Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [609]
It thrust its sword toward her. Vin jumped, and the sword collided with broken cobblestones beneath her. She shot upward, not needing any coins to carry herself up to eye level with the creature’s twisted face.
They always looked surprised. Even after watching her fight dozens of their companions, they seemed shocked to see her dodge their blows. Their minds seemed to equate size with power; a larger koloss always beat a smaller one. A five-foot-tall human should have been no problem for a monster this big.
Vin flared pewter as she smashed her fist into the beast’s head. The skull cracked beneath her knuckles, and the beast fell backward as she dropped back to the ground. Yet, as always, there was another to take its place.
She was getting tired. No, she’d started the battle tired. She’d pewter-dragged, then used a convoluted personal spikeway to carry herself across an entire dominance. She was exhausted. Only the pewter in her last metal vial was keeping her upright.
I should have asked Sazed for one of his empty pewterminds! she thought. Feruchemical and Allomantic metals were the same. She could have burned that—though it would probably have been a bracer or a bracelet. To large to swallow.
She ducked to the side as another koloss attacked. Coins didn’t stop these things, and they all weighed too much for her to Push them away without an anchor. Besides, her steel and iron reserves were extremely low.
She killed koloss after koloss, buying time for Sazed and the people to get a good head start. Something was different this time—different from when she’d killed at Cett’s palace. She felt good. It wasn’t just because she killed monsters.
It was because she understood her purpose. And she agreed with it. She could fight, could kill, if it meant defending those who could not defend themselves. Kelsier might have been able to kill for shock or retribution, but that wasn’t good enough for Vin.
And she would never let it be again.
That determination fueled her attacks against the koloss. She used a stolen sword to cut off the legs of one, then threw the weapon at another, Pushing on it to impale the koloss in the chest. Then she Pulled on the sword of a fallen soldier, yanking it into her hand. She ducked backward, but nearly stumbled as she stepped on another body.
So tired, she thought.
There were dozens—perhaps even hundreds—of corpses in the courtyard. In fact, a pile was forming beneath her. She climbed it, retreating slightly as the creatures surrounded her again. They crawled over the corpses of their fallen brethren, rage frothing in their blood-drop eyes. Human soldiers would have given up, going to seek easier fights. The koloss, however, seemed to multiply as she fought them, others hearing the sounds of battle and coming to join in.
She swiped, pewter aiding her strength as she cut off an arm from one koloss, then a leg from another, before finally going for the head of a third. She ducked and dodged, jumping, staying out of their reach, killing as many as she could.
But as desperate as her determination—as strong as her newfound resolve to defend—she knew that she couldn’t keep fighting, not like this. She was only one person. She couldn’t save Luthadel, not alone.
“Lord Penrod!” Sazed yelled, standing at the gates to Keep Hasting. “You must listen to me.”
There was no response. The soldiers at the top of the short keep wall were quiet, though Sazed could sense their discomfort. They didn’t like ignoring him. In the distance, the battle still raged. Koloss screamed in the night. Soon they would find their way to Sazed and Ham’s growing band of several thousand, who now huddled quietly outside Keep Hasting’s gate.
A haggard messenger approached Sazed. He was the same one that Dockson had been sending to Steel Gate. He’d lost his horse somewhere, and they’d found him with a group of refugees in the Square of the Survivor.
“Lord Terrisman,” the messenger