Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [944]
This isn’t Marsh, she thought. Kelsier’s brother is long dead. This is something else. Ruin.
The mist swirled in a final tempest, the circular motion growing faster—yet tighter—as the final wisps of mist spun down and were pulled into Vin’s body.
Then the mists were gone. Starlight shone above, and flecks of ash fell in the air. The night landscape was eerie in its stillness, blackness, and clarity. Even with tin—which let her see at night far better than a normal person could—the mists had always been there. To see the night landscape without them was . . . wrong.
Vin began to tremble. She gasped, feeling the fire within her blaze hotter and hotter. It was Allomancy as she’d never known it. It felt as if she had never understood it. The power was far greater than metals, mere Pushes and Pulls. It was something awesomely more vast. A power that men had used, yet never comprehended.
She forced her eyes open. There was one Inquisitor left. She had drawn them to Luthadel, forced them to expose themselves, laying a trap for someone far more powerful than herself. And the mists had responded.
It was time to finish what she had come to do.
Marsh watched limply as Vin fell to her knees. Shaking, she reached for one of his eye-spikes.
There was nothing he could do. He’d used up most of the healing in his metal-mind, and the rest would do him no good. Stored healing worked by way of speed. He could either heal himself a small amount very quickly, or wait and heal himself slowly, yet completely. Either way, he was dead as soon as Vin pulled those spikes free.
Finally, he thought with relief as she grabbed the first spike. Whatever I did . . . it worked. Somehow.
He felt Ruin’s rage, felt his master realizing his mistake. In the end, Marsh had mattered. In the end, Marsh hadn’t given up. He’d done Mare proud.
Vin pulled the spike free. It hurt, of course—hurt far more than Marsh would have thought possible. He screamed—both in pain and in joy—as Vin reached for the other eye-spike.
And then, she hesitated. Marsh waited expectantly. She shook, then coughed, cringing. She gritted her teeth, reaching toward him. Her fingers touched the spike.
And then, Vin vanished.
She left behind the misty outline of a young woman. That dissipated and was soon gone, too, leaving Marsh alone in the wreckage of a palace, head blazing with pain, body covered in sickly, sodden ash.
She once asked Ruin why he had chosen her. The primary answer is simple. It had little to do with her personality, attitudes, or even skill with Allomancy.
She was simply the only child Ruin could find who was in a position to gain the right Hemalurgic spike—one that would grant her heightened power with bronze, which would then let her sense the location of the Well of Ascension. She had an insane mother, a sister who was a Seeker, and was—herself—Mistborn. That was precisely the combination Ruin needed.
There were other reasons, of course. But even Ruin didn’t know them.
74
DAY BROKE WITH NO MISTS.
Elend stood atop the rocky heights in front of Fadrex City, looking out. He felt far better with a night’s rest behind him, though his body ached from fighting, his arm throbbed where he’d been wounded, and his chest hurt where he’d carelessly allowed a koloss to punch him. The massive bruise would have crippled another man.
Koloss corpses littered the ground before the city, piled particularly high in the corridor leading into Fadrex itself. The whole area smelled of death and dried blood. Far more often than Elend would have liked, the field of blue corpses was broken by the lighter skin of a human. Still, Fadrex had survived—if only because of the last-minute addition of several thousand Allomancers and the eventual retreat of the koloss.
Why did they leave? Elend wondered, thankful yet frustrated. And, perhaps more importantly, where are they going?
Elend turned at the sound of footsteps on rock and saw Yomen climbing the rough-hewn steps to join him, puffing slightly, still pristine in his obligator’s robes. Nobody had expected him to fight.