The Hero of Ages m-3

by Brandon Sanderson

  And even with her skill, she had been captured. Elend tromped along, feeling a weight he couldn't shake. Everything just seemed wrong to him. Vin imprisoned, while he was free. Mist and ash suffocating the land. Elend, despite all his powers, was unable to do anything to protect the people-and the woman-he loved.

  And that was the third reason that he walked ploddingly with his koloss, rather than returning immediately to his camp. He needed some time to think. Some time alone. Perhaps that was what had driven him to leave in the first place.

  He'd known that their work was dangerous, but he'd never really thought that he might lose her. She was Vin. She always got out. She survived.

  But what if, this time, she didn't?

  He'd always been the vulnerable one-the common person in a world of Mist-born and koloss. The scholar who couldn't fight, who had to depend on Vin for protection. Even during the last year of fighting, she'd stayed close to him. If she'd been in danger, he'd been in danger, and there hadn't really been time to think about what would happen if he survived and she didn't.

  He shook his head, pushing through the ash. He could have used koloss to force a trail for him. For the moment, however, he wanted to be apart even from them. So, he walked ahead, a lone figure in black on a field of solid ash backlit by a setting red sun.

  The ashfalls were getting far worse. Before he'd left the village, he'd spent a day having his koloss clear the streets and rebuild some of the homes. Yet, with the rate at which the ash was falling, the mist and even the possibility of other wandering koloss were becoming secondary problems. The ash. It alone would kill them. Already, it buried trees and hills. It was up to his waist in places.

  Perhaps if I'd stayed in Luthadel, he thought, working with my scholars, we could have discovered a way to stop this. .

  No, that was foolish. What would they do? Plug the ashmounts? Find a way to wash all of the ash out into the sea? In the distance ahead of him through the evening mists, he could see a red glow in the sky, even though the sun set on the opposite horizon. He could only assume that the light to the east came from fire and lava rising out of the ashmounts.

  What did he do about a dying sky, ash so thick he could barely move through it, and erupting volcanoes? So far, his way of dealing with these things had been to ignore them.

  Or, rather, to let Vin worry about them.

  That's really what has me worried, he thought. Losing the woman I love is bad enough. But, losing the one I trusted to fix all this. . that's truly frightening.

  It was an odd realization. The deep truth was, he really did trust Vin as more than a person. She was more like a force. Almost a god, even? It seemed silly, thinking about that directly. She was his wife. Even if he was a member of the Church of the Survivor, it felt wrong to worship her, to think her divine.

  And he didn't, not really. But he did trust her. Vin was a person of instinct, while Elend was one of logic and thought. Sometimes, it seemed she could do the impossible simply because she didn't stop to think about how impossible it really was. If Elend came to a cliff, he stopped, gauging the distance to the other side. Vin just jumped.

  What would happen on the day she didn't reach the other side? What if the events they were tied up in were bigger than two people could hope to solve, even if one of those people was Vin? As he considered it, even the possibility of discovering helpful information in the cache at Fadrex had been a slim hope.

  We need help, Elend thought with frustration. He stopped in the ash, the darkness closing around him as night proper finally fell. The mists swirled.

  Help. So, what did that mean? Help from some mysterious god like the ones that Sazed had once preached about? Elend had never known a god other than the Lord Ruler. And he'd never really had faith in that creature-though, meeting Yomen had changed his perspective on how some people worshipped the Lord Ruler.

  Elend stood, looking up at the sky, watching the flakes of ash fall. Continuing their silent, yet ceaseless, barrage against the land. Like the raven feathers of a soft pillow used to suffocate a sleeping victim.

  We are doomed, he thought. Behind him, the koloss stopped their march, waiting upon his silent order. That's it. It's all going to end.

  The realization wasn't crushing. It was gentle, like a final tendril of smoke from a dying candle. He suddenly knew that they couldn't fight-that everything they'd done over the last year had been pointless.

  Elend slumped to his knees. The ash came up to his chest. Perhaps this was one final reason why he'd wanted to walk home alone. When others were around, he felt as if he had to be optimistic. But, alone, he could face the truth.

  And there, in the ash, he finally just gave up.

  Someone knelt down beside him.

  Elend jumped backward, scrambling to his feet and scattering ash. He flared pewter belatedly, giving himself the tense strength of a Mistborn about to attack. But, there was nobody beside him. He froze, wondering if he'd been imagining things. And then, burning tin and squinting in the darkness of the ashen night, he finally saw it. A creature of mist.

  It wasn't really composed of mist. Rather, it was outlined in mist. The random shiftings suggested its figure, which was roughly that of a man. Elend had seen this creature twice before. The first time, it had appeared to him in the wilderness of the Northern Dominance.

  The second time, it had stabbed him in the gut, leaving him to bleed to death.

  Yet, that had been an attempt to get Vin to take the power at the Well of Ascension and use it to heal Elend. The thing's intentions had been good, even if it had nearly killed Elend. Plus, Vin said that this creature had led her to the bit of metal that had somehow turned Elend into an Allomancer.

  The mist spirit watched him, its figure barely distinguishable in the patterns of flowing mists.

  "What?" Elend asked. "What do you want of me?"

  The mist spirit raised its arm and pointed to the northeast.

  That's what it did the first time it met me. It just pointed, as if trying to get me to go somewhere. I didn't understand what it meant then either.

  "Look," Elend said, suddenly feeling exhausted. "If you want to say something, why not just say it?"

  The mist spirit stood quietly in the mists.

  "At least write it," Elend said. "The pointing just isn't working." He knew that the creature-whatever it was-had some corporeality. After all, it had managed to stab Elend handily enough.

  He expected the creature to just continue standing there. However, to Elend's surprise, it followed the command, kneeling down in the ash. It reached out with a misty hand, and began to scratch in the ash. Elend took a step forward, cocking his head to see what the thing was writing.

  I will kill you, the words said. Death, death, death.

  "Well. . that's pleasant," Elend said, feeling an eerie chill.

  The mist spirit seemed to slump. It knelt in the ash, making no impression in the ground.

  Such odd words to write, Elend thought, when it seemed to be trying to get me to trust it. . "It can change your words, can't it?" Elend asked. "The other force. It can rewrite pieces of text on paper, so why not things scratched in ash?"

  The mist spirit looked up.

  "That's why you ripped the corners off of Sazed's papers," Elend said. "You couldn't write him a note, because the words would just get changed. So, you had to do other things. More blunt things-like pointing."

  The creature stood.

  "So, write more slowly," Elend said. "Use exaggerated motions. I'll watch the movements of your arm, and form the letters in my mind."

  The mist spirit began immediately, waving its arms about. Elend cocked his head, watching its motions. He couldn't make any sense of them, let alone form letters out of them.

  "Wait," he said, holding up a hand. "That isn't working. Either it's changing things, or you just don't know your letters."

  Silence.

  Wait, Elend thought, glancing at the text on the ground. If the text changed. .


  "It's here, isn't it," he said, feeling a sudden and icy chill. "It's here with us now."

  The mist spirit remained still.

  "Bounce around for a yes," Elend said.

  The mist spirit began to wave its arms as it had before.

  "Close enough," Elend said, shivering. He glanced around, but could see nothing else in the mists. If the thing Vin had released was there, then it made no impression. Yet, Elend thought he could feel something different. A slight increase in wind, a touch of ice in the air, the mists moving about more agitatedly. Perhaps he was just imagining things.

  He focused his attention back on the mist spirit. "You're. . not as solid as you were before."

  The creature remained still.

  "Is that a no?" Elend said, frustrated. The creature remained still.

  Elend closed his eyes. Forcing himself to focus, thinking back to the logic puzzles of his youth. I need to approach this more directly. Use questions that can be answered with a simple yes or no. Why would the mist spirit be harder to see now than before? Elend opened his eyes.

  "Are you weaker than you were before?" he asked.

  The thing waved its arms.

  Yes, Elend thought.

  "Is it because the world is ending?" Elend asked.

  More waving.

  "Are you weaker than the other thing? The thing Vin set free?"

  Waving.

  "A lot weaker?" Elend asked.

  It waved, though it seemed a bit disconsolate this time.

  Great, Elend thought. Of course, he could have guessed that. Whatever the mist spirit was, it wasn't a magical answer to their problems. If it were, it would have saved them by now.

  What we lack most is information, Elend thought. I need to learn what I can from this thing.

  "Are you related to the ash?" he asked.

  No motion.

  "Are you causing the ashfalls?" he asked.

  No motion.

  "Is the other thing causing the ashfalls?"

  This time, it waved.

  Okay. "Is it causing the mists to come in the day too?"

  No motion.

  "Are you causing the mists to come in the day?"

  It seemed to pause in thought at this one, then it waved about less vigorously than before.

  Is that a "maybe"? Elend wondered. Or a "partially"?

  The creature fell still. It was getting harder and harder to see it in the mists. Elend flared his tin, but that didn't make the creature any more distinct. It seemed to be. . fading.

  "Where was it you wanted me to go?" Elend asked, more for himself than expecting an answer. "You pointed. . east? Did you want me to go back to Luthadel?"

  It waved with half-enthusiasm again.

  "Do you want me to attack Fadrex City?"

  It stood still.

  "Do you not want me to attack Fadrex City?"

  It waved vigorously.

  Interesting, he thought.

  "The mists," Elend said. "They're connected to all this, aren't they?"

  Waving.

  "They're killing my men," Elend said.

  It stepped forward, then stood still, somehow looking urgent.

  Elend frowned. "You reacted to that. You mean to say they aren't killing my men?"

  It waved.

  "That's ridiculous. I've seen the men fall dead."

  It stepped forward, pointing at Elend. He glanced down at his sash. "The coins?" he asked, looking up.

  It pointed again. Elend reached into his sash. All that was there were his metal vials. He pulled one out. "Metals?"

  It waved vigorously. It just continued to wave and wave. Elend looked down at the vial. "I don't understand."

  The creature fell still. It was getting more and more vague, as if it were evaporating.

  "Wait!" Elend said, stepping forward. "I have another question. One more before you go!"

  It stared him in the eyes.

  "Can we beat it?" Elend asked softly. "Can we survive?"

  Stillness. Then, the creature waved just briefly. Not a vigorous wave-more of a hesitant one. An uncertain one. It evaporated, maintaining that same wave, the mists becoming indistinct and leaving no sign that the creature had been there.

  Elend stood in the darkness. He turned and glanced at his koloss army, who waited like the trunks of dark trees in the distance. Then he turned back, scanning for any further signs of the mist spirit. Finally, he just turned and began to tromp his way back to Fadrex. The koloss followed.

  He felt. . stronger. It was silly-the mist spirit hadn't really given him any useful information. It had been almost like a child. The things it had told him were mostly just confirmations of what he'd already suspected.

  Yet, as he walked, he moved with more determination. If only because he knew there were things in the world he didn't understand-and that meant, perhaps, there were possibilities he didn't see. Possibilities for survival.

  Possibilities to land safely on the other side of the chasm, even when logic told him not to jump.

  I don't know why Preservation decided to use his last bit of life appearing to Elend during his trek back to Fadrex. From what I understand, Elend didn't really learn that much from the meeting. By then, of course, Preservation was but a shadow of himself-and that shadow was under immense destructive pressure from Ruin.

  Perhaps Preservation-or, the remnants of what he had been-wanted to get Elend alone. Or, perhaps he saw Elend kneeling in that field, and knew that the emperor of men was very close to just lying down in the ash, never to rise again. Either way, Preservation did appear, and in doing so exposed himself to Ruin's attacks. Gone were the days when Preservation could turn away an Inquisitor with a bare gesture, gone-even-were the days when he could strike a man down to bleed and die.

  By the time Elend saw the "mist spirit," Preservation must have been barely coherent. I wonder what Elend would have done, had he known that he was in the presence of a dying god-that on that night, he had been the last witness of Preservation's passing. If Elend had waited just a few more minutes on that ashen field, he would have seen a body-short of stature, black hair, prominent nose-fall from the mists and slump dead into the ash.

  As it was, the corpse was left alone to be buried in ash. The world was dying. Its gods had to die with it.

  56

  Spook stood in the dark cavern, looking at his board and paper. He had it propped up, like an artist's canvas, though he wasn't sketching images, but ideas. Kelsier had always outlined his plans for the crew on a charcoal board. It seemed like a good idea, even though Spook wasn't explaining plans to a crew, but rather trying to work them out for himself.

  The trick was going to be getting Quellion to expose himself as an Allomancer before the people. Durn had told them what to look for, and the crowds would be ready, waiting for confirmation of what they had been told. However, for Spook's plan to work, he'd have to catch the Citizen in a public place, then get the man to use his powers in a way that was obvious to those watching.

  I can't let him just Push on a distant metal, then, he thought, scratching a note to himself on the charcoal board. I'll need him to shoot into the air, or perhaps blast some coins. Something visible, something we can tell everyone to watch for.

  That would be tough, but Spook was confident. He had several ideas scratched up on the board, ranging from attacking Quellion at a rally to tricking him into using his powers when he thought nobody was looking. Slowly, the thoughts were jelling into a cohesive plan.

  I really can do this, Spook thought, smiling. I always felt such awe for Kelsier's leadership abilities. But, it's not as hard as I thought.

  Or, at least, that was what he told himself. He tried not to think about the consequences of a failure. Tried not to think about the fact that he still held Beldre hostage. Tried not to worry about the fact that when he awoke some mornings-his tin having burned away during the night-his body felt completely numb, unable to feel anything until he got more metal as fuel. Tried
not to focus on the riots and incidents his appearances, speeches, and work among the people were causing.

  Kelsier kept telling him not to worry. That should be enough for him. Shouldn't it?

  After a few minutes, he heard someone approaching, footsteps quiet-but not too quiet for him-on the stone. The rustle of a dress, yet without perfume, let him know exactly who it was.

  "Spook?"

  He lowered the charcoal and turned. Beldre stood at the far side of his "room." He'd made himself an alcove between several of the storage shelves, partitioned off with sheets-his own personal office. The Citizen's sister wore a beautiful noble gown of green and white.

  Spook smiled. "You like the dresses?"

  She looked down, flushing slightly. "I. . haven't worn anything like this in years."

  "Nobody in this city has," Spook said, setting down the charcoal and wiping his fingers on a rag. "But, then, that makes it pretty easy to get them, if you know which buildings to loot. It looks like I matched your size pretty well, eh?"

  "Yes," she said quietly, drifting forward. The gown really did look good on her, and Spook found it a little difficult to focus as she drew closer. She eyed his charcoal board, then frowned. "Is. . that supposed to make any sense?"

  Spook shook himself free of his trance. The charcoal board was a mess of scratches and notations. That, in itself, would have made it difficult enough to read. There was, however, something else that made it even more incomprehensible.

  "It's mostly written in Eastern street slang," Spook said.

  "The language you grew up speaking?" she said, fingering the board's edge, careful not to touch the writing itself, lest she smudge it.

  Spook nodded.

  "Even the words are different," she said. "Wasing?"

  "It kind of means 'was doing,' " Spook explained. "You start sentences with it. 'Wasing the run of there' would mean 'I was running to that place.' "

  "Wasing the where of how of the finds," Beldre said, smiling slightly to herself as she read from the board. "It sounds like gibberish!"

  "Wasing the how of wanting the doing," Spook said, smiling, falling into a full accent. Then he flushed, turning away.