The Way of Kings: Book One of the Stormlight Archive (The Stormlight Archive, 1) by Brandon Sanderson

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Brandon Sanderson

The Way of Kings: Book One of the Stormlight Archive (The Stormlight Archive, 1)

Name: The Way of Kings: Book One of the Stormlight Archive (The Stormlight Archive, 1)
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Rating: 4.8 (70639 reviews)
Author: Brandon Sanderson
ISBN: 9780765376671

Brandon Sanderson

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70,639 ratings

Book 1 of 4 : The Stormlight Archive

From #1 New York Times bestselling author Brandon Sanderson, The Way of Kings, Book One of the Stormlight Archive, begins an incredible new saga of epic proportion.

Roshar is a world of stone and storms. Uncanny tempests of incredible power sweep across the rocky terrain so frequently that they have shaped ecology and civilization alike. Animals hide in shells, trees pull in branches, and grass retracts into the soilless ground. Cities are built only where the topography offers shelter.

It has been centuries since the fall of the ten consecrated orders known as the Knights Radiant, but their Shardblades and Shardplate remain: mystical swords and suits of armor that transform ordinary men into near-invincible warriors. Men trade kingdoms for Shardblades. Wars were fought for them, and won by them.

One such war rages on a ruined landscape called the Shattered Plains. There, Kaladin, who traded his medical apprenticeship for a spear to protect his little brother, has been reduced to slavery. In a war that makes no sense, where ten armies fight separately against a single foe, he struggles to save his men and to fathom the leaders who consider them expendable.

Brightlord Dalinar Kholin commands one of those other armies. Like his brother, the late king, he is fascinated by an ancient text called The Way of Kings. Troubled by over-powering visions of ancient times and the Knights Radiant, he has begun to doubt his own sanity.

Across the ocean, an untried young woman named Shallan seeks to train under an eminent scholar and notorious heretic, Dalinar's niece, Jasnah. Though she genuinely loves learning, Shallan's motives are less than pure. As she plans a daring theft, her research for Jasnah hints at secrets of the Knights Radiant and the true cause of the war.

The result of over ten years of planning, writing, and world-building, The Way of Kings is but the opening movement of the Stormlight Archive, a bold masterpiece in the making.

Other Tor books by Brandon Sanderson

The Cosmere The Stormlight Archive - The Way of Kings - Words of Radiance - Edgedancer (novella) - Oathbringer - Dawnshard (novella) - Rhythm of War The Mistborn Saga The Original Trilogy - Mistborn - The Well of Ascension - The Hero of Ages Wax and Wayne - The Alloy of Law - Shadows of Self - The Bands of Mourning - The Lost Metal Other Cosmere novels - Elantris - Warbreaker - Tress of the Emerald Sea - Yumi and the Nightmare Painter - The Sunlit Man Collection - Arcanum Unbounded: The Cosmere Collection The Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians series - Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians - The Scrivener's Bones - The Knights of Crystallia - The Shattered Lens - The Dark Talent - Bastille vs. the Evil Librarians (with Janci Patterson) Other novels - The Rithmatist - Legion: The Many Lives of Stephen Leeds - The Frugal Wizard’s Handbook for Surviving Medieval England Other books by Brandon Sanderson The Reckoners - Steelheart - Firefight - Calamity Skyward - Skyward - Starsight - Cytonic - Skyward Flight (with Janci Patterson) - Defiant At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.

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ISBN-10

0765376679

ISBN-13

978-0765376671

Print length

1008 pages

Language

English

Publisher

Tor Books

Publication date

March 03, 2014

Dimensions

6.2 x 1.9 x 9.1 inches

Item weight

2 pounds

Frequently bought together

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Oathbringer: Book Three of the Stormlight Archive (The Stormlight Archive, 3)

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Rhythm of War: Book Four of the Stormlight Archive (The Stormlight Archive, 4)

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The purpose of a storyteller is not to tell you how to think, but to give you questions to think upon. Too often, we forget that.
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But expectations were like fine pottery. The harder you held them, the more likely they were to crack.
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Sometimes we find it hardest to accept in others that which we cling to in ourselves.
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Editorial reviews

This colossal volume opens a fantasy saga clearly influenced by the Wheel of Time, which the author is in fact finishing. It’s a classic story of intrigue, magic, and war, with a large cast of characters and multiple settings lovingly detailed in a way only possible in volumes of this size. Two characters stand out. One is Shallin, a young woman seeking to enter the household of a royal princess so that she can steal a magical talisman and restore the tattered fortunes of her family. The other is Kaladin, a gifted young soldier enslaved for desertion, who fights his way back to freedom in battles on the Shattered Plain. There’s wit (Shallin’s amiably unscrupulous sailor protect Yod is a gem), magic (the weather is almost a character in its own right), and erudition (if the fighting on the Shattered Plain doesn’t owe something to WWI, this reviewer would be surprised). Readers will plunge into it, even as they send up cries for a glossary and cast of characters. --Roland Green

“Sanderson melds complex, believable characters, a marvelous world and thoughtful, ironic humor into an extraordinary and highly entertaining story.”—Publishers Weekly, starred review on Warbreaker

“An exceptional tale of magic, mystery, and the politics of divinity. Warbreaker might even take your breath away!”—Michael Moorcock

“Sanderson is an evil genius. There is simply no other way to describe what he’s managed to pull off in this transcendent final volume in his Mistborn trilogy.”—RT BOOK REVIEWS, Gold Medal, top pick! on The Hero of Ages

“This very superior stand-alone fantasy proves, among other things, that Sanderson was a good choice to complete the late Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time saga. Sanderson is clearly a master of large-scale stories, splendidly depicting worlds as well as strong female characters.”—Booklist on Warbreaker

“Sanderson again demonstrates his capacity for handling large and complex themes while creating believable characters…. [Warbreaker] is essential reading for fantasy fans.”—Library Journal, starred review

Sample

Prologue

“The love of men is a frigid thing, a mountain stream only three steps from the ice. We are his. Oh Stormfather . . . we are his. It is but a thousand days, and the Everstorm comes.”

—Collected on the first day of the week Palah of the month Shash of the year 1171, thirty-one seconds before death. Subject was a darkeyed pregnant woman of middle years. The child did not survive.

4500 YEARS LATER

Szeth-son-son-Vallano, Truthless of Shinovar, wore white on the day he was to kill a king. The white clothing was a Parshendi tradition, foreign to him. But he did as his masters required and did not ask for an explanation.

He sat in a large stone room, baked by enormous firepits that cast a garish light upon the revelers, causing beads of sweat to form on their skin as they danced, and drank, and yelled, and sang, and clapped. Some fell to the ground red-faced, the revelry too much for them, their stomachs proving to be inferior wineskins. They looked as if they were dead, at least until their friends carried them out of the feast hall to waiting beds.

Szeth did not sway to the drums, drink the sapphire wine, or stand to dance. He sat on a bench at the back, a still servant in white robes. Few at the treaty-signing celebration noticed him. He was just a servant, and Shin were easy to ignore. Most out here in the East thought Szeth’s kind were docile and harmless. They were generally right.

The drummers began a new rhythm. The beats shook Szeth like a quartet of thumping hearts, pumping waves of invisible blood through the room. Szeth’s masters—who were dismissed as savages by those in more civilized kingdoms—sat at their own tables. They were men with skin of black marbled with red. Parshendi, they were named—cousins to the more docile servant peoples known as parshmen in most of the world. An oddity. They did not call themselves Parshendi; this was the Alethi name for them. It meant, roughly, “parshmen who can think.” Neither side seemed to see that as an insult.

The Parshendi had brought the musicians. At first, the Alethi lighteyes had been hesitant. To them, drums were base instruments of the common, darkeyed people. But wine was the great assassin of both tradition and propriety, and now the Alethi elite danced with abandon.

Szeth stood and began to pick his way through the room. The revelry had lasted long; even the king had retired hours ago. But many still celebrated. As he walked, Szeth was forced to step around Dalinar Kholin—the king’s own brother—who slumped drunken at a small table. The aging but powerfully built man kept waving away those who tried to encourage him to bed. Where was Jasnah, the king’s daughter? Elhokar, the king’s son and heir, sat at the high table, ruling the feast in his father’s absence. He was in conversation with two men, a dark-skinned Azish man who had an odd patch of pale skin on his cheek and a thinner, Alethi-looking man who kept glancing over his shoulder.

The heir’s feasting companions were unimportant. Szeth stayed far from the heir, skirting the sides of the room, passing the drummers. Musicspren zipped through the air around them, the tiny spirits taking the form of spinning translucent ribbons. As Szeth passed the drummers, they noted him. They would withdraw soon, along with all of the other Parshendi.

They did not seem offended. They did not seem angry. And yet they were going to break their treaty of only a few hours. It made no sense. But Szeth did not ask questions.

At the edge of the room, he passed rows of unwavering azure lights that bulged out where wall met floor. They held sapphires infused with Stormlight. Profane. How could the men of these lands use something so sacred for mere illumination? Worse, the Alethi scholars were said to be close to creating new Shardblades. Szeth hoped that was just wishful boasting. For if it did happen, the world would be changed. Likely in a way that ended with people in all countries—from distant Thaylenah to towering Jah Keved—speaking Alethi to their children.

They were a grand people, these Alethi. Even drunk, there was a natural nobility to them. Tall and well made, the men dressed in dark silk coats that buttoned down the sides of the chest and were elaborately embroidered in silver or gold. Each one looked a general on the field.

The women were even more splendid. They wore grand silk dresses, tightly fitted, the bright colors a contrast to the dark tones favored by the men. The left sleeve of each dress was longer than the right one, covering the hand. Alethi had an odd sense of propriety.

Their pure black hair was pinned up atop their heads, either in intricate weavings of braids or in loose piles. It was often woven with gold ribbons or ornaments, along with gems that glowed with Stormlight. Beautiful. Profane, but beautiful.

Szeth left the feasting chamber behind. Just outside, he passed the doorway into the Beggars’ Feast. It was an Alethi tradition, a room where some of the poorest men and women in the city were given a feast complementing that of the king and his guests. A man with a long grey and black beard slumped in the doorway, smiling foolishly—though whether from wine or a weak mind, Szeth could not tell.

“Have you seen me?” the man asked with slurred speech. He laughed, then began to speak in gibberish, reaching for a wineskin. So it was drink after all. Szeth brushed by, continuing past a line of statues depicting the Ten Heralds from ancient Vorin theology. Jezerezeh, Ishi, Kelek, Talenelat. He counted off each one, and realized there were only nine here. One was conspicuously missing. Why had Shalash’s statue been removed? King Gavilar was said to be very devout in his Vorin worship. Too devout, by some people’s standards.

The hallway here curved to the right, running around the perimeter of the domed palace. They were on the king’s floor, two levels up, surrounded by rock walls, ceiling, and floor. That was profane. Stone was not to be trod upon. But what was he to do? He was Truthless. He did as his masters demanded.

Today, that included wearing white. Loose white trousers tied at the waist with a rope, and over them a filmy shirt with long sleeves, open at the front. White clothing for a killer was a tradition among the Parshendi. Although Szeth had not asked, his masters had explained why.

White to be bold. White to not blend into the night. White to give warning.

For if you were going to assassinate a man, he was entitled to see you coming.

Szeth turned right, taking the hallway directly toward the king’s chambers. Torches burned on the walls, their light unsatisfying to him, a meal of thin broth after a long fast. Tiny flamespren danced around them, like insects made solely of congealed light. The torches were useless to him. He reached for his pouch and the spheres it contained, but then hesitated when he saw more of the blue lights ahead: a pair of Stormlight lamps hanging on the wall, brilliant sapphires glowing at their hearts. Szeth walked up to one of these, holding out his hand to cup it around the glass-shrouded gemstone.

“You there!” a voice called in Alethi. There were two guards at the intersection. Double guard, for there were savages abroad in Kholinar this night. True, those savages were supposed to be allies now. But alliances could be shallow things indeed.

This one wouldn’t last the hour.

Szeth looked as the two guards approached. They carried spears; they weren’t lighteyes, and were therefore forbidden the sword. Their painted red breastplates were ornate, however, as were their helms. They might be darkeyed, but they were high-ranking citizens with honored positions in the royal guard.

Stopping a few feet away, the guard at the front gestured with his spear. “Go on, now. This is no place for you.” He had tan Alethi skin and a thin mustache that ran all the way around his mouth, becoming a beard at the bottom.

Szeth didn’t move.

“Well?” the guard said. “What are you waiting for?”

Szeth breathed in deeply, drawing forth the Stormlight. It streamed into him, siphoned from the twin sapphire lamps on the walls, sucked in as if by his deep inhalation. The Stormlight raged inside of him, and the hallway suddenly grew darker, falling into shade like a hilltop cut off from the sun by a transient cloud.

Szeth could feel the Light’s warmth, its fury, like a tempest that had been injected directly into his veins. The power of it was invigorating but dangerous. It pushed him to act. To move. To strike.

Holding his breath, he clung to the Stormlight. He could still feel it leaking out. Stormlight could be held for only a short time, a few minutes at most. It leaked away, the human body too porous a container. He had heard that the Voidbringers could hold it in perfectly. But, then, did they even exist? His punishment declared that they didn’t. His honor demanded that they did.

Afire with holy energy, Szeth turned to the guards. They could see that he was leaking Stormlight, wisps of it curling from his skin like luminescent smoke. The lead guard squinted, frowning. Szeth was sure the man had never seen anything like it before. As far as he knew, Szeth had killed every stonewalker who had ever seen what he could do.

“What . . . what are you?” The guard’s voice had lost its certainty. “Spirit or man?”

“What am I?” Szeth whispered, a bit of Light leaking from his lips as he looked past the man down the long hallway. “I’m . . . sorry.”

Szeth blinked, Lashing himself to that distant point down the hallway. Stormlight raged from him in a flash, chilling his skin, and the ground immediately stopped pulling him downward. Instead, he was pulled toward that distant point—it was as if, to him, that direction had suddenly become down.

This was a Basic Lashing, first of his three kinds of Lashings. It gave him the ability to manipulate what ever force, spren, or god it was that held men to the ground. With this Lashing, he could bind people or objects to different surfaces or in different directions.

From Szeth’s perspective, the hallway was now a deep shaft down which he was falling, and the two guards stood on one of the sides. They were shocked when Szeth’s feet hit them, one for each face, throwing them over. Szeth shifted his view and Lashed himself to the floor. Light leaked from him. The floor of the hallway again became down, and he landed between the two guards, clothes crackling and dropping flakes of frost. He rose, beginning the process of summoning his Shardblade.

One of the guards fumbled for his spear. Szeth reached down, touching the soldier’s shoulder while looking up. He focused on a point above him while willing the Light out of his body and into the guard, Lashing the poor man to the ceiling.

The guard yelped in shock as up became down for him. Light trailing from his form, he crashed into the ceiling and dropped his spear. It was not Lashed directly, and clattered back down to the floor near Szeth.

To kill. It was the greatest of sins. And yet here Szeth stood, Truthless, profanely walking on stones used for building. And it would not end. As Truthless, there was only one life he was forbidden to take.

And that was his own.

At the tenth beat of his heart, his Shardblade dropped into his waiting hand. It formed as if condensing from mist, water beading along the metal length. His Shardblade was long and thin, edged on both sides, smaller than most others. Szeth swept it out, carving a line in the stone floor and passing through the second guard’s neck.

As always, the Shardblade killed oddly; though it cut easily through stone, steel, or anything inanimate, the metal fuzzed when it touched living skin. It traveled through the guard’s neck without leaving a mark, but once it did, the man’s eyes smoked and burned. They blackened, shriveling up in his head, and he slumped forward, dead. A Shardblade did not cut living flesh; it severed the soul itself.

Above, the first guard gasped. He’d managed to get to his feet, even though they were planted on the ceiling of the hallway. “Shardbearer!” he shouted. “A Shardbearer assaults the king’s hall! To arms!”

Finally, Szeth thought. Szeth’s use of Stormlight was unfamiliar to the guards, but they knew a Shardblade when they saw one.

Szeth bent down and picked up the spear that had fallen from above. As he did so, he released the breath he’d been holding since drawing in the Stormlight. It sustained him while he held it, but those two lanterns hadn’t contained much of it, so he would need to breathe again soon. The Light began to leak away more quickly, now that he wasn’t holding his breath.

Brandon Sanderson

I’m Brandon Sanderson, and I write stories of the fantastic: fantasy, science fiction, and thrillers.

Defiant, the fourth and final volume of the series that started with Skyward in 2018, comes out in November 2023, capping an already book-filled year that will see the releases of all four Secret Projects: Tress of the Emerald Sea, The Frugal Wizard’s Handbook for Surviving Medieval England, Yumi and the Nightmare Painter, and Secret Project Four (with its official title reveal coming October 2023). These four books were all initially offered to backers of the #1 Kickstarter campaign of all time.

November 2022 saw the release of The Lost Metal, the seventh volume in the Mistborn saga, and the final volume of the Mistborn Era Two featuring Wax & Wayne. The third era of Mistborn is slated to be written after the first arc of the Stormlight Archive wraps up.

In November 2020 we saw the release of Rhythm of War—the fourth massive book in the New York Times #1 bestselling Stormlight Archive series that began with The Way of Kings—and Dawnshard (book 3.5), a novella set in the same world that bridges the gaps between the main releases. This series is my love letter to the epic fantasy genre, and it’s the type of story I always dreamed epic fantasy could be. The fifth volume, Wind and Truth, is set for release in fall 2024.

Most readers have noticed that my adult fantasy novels are in a connected universe called the Cosmere. This includes The Stormlight Archive, both Mistborn series, Elantris, Warbreaker, and various novellas available on Amazon, including The Emperor’s Soul, which won a Hugo Award in 2013. In November 2016 all of the existing Cosmere short fiction was released in one volume called Arcanum Unbounded. If you’ve read all of my adult fantasy novels and want to see some behind-the-scenes information, that collection is a must-read.

I also have three YA series: The Rithmatist (currently at one book), The Reckoners (a trilogy beginning with Steelheart), and Skyward. For young readers I also have my humorous series Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians, which had its final book, Bastille vs. the Evil Librarians, come out in 2022. Many of my adult readers enjoy all of those books as well, and many of my YA readers enjoy my adult books, usually starting with Mistborn.

Additionally, I have a few other novellas that are more on the thriller/sci-fi side. These include the Legion series, as well as Perfect State and Snapshot. There’s a lot of material to go around!

Good starting places are Mistborn (a.k.a. The Final Empire), Skyward, Steelheart,The Emperor’s Soul, and Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians. If you’re already a fan of big fat fantasies, you can jump right into The Way of Kings.

I was also honored to be able to complete the final three volumes of The Wheel of Time, beginning with The Gathering Storm, using Robert Jordan’s notes.

Sample chapters from all of my books are available at brandonsanderson.com—and check out the rest of my site for chapter-by-chapter annotations, deleted scenes, and more.

Reviews

Customer reviews

4.8 out of 5

70,639 global ratings

Rusty Dalferes

An awesome, epic introduction to a great fantasy series

Reviewed in the United States on May 25, 2020

Verified Purchase

As one of the most popular fantasy series of the last few years, it should be no surprise that the first book in this series sucked me in from the very beginning. It's epic in scope, well-developed, and hard to put down with all of the action and political machinations and, of course, magic. Huge recommendation for fans of high fantasy.

It's nearly impossible to summarize a 1200+ page book in a few sentences, as there are so many characters and sub-plots that run through the story, but the main characters stay consistent in their frequency of appearance in the chapters. Kaladin is a young former soldier of prodigious talent with a spear, who we discover through the book was betrayed by his commander and sold into slavery as a "bridgeman," a worker whose sole purpose is to carry portable bridges to span the chasms on the plains where his nation is fighting a war against a strange race of human-like beings; Kaladin is a natural leader with a painful past, but an ability to encourage men to unite and better themselves. Dalinar is a middle-aged highprince, part of the light-eyed nobility of his nation, brother to a king who had been murdered by an assassin a handful of years ago, sparking the current war, and uncle and principle advisor/general to the current king; Dalinar is plagued with strange visions of the past featuring the Knights Radiant, a near-mythological group of ancient knights with magical weapons, armor, and abilities, some of which have drifted down through history to be held by regular individuals in the current age. Adolin, Dalinar's son, is an excellent solider and duelist, and at times a spoiled prince, who tends to rebel against his father's need to stick to outdated Codes outlining the honorable conduct of a soldier. Shallan is a teenaged girl blossoming into womanhood, left with the weight of saving her declining house from total bankruptcy after her father had lost all fortune and the respect of his peers; Shallan has a brilliant mind, a quick wit, and a true talent for artistry that seems almost supernatural, and seeks to gain the trust of Jasnah, niece of Dalinar and sister of the king, who is a respected and erudite scholar, and just maybe a bit of a heretic against her own culture's religion. The cast of characters is voluminous, but most chapters revolve around these main ones, as they seek to understand the world and their roles in it, and possibly avert a world-changing disaster they've just become aware is brewing.

The plot is epic in all meanings of the word: big, lengthy, involved, full of emotions and motivations and purpose, stretching to all points of the world that Sanderson has created out of whole cloth. It's clear that the author has spent a great deal of effort planning the millenia of backstory that predates the setting of the novel, and that plan is detailed and rich. There are multiple independent systems (or sources) of magic, each with its own rules and users, some seeming to be created from nature, others seeming to be fabrications of men and women. The history of the novel's world is deep, and trickles out in small bits throughout the long story, such that once the reader feels the dominant religion/mythology is finally understood, a new bit of ancient history is revealed that shows just how that religion has changed over time and may not be fully grasped by either the reader or the religion's current adherents. The characters are very well-developed, each with his or her own motivations and reasons for being where he or she is in life. All told, the plot is thick and convoluted, but in such a good way that the reader feels each character is growing and developing, while the action and plot still move along at a quick pace. This is one of those books that is incredibly hard to put down, so you may find yourself up all night reading.

I really did struggle to find something to criticize in this book, but I did find a few things. While I know the author has his main characters trying to build a better world while battling their society's own shortcomings, there is still a startling undercurrent of racism to the culture being described: the main opponents of the war on the Shattered Plains are a mostly dark-skinned race seen as primitive, whose more docile cousins are used by the other nations as slave labor and described as all looking alike, which is viewed as normal and almost necessary for the culture of the mostly light-skinned and -eyed, and supposedly more noble, race on the other side of the war. At one point, the author made the surprising use of the word "moolie," which shocked me -- its use was as a pejorative nickname for a mute, and not a racial slur, but still it's a choice that the author made that perhaps wasn't well thought out and struck me as unnecessarily offensive when he could have used literally any other existing or made-up word.

There was also the problem that I find all too pervasive in many fantasy books, a genre I love: there is a stark overuse of names using the letters A, K, L, and N (e.g., Kaladin, Dalinar, Adolin, Adalar, Elhokar, Navani, Jasnah, Shallan, etc.) -- after a while, all the names seem to have come from a standard Boggle tileset with only a few letters or syllables to choose from. I know that this may be passed on as distinctive for the racial/linguistic setting of the novel, but its similarities to many other names in many other fantasy series leaves me with the taste that such overuse of certain syllables is derivative, rather than original. Also, a surprising number of these names, when combined with the character's family name, follow a strange rule that Aleister Crowley (the occultist) set out that the best-sounding names are a dactyl (three syllables with emphasis on the first syllable) followed by a spondee (two syllables of equal emphasis), as if they were all created specifically for fitting in a certain poetic meter -- I'm not sure if I'm impressed by this, or if I view this as another example of derivative names.

As for the writing mechanics, the book is incredibly clean. Sure, there are a few split infinitives and a handful of examples of "most everyone" or "most all," but in a book more than 1200 pages long, the number of grammatical or syntactical errors is actually miniscule compared to a lot of books out there these days. I enjoy Sanderson's writing style, which hints at both "high" fantasy writing and colloquial conversational banter. It's nice to read such a long book without wanting to throw it against the wall every few pages because of an egregious writing error.

Overall, I'm excited to be into this series at long last. I understand it's intended to be a 10-book series, and so far there are only 3 released (with a fourth maybe coming later this year?), so I fully expect to be enjoying this rich world Sanderson has built for another few years. A huge recommendation for anyone who even kind of likes high fantasy series.

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Stormfather!

Reviewed in the United States on April 4, 2014

Verified Purchase

STORMFATHER! This book was amazing. All the stars.

This review may be spoilerish?!

It has been a few years since I have read a high fantasy/epic fantasy such as this one. I just recently finished The Name of the Wind and that one is high fantasy, but it does not compare to The Way of Kings.

I love books that are about war, swords and fighting just do something for me. I love books that go into detail of war, and strategy and the ins and out of how a war is fought. I sometimes even like the politics, in some books it's over done and some it's done just right. For me, it was done just right in this one. When I felt like it might be too much, the scene changed.

The world building was amazing, the descriptions and the fashions of the different lands was awesome. I like to falling into a book that can take me away from every day life. I need a book to do that for me. I mean I even need a book to change my damn vocabulary. Now when I'm mad, I say "Storm it", or surprised "Stormfather!", or mad "Damnation!" Yeah, I think my family and co-workers think I am psycho. I need to want more, to fall in love with strong characters and want to give up my life so I can train in the art of sword fighting. I want two horses, one white and one black, just so I can name them Gallant & Sureblood. I want a ginourmous sword that I can name Oathbringer.

If you haven't guessed yet, I love this book. I love it so much, I devoted a whole month to it and only was able to squeeze in three other books. THREE!! I normally read 15-20 books a month! And guess what, I am starting book two in three days! So I need to catch up on other reads before that starts.

119 Status Updates! 119! I think that's the most I have ever left for a book. My kindle app has already crashed from trying to upload all the highlights, notes, and marks I left. I think I might have highlighted half of the book...or more..

"The love of men is a frigid thing, a mountain stream only three steps from the ice. We are his. Oh Stormfather...we are his. It is but a thousand days, and the Everstorm comes."

Dalinar Kholin, oh Dalinar you sexy man you. Of all the characters he is my favorite. Dalinar Kholin is an Alethi Highprince, he is fighting a war to avenge the death of his brother, the King, Gavilar. He is called the Blackthorn, and is a Shardbearer. To become a Shardbearer one has to win it in battle. You have to kill another Shardbearer and take their Shardplate and Shardblade. His only downfall, he has visions, hallucinations that can bring down him and his house. Dalinar believe in a united Alethkar and fights to bring it together and impose the code on his soldiers.

Alethi Codes of War

Readiness-The Officer will be prepared at all times for battle. Never drunken on wine never without his weapon.

Inspiration-The Officer will wear his uniform when in public to look ready for war and to give strength to his troops.

Restraint-The Officer will refrain from needless duels, arguments, or squabbles with other officers in camp, to prevent injury to men who may be needed to command.

Leadership-The Officer will require no action of his soldiers that he would not be willing to perform himself.

Honor-The Officer will not abandon allies on the field, nor will he seek to profit from the loss of his allies.

Before Gavilar dies he tells leaves a message for Dalinar.

You must find the most important words a man can say

THE THRILL!

Dalinar took a deep breath, feeling the Thrill build for the approaching battle. He strode from the war room, footfalls firm and solid. Attendants and servants scattered before him, making way. Wearing Shardplate again after a long period without was like waking up after a night of feeling groggy or disoriented. The spring of the step, the impetus the armor seemed to lend him, made him want to race down the hallway.

He broke into a sprint. Teleb and the others cried out in surprise, rushing to keep up. Dalinar outpaced them easily, reaching the front gates of the complex and leaping through, throwing himself off the long steps leading down from his enclave. He exulted, grinning as he hung in the air, then slammed to the ground. The force cracked the stone beneath him, and he crouched into the impact.

^^Favorite scene.

Kaladin is the most honorable of heroes I have read. I thought Kvothe was amazing, but Kaladin takes the cake. He is a surgeons son, and now a slave. He fought in Amarams and was eventually betrayed. He's lost his brother, his family and many many people around him. He's an accomplished spearman, and a natural leader. He is sold to Sadeas as a bridgeman and is now apart of bridge four. From the beginning he is determined to keep his team alive, and he does everything he can to win his team over.

Gadol spit up blood, coughing. "They break the land itself!" he hissed, eyes wild. "They want it, but in their rage they will destroy it. Like jealous man burns his rich things rather than let them be taken by his enemies! They come!"

He gasped. And then he fell still, his dead eyes staring upward, bloody spittle running in a trail down his cheek. His final, haunting words hung over them.

Also I can not mention Syl, she's so funny and cute. I hope for a love match or something between her and Kaladin.

"Soon you'll hardly be a spren at all. You'll be a little translucent philosopher. We'll have to send you off to a monastery to spend your time in deep, important thoughts."

"Yes," she said, "like how to best get the ardents there to accidentally drink a mixture that will turn his mouth blue."

She smiled mischievously.

Then there is Shallan. She is from Jah Keved and she is in Kharbranth seeking out the heretic Jasnah Kholin. She wishes to be become her ward and steal her precious soulcaster. I don't want to go into anymore without giving away what happens, but there are a lot of things we learn about Shallan and still a lot of things we do not know.

"Father," Adolin said, feeling pained, "if there's something wrong here, it's that we're not trying hard enough. You think the highprinces are playing games? Well, show them the way it should be done! Instead of talking of retreat, we should be talking of advancing, striking at the Parshendi instead of besieging them."

Adolin Kholin, I was expecting to dislike him through out the entire book, but that changed the more I got to know him. Adolin love to court women, love to duel and has fierce loyalty to his father and family. He's very much Dalinar's son but unsure of things and unsure of himself. I guess any 23 year old would be. But he does worry about his father and his visions and if his father is really loosing his mind. I think the redeeming part for me is when he is actually fighting by his fathers side and confesses to believe all that his father has told him.

The last 20% just threw all over the place. I was sad, happy, angry, in shock, dumbfounded. I wanted to throw the phone/kindle/book across the room. I screamed! I yelled! And then I was determined to read the next damn book to find out what the hell is going on! There are no words to describe the last 20% and I see this review is probably the longest I have written. But know this, I will probably have 200 update statuses for the next book and have an even bigger book hangover having to wait MONTHS for the next. I can say that I am a new Brandon Sanderson addict. I need more..I want more...I will die if I don't get more!

So if you love high fantasy, want to loose a month out of your life...please read this. Better yet, get the audio. So you can loose time while you washing clothes, walking to the car, driving to work, cleaning you house, working out at the gym, and while waiting for the doctor. Do it!

P.S. There are way to many quotes and descriptions to put here but I will leave you with some of my favorites.

MEN RIDE THE STORMS NO LONGER. The voice thunder, crashing in the air.

THE OATHPACT IS BROKEN, CHILD OF HONOR.

"I don't understand!" Kaladin screamed into the tempest. A face formed before him, its eyes full of stars.

ODIUM COMES. MOST DANGEROUS OF ALL THE SIXTEEN. YOU WILL NOW GO.

ODIUM REIGNS

He roared, striking down four Parshendi as two more hit him from behind, making his armor vibrate. He spun and killed one, the other barely dancing out of range. Dalinar began to pant, and when he moved quickly, he left trails of blue Stormlight in the air. He felt like a bloodied prey beast trying to fend off a thousand different snapping predators at once.

Never fight other men except when forced to in war.

Bang!

Let your actions defend you, not your words.

Bang!

Expect honor from those you meet, and give them the chance to live up to it.

Bang!

Rule as you would be ruled.

Bang!

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Dreams

A Must Read

Reviewed in the United States on February 2, 2015

Verified Purchase

I picked up Way of Kings for three reasons. • I was told to - This is the real secret of twitter: having book recommendations shoved at you at lightning speed. • It was free via iTunes - I had no reason to say no. (Even though I ended up buying my own copy before I ever touched the ebook. What can I say? I'm 'physical book preferred' reader.) • I LOVED his Mistborn series - (The Final Empire, Well of Ascension, The Hero of Ages) Since I loved Mistborn so much, I asked which of his series to try next. The answer was unanimous, The Stormlight Archive series.

Even though the book was a trillion pages, when I actually managed to sit down and read, they flew by. It may have taken me exactly one month to finish this massive book, but that was including time spent on vacation, with family for the holidays, and finishing up other books that I was concurrently reading.

The world-building is what you would expect from a Sanderson book: EPIC. Seriously, you won't even realize how these seemingly insignificant details from the beginning turn into these massive themes and plot-points. Was that a random backhanded complement, or a prelude to something more?

There is a lot thrown at you early on. When the book first starts, in the prelude, you are watching men fighting a war you don't understand, abandoning a cause you have no prior knowledge of. Then we jump a huge period of time and watch a king we never met be attacked. And you are filled with questions and confusion, and the only answer you have is to keep on reading.

So you do.

From there, oh boy, does the world get complex. Brandon Sanderson builds this world from the ground up. We have several different countries with their own customs and traditions. The world around them bends to the fury of the Hightstorms, and from creatures to plants, you see plenty of evidence of this as our heroes fight on the Shattered Plains. It might not seem like much, but these tiny details flesh out the world and allowed me to completely envision the unfolding events in my mind.

Everything from people's daily lives to their gods/mythology they believed in is unique for each culture, and yet, you begin to see how each one connected to truth from the past. As time passed, truths changed and evolved as the people lived and died, until no one alive now knew what truly happened thousands of years ago. Just who were the Heralds really? And what about the Radiants, did they truly betray mankind? Then there are the Soucasters and Shardbearers running around with their fantastical abilities and highly coveted pieces. But where did the swords, plates, and Soulcaster devices really come from? How do they work?

One of the things that won me over in The Final Empire was the world he created. It felt real, it felt believable, and I think he may have outdid himself with The Way of Kings.

There were a trillion characters, to match the trillion pages, in this book. There were probably closer to a dozen point of view characters alone. Normally, I'd back away in fear because so often writers fail at simply having two, but I had faith. And my faith was rewarded. With different cultures woven into their backgrounds, each character came from a different kind of place and Sanderson pulls those different threads together and proves he is a master of characters and point of view. Add in some personality quirks, and some backstory horrors, and you are left with quite the collection of characters.

I could go on and on about all the characters, but there were two (well, three if we count Wit, but he is still such a mystery) that I absolutely loved.

Kaladin: I knew I was going to love him from the conversations fellow bloggers were having about him on twitter. And then he swooped down to the aid of a young man and I worshiped him from the then on. Kaladin was such a fascinating character. He has this power and charm from the beginning, he made you want to follow him. Then things happen, and he had a lot to overcome. You don't know for sure what happened in that key moment until pretty late in the book, as his past storyline was something of a subplot with it's own chapters mixed in throughout the story. By time you learn the truth, you have already guess at some of his scars and have refallen for the man who struggled to rise again. You feel his anger, and you get his devotion to his people. It's that 'ah' moment where the reader finally, truly understands his mind.

My other big favorite is Dalinar. Dalinar started out, at least by the time we meet him, as this sort of by the book, chivalrous knight. Honor, trust, loyalty, those things are all big with him. At first you think Dalinar is going to be obnoxious and self-riotous, but then we see him in action. And if that man demanded I wore my uniform all the time, I'd sure as heck wear it- part in awe and part in fear. And then there are his visions. Oh, I loved his chapters. I loved learning more about this world and the past as he struggled to understand what was happening to him.

And Wit! I mentioned him, so I should talk about him right? I loved his humor, and I loved the way he saw things no one else did or in a way that makes you as the reader start to think about their world, as well as ours.

A five star rating, you say. But surely no book is perfect?

And, no, I cannot say that this book is. In all seriousness, my paperback copy is 1252 pages long. And there were several chapters in the middle with new characters, far outside of the bubble the main guys lived in. Yes we learned some important information regarding the past, and yes, these events were connected to the main plotlines. But I found myself less interested in these chapters. Maybe it was because they were slower compared to say Kaladin's chapters, or maybe it was because I already found my favorites to root for, but I kept wanting to return to the characters I already knew and loved.

Does that mean I hate those chapters? No. Does that mean they are less important than the main guys? This is Sanderson we are talking about. The last time I assumed something was insignificant, well, I was very wrong. You know what happens when you assume something right? (You make an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me.' Thank you math teacher for your corny joke that will forever ensure I know how to spell assume correctly.)

Words To Live By “Sometimes the prize is not worth the costs. The means by which we achieve victory are as important as the victory itself.” “Sometimes we find it hardest to accept in others that which we cling to in ourselves.” “Words aren’t meant to be kept inside, you see. They are free creatures, and if locked away will unsettle the stomach.”

Overall Brandon Sanderson tosses you into The Way of Kings alone, and leaves you set adrift in a Highstorm. But as the pages go by, you start to realize that he didn't abandon you. Lifelines are scattered about the pages, and by the time you read the end of the novel, you will wonder how you ever lived without reading this book. My notebook is full of quotations, whether humorous or inspirational, from this book because it both entertains you and makes you question your own beliefs and assumptions.

While The Way of Kings is not technically a YA novel, I see not reason that an older teen cannot enjoy this book. Therefore, regardless of your age, if you are a fan of fantasy novels with detailed worlds, and a spectacular cast, READ THIS BOOK.

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