Ahead, the last of Sadeas's army was bunched along the chasm, crossing. The staging plateau was nearly empty. The sheer awful audacity of what Sadeas had done twisted at Kaladin's insides. He thought what had been done to him had been horrible. But here, Sadeas callously condemned thousands of men, lighteyed and dark. Supposed allies. That betrayal seemed to weigh as heavy on Kaladin as the bridge itself. It pressed on him, made him gasp for breath.

Was there no hope for men? They killed those they should have loved. What good was it to fight, what good was it to win, if there was no difference between ally and enemy? What was victory? Meaningless. What did the deaths of Kaladin's friends and colleagues mean? Nothing. The entire world was a pustule, sickeningly green and infested with corruption.

Numb, Kaladin and the others reached the chasm, though they were too late to help with the transfer. The men he'd sent ahead were there, Teft looking grim, Skar leaning on a spear to support his wounded leg. A small group of dead spearmen lay nearby. Sadeas's soldiers retrieved their wounded, when possible, but some died as they were helped along. They'd abandoned some of those here; Sadeas was obviously in a hurry to leave the scene.

The dead had been left with their equipment. Skar had probably gotten his crutch there. Some poor bridge crew would have to cross all the way back here at a later date to salvage from these, and from Dalinar's fallen.

They set their bridge down, and Kaladin wiped his brow. "Don't place the bridge across the chasm," he told the men. "We'll wait until the last of the soldiers have crossed, then carry it over on one of the other bridges." Matal eyed Kaladin and his team, but didn't order them to set their bridge. He realized that by the time they got it into position, they'd have to pull it up again.

"Isn't that a sight?" Moash said, stepping up beside Kaladin, looking back.

Kaladin turned. The Tower rose behind them, sloped in their direction. Kholin's army was a circle of blue, trapped in the middle of the slope after trying to push down and get to Sadeas before he left. The Parshendi were a dark swarm with specks of red from their marbled skins. They pressed at the Alethi ring, compressing it.

"Such a shame," Drehy said from beside their bridge, sitting on its lip. "Makes me sick."

Other bridgemen nodded, and Kaladin was surprised to see the concern in their faces. Rock and Teft joined Kaladin and Moash, all wearing their Parshendi-carapace armor. He was glad they'd left Shen back in the camp. He'd have been catatonic at the sight of it all.

Teft cradled his wounded arm. Rock raised a hand to shade his eyes and shook his head, looking eastward. "Is a shame. A shame to Sadeas. A shame to us."

"Bridge Four," Matal called. "Come on!"

Matal was waving for them to cross Bridge Six's bridge and leave the staging plateau. An idea came to Kaladin suddenly. A fantastic idea, like a blooming rockbud in his mind.

"We'll follow with our own bridge, Matal," Kaladin called. "We only just got to the chasm. We need to sit for a few minutes."

"Cross now!" Matal yelled.

"We'll just fall further behind!" Kaladin retorted. "You want to explain to Sadeas why he has to hold the entire army for one miserable bridge crew? We've got our bridge. Let my men rest. We'll catch up to you later."

"And if those savages come after you?" Matal demanded.

Kaladin shrugged.

Matal blinked, then seemed to realize how badly he wanted that to happen. "Suit yourself," he called, rushing across bridge six as the other bridges were pulled up. In seconds, Kaladin's team was alone beside the chasm, the army retreating westward.

Kaladin smiled broadly. "I can't believe it, after all that worrying… Men, we're free!"

The others turned to him, confused.

"We'll follow in a short while," Kaladin said eagerly, "and Matal will assume we're coming. We fall farther and farther behind the army, until we're out of sight. Then we'll turn north, use the bridge to cross the Plains. We can escape northward, and everyone will just assume the Parshendi caught us and slaughtered us!"

The other bridgemen regarded him with wide eyes.

"Supplies," Teft said.

"We have these spheres," Kaladin said, pulling out his pouch. "A wealth of them, right here. We can take the armor and weapons from the dead over there and use those to defend ourselves from bandits. It will be hard, but we won't be chased!"

The men were starting to grow excited. However, something gave Kaladin pause. What of the wounded bridgemen back in the camp?

"I'll have to stay behind," Kaladin said.

"What?" Moash demanded.

"Someone will need to," Kaladin said. "For the good of our wounded in camp. We can't abandon them. And if I stay behind, I can support the story. Wound me and leave me on one of the plateaus. Sadeas is sure to send scavengers back. I'll tell them my crew was hunted down in retribution for desecrating the Parshendi corpses, our bridge tossed into the chasm. They'll believe it; they've seen how the Parshendi hate us."

The crew was all standing now, shooting glances at one another. Uncomfortable glances.

"We're not leaving without you," Sigzil said. Many of the others nodded.

"I'll follow," Kaladin said. "We can't leave those men behind."

"Kaladin, lad-" Teft began.

"We can talk about me later," Kaladin interrupted. "Maybe I'll go with you, then sneak back into camp later to rescue the wounded. For now, go salvage from those bodies."

They hesitated.

"It's an order, men!"

They moved, offering no further complaint, rushing to pilfer from the corpses Sadeas had abandoned. That left Kaladin alone beside the bridge.

He was still unsettled. It wasn't just the wounded back in camp. What was it, then? This was a fantastic opportunity. The type he'd have practically killed to get during his years as a slave. The chance to vanish, presumed dead? The bridgemen wouldn't have to fight. They were free. Why, then, was he so anxious?

Kaladin turned to survey his men, and was shocked to see someone standing beside him. A woman of translucent white light.

It was Syl, as he'd never seen her before, the size of a regular person, hands clasped in front of her, hair and dress streaming to the side in the wind. He'd had no idea she could make herself so large. She stared eastward, her expression horrified, eyes wide and sorrowful. It was the face of a child watching a brutal murder that stole her innocence.

Kaladin turned and slowly looked in the direction she was staring. Toward the Tower.

Toward Dalinar Kholin's desperate army.

The sight of them twisted his heart. They fought so hopelessly. Surrounded. Abandoned. Left alone to die.

We have a bridge, Kaladin realized. If we could get it set… Most of the Parshendi were focused on the Alethi army, with only a token reserve force down at the base near the chasm. It was a small enough group that perhaps the bridgemen could contain them.

But no. That was idiocy. There were thousands of Parshendi soldiers blocking Kholin's path to the chasm. And how would the bridgemen set their bridge, with no archers to support them?

Several of the bridgemen returned from their quick scavenge. Rock joined Kaladin, staring eastward, expression becoming grim. "This thing is terrible," he said. "Can we not do something to help?"

Kaladin shook his head. "It would be suicide, Rock. We'd have to run a full assault without an army to support us."

"Couldn't we just go back a little of the way?" Skar asked. "Wait to see if Kholin can cut his way down to us? If he does, then we could set our bridge."

"No," Kaladin said. "If we stayed out of range, Kholin would assume us to be scouts left by Sadeas. We'll have to charge the chasm. Otherwise he'd never come down to meet us."