Kelsier reached out, grabbing smaller metal sources and Pulling them away from their owners—metal caps, fine steel swords, coin pouches, daggers. He threw them at the Inquisitor—carefully manipulating Steelpushes and Ironpulls—and kept his atium burning so that each item he controlled would have a fanning multitude of atium-images in the Inquisitor’s eyes.
The Inquisitor cursed quietly as it deflected the swarming bits of metal. Kelsier, however, just used the Inquisitor’s own Pushes against it, Pulling each item back, whipping them around at the creature. The Inquisitor blasted outward, Pushing against all the items at once, and Kelsier let them go. As soon as the Inquisitor stopped Pushing, however, Kelsier Pulled his weapons back.
The imperial soldiers formed a ring, watching warily. Kelsier used them, Pushing against breastplates, lurching himself back and forth in the air. The quick changes in position let him move constantly, disorienting the Inquisitor, allowing him to Push his different flying pieces of metal where he wanted them.
“Keep an eye on my belt buckle,” Dockson asked, wobbling slightly as he clung to the bricks beside Vin. “If I fall off, give me a Pull to slow the fall, eh?”
Vin nodded, but she wasn’t paying much attention to Dox. She was watching Kelsier. “He’s incredible!”
Kelsier lurched back and forth in the air, his feet never touching the ground. Bits of metal buzzed around him, responding to his Pushes and Pulls. He controlled them with such skill, one would have thought they were living things. The Inquisitor slapped them away with a fury, but was obviously having trouble keeping track of them all.
I underestimated Kelsier, Vin thought. I assumed that he was less skilled than the Mistings because he’d spread himself too thin. But that wasn’t it at all. This. This is his specialty—Pushing and Pulling with expert control.
And iron and steel are the metals he personally trained me in. Maybe he understood all along.
Kelsier spun and flew amid a maelstrom of metal. Every time something hit the ground, he flicked it back up. The items always flew in straight lines, but he kept moving, Pushing himself around, keeping them in the air, periodically shooting them at the Inquisitor.
The creature spun, confused. It tried to Push itself upward, but Kelsier shot several larger pieces of metal over the creature’s head, and it had to Push against them, throwing off its jump.
An iron bar hit the Inquisitor in the face.
The creature stumbled, blood marring the tattoos on the side of its face. A steel helmet struck it in the side, tossing it backward.
Kelsier began to shoot pieces of metal quickly, feeling his rage and anger mount. “Were you the one who killed Marsh?” he yelled, not bothering to listen for an answer. “Were you there when I was condemned, years ago?”
The Inquisitor raised a warding hand, Pushing away the next swarm of metals. It limped backward, putting its back against the overturned wooden cart.
Kelsier heard the creature growl, and a sudden Push of strength washed through the crowd, toppling soldiers, causing Kelsier’s metal weapons to shoot away.
Kelsier let them go. He dashed forward, rushing the disoriented Inquisitor, scooping up a loose cobblestone.
The creature turned toward him, and Kelsier yelled, swinging the cobblestone, his strength fueled almost more by rage than by pewter.
He hit the Inquisitor square in the eyes. The creature’s head snapped back, smacking against the bottom of the overturned cart. Kelsier struck again, yelling, repeatedly smashing his cobblestone into the creature’s face.
The Inquisitor howled in pain, reaching clawlike hands for Kelsier, moving as if to jump forward. Then it suddenly jerked to a stop, its head stuck against the cart’s wood. The spike tips that jutted from the back of its skull had been pounded into the wood by Kelsier’s attack.
Kelsier smiled as the creature screamed in rage, struggling to pull its head free from the wood. Kelsier turned to the side, seeking an item he had seen on the ground a few moments before. He kicked over a corpse, snatching the obsidian axe off the ground, its rough-chipped blade glittering in the red sunlight.
“I’m glad you talked me into this,” he said quietly. Then he swung with a two-handed blow, slamming the axehead through the Inquisitor’s neck and into the wood behind.
The Inquisitor’s body slumped to the cobblestones. The head remained where it was, staring out with its eerie, tattooed, unnatural gaze—pinned to the wood by its own spikes.
Kelsier turned to face the crowd, suddenly feeling incredibly wearied. His body ached from dozens of bruises and cuts, and he didn’t even know when his cloak had ripped free. He faced the soldiers defiantly, however, his scarred arms plainly visible.
“The Survivor of Hathsin!” one whispered.
“He killed an Inquisitor....” said another.
And then the chanting began. The skaa in the surrounding streets began to scream his name. The soldiers looked around, realizing with horror that they were surrounded. The peasants began to press in, and Kelsier could feel their anger and hope.
Maybe this doesn’t have to go the way I assumed, Kelsier thought triumphantly. Maybe I don’t have—
Then it hit. Like a cloud moving before the sun, like a sudden storm on a quiet night, like a pair of fingers snuffing a candle. An oppressive hand stifled the budding skaa emotions. The people cringed, and their cries died out. The fire Kelsier had built within them was too new.
So close . . . he thought.
Up ahead, a single, black carriage crested the hill and began to move down from the fountain square.
The Lord Ruler had arrived.
Vin nearly lost her grip as the wave of depression hit her. She flared her copper, but—as always—she could still slightly feel the Lord Ruler’s oppressive hand.
“Lord Ruler!” Dockson said, though Vin couldn’t tell if it was a curse or an observation. Skaa that had been packed in to view the fight somehow managed to make room for the dark carriage. It rolled down a corridor of people toward the corpse-littered square.
Soldiers pulled back, and Kelsier stepped away from the fallen cart, moving out to face the oncoming carriage.
“What is he doing?” Vin asked, turning toward Dockson, who had propped himself up on a small outcropping. “Why doesn’t he run? This is no Inquisitor—this isn’t something to fight!”
“This is it, Vin,” Dockson said, awed. “This is what he’s been waiting for. A chance to face the Lord Ruler—a chance to prove those legends of his.”
Vin turned back toward the square. The carriage rolled to a stop.
“But . . .” she said quietly. “The Eleventh Metal. Did he bring it?”
“He must have.”
Kelsier always said that the Lord Ruler was his task, Vin thought. He let the rest of us work on the nobility, the Garrison, and the Ministry. But this...Kelsier always planned to do this himself.
The Lord Ruler stepped from his carriage, and Vin leaned forward, burning tin. He looked like . . .
A man.
He was dressed in a black and white uniform somewhat like a nobleman’s suit, but far more exaggerated. The coat reached all the way to his feet, and trailed behind him as he walked. His vest wasn’t colored, but a pure black, though it was accented with brilliant white markings. As Vin had heard, his fingers glittered with rings, the symbol of his power.
I’m so much stronger than you, the rings proclaimed, that it doesn’t matter if I wear metal.
Handsome, with jet black hair and pale skin, the Lord Ruler was tall, thin, and confident. And he was young— younger than Vin would have expected, even younger than Kelsier. He strode across the square, avoiding corpses, his soldiers pulling back and forcing the skaa away.
Suddenly, a small group of figures burst through the line of soldiers. They wore the mismatched armor of rebels, and the man leading them looked just a bit familiar. He was one of Ham’s Thugs.
“For my wife!” the Thug said, holding up a spear and charging.<
br />
“For Lord Kelsier!” yelled the other four.
Oh no... Vin thought.
The Lord Ruler, however, ignored the men. The lead rebel bellowed in defiance, then rammed his spear through the Lord Ruler’s chest.
The Lord Ruler just continued to walk, passing the soldier, spear sticking all the way through his body.
The rebel paused, then grabbed a spear from one of his friends and drove this one through the Lord Ruler’s back. Again, the Lord Ruler ignored the men—as if they, and their weapons, were completely beneath his contempt.
The lead rebel stumbled back, then spun as his friends began to scream under an Inquisitor’s axe. He joined them shortly, and the Inquisitor stood above the corpses for a moment, hacking gleefully.
The Lord Ruler continued forward, two spears sticking—as if unnoticed—from his body. Kelsier stood waiting. He looked ragged in his ripped skaa clothing. Yet, he was proud. He didn’t bend or bow beneath the weight of the Lord Ruler’s Soothing.
The Lord Ruler stopped a few feet away, one of the spears nearly touching Kelsier’s chest. Black ash fell lightly around the two men, bits of it curling and blowing in the faint wind. The square fell horribly silent—even the Inquisitor stopped his gruesome work. Vin leaned forward, clinging precariously to the rough brickwork.
Do something, Kelsier! Use the metal!
The Lord Ruler glanced at the Inquisitor that Kelsier had killed. “Those are very hard to replace.” His accented voice carried easily to Vin’s tin-enhanced ears.
Even from a distance, she could see Kelsier smile.
“I killed you, once,” the Lord Ruler said, turning back to Kelsier.
“You tried,” Kelsier replied, his voice loud and firm, carrying across the square. “But you can’t kill me, Lord Tyrant. I represent that thing you’ve never been able to kill, no matter how hard you try. I am hope.”
The Lord Ruler snorted in disdain. He raised a casual arm, then backhanded Kelsier with a blow so powerful that Vin could hear the crack resound through the square.
Kelsier lurched and spun, spraying blood as he fell.
“NO!” Vin screamed.
The Lord Ruler ripped one of the spears from his own body, then slammed it down through Kelsier’s chest. “Let the executions begin,” he said, turning toward his carriage and ripping out the second spear, then tossing it aside.
Chaos followed. Prompted by the Inquisitor, the soldiers turned and attacked the crowd. Other Inquisitors appeared from the square above, riding black horses, ebony axes glistening in the afternoon light.
Vin ignored it all. “Kelsier!” she screamed. His body lay where it had fallen, spear jutting from his chest, scarlet blood pooling around him.
No. No. NO! She jumped from the building, Pushing against some people and throwing herself over the massacre. She landed in the center of the oddly empty square—Lord Ruler gone, Inquisitors busy killing skaa. She scrambled to Kelsier’s side.
There was almost nothing remaining of the left side of his face. The right side, however . . . it still smiled faintly, single dead eye staring up into the red-black sky. Bits of ash fell lightly on his face.
“Kelsier, no...” Vin said, tears streaming down her face. She prodded his body, feeling for a pulse. There was none.
“You said you couldn’t be killed!” she cried. “What of your plans? What of the Eleventh Metal? What of me?”
He didn’t move. Vin had trouble seeing through the tears. It’s impossible. He always said we aren’t invincible...but that meant me. Not him. Not Kelsier. He was invincible.
He should have been.
Someone grabbed her and she squirmed, crying out.
“Time to go, kid,” Ham said. He paused, looking at Kelsier, assuring for himself that the crewleader was dead.
Then he towed her away. Vin continued to struggle weakly, but she was growing numb. In the back of her mind, she heard Reen’s voice.
See. I told you he would leave you. I warned you. I promised you....
THE END OF PART FOUR
PART FIVE
Believers in a Forgotten World
I know what will happen if I make the wrong choice. I must be strong; I must not take the power for myself.
For I have seen what will happen if I do.
35
TO WORK WITH ME, KELSIER had said, I only ask that you promise one thing—to trust me.
Vin hung in the mist, immobile. It flowed around her like a quiet stream. Above, ahead, to the sides, and beneath. Mist all around her.
Trust me, Vin, he’d said. You trusted me enough to jump off the wall, and I caught you. You’re going to have to trust me this time too.
I’ll catch you.
I’ll catch you....
It was as if she were nowhere. Among, and of, the mist. How she envied it. It didn’t think. Didn’t worry.
Didn’t hurt.
I trusted you, Kelsier, she thought. I actually did—but you let me fall. You promised that your crews had no betrayals. What of this? What of your betrayal?
She hung, her tin extinguished to let her better see the mists. They were slightly wet, cool upon her skin. Like the tears of a dead man.
Why does it matter, anymore? she thought, staring upward. Why does anything matter? What was it you said to me, Kelsier? That I never really understood? That I still needed to learn about friendship? What about you? You didn’t even fight him.
He stood there again, in her mind. The Lord Ruler struck him down with a disdainful blow. The Survivor had died like any other man.
Is this why you were so hesitant to promise that you wouldn’t abandon me?
She wished she could just . . . go. Float away. Become mist. She’d once wished for freedom—and then had assumed she’d found it. She’d been wrong. This wasn’t freedom, this grief, this hole within her.
It was the same as before, when Reen had abandoned her. What was the difference? At least Reen had been honest. He’d always promised that he would leave. Kelsier had led her along, telling her to trust and to love, but Reen had always been the truthful one.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” she whispered to the mists. “Can’t you just take me?”
The mists gave no answer. They continued to spin playfully, uncaring. Always changing—yet somehow, always the same.
“Mistress?” called an uncertain voice from below. “Mistress, is that you up there?”
Vin sighed, burning tin, then extinguishing steel and letting herself drop. Her mistcloak fluttered as she fell through the mists; she landed quietly on the rooftop above their safe house. Sazed stood a short distance away, beside the steel ladder that the lookouts had been using to get atop the building.
“Yes, Saze?” she asked tiredly, reaching out to Pull up the three coins she’d been using as anchors to stabilize her like the legs of a tripod. One of them was twisted and bent—the same coin she and Kelsier had gotten into a Pushing match over so many months ago.
“I’m sorry, Mistress,” Sazed said. “I simply wondered where you had gone.”
She shrugged.
“It is a strangely quiet night, I think,” Sazed said.
“A mournful night.” Hundreds of skaa had been massacred following Kelsier’s death, and hundreds more had been trampled during the rush to escape.
“I wonder if his death even meant anything,” she said quietly. “We probably saved a lot fewer than were killed.”
“Slain by evil men, Mistress.”
“Ham often asks if there even is such a thing as ‘evil.’ ”
“Master Hammond likes to ask questions,” Sazed said, “but even he doesn’t question the answers. There are evil men...just as there are good men.”
Vin shook her head. “I was wrong about Kelsier. He wasn’t a good man—he was just a liar. He never had a plan for defeating the Lord Ruler.”
“Perhaps,” Sazed said. “Or, perhaps he never had an opportunity to fulfill that plan. Perhaps we just don’t understa
nd the plan.”
“You sound like you still believe in him.” Vin turned and walked to the edge of the flat-topped roof, staring out over the quiet, shadowy city.
“I do, Mistress,” Sazed said.
“How? How can you?”
Sazed shook his head, walking over to stand beside her. “Belief isn’t simply a thing for fair times and bright days, I think. What is belief—what is faith—if you don’t continue in it after failure?”
Vin frowned.
“Anyone can believe in someone, or something, that always succeeds, Mistress. But failure... ah, now, that is hard to believe in, certainly and truly. Difficult enough to have value, I think.”
Vin shook her head. “Kelsier doesn’t deserve it.”
“You don’t mean that, Mistress,” Sazed said calmly. “You’re angry because of what happened. You hurt.”
“Oh, I mean it,” Vin said, feeling a tear on her cheek. “He doesn’t deserve our belief. He never did.”
“The skaa think differently—their legends about him are growing quickly. I shall have to return here soon and collect them.”
Vin frowned. “You would gather stories about Kelsier?”
“Of course,” Sazed said. “I collect all religions.”
Vin snorted. “This is no religion we’re talking about, Sazed. This is Kelsier.”
“I disagree. He is certainly a religious figure to the skaa.”
“But, we knew him,” Vin said. “He was no prophet or god. He was just a man.”
“So many of them are, I think,” Sazed said quietly.
Vin just shook her head. They stood there for a moment, watching the night. “What of the others?” she finally asked.
“They are discussing what to do next,” Sazed said. “I believe it has been decided that they will leave Luthadel separately and seek refuge in other towns.”
“And...you?”
“I must travel north—to my homeland, to the place of the Keepers—so that I can share the knowledge that I possess. I must tell my brethren and sisters of the logbook—especially the words regarding our ancestor, the man named Rashek. There is much to learn in this story, I think.”
Mistborn Page 62
