Dragonsteel Prime by Brandon Sanderson

Author:Brandon Sanderson [Sanderson, Brandon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dragonsteel, LLC
Published: 2024-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

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Bat’Chor followed his friend through the small town, leaving the tavern behind just before the watch arrived. Bat’Chor felt invigorated—there were few things as refreshing as a good, harmless fight. He knew Topaz didn’t approve, but Bat’Chor didn’t care. The jesk was a remarkably insightful man, but in some areas—primarily fighting—he was amazingly closed-minded. Of course, that probably had something to do with his condition.

Topaz had never said anything on the subject, but Bat’Chor had eyes. He had seen Topaz try to attack an opponent—the jesk was incredibly fluid and dexterous right up to the point where his weapon was about to connect. Then he would miss. For some reason Topaz was physically unable to defend himself. Bat’Chor didn’t try to understand it—he just realized that when their endeavors came to fighting, Topaz would be of little help.

Topaz led them away from the scene of the brawl, heading toward the town’s other inn. The sun set early here next to the mountains, falling behind their veil and dropping the land into an early dusk. Still, there was enough light for Bat’Chor to see some of the city.

Bat’Chor liked Jarg. Its people weren’t known for being Yolen’s brightest, but they had an ingenuous simplicity about them that Bat’Chor preferred over the conniving scheming of people from the south. Jargish buildings had the same straightforward utilitarian style found in Melerand, even if they were a bit less sturdy.

Bat’Chor also saw remnants of his people’s history in Jarg. Jarg—then a province of the Ke’Chan empire—had been founded by emperor Kath’Che the Fourth. Tired of dependence on Melerand for minerals, Kath’Che had set up mines in the Rire mountains and stocked them with Yolish slaves. The empire fell before the mines became productive, and the descendants of those slaves had eventually founded modern Jarg—left alone mostly because no one else wanted their land.

Signs of the Ke’Chan empire were prevalent in Jarg. Fallen temples to the True God, blockish formations of stone architecture, even the occasional inscription in old Ke’Chan. When he saw such things, Bat’Chor was able to remember that his people had not always been wanderers, scattered among the people of Yolen. Ke’Chan had been a mighty empire once, and the stories promised that one day his people would gather again.

A particularly fierce wind came upon them suddenly, whipping Bat’Chor’s akerng. There was one thing he hated about Jarg, however. The cold. The Jargish highlands felt chilly to him even in the summer. The wind blew against his bare chest, blowing up under his chellorbeth and gnawing against his legs. He shivered despite himself. If the cold continued, he feared he would have to abandon his traditional clothing—at least marginally—by wearing leggings hidden under his chellorbeth and tying his akerng closed with a belt.

Topaz looked back at him as they walked up the short wooden steps into the inn, obviously noticing his friend’s chilled look. “Bat’Chor, I absolutely refuse to feel sorry for you,” the jesk noted. “Not so long as you insist on walking around bare-chested.

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