Mistborn Trilogy

by Sanderson, Brandon

  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 came 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 said, 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?”

  Elend closed his eyes.

  “They killed everyone, Elend,” Jastes said. “That’s what you do when you take over. You kill your rivals and their families—even the young girls, even the babies. And you leave their bodies, as a warning. That’s good politics. That’s how you stay in power!”

  “It’s easy to believe in something when you win all the time, Jastes,” Elend said, opening his eyes. “The losses are what define a man’s faith.”

  “Losses?” Jastes demanded. “My sister was a loss?”

  “No, I mean—”

  “Enough!” Jastes snapped, slamming the bottle down on his desk. “Guards!”

  Two men threw back the tent flap and moved into the room.

  “Take His Majesty captive,” Jastes said, with an unsteady wave of his hand. “Send a messenger to the city, tell them that we want to negotiate.”

  “I’m not king anymore, Jastes,” Elend said.

  Jastes stopped.

  “Do you think I’d come here and let myself get captured if I were king?” Elend asked. “They deposed me. The Assembly invoked a no-confidence clause and chose a new king.”

  “You bloody idiot,” Jastes said.

  “Losses, Jastes,” Elend said. “It hasn’t been as hard for me as it was for you, but I do think I understand.”

  “So,” Jastes said, running a hand through his “hair,” “that fancy suit and haircut didn’t save you, eh?”

  “Take your koloss and go, Jastes.”

  “That sounded like a threat, Elend,” Jastes said. “You aren’t king, you don’t have an army, and I don’t see your Mistborn around. What grounds do you have for threats?”

  “They’re koloss,” Elend said. “Do you really want them getting into the city? It’s your home, Jastes—or, it was once. There are thousands of people inside!”

  “I can…control my army,” Jastes said.

  “No, I doubt you can,” Elend said. “What happened, Jastes? Did they decide they needed a king? They decided that’s the way that ‘humans’ did it, so they should do it, too? What is it that they carry in those pouches?”

  Jastes didn’t answer.

  Elend sighed. “What happens when one of them just snaps and attacks you?”

  Jastes shook his head. “I’m sorry, Elend,” he said quietly. “I can’t let Straff get that atium.”

  “And my people?”

  Jastes paused only briefly, then lowered his eyes and motioned to the guards. One laid a hand on Elend’s shoulder.

  Elend’s reaction surprised even himself. He slammed his elbow up into the man’s face, shattering his nose, then took the other man down with a kick to the leg. Before Jastes could do more than cry out, Elend jumped forward.

  Elend ripped an obsidian knife—given to him by Vin—from his boot and caught Jastes by the shoulder. Elend slammed the whimpering man around, pushing him backward onto the desk and—barely thinking to consider his actions—rammed the knife into his old friend’s shoulder.

  Jastes emitted a loud, pathetic scream.

  “If killing you would do anything useful, Jastes,” Elend growled, “I’d do it right now. But I don’t know how you control these things, and I don’t want to set them loose.”

  Soldiers piled into the room. Elend didn’t look up. He slapped Jastes, stopping his cries of pain.

  “You listen,” Elend said. “I don’t care if you’ve been hurt, I don’t care if you don’t believe in the philosophies anymore, and I don’t really care if you get yourself killed playing politics with Straff and Cett.

  “But I do care if you threaten my people. I want you to march your army out of my dominance—go attack Straff’s homeland, or maybe Cett’s. They’re both undefended. I promise I won’t let your enemies get the atium.

  “And, as a friend, I’ll give you a bit of counsel. Think about that wound in your arm for a little while, Jastes. I was your best friend, and I nearly killed you. What the hell are you doing sitting in the middle of an entire army of deranged koloss?”

  Soldiers surrounded him. Elend stood, ripping the knife from Jastes’s body and spinning the man around, pressing the weapon against his throat.

  The guards froze.

  “I’m leaving,” Elend said, pushing the confused Jastes ahead of him, moving out of the tent. He noticed with some concern that there were barely a dozen human guards. Sazed had counted more. Where had Jastes lost them?

  There was no sign of Elend’s horse. So he kept a wary eye on the soldiers, pulling Jastes toward the invisible line between the human camp and the koloss one. Elend turned as he reached the perimeter, then pushed Jastes back toward his men. They caught him, one pulling out a bandage for the arm. Others made moves as if to chase Elend, but they paused, hesitant.

  Elend had crossed the line into the koloss camp. He stood quietly, watching the pathetic group of young soldiers, Jastes at their center. Even as they ministered to him, Elend could see the look in Jastes’s eyes. Hatred. He wouldn’t retreat. The man Elend had known was dead, replaced by this product of a new world that didn’t kindly regard philosophers and idealists.

  Elend turned away, walking among the koloss. A group of them quickly approached. The same one as before? He couldn’t tell for certain.

  “Take me out,” Elend commanded, meeting the eyes of the largest koloss in the team. Either Elend seemed more commanding now, or this koloss was more easily cowed, for there was no argument. The creature simply nodded and began to shuffle out of the camp, his team surrounding Elend.

  This trip was a waste, Elend thought wit
h frustration. All I did was antagonize Jastes. I risked my life for nothing.

  If only I could find out what was in those pouches!

  He eyed the group of koloss around him. It was a typical group, ranging in size from five feet to one ten-foot monstrosity. They walked along with slumped, unengaged postures….

  Elend still had his knife out.

  This is stupid, he thought. For some reason, that didn’t stop him from choosing the smallest koloss in the group, taking a deep breath, and attacking.

  The rest of the koloss paused to watch. The creature Elend had chosen spun—but in the wrong direction. It turned to face its companion koloss, the one nearest to it in size, as Elend tackled it, ramming the knife into its back.

  Even at five feet with a small build, the koloss was incredibly strong. It tossed Elend off, bellowing in pain. Elend, however, managed to keep hold of his dagger.

  Can’t let it get out that sword, he thought, scrambling to his feet and ramming his knife into the creature’s thigh. The koloss dropped again, punching at Elend with one arm, fingers reaching for its sword with the other. Elend took the punch to the chest, and fell back to the sooty ground.

  He groaned, gasping. The koloss pulled out its sword, but had trouble standing. Both knife wounds bled stark red blood; the liquid seemed brighter, more reflective, than that of a human, but that might have just been a contrast with the deep blue skin.

  The koloss finally managed to gain its feet, and Elend realized his mistake. He’d let the adrenaline of his confrontation with Jastes—his frustration at his inability to stop the armies—drive him. He’d sparred a lot lately, but he was in no position to take a koloss.

  But it was far too late to worry about that now.

  Elend rolled out of the way as a thick, clublike sword smashed to the ground beside him. Instincts overrode terror, and he mostly managed to avoid the backswing. It took him a bit in the side, spraying a patch of blood across his once white uniform, but he barely even felt the cut.

  Only one way to win a knife fight against a guy with a sword… Elend thought, gripping his knife. The thought, oddly, hadn’t come from one of his trainers, or even from Vin. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but he trusted it.