The Mistborn Trilogy (149 page)

“Yes…” Bedes said. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Sazed made his way down the steps, which were growing slick and wet with ashen slush, then approached the group of people. There were even more of them than he had assumed; they extended back into the street a short distance. The hundred or so people stood huddled together, watching the gates through the falling snow, looking cold, and Sazed felt a little guilty for his brassmind’s warmth.

Several of the people bowed their heads as Sazed approached.

“Why are you here?” Sazed asked. “Please, you must seek shelter. If your homes are near the courtyard, then go hide near the middle of the city. The koloss are likely to begin pillaging as soon as they finish with the army, so the edges of the city are more dangerous.”

None of the people moved.

“Please!” Sazed said. “You
must
go. If you stay, you will die!”

“We are not here to die, Holy First Witness,” said an elderly man at the front. “We are here to watch the koloss fall.”

“Fall?” Sazed asked.

“The Lady Heir will protect us,” said another woman.

“The Lady Heir has left the city!” Sazed said.

“Then we will watch you, Holy First Witness,” the man said, leaning with one hand on a young boy’s shoulder.

“Holy First Witness?” Sazed said. “Why call me this name?”

“You are the one who brought news of the Lord Ruler’s death,” the man said. “You gave the Lady Heir the spear she used to slay our lord. You were the witness to her actions.”

Sazed shook his head. “That may be true, but I am not worthy of reverence. I’m not a holy man, I’m just a…”

“A witness,” the old man said. “If the Heir is to join this fight, she will appear near you.”

“I…am sorry…” Sazed said, flushing.
I sent her away. I sent your god to safety.

The people watched him, their eyes reverent. It was wrong; they should not worship him. He was simply an observer.

Except, he wasn’t. He had made himself part of this all. It was as Tindwyl had indirectly warned him. Now that Sazed had participated in events, he had become an object of worship himself.

“You should not look at me like that,” Sazed said.

“The Lady Heir says the same thing,” the old man said, smiling, breath puffing in the cold air.

“That is different,” Sazed said. “She is…” He cut off, turning as he heard cries from behind. The archers on the wall were waving in alarm, and young Captain Bedes was rushing over to them.
What is—

A bestial blue creature suddenly pulled itself up onto the wall, its skin streaked and dripping with scarlet blood. It shoved aside a surprised archer, then grabbed Captain Bedes by the neck and tossed him backward. The boy disappeared, falling to the koloss below. Sazed heard the screams even from a distance. A second koloss pulled itself up onto the wall, then a third. Archers stumbled away in shock, dropping their weapons, some shoving others off the ramparts in their haste.

The koloss are jumping up,
Sazed realized.
Enough corpses must have piled below. And yet, to jump so high…

More and more creatures were pulling themselves onto the top of the wall. They were the largest of the monsters, the ones over ten feet in height, but that only made it easier for them to sweep the archers out of their way. Men fell to the courtyard, and the pounding on the gates redoubled.

“Go!” Sazed said, waving at the people behind him. Some of them backed away. Many stood firm.

Sazed turned desperately back toward the gates. The wooden structures began to crack, splinters spraying through the snowy, ash-laden air. The soldiers backed away, postures frightened. Finally, with a snap, the bar broke and the right gate burst open. A howling, bleeding, wild mass of koloss began to scramble across the wet stones.

Soldiers dropped their weapons and fled. Others remained, frozen with terror. Sazed stood at their back, between the horrified soldiers and the mass of skaa.

I am not a warrior,
he thought, hands shaking as he stared at the monsters. It had been difficult enough to stay calm inside their camp. Watching them scream—their massive swords out, their skin ripped and bloodied as they fell upon the human soldiers—Sazed felt his courage begin to fail.

But if I don’t do something, nobody will.

He tapped pewter.

His muscles grew. He drew deeply upon his steelmind as he dashed forward, taking more strength than he ever had before. He had spent years storing up strength, rarely finding occasion to use it, and now he tapped that reserve.

His body changed, weak scholar’s arms transforming into massive, bulky limbs. His chest widened, bulging, and his muscles grew taut with power. Days spent fragile and frail focused on this single moment. He shoved his way through the ranks of soldiers, pulling his robe over his head as it grew too restrictive, leaving himself wearing only a vestigial loincloth.

The lead koloss turned to find himself facing a creature nearly his own size. Despite its rage, despite its inhumanness, the beast froze, surprise showing in its beady red eyes.

Sazed punched the monster. He hadn’t practiced for war, and knew next to nothing about combat. Yet, at that moment, his lack of skill didn’t matter. The creature’s face folded around his fist, its skull cracking.

Sazed turned on thick legs, looking back at the startled soldiers.
Say something brave!
he told himself.

“Fight!” Sazed bellowed, surprised at the sudden deepness and strength of his voice.

And, startlingly, they did.

Vin fell to her knees, exhausted on the muddy, ash-soaked highway. Her fingers and knees hit the slushy cold, but she didn’t care. She simply knelt, wheezing. She couldn’t run any farther. Her pewter was gone. Her lungs burned and her legs ached. She wanted to collapse and curl up, coughing.

It’s just the pewter drag,
she thought forcibly. She’d pushed her body hard, but hadn’t had to pay for it until now.

She coughed a moment longer, groaning, then reached a dripping hand into her pocket and pulled out her last two vials. They had a mixture of all eight base metals, plus duralumin. Their pewter would keep her going for a little bit longer….

But not long enough. She was still hours away from Luthadel. Even with pewter, she wouldn’t arrive until long after dark. She sighed, replacing her vials, forcing herself to her feet.

What would I do if I arrived?
Vin thought.
Why work so hard? Am I that eager to fight again? To slaughter?

She knew that she wouldn’t arrive in time for the battle. In fact, the koloss had probably attacked days ago. Still, this worried her. Her attack on Cett’s keep still flashed horrific images in her head. Things she had done. Death she had caused.

And yet, something felt different to her now. She had accepted her place as a knife. But what was a knife, but another tool? It could be used for evil or for good; it could kill, or it could protect.

That point was moot, considering how weak she felt. It was hard to keep her legs from trembling as she flared tin, clearing her head. She stood on the imperial highway, a sodden, pockmarked roadway that looked—in the softly falling snow—to twist onward for eternity. It ran directly beside the imperial canal, which was a snakelike cut in the land, wide but empty, extending beside the highway.

Before, with Elend, this road had seemed bright and new. Now it looked dark and depressing. The Well thumped, its pulsings growing more powerful with each step she took back toward Luthadel. Yet, it wasn’t happening fast enough. Not fast enough for her to stop the koloss from taking the city.

Not fast enough for her friends.

I’m sorry…
she thought, teeth chattering as she pulled her cloak tight, pewter no longer aiding her against the cold.
I’m so sorry that I failed you.

She saw a line of smoke in the distance. She looked east, then west, but didn’t see much. The flat landscape was clouded in ashen snows.

A village,
thought her still-numb mind.
One of many in the area.
Luthadel was by far the dominant city of the small dominance, but there were others. Elend hadn’t been able to keep the others completely free of banditry, but they had fared far better than towns in other areas of the Final Empire.

Vin stumbled forward, pressing on through the slushy black puddles toward the village. After about fifteen minutes of walking, she turned off the main highway and made her way up a side road to the village. It was small, even by skaa standards. Just a few hovels, along with a couple of nicer structures.

Not a plantation,
Vin thought.
This was once a way village—a place for traveling noblemen to stop for the evening.
The small manor—which would have once been run by a minor noble landlord—was dark. Two of the skaa hovels, however, had light shining through the cracks. The gloomy weather must have convinced the people to retire from their labors early.

Vin shivered, walking up to one of the buildings, her tin-enhanced ears picking out sounds of talking inside. She paused, listening. Children laughed, and men spoke with gusto. She smelled what must have been the beginnings of the evening meal—a simple vegetable stew.

Skaa…laughing,
she thought. A hovel like this one would have been a place of fear and gloom during the days of the Lord Ruler. Happy skaa had been considered underworked skaa.

We’ve meant something. It’s all meant something.

But was it worth the deaths of her friends? The fall of Luthadel? Without Elend’s protection, even this little village would soon be taken by one tyrant or another.

She drank in the sounds of laughter. Kelsier hadn’t given up. He had faced the Lord Ruler himself, and his last words had been defiant. Even when his plans had seemed hopeless, his own corpse lying in the street, he had secretly been victorious.

I refuse to give up,
she thought, straightening.
I refuse to accept their deaths until I hold their corpses in my arms.

She raised a hand and pounded on the door. Immediately, the sounds inside stopped. Vin extinguished her tin as the door creaked open. Skaa, especially country skaa, were skittish things. She’d probably have to—

“Oh, you poor thing!” the woman exclaimed, pulling the door open the rest of the way. “Come in out of that snow. What are you doing out there!”

Vin hesitated. The woman was dressed simply, but the clothing was well made to stave off the winter. The firepit in the center of the room glowed with a welcome warmth.

“Child?” the woman asked. Behind, a stocky, bearded man rose to place a hand on the woman’s shoulder and study Vin.

“Pewter,” Vin said quietly. “I need pewter.”

The couple looked at each other, frowning. They probably thought her mind addled. After all, how must she look, hair drenched by the snow, clothing wet and stuck with ash? She only wore simple riding clothing—trousers and a nondescript cloak.

“Why don’t you come inside, child?” the man suggested. “Have something to eat. Then we can talk about where you came from. Where are your parents?”

Lord Ruler!
Vin thought with annoyance.
I don’t look
that
young, do I?

She threw a Soothing on the couple, suppressing their concern and suspicion. Then, she Rioted their willingness to help. She wasn’t as good as Breeze, but she wasn’t unpracticed, either. The couple immediately relaxed.

“I don’t have much time,” Vin said. “Pewter.”

“The lord had some fine diningware in his home,” the man said slowly. “But we traded most of that for clothing and farming equipment. I think there are a couple of goblets left. Master Cled—our elder—has them in the other hovel….”

“That might work,” Vin said.
Though the metal probably won’t be mixed with Allomantic percentages in mind.
It would probably have too much silver or not enough tin, making the pewter work more weakly than it would otherwise.

The couple frowned, then looked at the others in the hovel.

Vin felt despair crawl back into her chest. What was she thinking? Even if the pewter were of the right alloy, it would take time to shave it and produce enough for her to use in running. Pewter burned relatively quickly. She’d need a lot of it. Preparing it could take almost as much time as simply walking to Luthadel.

She turned, looking south, through the dark, snowy sky. Even with pewter, it would take hours more running. What she really needed was a spikeway—a path marked by spikes driven in the ground that an Allomancer could push against, throwing themselves through the air again and again. On such an organized pathway, she’d once traveled from Luthadel to Fellise—an hour’s carriage ride—in under ten minutes.

But there was no spikeway from this village to Luthadel; there weren’t even ones along the main canal routes. They were too hard to set up, too specific in their usefulness, to be worth the bother of running them long distances….

Vin turned, causing the skaa couple to jump. Perhaps they’d noticed the daggers in her belt, or perhaps it was the look in her eyes, but they no longer looked quite as friendly as they had before.

“Is that a stable?” Vin said, nodding toward one of the dark buildings.

“Yes,” the man said hesitantly. “But we have no horses. Only a couple of goats and cows. Surely you don’t want to—”

“Horseshoes,” Vin said.

The man frowned.

“I need horseshoes,” Vin said. “A lot of them.”

“Follow me,” the man said, responding to her Soothing. He led her out into the cold afternoon. Others followed behind them, and Vin noticed a couple of men casually carrying cudgels. Perhaps it wasn’t just Elend’s protection that had allowed these people to remain unmolested.