the next attack.

“Oh, Kaladin! Just hold on. I’m going to call for help. Just— stay alive!” Syl yelled.

One part of Kaladin immediately agreed with her to call for reinforcements, even if he wasn’t sure he could stay standing even for another second while he waited—his legs were trembling already like they were going to buckle any minute now. But another part of him felt an immediate shock of alarm at Syl leaving his side. He didn’t remember being fearful in battle for a long time.

No matter, he couldn’t summon Syl as a weapon anyway. Not without risking hurting her.

The Regal advanced on his leaning form and Kaladin pushed off the rock formation shakily, whipping out another knife from his belt, shifting into a defensive stance. Almighty, he was shaking too terribly to hold the knife properly. But stand and fight he would. He was not going down without one.

But before Syl could even leave his side, a Shardblade came swinging in his line of sight. The Singer dodged to the side. Blue Shardplate gleamed in the sun, bright enough to make Kaladin look away.

Adolin.

How glad Kaladin was to see him, having no idea where he even came from. He saw one concerned look hastily thrown his way through the eye-slit before the Singer charged again, this time distracted from Kaladin.

Kaladin just sort of collapsed the rest of the way to the ground, leaning against the rock face, trusting Adolin to take care of it. Syl fluttered around his face anxiously. Adolin’s Cobalt Guard caught up a few moments later, naturally setting up around them like a human shield to protect them from getting surrounded as more Singers came their way. Kaladin realised Adolin must have broken through his Guard lines to get to him.

His mind urged him to stay alert, to get up and fight, help Adolin. He couldn’t just sit there. But he didn’t have the strength to even lift his hands. He knew he should take out the dagger in his chest, that it was poisoning him still with each beat of his heart with anti-light, but he felt too tired. And there was something else, some old instinct that told him it was a bad idea. But he thought it was just his surgeon mind against the idea of something clearly against medical advice.

“Kaladin, I don’t like this. You don’t look so good,” Syl said.

Kaladin leaned his head back against the rock, tilting sideways. “. . . thanks,” he slurred drily.

Syl’s alarm was so forceful that it was palpable through his bond, despite the way his senses felt muted. He felt. . . disconnected, cut off from a piece of himself.

He curled in on himself on the ground, digging his face back into the stone as another wave of pain made his teeth grind together, clutching his shoulder.

Cold. . . he was so cold. . .

Strong hands wrapped around his good arm, gently hauling him until he was sitting up again, cradling the side of his head, bleeding warmth into him wherever they touched.

“Kal, hey. Hey, bridgeboy, can you hear me?” Adolin said gently, though Kaladin could hear the undercurrent of worry in his voice.

Kaladin grunted weakly in affirmative, slumping into his arms. Adolin’s hand touched his wound and Kaladin hissed, flinching away from him.

Before Adolin could say a word, however, a few Heavenly Ones flew past above them, making him duck instinctively. They were too close to the ground for comfort but they hadn’t spared them a glance, almost as if. . . being chased. But Kaladin couldn’t see any Windrunners. Adolin’s Cobalt Guard were still fighting around them, providing them the time they had, clearing the space around them.

Adolin looked around. Their only line of defence was quickly being overwhelmed. Kaladin saw a few soldiers be cut down, others scrambling to take over and make up for their rapidly decreasing numbers. Kaladin didn’t know how Adolin had found him when not even his own Windrunners had. But then again, Kaladin had foolishly left them behind quite far to go off alone.

“We should get you somewhere safer,” Adolin said firmly, the commander in him surfacing.

Kaladin said nothing, though he didn’t know how that would help any. Even though he’d been thinking of doing the same a while ago. He felt the urge to tear out that knife from his chest as soon as possible, but a stronger part of his mind rebelled against it. He needed to take it out carefully and that required time they didn’t have in an active battlefield.

“Syl,” Adolin said. “Can you find Radiant? She’s not far, a bit off to the south. Tell her to cut us a path towards that alcove.” He pointed to what Kaladin assumed was said alcove, though he couldn’t lift his head to actually see it. Syl did though and nodded frantically. She gave Kaladin one worried look and flew off.

Adolin shifted to Kaladin’s good side and wrapped his arm over his shoulders, the other hand gripping low near his torso so as to not hurt him accidentally. Kaladin knew what was coming and still couldn’t bite back the pained groan that escaped his lips as Adolin lifted them both from the ground.

Adolin winced slightly. “Sorry,” he said.

But then he started moving and Kaladin didn’t know how he was going to make it all the way there without passing out from the pain. He was pressed flush against Adolin, who took over almost half of Kaladin’s weight. Kaladin should have been very grateful for Adolin’s strength at that moment, but he was busy keeping his legs working to think of much.

Something tugged at his ribs and he pressed a hand to his chest with a grimace, an uncomfortable feeling. Then all of a sudden a cough was tearing out of his throat, wracking his entire frame with the force of it. Then another, and another and another—

Rough stone bit into his knees. He was on his knees. He didn’t remember falling. His arm was still around Adolin, who himself was on one knee beside him, keeping one hand on Kaladin’s good shoulder to keep him up. He was shouting something at him, mouth open in panic. Kaladin’s vision swam. He wiped at his mouth shakily, and his hand came away bloody and warm. It still felt like something was stuck in his throat, tearing at his windpipe, but the heavy burden had relieved somewhat with the blood.

He’d coughed up blood. That was not good. It was… a symptom to… something. Stormfather, he couldn’t think straight. The name of the malady just wouldn’t come to him, though he knew that he knew about it. His father would chastise him for forgetting. He’d lose his break time to better memorise his lessons—

Plated hands took in his collar and hauled him up on his feet. Kaladin went with a cry, stumbled and nearly fell forward into Radiant, one hand flying to catch her arm for support. She seemed just as surprised by his inability to stand straight as he was.

Adolin took his arm again and took on his weight. Kaladin went willingly. He couldn’t do much anyway. Storms, he felt pathetic.

“Careful, Radiant!” He heard Adolin shout through his muffled hearing. “He’s injured.” Adolin wrapped his arm around Kaladin, almost protectively.

The grimace that took over Radiant’s features had Shallan’s tone to it. So was the guilt flickering across her eyes as she tried to give him an apologetic look. Kaladin tried to nod at her in reassurance, but he sort of just ducked his head and couldn’t lift it again.

He’d thought that Shallan had emerged now but it was Radiant’s voice coming out of her mouth, calm and controlled, when she spoke: “We don’t have time to lose. We need to get there before they think to follow us. Quick, come.”

Kaladin realised then that they had already started moving again. Storms, his awareness had been killed. He wouldn’t have lasted a minute on his own, without Adolin. It was disturbing, to rely on someone else for survival, but also strangely… relieving. For once, it wasn’t in Kaladin’s hands alone. Besides, he trusted Adolin and Radiant. Whatever decisions to be made, it wasn’t in his hands. Whether he lived or died, Kaladin could do nothing about it.

The lack of control was unnerving, but… freeing. Kaladin could let go for once, let someone else handle it. Yes, he could even welcome it. . .

Kaladin!

Syl’s voice flooded in his mind, chasing away his own thoughts for a split second. He often wished she could do that for his mind permanently, until none of his own invading thoughts were left. But too soon, his mind started churning again, but the moment of clarity was enough.

You’re becoming delirious! I don’t know what to do about it, Syl said, flying along somewhere nearby but Kaladin couldn’t track her movements without making himself dizzy.

I’m not delirious, he said. Yet, he didn’t add.

Radiant had gone ahead to clear up their path but her garnet red plate came in his view again a few moments later and he saw her getting in as close to them as she could while fighting through ranks of Warforms. Thankfully, there were no Fused around.

Kaladin pressed his lips into a thin line and gritted his way through. Syl flew in front of him again as she returned, though she fortunately said nothing. Kaladin didn’t think he could muster up the strength to keep talking to her and keep going.

Heralds, moving around with that cold blade in him felt so unsettling. It made him feel feverish—cold ice seeping from his wound alternating with the burning waves of pain. Only Kaladin knew what being feverish was like and this was ten times worse.

Just as they seemed temptingly close to safety, the protection of the Cobalt Guard seemed to fall short. The Regals saw easy prey in them, no doubt a picture of a poor, wounded animal limping around in search of shelter. Radiant gave the signal for them to keep going, that she’ll handle it. But Kaladin could see the truth. They were all flocking here.

Still they kept going, while Radiant engaged three Warforms in battle at once. Adolin cursed, looking over his shoulder, but didn’t slow, instead increasing his pace. Kaladin bit back any protests from his body and tried his best to keep up.

A massive, hulking Warform cut their way with a powerful strike.

Adolin jumped back along with Kaladin on too nimble feet with a curse, dodging just in time. But they stumbled the rest of the way, his balance off while towing Kaladin along. And that one simple movement had nearly taken the wind out of Kaladin.

Adolin couldn’t fight with him along, that much was obvious. Kaladin began pulling his arm off of Adolin’s shoulders.

Adolin’s grip tightened on his arm.

“No,” he whispered. One simple word. It held everything that the princeling was.

Still, Kaladin tried to bargain, to make him see sense. “Adolin—“

“No,” he said, stronger this time. “Hold on for me. We’ll make it through.”

The Warform came upon them again. Radiant intercepted him with a sharp clang of her sword, standing in vinestance. Two Cobalt Guard soldiers took him on with her. Adolin nodded his gratitude at them and kept going.

Kaladin looked back behind Adolin’s head, guilty at leaving them to fight, abandoning the battle. This felt familiar. . .

“They can handle it,” Adolin said, making him turn back. “Have a little more trust in them, Kal.”

Kaladin nodded reluctantly without a word. Slowly, with Kaladin limping along, they started making their way over the battlefield. The alcove wasn’t far at all, but it still felt to him as if it might have been hundreds of feet away. His vision kept tunnelling, feeling like he lost several minutes between each blink. Syl helped, flying close whenever his vision strayed, yelling at him until he came back to himself, not fully letting him collapse.

Stormfather. . . he didn’t think he could do this. Make it that far. It hurt too much, making him squeeze his eyes shut, teeth gritting until he feared they’d crack.

He had to, though. He. . . that’s what he did, wasn’t it? He kept going, and going and going until he couldn’t anymore and then further.

So Kaladin sighed. And kept going.

Notes:

I’ll be back soon! <3 tell me your thoughts I’ll reply when i get the time to for sure

Chapter 3: Illusion of choice

Notes:

So, I butchered a lot of medical knowledge in this (i DID do SOME research but still) so if any of you out there are doctors and very much affronted by this…. please don’t strangle me 🙏
Though I WOULD like to know if there were any inaccuracies, and what they were. Id actually love it if anyone spots anything tbh.

Id already written this part earlier but there was a lot of editing to be done. As of now, theres no more written down but i will write more soon!

Other than that, i hope you like it!

They finally reached near the entrance of the alcove, just as the sounds of battle became muffled behind them slightly, when Kaladin’s knees buckled entirely. Adolin cursed as he took on more of his weight, scrambling to make sure he didn’t let Kaladin fall flat to his face. He half dragged him in the rest of the way, with Radiant close behind, and settled him carefully against a wall.

Kaladin hissed through his teeth as he sat down.

“Easy, easy,” Adolin murmured as he helped Kaladin. He brushed a strand of his hair away from Kaladin’s eyes with his fingers just as Kaladin looked up at him. For someone still wearing shardplate, Adolin’s movements could be surprisingly gentle. No… not surprisingly.

Adolin examined his wound closer, hands steady despite the subtle tremor Kaladin could see in his fingers. His hands could have been of a surgeon as well.

“Take it out,” Kaladin said. “It. . .it’s anti-light.”

“Quickly, Adolin. It’s already been in him for too long,” Syl added, words clipped and hurried.

Adolin cursed, but held the hilt firmly, bracing a hand on his good shoulder. No one followed them inside the cave, so that meant Radiant was doing good work outside.

“Slowly,” Kaladin directed, lifting his own hand near the hilt until their fingers brushed. “it’s not going to heal immediately because of the anti-light. Try to keep the bleeding on a minimum.”

“This is going to hurt,” Adolin warned.

Kaladin tilted his head towards him, distantly noting the way his golden lashes caught the sun. He’d dismissed his helmet.

“Already does,” he rasped.

Adolin inhaled sharply and tightened his grip. And pulled.

He’d barely lifted it in an inch when Kaladin felt a terrible, foreboding pain in his chest, different from the burning agony of anti-light wounds, but familiar.

“Wait—“ Kaladin gasped. “Wait. Stop!”

Adolin froze in place.

Kaladin doubled over, grappling his shoulder with both hands as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“What?” Adolin asked, leaning forward to try to catch his eyes. “What is it? Kal, talk to me!”

Kaladin pushed through the pain to focus on Adolin again. “Internal damage,” he managed to grit out, voice becoming thinner. “Probably nicked a vessel. I can’t remove it without—“ he cut himself off as he bit back another sound, swallowing it down with difficulty.

Adolin cursed. “Without what?” he asked sharply.

“Without bleeding out in seconds, I guess,” Kaladin finished after a long pause, catching his breath as he blinked rapidly to try to dispel the pain.

“Can’t you heal it with stormlight before that?”

“Anti-light,” Kaladin reminded him. “Will take some time to leave my system.”

Adolin cursed again, one hand still on his good shoulder. Kaladin thought he heard Syl curse as well. He blinked. Had he ever heard Syl curse before?

Kaladin took a few gulps of air to catch his breathing. Shallan stepped in the alcove a moment later, which was more like a small cave in the rock wall than an alcove. Adolin made quick work of his own coat, bunched it up and pressed it against Kaladin’s chest, around the knife.

Shallan stood, without her plate now, silently for a minute. Kaladin looked up at her, then had to tear his gaze off to better direct Adolin where to keep pressure.

“You look terrible,” Shallan said finally, a note of deliberate lightness in her tone that hid the worry quite well actually. Not well enough for him to not catch onto it, and feel guilty about it.

“So I’ve heard,” Kaladin muttered, fluttering glassy eyes to look at her again, with some effort.

It didn’t make her smile the way he’d expected. She didn’t plaster one on that looked too real to be usually fake. He didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not. He was getting too tired to discern anything. She just kept looking at his shoulder and he saw Radiant in the analytical way of her gaze, no doubt taking in the severity of it.

“Anti-light, I assume?” she asked.

Kaladin grunted.

“Kal, we can’t do anything if we don’t take it out. The blade is just going to make sure the anti-light never lets up,” Adolin said.

“It… has to run out of it at some point,” Kaladin replied, though he was aware it was a weak argument. They needed to find another way.

Adolin gave the hilt still sticking out of his shoulder a nasty look. “I don’t trust these things.”

“Who trusts a knife?” Shallan snorted. There was something troubled in her eyes.

“The one who knows how to use it,” Kaladin said absently, wondering why they were talking about this.

Syl fluttered in and sat at his knee, giving him a worried look. Kaladin was beginning to be tired of being at the receiving end of those looks, but he tried to smile at her reassuringly. It came out as a grimace instead as Adolin shifted pressure.

“Come on, bridgeboy. Work your mind here. You’re the one who usually handles this stuff,” Adolin urged as he pressed harder around that blade.

Kaladin blinked hard a few times, feeling woozy. “Do. . .either of you know how to do field surgery?”

Both of them looked supremely uncomfortable with the idea. “I’ve. . . witnessed a few cases closely,” Adolin said. “I don’t have any meaningful experience.”

Shallan said nothing at all. Kaladin squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus. Even if they did have any experience, he didn’t think they could actually help him out in any way.

Any further chat was interrupted by the sounds of battle becoming closer near their cave. Too close. It sounded right outside the entrance.

Adolin stood up. Shallan held up a hand for him to stay down.

“Find a way to fix this,” she said, pointing at Kaladin’s shoulder. “I’ll buy us time.”

Adolin frowned. “I won’t—“

“I can form a Lightweaving on the entrance from the outside. But I need to go out for it to work. Stay here.”

That was Radiant at the end there, the command in her voice, what she had learned from Adolin himself. Though Kaladin wasn’t sure how much of what she said about her Lightweaving capabilities was true, whether she really did need to be outside for it.

Adolin straightened slightly anyway, and Kaladin was glad he was going to protest this, because he didn’t have the strength to himself. No one needed to stay with him. Although he couldn’t deny, the idea of not being alone was far less terrifying if he thought of one of them with him. But instead of telling her off, Adolin nodded at her grimly.

Kaladin frowned, pulling himself forward from the wall with a wince. Almighty, but he hated needing to be minded. He should have been able to go out and fight himself, anti-light weapons be damned.

But before he could get any protesting words out, Shallan went down on her knees and quickly kissed Adolin. A temporary parting gesture. And Kaladin knew his protests didn’t have any say now. He looked away to give them some semblance of privacy, looking instead at Syl who gave him a tight smile. But internally, shamelessly, he wished they’d give him some parting words too.

Shallan wordlessly stepped back, gave Kaladin a kiss on the cheek, squeezing his shoulder, and then Radiant was summoning her plate and both blades at once.

“I’ll find an Edgedanger first thing. Stay strong,” Radiant said, holding up a fist for Kaladin.

Kaladin just sort of closed his eyes slowly in a nod because he couldn’t really move his head without the pain flaring up.

“See if you find any Windrunners,” Kaladin said. Both because he was worried about them and so maybe they could take him back to camp where a surgeon could do something with proper equipment.

Radiant accepted this, and stepped out silently. Kaladin couldn’t tell if she did the Lightweaving on their entrance or not, but he trusted Radiant, and Shallan, to hold their defence.

He knew she wouldn’t be able to find an Edgedancer any time soon. They didn’t deploy their healers until after the battle ended, because recently the Singers had begun going for their healers in an effort to take down an advantage for them. Not every soldier on a battlefield was a Radiant. Significantly decrease the number of their healer corps and their enemy could do actual damage.

If this were not the case, Adolin would have already found an Edgedancer when they were out there.

This wouldn’t have even been a problem if that blade wasn’t anti-light. No matter the degree of damage, all Kaladin would’ve had to do was wrench it out and stormlight would have healed him before he could lose any significant amount of blood. Storms, Kaladin detested these weapons. They’d killed so many of his men. . . maybe it was finally Kaladin’s turn. He’d deceived death enough times now, he supposed.

It was a conundrum. The anti-light gem on the pommel of his hilt had gone dun already, so Kaladin was hoping that despite the dagger inside, the anti-light could still fade on it’s own in a while. It was unlikely, as it was still burning his insides gladly. But if he took it out he was sure he’d bleed out, especially if an artery was cut.

So death, either way.

He knew Adolin was currently also thinking of this, but he said nothing. So neither did Kaladin. No use in mentioning the obvious.

Kaladin closed his eyes tiredly, then gasped sharply as another wave of pain tore through his chest. The pain and disorientation came in waves, let him believe it wasn’t as bad as the injury suggested before telling him it was exactly that bad and then worse.

Adolin carefully wrapped an arm around him and pulled him in closer, trying to be gentle. Kaladin was surprised but then. . . pulling him in for a hug was a very Adolin thing to do. It meant nothing. But Kaladin abandoned all caution and buried his face into his neck anyway as he muffled another gasp against him. Kaladin could feel Adolin brushing his hair away from the back of his neck, and he bit the inside of his cheek hard to keep the whimper bubbling in his throat.

“You should’ve left,” Kaladin said, barely above a whisper.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Adolin replied simply, so Kaladin didn’t respond other than an accepting grunt.

He’d never been so physically close with Adolin of all people before. Oh, they were friendly, and Adolin was far more tactile of a person than others, but it had always been in the confines of brotherhood or friendship. This was. . . bordering the lines of intimacy. Kaladin shifted, uncomfortable with the idea that he actually felt this was nice. He didn’t like to be the one who needed comfort. But that movement alone caused him to hiss, and Adolin squeezed his arm around him tighter for it, so Kaladin stayed complyingly.

It was nice. Adolin’s arms were strong, and Kaladin felt grounded in them, not like he was still falling and had never actually hit the ground. Kaladin could feel every point of contact, a welcome distraction from the agony still tearing his chest inside out. And storms, maybe Kaladin could let himself indulge in some comfort if he was dying.

Adolin’s pulse was rapid and strong in his throat beneath Kaladin’s cheek. Kaladin counted his pulse to distract himself, recalled the network of vessels he remembered memorising near the carotid artery. It didn’t work much to distract him from the pain, but it was letting up slightly, helping him think clearer. It was somewhere around here he’d gotten stabbed himself.

There was the Subclavian Artery under the collarbone, and the Thyrocervical Trunk giving rise to the Suprascapular Artery towards the shoulder. . .

Kaladin traced his fingers along Adolin’s throat and collarbone with a feather light touch as he named them all in his mind, feeling where he remembered them being. Adolin was holding his breath, eyes tracking the movement of Kaladin’s hand, but said nothing.

Kaladin closed his eyes, just feeling them now. The External Jugular Vein, the side of Adolin’s neck, Cephalic, running under the clavicle, Axillary and there was Basilic.

It was somewhere around here, one of these vessels, cut and churning blood inside Kaladin’s body, slowly killing him. Maybe he was lucky and it was a wide, high pressure artery that would kill him instantly.

Kaladin frowned. But. . . no, it wasn’t an artery. No blood had spurted out when Adolin had trying pulling the knife. And then pain in his chest wasn’t too bad—or maybe he just had a bad comparison with the pain of the anti-light which made internal bleeding feel relatively like heaven. If it had been an artery, his chest wall would have already collapsed by now. And it was only because the dagger was still inside him that he hadn’t likely suffered from air embolism.

Adolin lowered his face until his lips were pressed against Kaladin’s hair, watching him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he mumbled against him.

Kaladin tried to straighten slightly, feeling another intense wave of anti-light pain coming on. If it was a vein, maybe they could. . . take the risk. If they were careful, and if they were lucky. . .

Kaladin leaned back, pried the cloth Adolin pressed to him away and touched the edges of his wound gently, trying to examine it, but he couldn’t get the angle right, tilting his neck so low was too painful. Adolin carefully leaned him back against the wall.

“What is the bleeding like?” Kaladin asked.

“Er. . . red?” Adolin supplied uncertainly.

“Oh, I know,” Syl said, “it’s like Shallan’s hair, but really darker! So. . . close to Veil’s hair instead?”

“I—no, can you—“ Kaladin pinched the bridge of his nose, “—describe it to me? Rate, pressure, shade?”

“I can’t say,” Adolin said, “since the knife is still inside. But it’s still, really, a lot. And flowing relatively steadily. And yeah, that shade is a deep maroon. I’m sure I have a jacket that colour.”

Kaladin considered this. He supposed if the colour was deep that was further confirmation it might not be an artery. It was a veinal bleed. An arterial bleed had quick bursts of rapid, bright red blood.

It might mean nothing. . . It might be his only chance.

“What?” Syl asked.

“I think. . . if we’re careful, we can take the risk. We should take the risk. I don’t think that anti-light is fading otherwise. We’re just stalling the inevitable,” Kaladin explained, feeling the pulse of anti-light inside him. Storms he was never going to get used to that feeling.

Adolin looked slightly sick, but the soldier in him took over and his expression hardened. “What do I need to do?”

“Take it out. But, slowly. Try to keep the angle straight, as close to the way it went in,” Kaladin explained, sitting up straighter with a wince. “Double the pressure on the wound. There’s going to be a lot of blood afterwards.”

Adolin barely suppressed a grimace at this, but nodded. “Okay,” he whispered, “okay, I can do that.” He said this as if trying to convince himself more than Kaladin.

Kaladin braced himself, feeling the crescendo of pain building inside his chest. He was sure if that knife stayed inside, he wouldn’t be able to survive the next wave of anti-light.

At the last moment though, Kaladin hesitated. Reluctantly, he put a hand on Adolin’s arm to pause, and turned to Syl instead.

“Syl, will this hurt for you?” he asked.

Syl considered this. “I don’t think so. It’s not painful now, although I definitely don’t feel good but I think that’s just you feeling bad strong enough for me to feel it.” She turned to him chidingly. “It’s really yourself you should worry about.”

Kaladin looked at her for a moment, taking her presence in, and wondered if he could pull this next thing off without her catching up. He swallowed hard, preparing himself.

“Okay, can you go keep an eye from outside?” he said, voice tight. “Make sure nothing gets in the way of this.”

He. . . wasn’t sure about the survival rate of whatever they were about to do now. And he was sure it wasn’t going to be a pretty sight. He already felt bad about asking Adolin to do this for him. But Kaladin couldn’t do it himself.

Just because he was going to be in immense pain didn’t mean Syl should be close to feel it too. And. . . storms, he had to live. For Syl’s sake.

Syl just stared at him for a moment, a far too understanding expression on her face. Kaladin gave her a tense smile, thinking of his next excuse to give when she caught him in his lie and disagreed.

“Okay,” Syl whispered quietly at last, ducking her head. “I’ll be back soon. You stay safe, okay?”

She was asking more from him than he could give her right now. But he was surprised she accepted. His heart hurt to ask this of her. But he nodded, choking up.

Syl touched his cheek beneath his eye briefly, closing her eyes, then nodded at Adolin and zipped out of their alcove.

Kaladin released a heavy breath and turned to Adolin. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

Adolin touched his good shoulder lightly. “Maya said it might not help. Your bond with Syl is. . . stronger than most she’s seen.”

“Whatever keeps her away during this,” Kaladin muttered.

He inhaled deeply. “Get this over with.”

Adolin swallowed hard once, then nodded. He took a relatively clean strip of the tattered remains of his jacket and offered it to him to take in his mouth. Kaladin clamped his teeth around it, squeezing tight.

And waited for death in some other way he hadn’t considered to surprise him.

---

Adolin braced a hand on Kaladin’s other shoulder, leaning him closely against himself, and swallowed the bile that threatened to rise to his throat as he wrapped his fingers more firmly around the hilt. Maya retreated from the front his mind, giving him space to focus. Heralds knew he needed that now. Kaladin looked up, eyes far too steady and piercing for the glassy sheen of pain in them. And nodded.

I trust you, that nod said.

It made Adolin want to cry—watching that exchange with Syl had nearly done him in—but he wasn’t going to chicken out. He owed it to Kaladin to do this—and much more—for him. Slowly, unnoticeably at first, inch by inch, he began to pull.

Kaladin’s face tightened, jaw clenching on the rag between his teeth. Adolin didn’t stop. Kaladin visibly suppressed sounds of pain, then began failing, letting out small grunts and whimpers. His breaths started becoming shorter, chest heaving. Sweat broke out on his skin. His brows scrunched together. Adolin didn’t stop.

The blade was halfway out, bathed in Kaladin’s blood. Adolin let out something choked between his throat himself, but he kept pulling. Kaladin’s sounds became louder. He squeezed his eyes shut, his body a long line of tension, muscles quivering.

Heralds, that nearly did Adolin in. He’d never seen Kaladin in so much pain before.

He didn’t stop.

Kaladin breathed in sharply, something setting him off, eyes flying open. He unclenched his jaw with effort and snatched out the cloth from his mouth.

“Pull,” he gasped. “Adolin, pull.”

Adolin followed a command when he heard one. He wrenched the dagger out the rest of the way. Kaladin gasped, doubling over. Adolin scrambled to hold him by the waist to steady him, dropping the knife with a sharp clatter. Kaladin kept taking gasping, ragged breaths, scrabbling at his chest. He buried his face in Adolin’s shoulder, tears of pain dripping freely from his tightly shut eyes. Low, guttural groans escaped his lips occasionally, alternating with the sharp gasps as if Adolin had just stabbed him again. One hand gripped Adolin’s arm so tight, Adolin thought he was bleeding from his nails digging into his skin between two layers of cloth.

Adolin held him tighter, cautious, one hand digging in the cloth bunched up over Kaladin’s wound, becoming soaking wet and warm at an alarming rate, his heart twisting painfully in his own chest until he couldn’t breathe, squeezing as hard as he dared as if he could physically imbibe Kaladin’s pain into himself. He’d do anything— Stormfather, he’d do anything to relieve it—

Kaladin went slack in his arms. His hand around Adolin’s bicep loosened, then dropped, head lolling against his shoulder.

Adolin’s heart turned ice. Then dropped to his stomach. He gave it a moment. Another.

“Kal?” he asked, voice small.

“Kaladin. Hey, hey, bridgeboy. Kal— Kaladin.” Adolin shook him slightly, then harder, abandoning caution in the face of his fear.

“No.” His heart restarted, picked up, then began beating so fast Adolin thought it was going to tear out of his chest. He took Kaladin’s wrist, frantically checking his pulse. “Kaladin? C’mon, bridgeboy. Hey, this isn’t— storms this isn’t funny.” He pressed his fingers against Kaladin’s throat, but his hands were shaking too much to find his pulse.

No no no nononononononono—

Adolin bent over him, pressing his ear against Kaladin’s chest, ignoring the blood smearing his cheek, searching for that steady thump of his heart that was Adolin’s own lifeline at the moment.

“Please. . .” he whispered, “please. . .”

Almighty, no, please, he couldn’t— what had Adolin done? He’d done this, he’d caused this, he’d done something wrong. How was he— he could never live with himself— he could never—

There.

Adolin gave it a moment, every muscle in his body frozen in place, to check if he was mistaken. Almighty if he was. . . But no, he could hear it, feel it mutely beneath his face, that barely there thump thump thump that was connected to Adolin’s life by now as much as Kaladin’s own.

Adolin let out the longest breath, feeling life return back to his body. The heartbeat was weak and thready, but it was there. Heralds be praised, it was there. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a few tears of his own leak through the corners, then realised he’d already been crying the whole time.

Adolin leaned his forehead against Kaladin’s, just taking him in. “Oh. . .” he choked out. “. . .oh, Kal. . .” He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, a coil of several emotions rising now that the terror was over.

Adolin didn’t have a small heart. He was the son of a warlord, the storming Blackthorn himself. He’d seen everything, blood and gore and death and violence and pain— everything. He had a strong stomach. But this. . . he’d thought. . . Stormfather take him, he’d thought—

“I swear to any god out there, Kaladin—“ Adolin said to his unconscious form, holding him close. “If you ever do something like this, I’ll. . . I will—“ He couldn’t even think of anything. So he just felt silent, suppressing a sob. Blood of his fathers.

Kaladin made a small confused sound against him. Adolin raised his head immediately.

“Hey, shh, easy I’ve got you,” Adolin muttered gently, easing his grip on him, frantically brushing his hairline, any excuse to remind himself he was here.

“. . .do what?” Kaladin rasped, barely audible.

Adolin leaned his ear closer to his lips. “What was that?”

“Said. . . you’ll do what?”

A surprised burst of laughter escaped Adolin’s lips, bordering on hysterical. “Oh you impertinent little—“

“Language,” Kaladin interrupted weakly, struggling to get up slightly.

Adolin helped him along, supporting his weight, until he was somewhat sitting on his own. He kept one firm hand on the dressing on Kaladin’s wound, heart lurching to his throat at how bloody it was now. Adolin couldn’t let go entirely though. He kept his other hand around his good arm, just to reassure himself, that he was here, he was present, he was alive. Adolin didn’t think he could let go without feeling like Kaladin was going to fade right in front of him.

He was sure Kaladin noticed. He never said anything.

“Sorry,” Kaladin muttered, serious now, looking at him with a gaze far too knowing for Adolin’s liking.

“Hmm?” Adolin asked, confused.

“I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“Yeah well. . .” Adolin brushed a hand through his hair, looking away, hoping Kaladin didn’t notice the tremor in his fingers. “Don’t be. I’m just glad that worked honestly.”

Kaladin grimaced, trying to sit up straighter. “We’re not out of the storm as of yet,” he said. “I still could just bleed to death, you know.”

Kaladin shrugged, or at least tried to. But the casual way he said it made Adolin’s stomach turn. And Kaladin must have seen something in his expression because his eyes turned regretful for a moment before his expression turned carefully unreadable.

“Let’s just wait and see, yeah?” Kaladin offered.

Adolin wanted to tell him he was going to be fine, crack a joke at him being dramatic, or some other way to ignore the twist in his heart. But he was still too shaken from Kaladin’s fainting spell earlier and he could see the lines of pain around his eyes, still as tight as before.

So he forced a smile.

“Wait and see.”

Notes:

I just love Kaladin giving people heart attacks then acting nonchalant about it. If it were me I’d strangle him tbh

Notes:

Leshwi makes a small appearance in this fic but nonetheless an important one ☝️ I have more Leshwi, Kaladin centric fics planned in the future but i don’t necessarily ship Kaladin/Leshwi (though I see the appeal. I might get convinced someday who knows)

But anyway I couldn’t fit a Leshwi pov in this but she totally beat the shit out of those Heavenly Ones in the background for hurting Kal btw. It was real I was her weapon.