Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [617]
He didn’t know how to deal with Tindwyl’s death. He felt…hollow. He wished that he could just stop feeling. He wished that he could go back and defend her gate, instead of his own. Why hadn’t he gone in search of her when he’d heard of the northern gate’s fall? She’d still been alive then. He might have been able to protect her….
Why did he even care anymore? Why bother?
But, the ones who had faith were right, he thought. Vin came back to defend the city. I lost hope, but they never did.
He started his horse forward again. The sounds of battle came in the distance. He tried to focus on anything but Tindwyl, but his thoughts kept returning to things he had studied with her. The facts and stories became more precious, for they were a link to her. A painful link, but one he couldn’t bear to discard.
The Hero of Ages was not simply to be a warrior, he thought, still riding slowly toward the battlefield. He was a person who united others, who brought them together. A leader.
He knew that Vin thought she was the Hero. But Tindwyl was right: it was too much of a coincidence. And, he wasn’t even certain what he believed anymore. If anything.
The Hero of Ages was removed from the Terris people, he thought, watching the koloss attack. He was not royalty himself, but came to it eventually.
Sazed pulled his horse up, pausing in the center of the open, empty field. Arrows stuck from the snow around him, and the ground was thoroughly trampled. In the distance, he heard a drum. He turned, watching as an army of men marched over a rise to the west. They flew Cett’s banner.
He commanded the forces of the world. Kings rode to his aid.
Cett’s forces joined the battle against Straff. There was a crash of metal against metal, bodies grunting, as a new front came under attack. Sazed sat on the field between the city and the armies. Vin’s forces were still outnumbered, but as Sazed watched, Straff’s army began to pull back. It broke into pieces, its members fighting without direction. Their movements bespoke terror.
She’s killing their generals, he thought.
Cett was a clever man. He himself rode to battle, but he stayed near the back of his ranks—his infirmities requiring him to remain tied into his saddle and making it difficult for him to fight. Still, by joining the battle, he ensured that Vin would not turn her koloss on him.
For there was really no doubt in Sazed’s mind who would win this conflict. Indeed, before even an hour had passed, Straff’s troops began to surrender in large groups. The sounds of battle died down, and Sazed kicked his horse forward.
Holy First Witness, he thought. I don’t know that I believe that. But, either way, I should be there for what happens next.
The koloss stopped fighting, standing silently. They parted for Sazed as he rode up through their ranks. Eventually, he found Vin standing, bloodied, her massive koloss sword held on one shoulder. Some koloss pulled a man forward—a lord in rich clothing and a silvery breastplate. They dropped him before Vin.
From behind, Penrod approached with an honor guard, led by a koloss. Nobody spoke. Eventually, the koloss parted again, and this time a suspicious Cett rode forward, surrounded by a large group of soldiers and led by a single koloss.
Cett eyed Vin, then scratched his chin. “Not much of a battle,” he said.
“Straff’s soldiers were afraid,” Vin said. “They’re cold, and they have no desire to fight koloss.”
“And their leaders?” Cett asked.
“I killed them,” Vin said. “Except this one. Your name?”
“Lord Janarle,” said Straff’s man. His leg appeared broken, and koloss held him by either arm, supporting him.
“Straff is dead,” Vin said. “You control this army now.”
The nobleman bowed his head. “No, I don’t. You do.”
Vin nodded. “On your knees,” she said.
The koloss dropped Janarle. He grunted in pain, but then bowed forward. “I swear my army to you,” he whispered.
“No,” Vin said sharply. “Not to me—to