The Mistborn Trilogy

by Brandon Sanderson

  Yet, the koloss carried crude-looking, but massive, swords. Sazed’s notes, his memory, and his lore all agreed: Koloss were very dangerous warriors. Strong as ten men or not, Sazed wouldn’t have the skill to defeat them.

  “Come down,” called a deep, slurred voice from below. “Come down now.”

  Sazed looked down. A large koloss, skin just beginning to stretch, stood at the tree’s base. It gave the aspen a shake.

  “Come down now,” the creature repeated.

  The lips don’t work very well, Sazed thought. He sounds like a man trying to talk without moving his lips. He wasn’t surprised that the creature could talk; his notes mentioned that. He was, however, surprised at how calm it sounded.

  I could run, he thought. He could keep to the tops of trees, perhaps cross the distance between patches of aspens by dropping his metalminds and trying to ride gusts of wind. But it would be very difficult—and very unpredictable.

  And he would have to leave his copperminds—a thousand years of history—behind.

  So, pewtermind ready in case he needed strength, Sazed let go of the tree. The koloss leader—Sazed could only assume that was what he was—watched Sazed fall to the ground with a red-eyed stare. The creature did not blink. Sazed wondered if it even could blink, its skin stretched as it was.

  Sazed plunked to the ground beside the tree, then reached for his pack.

  “No,” the koloss snapped, grabbing the pack with an inhumanly quick swipe of the arm. It tossed the pack to another koloss.

  “I need that,” Sazed said. “I will be much more cooperative if—”

  “Quiet!” the koloss yelled with a rage so sudden that Sazed took a step backward. Terrismen were tall—especially Terrismen eunuchs—and it was very disconcerting to be dwarfed by this beastly creature, well over nine feet in height, its skin a blackish blue, its eyes the color of the sun at dusk. It loomed over Sazed, and he cringed in spite of himself.

  Apparently, that was the proper reaction, for the lead koloss nodded and turned away. “Come,” it slurred, lumbering through the small aspen forest. The other koloss—about seven of them—followed.

  Sazed didn’t want to find out what would happen if he disobeyed. He chose a god—Duis, a god once said to watch over wearied travelers—and said a quick, silent prayer. Then he hurried forward, staying with the pack of koloss as they walked toward the camp.

  At least they didn’t kill me out of hand, Sazed thought. He’d half expected that, considering what he’d read. Of course, even the books didn’t know much. The koloss had been kept separate from mankind for centuries; the Lord Ruler only called upon them in times of great martial need, to quell revolts, or to conquer new societies discovered on the inner islands. At those times, the koloss had caused absolute destruction and slaughter—or so the histories claimed.

  Could all that have been propaganda? Sazed wondered. Maybe the koloss aren’t as violent as we assumed.

  One of the koloss beside Sazed howled in sudden anger. Sazed spun as the koloss jumped at one of its companions. The creature ignored the sword on its back, instead punching his enemy’s head with a blocky fist. The others paused, turning to watch the fight, but none of them seemed alarmed.

  Sazed watched with growing horror as the aggressor proceeded to repeatedly pummel his enemy. The defender tried to protect himself, getting out a dagger and managing to score a cut on the aggressor’s arm. The blue skin tore, seeping bright red blood, as the aggressor got his hands around his opponent’s thick head and twisted.

  There was a snap. The defender stopped moving. The aggressor removed the sword from his victim’s back and strapped it on beside his own weapon, then removed a small pouch that was tied beside the sword. After that, he stood, ignoring the wound on his arm, and the group began to walk again.

  “Why?” Sazed asked, shocked. “What was that for?”

  The wounded koloss turned around. “I hated him,” he said.

  “Move!” the lead koloss snapped at Sazed.

  Sazed forced himself to start walking. They left the corpse lying in the road. The pouches, he thought, trying to find something to focus on besides the brutality. They all carry those pouches. The koloss kept them tied to their swords. They didn’t carry the weapons in sheaths; they were simply bound on their backs with leather straps. And tied to those straps were pouches. Sometimes there was just one, though the two largest creatures in the group each had several.

  They look like coin pouches, Sazed thought. But, the koloss don’t have an economy. Perhaps they keep personal possessions in them? But what would beasts like these value?

  They entered the camp. There didn’t appear to be sentries at the borders—but, then, why would guards be necessary? It would be very difficult for a human to sneak into this camp.

  A group of smaller koloss—the five-foot-tall ones—rushed forward as soon as the group arrived. The murderer threw his extra sword to one of them, then pointed into the distance. He kept the pouch for himself, and the small ones rushed off, following the road in the direction of the body.

  Burial detail? Sazed wondered.

  He walked uncomfortably behind his captors as they penetrated into the camp. Beasts of all sorts were being roasted over the firepits, though Sazed didn’t think any of them had once been human. In addition, the ground around the camp had been completely stripped of plant life, as if it had been grazed by a group of particularly aggressive goats.

  And, according to his coppermind, that wasn’t far off the truth. Koloss could, apparently, subsist on practically anything. They preferred meat, but would eat any kind of plant—even grass, going so far as to pull it up by the roots to eat. Some reports even spoke of them eating dirt and ash, though Sazed found that a little difficult to believe.

  He continued to walk. The camp smelled of smoke, grime, and a strange musk that he assumed was koloss body odor. Some of the creatures turned as he passed, watching him with steady red eyes.

  It’s like they only have two emotions, he thought, jumping as a fireside koloss suddenly screamed and attacked a companion. They’re either indifferent or they’re enraged.

  What would it take to set them all off at once? And…what kind of a disaster would they cause if that happened? He nervously revised his earlier thoughts. No, the koloss had not been maligned. The stories he had heard—stories of koloss running wild in the Farmost Dominance, causing widespread destruction and death—were obviously true.

  But something kept this group marginally reined in. The Lord Ruler had been able to control the koloss, though no book explained how. Most writers simply accepted this ability as part of what had made the Lord Ruler God. The man had been immortal—compared with that, other powers seemed mundane.

  His immortality, however, was a trick, Sazed thought. Simply a clever combination of Feruchemical and Allomantic powers. The Lord Ruler had been just a normal man—albeit one with an unusual combination of abilities and opportunities.

  That being the case, how had he controlled the koloss? There was something different about the Lord Ruler. Something more than his powers. He did something at the Well of Ascension, something that forever changed the world. Perhaps his ability to control the koloss came from that.

  Sazed’s captors ignored the occasional fights around firepits. There didn’t appear to be any female koloss in the camp—or, if there were, they were indistinguishable from the males. Sazed did, however, notice a koloss corpse lying forgotten near one of the fires. It had been flayed, the blue skin ripped free.

  How could any society exist like this? he thought with horror. His books said the koloss bred and aged quickly—a fortunate situation for them, considering the number of deaths he had already seen. Even so, it seemed to him that this species killed too many of its members to continue.

  Yet they did continue. Unfortunately. The Keeper in him believed strongly that nothing should be lost, that every society was worth remembering. However, the brutality of the koloss camp—the wounded creat
ures who sat, ignoring the gashes in their skin, the flayed corpses along the path, the sudden bellows of anger and subsequent murders—tested this belief.

  His captors led him around a small hillock in the land, and Sazed paused as he saw something very unexpected.

  A tent.

  “Go,” the lead koloss said, pointing.

  Sazed frowned. There were several dozen humans outside the tent, carrying spears and dressed like imperial guards. The tent was large, and behind it stood a line of boxy carts.

  “Go!” the koloss yelled.

  Sazed did as he was told. Behind him, one of the koloss indifferently tossed Sazed’s pack toward the human guards. The metalminds inside clinked together as they hit the ashy ground, causing Sazed to cringe. The soldiers watched the koloss retreat with a wary eye; then one picked up the pack. Another leveled his spear at Sazed.

  Sazed held up his hands. “I am Sazed, a Keeper of Terris, once steward, now teacher. I am not your enemy.”

  “Yes, well,” the guard said, still watching the retreating koloss. “You’re still going to have to come with me.”

  “May I have my possessions back?” Sazed asked. This hollow appeared free of koloss; apparently, the human soldiers wanted to keep their distance.

  The first guard turned to his companion, who was perusing Sazed’s pack. The second guard looked up and shrugged. “No weapons. Some bracelets and rings, maybe worth something.”

  “None of them are of precious metals,” Sazed said. “They are the tools of a Keeper, and are of little value to anyone but myself.”

  The second guard shrugged, handing the bag to the first man. Both were of standard Central Dominance coloring—dark hair, light skin, the build and height of those who’d had proper nutrition as children. The first guard was the older of the two, and was obviously in charge. He took the bag from his companion. “We’ll see what His Majesty says.”

  Ah, Sazed thought. “Let us speak with him then.”

  The guard turned, pushing aside the tent door and motioning for Sazed to enter. Sazed stepped from red sunlight into a functional—if sparsely furnished—tent room. This main chamber was large, and contained several more guards. Sazed had seen perhaps two dozen so far.

  The lead guard walked forward and poked his head into a room at the back. A few moments later, he waved Sazed forward and pulled back the tent door.

  Sazed entered the second chamber. The man inside wore the pants and suit jacket of a Luthadel nobleman. He was balding—his hair reduced to a few struggling wisps—despite his youth. He stood, tapping the side of his leg with a nervous hand, and jumped slightly when Sazed entered.

  Sazed recognized the man. “Jastes Lekal.”

  “King Lekal,” Jastes snapped. “Do I know you, Terrisman?”

  “We have not met, Your Majesty,” Sazed said, “but I have had some dealings with a friend of yours, I think. King Elend Venture of Luthadel?”

  Jastes nodded absently. “My men say the koloss brought you. They found you poking around the camp?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Sazed said carefully, watching as Jastes began to pace. This man isn’t much more stable than the army he apparently leads, he thought with dissatisfaction. “How is it that you have persuaded the creatures to serve you?”

  “You are a prisoner, Terrisman,” Jastes snapped. “No questions. Did Elend send you to spy on me?”

  “I was sent by no man,” Sazed said. “You happened to be in my path, Your Majesty. I meant no harm by my observations.”

  Jastes paused, eyeing Sazed, before beginning to pace again. “Well, never mind. I’ve been without a proper steward for some time now. You will serve me now.”

  “I apologize, Your Majesty,” Sazed said, bowing slightly. “But that will not be possible.”

  Jastes frowned. “You’re a steward—I can tell that from the robes. Is Elend so great a master that you would deny me?”

  “Elend Venture is not my master, Your Majesty,” Sazed said, meeting the young king’s eyes. “Now that we are free, the Terrismen no longer call any man master. I cannot be your servant, for I can be no man’s servant. Keep me as prisoner, if you must. But I will not serve you. I apologize.”

  Jastes paused again. Instead of being angry, however, he simply seemed…embarrassed. “I see.”

  “Your Majesty,” Sazed said calmly, “I realize that you commanded me to ask no questions, so I will instead make observations. You appear to have placed yourself in a very poor position. I know not how you control these koloss, but I cannot help but think that your grip is tenuous. You are in danger, and you appear intent on sharing that danger with others.”

  Jastes flushed. “Your ‘observations’ are flawed, Terrisman. I am in control of this army. They obey me completely. How many other noblemen have you seen gather koloss armies? None—only I have been successful.”

  “They do not seem very much under control, Your Majesty.”

  “Oh?” Jastes asked. “And did they tear you apart when they found you? Pummel you to death for sport? Ram a stick through you and roast you over one of their fires? No. They don’t do these things because I commanded them otherwise. It may not seem like much, Terrisman, but trust me—this is a sign of great restraint and obedience for koloss.”

  “Civilization is no great achievement, Your Majesty.”

  “Do not try me, Terrisman!” Jastes snapped, running a hand through the remnants of his hair. “These are koloss we speak of—we can’t expect much from them.”

  “And you bring them to Luthadel?” Sazed asked. “Even the Lord Ruler feared these creatures, Your Majesty. He kept them away from cities. You bring them to the most populated area in all of the Final Empire!”

  “You don’t understand,” Jastes said. “I tried overtures of peace, but nobody listens unless you have money or an army. Well, I have one, and I’ll soon have the other. I know Elend’s sitting on that stash of atium—and I’m just come to…to make an alliance with him.”

  “An alliance where you take over control of the city?”

  “Bah!” Jastes said with a wave of his hand. “Elend doesn’t control Luthadel—he’s just a placeholder waiting for someone more powerful to come along. He’s a good man, but he’s an innocent idealist. He’s going to lose his throne to one army or another, and I’ll give him a better deal than Cett or Straff will, that’s certain.”

  Cett? Straff? What kind of trouble has young Venture gotten himself into? Sazed shook his head. “Somehow I doubt that a ‘better deal’ involves the use of koloss, Your Majesty.”

  Jastes frowned. “You certainly are smart-mouthed, Terrisman. You’re a sign—your entire people are a sign—of what has gone wrong with the world. I used to respect the Terris people. There’s no shame in being a good servant.”

  “There’s often little pride in it either,” Sazed said. “But, I apologize for my attitude, Your Majesty. It is not a manifestation of Terris independence. I have always been too free with my comments, I think. I never made the best of stewards.” Or the best of Keepers, he added to himself.

  “Bah,” Jastes said again, resuming his pacing.

  “Your Majesty,” Sazed said. “I must continue to Luthadel. There are…events I need to deal with. Think what you will of my people, but you must know that we are honest. The work I do is beyond politics and wars, thrones and armies. It is important for all men.”

  “Scholars always say things like that,” Jastes said. He paused. “Elend always said things like that.”

  “Regardless,” Sazed continued, “I must be allowed to leave. In exchange for my freedom, I will deliver a message from you to His Majesty King Elend, if you wish.”

  “I could send a messenger of my own at any time!”

  “And leave yourself with one less man to protect you from the koloss?” Sazed said.

  Jastes paused just briefly.

  Ah, so he does fear them. Good. At least he’s not insane.

  “I will be leaving, Your Majesty,” Sazed
said. “I do not mean to be arrogant, but I can see that you don’t have the resources to keep prisoners. You can let me go, or you can give me to the koloss. I would be wary, however, of letting them get into a habit of killing humans.”

  Jastes eyed him. “Fine,” he said. “Deliver this message, then. Tell Elend that I don’t care if he knows I’m coming—I don’t even care if you give our numbers. Be sure you’re accurate, though! I have over twenty thousand koloss in this army. He can’t fight me. He can’t fight the others, either. But, if I had those city walls…well, I could hold off both other armies for him. Tell him to be logical. If he gives over the atium, I’ll even let him keep Luthadel. We can be neighbors. Allies.”

  One bankrupt of coin, the other bankrupt of common sense, Sazed thought. “Very well, Your Majesty. I will speak with Elend. I will need the return of my possessions, however.”

  The king waved a hand in annoyance, and Sazed withdrew, waiting quietly as the lead guard entered the king’s chambers again and received his orders. As he waited for the soldiers to prepare—his pack thankfully returned to him—Sazed thought about what Jastes had said. Cett or Straff. Just how many forces were working on Elend to take his city?

  If Sazed had wanted a quiet place to study, he’d apparently chosen the wrong direction to run.

  20

  It wasn’t until a few years later that I began to notice the signs. I knew the prophecies—I am a Terris Worldbringer, after all. And yet, not all of us are religious men; some, such as myself, are more interested in other topics. However, during my time with Alendi, I could not help but become more interested in the Anticipation. He seemed to fit the signs so well.

  “This is going to be dangerous, Your Majesty,” Dockson said.