Mistborn Trilogy

by Sanderson, Brandon

  Kelsier paused for just a moment. Then he yelled, “Vin, run!” as the Inquisitor’s hand snapped forward, grabbing him by the throat.

  Vin froze. To the sides, she saw two other black-robed Inquisitors stride through open archways. Tall, lean, and bald, they were also marked by their spikes and intricate Ministry eye tattoos.

  The closest Inquisitor lifted Kelsier up into the air by his neck. “Kelsier, the Survivor of Hathsin,” the creature said in a grinding voice. Then he turned toward Vin. “And…you. I’ve been looking for you. I’ll let this one die quickly if you’ll tell me which nobleman spawned you, half-breed.”

  Kelsier coughed, struggling for breath as he pried at the creature’s grip. The Inquisitor turned, regarding Kelsier with spike-end eyes. Kelsier coughed again, as if trying to say something, and the Inquisitor curiously pulled Kelsier a bit closer.

  Kelsier’s hand whipped out, ramming a dagger into the creature’s neck. As the Inquisitor stumbled, Kelsier slammed his fist into the creature’s forearm, shattering the bone with a snap. The Inquisitor dropped him, and Kelsier fell to the reflective marble floor, coughing.

  Gasping for breath, Kelsier looked up at Vin with intense eyes. “I said run!” he croaked, tossing something to her.

  Vin paused, reaching out to catch the coin pouch. However, it lurched suddenly in the air, shooting forward. Abruptly, she realized Kelsier wasn’t throwing it to her, but at her.

  The bag hit her in the chest. Pushed by Kelsier’s Allomancy, it hurled her across the room—past the two surprised Inquisitors—until she finally dropped awkwardly to the floor, skidding on the marble.

  Vin looked up, slightly dazed. In the distance, Kelsier regained his feet. The main Inquisitor, however, didn’t seem very concerned about the dagger in his neck. The other two Inquisitors stood between her and Kelsier. One turned toward her, and Vin felt chilled by its horrifying, unnatural gaze.

  “RUN!” The word echoed in the domed chamber. And this time, finally, it struck home.

  Vin scrambled to her feet—fear shocking her, screaming at her, making her move. She dashed toward the nearest archway, uncertain if it was the one she had come in through. She clutched Kelsier’s coin pouch and burned iron, frantically seeking an anchor down the corridor.

  Must get away!

  She grabbed the first bit of metal she saw and yanked, tearing herself off the ground. She shot down the corridor at an uncontrolled speed, terror flaring her iron.

  She lurched suddenly, and everything spun. She hit the ground at an awkward angle—her head slamming against the rough stone—then lay dizzily, wondering what had happened. The coin pouch…someone had Pulled on it, using its metal to yank her backward.

  Vin rolled over and saw a dark form shooting down the corridor. The Inquisitor’s robes fluttered as he dropped lightly to his feet a short distance from Vin. He strode forward, his face impassive.

  Vin flared tin and pewter, clearing her mind and pushing away the pain. She whipped out a few coins, Pushing them at the Inquisitor.

  He raised a hand, and both coins froze in the air. Vin’s own Push suddenly threw her backward, and she tumbled across the stones, skidding and sliding.

  She heard the coins pling against the floor as she came to a rest. She shook her head, a dozen new bruises flaring angrily across her body. The Inquisitor stepped over the discarded coins, walking toward her with a smooth gait.

  I have to get away! Even Kelsier had been afraid to face an Inquisitor. If he couldn’t fight one, what chance did she have?

  None. She dropped the pouch and jumped to her feet, then she ran, ducking through the first doorway she saw. The room beyond was empty of people, but a golden altar stood at its center. Between the altar, the four candelabra at the corners, and the cluttering of other religious paraphernalia, the space was cramped.

  Vin turned, Pulling a candelabrum into her hands, remembering Kelsier’s trick from before. The Inquisitor stepped into the room, then raised an almost amused hand, ripping the candelabra from her hands in an easy Allomantic Pull.

  He’s so strong! Vin thought with horror. He was probably steadying himself by Pulling against the lantern brackets behind. However, the force of his Ironpulls was far more powerful than Kelsier’s had ever been.

  Vin jumped, Pulling herself slightly up and over the altar. At the doorway, the Inquisitor reached over to a bowl that sat atop a short pillar, pulling out what appeared to be a handful of small metal triangles. They were sharp on all sides, and they cut the creature’s hand in a dozen different places. He ignored the wounds, raising a bloody hand toward her.

  Vin yelped, ducking behind the altar as pieces of metal sprayed against the back wall.

  “You are trapped,” the Inquisitor said in a scratchy voice. “Come with me.”

  Vin glanced to the side. There weren’t any other doors in the room. She peeked up, glancing at the Inquisitor, and a piece of metal shot at her face. She Pushed against it, but the Inquisitor was too strong. She had to duck and let the metal go, lest his power pin her back against the wall.

  I’ll need something to block with. Something that isn’t made of metal.

  As she heard the Inquisitor step into the room, she found what she needed—a large, leather-bound book sitting beside the altar. She grabbed it, then paused. There was no use in being rich if she died. She pulled out Kelsier’s vial and downed the atium, then burned it.

  The Inquisitor’s shadow stepped around the side of the altar, then the actual Inquisitor followed a second later. The atium-shadow opened its hand, and a spray of tiny, translucent daggers shot at her.

  Vin raised her book as the real daggers followed. She swung the book through the shadow trails just as the real daggers shot toward her. She caught every one, their sharp, jagged edges digging deeply into the book’s leather cover.

  The Inquisitor paused, and she was rewarded by what seemed to be a look of confusion on its twisted face. Then a hundred shadow images shot from his body.

  Lord Ruler! Vin thought. He had atium too.

  Not pausing to worry about what that meant, Vin hopped over the altar, carrying the book with her as protection against further missiles. The Inquisitor spun, spike-eyes following her as she ducked back into the hallway.

  A squad of soldiers stood waiting for her. However, each one bore a future-shadow. Vin ducked between them, barely watching where their weapons would fall, somehow avoiding the attacks of twelve different men. And, for a moment, she almost forgot the pain and fear—and they were replaced by an incredible sense of power. She dodged effortlessly, staves swinging above and beside her, each one missing by just inches. She was invincible.

  She spun through the ranks of the men, not bothering to kill or hurt them—she only wanted to escape. As she passed the last one, she turned around a corner.

  And a second Inquisitor, his body springing with shadow images, stepped up and slammed something sharp into her lower side.

  Vin gasped in pain. There was a sickening sound as the creature pulled his weapon free of her body; it was a length of wood affixed with sharp obsidian blades. Vin grasped her side, stumbling backward, feeling a terrifying amount of warm blood seeping from the wound.

  The Inquisitor looked familiar. The first one, from the other room, she thought through the pain. Does…that mean that Kelsier is dead?

  “Who is your father?” the Inquisitor asked.

  Vin kept her hand at her side, trying to stop the blood. It was a large wound. A bad wound. She had seen such wounds before. They always killed.

  Yet, she still stood. Pewter, her confused mind thought. Flare pewter!

  She did so, the metal giving her body strength, letting her stay on her feet. The soldiers stepped back to let the second Inquisitor approach her from the side. Vin looked in horror from one Inquisitor to the other, both descending upon her, blood pouring between her fingers and down her side. The lead Inquisitor still carried the axelike weapon, its edge coated with blood. Her blood.
<
br />   I’m going to die, she thought with terror.

  And then she heard it. Rain. It was faint, but her tin-ears picked it out behind her. She spun, lurching through a door, and was rewarded by the sight of a large archway on the other side of the room. Mist pooled at the room’s floor, and rain slapped the stones outside.

  Must have been where the guards came from, she thought. She kept her pewter flared, amazed at how well her body still worked, and stumbled out into the rain, reflexively clutching the leather book to her chest.

  “You think to escape?” the lead Inquisitor asked from behind, his voice amused.

  Numbly, Vin reached into the sky and Pulled against one of the palace’s many spires. She heard the Inquisitor curse as she pitched into the air, hurling up into the dark night.

  The thousand spires rose around her. She Pulled against one, then switched to another. The rain was strong now, and it made the night black. There was no mist to reflect ambient light, and the stars were hidden by clouds above. Vin couldn’t see where she was going; she had to use Allomancy to sense the metallic tips of the spires, and hope there was nothing in between.

  She hit a spire, catching hold of it in the night and pulling to a stop. Have to bandage the wound… she thought weakly. She was beginning to grow numb, her head cloudy despite her pewter and tin.

  Something slammed against the spire above her, and she heard a low growl. Vin Pushed off even as she felt the Inquisitor slash the air beside her.

  She had one chance. Midjump, she Pulled herself sideways, toward a different spire. At the same time, she Pushed against the book in her hands—it still had bits of metal embedded into its cover. The book continued in the direction she had been going, metal lines glowing weakly in the night. It was the only metal she had on her.

  Vin caught the next spire lightly, trying to make as little sound as possible. She strained in the night, burning tin, the rainfall becoming a thunder in her ears. Over it, she thought she heard the distinct sound of something hitting a spire in the direction she had Pushed the book.

  The Inquisitor had fallen for her ruse. Vin sighed, hanging from the spire, rain splattering her body. She made sure her copper was still burning, Pulled lightly against the spire to hold herself in place, and ripped off a piece of her shirt to bandage the wound. Despite her numb mind, she couldn’t help noticing how big the gash was.

  Oh, Lord, she thought. Without pewter, she would have fallen unconscious long ago. She should be dead.

  Something sounded in the darkness. Vin felt a chill, looking up. All was black around her.

  It can’t be. He can’t—

  Something slammed into her spire. Vin cried out, jumping away. She Pulled herself toward another spire, caught it weakly, then immediately Pushed off again. The Inquisitor followed, thuds sounding as he jumped from spire to spire behind her.

  He found me. He couldn’t see me, hear me, or sense me. But he found me.

  Vin hit a spire, holding it by one hand, limply hanging in the night. Her strength was nearly gone. I…have to get away…hide….

  Her hands were numb, and her mind felt nearly the same. Her fingers slipped from the cold, wet metal of the spire, and she felt herself drop free into the darkness.

  She fell with the rain.

  However, she went only a short distance before thudding against something hard—the roof of a particularly tall bit of the palace. Dazed, she climbed to her knees, crawling away from the spire, seeking a corner.

  Hide…hide…hide…

  She crawled weakly to the nook formed by another tower. She huddled against the dark corner, lying in a deep puddle of ashy rainwater, arms wrapped around herself. Her body was wet with rain and blood.

  She thought, for just a moment, that she might have escaped.

  A dark form thumped to the rooftop. The rain was letting up, and her tin revealed a head set with two spikes, a body cloaked in a dark robe.

  She was too weak to move, too weak to do more than shiver in the puddle of water, clothing plastered to her skin. The Inquisitor turned toward her.

  “Such a small, troubling thing you are,” he said. He stepped forward, but Vin could barely hear his words.

  It was growing dark again…no, it was just her mind. Her vision grew dark, her eyes closing. Her wound didn’t hurt anymore. She couldn’t…even…think….

  A sound, like shattering branches.

  Then arms gripped her. Warm arms, not the arms of death. She forced her eyes open.

  “Kelsier?” she whispered.

  But it wasn’t Kelsier’s face that looked back at her, streaked with concern. It was a different, kinder face. She sighed in relief, drifting away as the strong arms pulled her close, making her feel oddly safe in the terrible storms of night.

  I don’t know why Kwaan betrayed me. Even still, this event haunts my thoughts. He was the one who discovered me; he was the Terris philosopher who first called me the Hero of Ages. It seems ironically surreal that now—after his long struggle to convince his colleagues—he is the only major Terris holy man to preach against my reign.

  15

  “YOU TOOK HER WITH YOU?” Dockson demanded, bursting into the room. “You took Vin into Kredik Shaw? Are you bloody insane?”

  “Yes,” Kelsier snapped. “You’ve been right all along. I’m a madman. A lunatic. Perhaps I should have just died in the Pits and never come back to bother any of you!”

  Dockson paused, taken aback by the force in Kelsier’s words. Kelsier pounded the table in frustration, and the wood splintered from the force of the blow. He still burned pewter, the metal helping him resist his several wounds. His mistcloak lay in tatters, his body sliced by a half-dozen different small cuts. His entire right side burned with pain. He’d have a massive bruise there, and he’d be lucky if none of his ribs were cracked.

  Kelsier flared the pewter. The fire within felt good—it gave him a focus for his anger and self-loathing. One of the apprentices worked quickly, tying a bandage around Kelsier’s largest gash. Clubs sat with Ham at the side of the kitchen; Breeze was away visiting a suburb.

  “By the Lord Ruler, Kelsier,” Dockson said quietly.

  Even Dockson, Kelsier thought. Even my oldest friend swears by the Lord Ruler’s name. What are we doing? How can we face this?

  “There were three Inquisitors waiting for us, Dox,” Kelsier said.

  Dockson paled. “And you left her there?”

  “She got out before I did. I tried to distract the Inquisitors as long as I could, but…”

  “But?”

  “One of the three followed her. I couldn’t get to it—maybe the other two Inquisitors were simply trying to keep me busy so that their companion could find her.”

  “Three Inquisitors,” Dockson said, accepting a small cup of brandy from one of the apprentices. He downed it.

  “We must have made too much noise going in,” Kelsier said. “Either that, or they were already there for some reason. And we still don’t know what’s in that room!”

  The kitchen fell silent. The rain outside picked up again, assaulting the building with a reproachful fury.

  “So…” Ham said, “what of Vin?”

  Kelsier glanced at Dockson, and saw pessimism in his eyes. Kelsier had barely escaped, and he had years of training. If Vin was still in Kredik Shaw…

  Kelsier felt a sharp, twisting pain in his chest. You let her die too. First Mare, then Vin. How many more will you lead to slaughter before this is through?

  “She might be hiding somewhere in the city,” Kelsier said. “Afraid to come to the shop because the Inquisitors are looking for her. Or…perhaps for some reason she went back to Fellise.”

  Maybe she’s out there somewhere, dying alone in the rain.

  “Ham,” Kelsier said, “you and I are heading back to the palace. Dox, take Lestibournes and visit other thieving crews. Maybe one of their scouts saw something. Clubs, send an apprentice to Renoux’s mansion to see if she went there.”

  The
solemn group started to move, but Kelsier didn’t need to state the obvious. He and Ham wouldn’t be able to get close to Kredik Shaw without running afoul of guard patrols. Even if Vin was hiding in the city somewhere, the Inquisitors would probably find her first. They would have—

  Kelsier froze, his sudden jerk causing the others to pause. He’d heard something.

  Hurried footsteps sounded as Lestibournes rushed down the stairs and into the room, his lanky form wet with rain. “Someone’s coming! Out the night with the calling!”

  “Vin?” Ham asked hopefully.

  Lestibournes shook his head. “Big man. Robe.”

  This is it, then. I’ve brought death to the crew—I’ve led the Inquisitors right to them.

  Ham stood, picking up a wooden stave. Dockson pulled out a pair of daggers, and Clubs’s six apprentices moved to the back of the room, eyes wide with fright.

  Kelsier flared his metals.

  The back door to the kitchen slammed open. A tall, dark form in wet robes stood in the rain. And he carried a cloth-wrapped figure in his arms.

  “Sazed!” Kelsier said.

  “She is badly wounded,” Sazed said, stepping quickly into the room, his fine robes streaming with rainwater. “Master Hammond, I require some pewter. Her supply is exhausted, I think.”

  Ham rushed forward as Sazed set Vin on the kitchen table. Her skin was clammy and pale, her thin frame soaked and wet.

  She’s so small, Kelsier thought. Barely more than a child. How could I have thought to take her with me?

  She bore a massive, bloody wound in her side. Sazed set something aside—a large book he’d been carrying in his arms beneath Vin—and accepted a vial from Hammond, then bent down and poured the liquid down the unconscious girl’s throat. The room fell silent, the sound of pounding rain coming through the still open door.

  Vin’s face flushed slightly with color, and her breathing seemed to steady. To Kelsier’s Allomantic bronze senses, she began to pulse softly with a rhythm not unlike a second heartbeat.