Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [634]
“Why, Marsh?” Sazed whispered.
“I don’t know,” Marsh said, his voice coming out in a growl.
With a flash of power, Sazed released his ironmind and instead tapped steel, increasing his speed again. He dropped the lamp, ducking to the side, moving more quickly than Marsh could track. The lamp was forced backward, but then fell to the ground as Marsh let go of his Push, jumping forward, obviously trying to keep from being trapped against the wall.
But Sazed was faster. He spun, raising a hand to try to pull out Marsh’s linchpin spike—the one in between his shoulder blades, pounded down lengthwise into the back. Pulling this one spike would kill an Inquisitor; it was the weakness the Lord Ruler had built into them.
Sazed skidded around Marsh to attack from behind. The spike in Marsh’s right eye protruded several extra inches out the back of his skull, and it dribbled blood.
Sazed’s steelmind ran out.
The rings had never been intended to last long, and his two extreme bursts had drained this one in seconds. He slowed with a dreadful lurch, but his arm was still raised, and he still had the strength of ten men. He could see the bulge of the linchpin spike underneath Marsh’s robe. If he could just—
Marsh spun, then dexterously knocked aside Sazed’s hand. He rammed an elbow into Sazed’s stomach, then brought a backhand up and crashed it into his face.
Sazed fell backward, and his pewtermind ran out, his strength disappearing. He hit the hard steel ground with a grunt of pain, and rolled.
Marsh loomed in the dark room. The candle flickered.
“You were wrong, Sazed,” Marsh said quietly. “Once, I was not a warrior, but that has changed. You spent the last two years teaching, but I spent them killing. Killing so many people….”
Marsh stepped forward, and Sazed coughed, trying to get his bruised body to move. He worried that he’d rebroken his arm. He tapped zinc again, speeding up his thoughts, but that didn’t help his body move. He could only watch—more fully aware of his predicament and unable to do a thing to stop it—as Marsh picked up the fallen lamp.
The candle went out.
Yet, Sazed could still see Marsh’s face. Blood dripped from the crushed socket, making the man’s expression even harder to read. The Inquisitor seemed…sorrowful as he raised the lamp in a clawlike grip, intending to smash it down into Sazed’s face.
Wait, Sazed thought. Where is that light coming from?
A dueling cane smashed against the back of Marsh’s head, shattering and throwing up splinters.
Vin and Elend walked up to the pool. Elend knelt quietly beside it, but Vin just stood. Staring at the glittering waters.
They were gathered in a small depression in the rock, and they looked thick—like metal. A silvery white, glowing liquid metal. The Well was only a few feet across, but its power loomed in her mind.
Vin was so enraptured by the beautiful pool, in fact, that she didn’t notice the mist spirit until Elend’s grip tightened on her arm. She looked up, noticing the spirit standing before them. It seemed to have its head bowed, but as she turned, its shadowy form stood up straighter.
She’d never seen the creature outside of the mist. It still wasn’t completely…whole. Mist puffed from its body, flowing downward, creating its amorphous form. A persistent pattern.
Vin hissed quietly, pulling out a dagger.
“Wait!” Elend said, standing.
She frowned, shooting him a glance.
“I don’t think it’s dangerous, Vin,” he said, stepping away from her, toward the spirit.
“Elend, no!” she said, but he gently shook her free.
“It visited me while you were gone, Vin,” he explained. “It didn’t hurt me. It just…seemed like it wanted me to know something.” He smiled, still wearing his nondescript cloak and traveling clothing, and walked slowly up to the mist spirit. “What is it you want?”
The mist spirit stood immobile for a moment, then it raised its arm. Something flashed,