The Mistborn Trilogy

by Brandon Sanderson

  The truth was that Elend felt a little like his soldiers did. He felt a satisfaction—a thrill even—from doing something, anything, to help.

  “What if Cett’s attack comes?” Ham said, still looking over the soldiers. “A good portion of the army will be out scattered through the city.”

  “Even if we have a thousand men in my teams, that’s not much of a dent in our forces. Besides, Clubs thinks there will be plenty of time to gather them. We’ve got messengers set up.”

  Elend looked back at his map. “Anyway, I don’t think Cett’s going to attack just yet. He’s pretty safe in that keep, there. We’ll never take him—we’d have to pull too many men away from the city defenses, leaving ourselves exposed. The only thing he really has to worry about is my father…”

  Elend trailed off.

  “What?” Ham said.

  “That’s why Cett is here,” Elend said, blinking in surprise. “Don’t you see? He intentionally left himself without options. If Straff attacks, Cett’s armies will end up fighting alongside our own. He’s locked in his fate with ours.”

  Ham frowned. “Seems like a pretty desperate move.”

  Elend nodded, thinking back to his meeting with Cett. “‘Desperate,’” he said. “That’s a good word. Cett is desperate for some reason—one I haven’t been able to figure out. Anyway, by putting himself in here, he sides with us against Straff—whether we want the alliance or not.”

  “But, what if the Assembly gives the city to Straff? If our men join with him and attack Cett?”

  “That’s the gamble he took,” Elend said. Cett never intended to be able to walk away from the confrontation here in Luthadel. He intends to take the city or be destroyed.

  He is waiting, hoping Straff will attack, worrying that we’ll just give into him. But neither can happen as long as Straff is afraid of Vin. A three-way standoff. With the koloss as a fourth element that nobody can predict.

  Someone needed to do something to tip the scales. “Demoux,” Elend said. “Are you ready to take over here?”

  Captain Demoux looked over, nodding.

  Elend turned to Ham. “I have a question for you, Ham.”

  Ham raised an eyebrow.

  “How insane are you feeling at the moment?

  Elend led his horse out of the tunnel into the scraggly landscape outside of Luthadel. He turned, craning to look up at the wall. Hopefully, the soldiers there had gotten his message, and wouldn’t mistake him for a spy or a scout of one of the enemy armies. He’d rather not end up in Tindwyl’s histories as the ex-king who’d died by an arrow from one of his own men.

  Ham led a small, grizzled woman from the tunnel. As Elend had guessed, Ham had easily found a suitable passwall to get them out of the city.

  “Well, there you go,” said the elderly woman, resting on her cane.

  “Thank you, good woman,” Elend said. “You have served your dominance well this day.”

  The woman snorted, raising an eyebrow—though, from what Elend could tell, she was quite nearly blind. Elend smiled, pulling out a pouch and handing it to her. She reached into it with gnarled, but surprisingly dexterous, fingers and counted out the contents. “Three extra?”

  “To pay you to leave a scout here,” Elend said. “To watch for our return.”

  “Return?” the woman asked. “You aren’t running?”

  “No,” Elend said. “I just have some business with one of the armies.”

  The woman raised the eyebrow again. “Well, none of Granny’s business,” she muttered, turning back down the hole with a tapping cane. “For three clips, I can find a grandson to sit out here for a few hours. Lord Ruler knows, I have enough of them.”

  Ham watched her go, a spark of fondness in his eyes.

  “How long have you known about this place?” Elend asked, watching as a couple of burly men pulled closed the hidden section of stone. Half burrowed, half cut from the wall’s stones themselves, the tunnel was a remarkable feat. Even after hearing about the existence of such things from Felt earlier, it was still a shock to travel through one hidden not a few minutes’ ride from Keep Venture itself.

  Ham turned back to him as the false wall snapped shut. “Oh, I’ve known of this for years and years,” he said. “Granny Hilde used to give me sweets when I was a kid. Of course, that was really just a cheap way of getting some quiet—yet well-targeted—publicity for her passwall. When I was grown, I used to use this to sneak Mardra and the kids in and out of the city when they came to visit.”

  “Wait,” Elend said. “You grew up in Luthadel?”

  “Of course.”

  “On the streets, like Vin?”

  Ham shook his head. “Not really like Vin,” he said in a subdued voice, scanning the wall. “I don’t really think anyone grew up like Vin. I had skaa parents—my grandfather was the nobleman. I was involved with the underground, but I had my parents for a good portion of my childhood. Besides, I was a boy—and a large one.” He turned toward Elend. “I suspect that makes a big difference.”

  Elend nodded.

  “You’re not going to shut this place down, are you?” Ham asked.

  Elend turned with shock. “Why would I?”

  Ham shrugged. “It doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of honest enterprise that you would approve of. There are probably people fleeing from the city nightly through this hole. Granny Hilde is known to take coin and not ask questions—even if she does grumble at you a bit.”

  Ham did have a point. Probably why he didn’t tell me about the place until I specifically asked. His friends walked a fine line, close to their old ties with the underground, yet working hard to build up the government they’d sacrificed so much to create.

  “I’m not king,” Elend said, leading his horse away from the city. “What Granny Hilde does isn’t any of my business.”

  Ham moved up beside him, looking relieved. Elend could see that relief dissipate, however, as the reality of what they were doing settled in. “I don’t like this, El.”

  They stopped walking as Elend mounted. “Neither do I.”

  Ham took a deep breath, then nodded.

  My old nobleman friends would have tried to talk me out of this, Elend thought with amusement. Why did I surround myself with people who had been loyal to the Survivor? They expect their leaders to take irrational risks.

  “I’ll go with you,” Ham said.

  “No,” Elend said. “It won’t make a difference. Stay here, wait to see if I get back. If I don’t, tell Vin what happened.”

  “Sure, I’ll tell her,” Ham said wryly. “Then I’ll proceed to remove her daggers from my chest. Just make sure you come back, all right?”

  Elend nodded, barely paying attention. His eyes were focused on the army in the distance. An army without tents, carriages, food carts, or servants. An army who had eaten the foliage to the ground in a wide swath around them. Koloss.

  Sweat made the reins slick in Elend’s hands. This was different from before, when he’d gone into Straff’s army and Cett’s keep. This time he was alone. Vin couldn’t get him out if things went bad; she was still recovering from her wounds, and nobody knew what Elend was doing but Ham.

  What do I owe the people of this city? Elend thought. They rejected me. Why do I still insist on trying to protect them?

  “I recognize that look, El,” Ham said. “Let’s go back.”

  Elend closed his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh. Then he snapped his eyes open and kicked his horse into a gallop.

  It had been years since he’d seen koloss, and that experience had come only at his father’s insistence. Straff hadn’t trusted the creatures, and had never liked having garrisons of them in the Northern Dominance, one just a few days’ march from his home city of Urteau. Those koloss had been a reminder, a warning, from the Lord Ruler.

  Elend rode his horse hard, as if using its momentum to bolster his own will. Aside from one brief visit to the Urteau koloss garrison, everything he knew of the creatures cam
e from books—but Tindwyl’s instruction had weakened his once absolute, and slightly naive, trust in his learning.

  It will have to be enough, Elend thought as he approached the camp. He gritted his teeth, slowing his animal as he approached a wandering squad of Koloss.

  It was as he remembered. One large creature—its skin revoltingly split and cracked by stretch marks—led a few medium-sized beasts, whose bleeding rips were only beginning to appear at the corners of their mouths and the edges of their eyes. A smattering of smaller creatures—their baggy skin loose and sagging beneath their eyes and arms—accompanied their betters.

  Elend reined in his horse, trotting it over to the largest beast. “Take me to Jastes.”

  “Get off your horse,” the koloss said.

  Elend looked the creature directly in the eyes. Atop his horse, he was nearly the same height. “Take me to Jastes.”

  The koloss regarded him with a set of beady, unreadable eyes. It bore a rip from one eye to the other, above the nose, a secondary rip curving down to one of the nostrils. The nose itself was pulled so tight it was twisted and flattened, held to the bone a few inches off-center.

  This was the moment. The books said the creature would either do as commanded or simply attack him. Elend sat tensely.

  “Come,” the koloss snapped, turning to walk back toward the camp. The rest of the creatures surrounded Elend’s horse, and the beast shuffled nervously. Elend kept a tight hold on his reins and nudged the animal forward. It responded skittishly.

  He should have felt good at his small victory, but his tension only increased. They moved forward into the koloss camp. It was like being swallowed. Like letting a rockslide collapse around you. Koloss looked up as he passed, watching him with their red, emotionless eyes. Many others just stood silently around their cooking fires, unresponsive, like men who had been born dull-minded and witless.

  Others fought. They killed each other, wrestling on the ground before their uncaring companions. No philosopher, scientist, or scholar had been able to determine exactly what set off a koloss. Greed seemed a good motivation. Yet, they would sometimes attack when there was plenty of food, killing a companion for his hunk of beef. Pain was another good motivator, apparently, as was a challenge to authority. Carnal, visceral reasons. And yet, there seemed to be times when they attacked without any cause or reason.

  And after fighting, they would explain themselves in calm tones, as if their actions were perfectly rational. Elend shivered as he heard yells, telling himself that he would probably be all right until he reached Jastes. Koloss usually just attacked each other.

  Unless they got into a blood frenzy.

  He pushed that thought away, instead focusing on the things that Sazed had mentioned about his trip into the koloss camp. The creatures wore the wide, brutish iron swords that Sazed had described. The bigger the koloss, the bigger the weapon. When a koloss reached a size where he thought he needed a larger sword, he had only two choices: find one that had been discarded, or kill someone and take theirs. A koloss population could often be crudely controlled by increasing or decreasing the number of swords available to the group.

  None of the scholars knew how the creatures bred.

  As Sazed had explained, these koloss also had strange little pouches tied to their sword straps. What are they? Elend thought. Sazed said he saw the largest koloss carrying three or four. But that one leading my group has almost twenty. Even the small koloss in Elend’s group had three pouches.

  That’s the difference, he thought. Whatever is in those pouches, could it be the way Jastes controls the creatures?

  There was no way to know, save begging one of the pouches off a koloss—and he doubted they would let them go.

  As he walked, he noticed another oddity: some of the koloss were wearing clothing. Before, he’d seen them only in loincloths, as Sazed had reported. Yet, many of these koloss had pants, shirts, or skirts pulled onto their bodies. They wore the clothing without regard for size, and most pieces were so tight they had torn. Others were so loose they had to be tied on. Elend saw a few of the larger koloss wearing garments like bandanas tied around their arms or heads.

  “We are not koloss,” the lead koloss suddenly said, turning to Elend as they walked.

  Elend frowned. “Explain.”

  “You think we are koloss,” it said through lips that were stretched too tightly to work properly. “We are humans. We will live in your city. We will kill you, and we will take it.”

  Elend shivered, realizing the source of the mismatched garments. They had come from the village that the koloss had attacked, the one whose refugees had trickled into Luthadel. This appeared to be a new development in koloss thinking. Or, had it always been there, repressed by the Lord Ruler? The scholar in Elend was fascinated. The rest of him was simply horrified.

  His koloss guide paused before a small group of tents, the only such structures in the camp. Then the lead koloss turned and yelled, startling Elend’s horse. Elend fought to keep his mount from throwing him as the koloss jumped and attacked one of its companions, proceeding to pummel it with a massive fist.

  Elend won his struggle. The lead koloss, however, did not.

  Elend climbed off his horse, patting the beast on the neck as the victimized koloss pulled his sword from the chest of his former leader. The survivor—who now bore several cuts in his skin that hadn’t come from stretching—bent down to harvest the pouches tied to the corpse’s back. Elend watched with a muted fascination as the koloss stood and spoke.

  “He was never a good leader,” it said in a slurred voice.

  I can’t let these monsters attack my city, Elend thought. I have to do something. He pulled his horse forward, turning his back on the koloss as he entered the secluded section of camp, watched over by a group of nervous young men in uniforms. Elend handed his reins to one of them.

  “Take care of this for me,” Elend said, striding forward.

  “Wait!” one of the soldiers said. “Halt!”

  Elend turned sharply, facing the shorter man, who was trying to both level his spear at Elend and keep an eye on the koloss. Elend didn’t try to be harsh; he just wanted to keep his own anxiety under control and keep moving. Either way, the resulting glare probably would have impressed even Tindwyl.

  The soldier jerked to a halt.

  “I am Elend Venture,” Elend said. “You know that name?”

  The man nodded.

  “You may announce me to Lord Lekal,” Elend said. “Just get to the tent before I do.”

  The young man took off at a dash. Elend followed, striding up to the tent, where other soldiers stood hesitantly.

  What must it have done to them, Elend wondered, living surrounded by koloss, so terribly outnumbered? Feeling a stab of pity, he didn’t try to bully his way in. He stood with faux patience until a voice called from inside. “Let him in.”

  Elend brushed past the guards and threw open the tent flap.

  The months had not been kind to Jastes Lekal. Somehow, the few wisps of hair on his head looked far more pathetic than complete baldness would have. His suit was sloppy and stained, his eyes underlined by a pair of deep bags. He was pacing, and jumped slightly when Elend entered.

  Then he froze for a moment, eyes wide. Finally, he raised a quivering hand to push back hair he didn’t have. “Elend?” he asked. “What in the Lord Ruler’s name happened to you?”

  “Responsibility, Jastes,” Elend said quietly. “It appears that neither of us were ready for it.”

  “Out,” Jastes said, waving to his guards. They shuffled past Elend, closing the tent flap behind them.

  “It’s been a while, Elend,” Jastes said, chuckling weakly.

  Elend nodded.

  “I remember those days,” Jastes said, “sitting in your den or mine, sharing a drink with Telden. We were so innocent, weren’t we?”

  “Innocent,” Elend said, “but hopeful.”

  “Want something to drink?” Jastes sai
d, turning toward the room’s desk. Elend eyed the bottles and flasks lying in the corner of the room. They were all empty. Jastes removed a full bottle from the desk and poured Elend a small cup, the size and clear color an indication that this was no simple dinner wine.

  Elend accepted the small cup, but did not drink. “What happened, Jastes? How did the clever, thoughtful philosopher I knew turn into a tyrant?”

  “Tyrant?” Jastes snapped, downing his cup in a single shot. “I’m no tyrant. Your father’s the tyrant. I’m just a realist.”

  “Sitting at the center of a koloss army doesn’t seem to be a very realistic position to me.”

  “I can control them.”

  “And Suisna?” Elend asked. “The village they slaughtered?”

  Jastes wavered. “That was an unfortunate accident.”

  Elend looked down at the drink in his hand, then threw it aside, the liquor splashing on the dusty tent floor. “This isn’t my father’s den, and we are not friends any longer. I will call no man friend who leads something like this against my city. What happened to your honor, Jastes Lekal?”

  Jastes snorted, glancing at the spilled liquor. “That’s always been the problem with you, Elend. So certain, so optimistic, so self-righteous.”

  “It was our optimism,” Elend said, stepping forward. “We wanted to change things, Jastes, not destroy them!”

  “Is that so?” Jastes countered, showing a temper Elend had never seen in his friend. “You want to know why I’m here, Elend? Did you even pay attention to what was happening in the Southern Dominance while you played in Luthadel?”

  “I’m sorry about what happened to your family, Jastes.”

  “Sorry?” Jastes said, snatching the bottle off his desk. “You’re sorry? I implemented your plans, Elend. I did everything we talked about—freedom, political honesty. I trusted my allies rather than crushing them into submission. And you know what happened?”