فصل 52

52

Breeze did his best to pretend he was not in the middle of a war. It didn’t work very well.

He sat on his horse at the edge of Zinc Gate’s courtyard. Soldiers shuffled and clanked, standing in ranks before the gates, waiting and watching their companions atop the wall.

The gates thumped. Breeze cringed, but continued his Soothing. “Be strong,” he whispered. “Fear, uncertainty—I take these away. Death may come through those doors, but you can fight it. You can win. Be strong….” Brass flared like a bonfire within his stomach. He had long since used up his vials, and had taken to choking down handfuls of brass dust and mouthfuls of water, which he had in a steady supply thanks to Dockson’s mounted messengers.

How long can this possibly last? he thought, wiping his brow, continuing to Soothe. Allomancy was, fortunately, very easy on the body; Allomantic power came from within the metals themselves, not from the one who burned them. Yet, Soothing was much more complex than other Allomantic skills, and it demanded constant attention.

“Fear, terror, anxiety…” he whispered. “The desire to run or give up. I take these from you….” The speaking wasn’t necessary, of course, but it had always been his way—it helped keep him focused.

After a few more minutes of Soothing, he checked his pocket watch, then turned his horse and trotted over to the other side of the courtyard. The gates continued to boom, and Breeze wiped his brow again. He noted, with dissatisfaction, that his handkerchief was nearly too damp to do him any good. It was also beginning to snow. The wetness would make the ash stick to his clothing, and his suit would be absolutely ruined.

The suit will be ruined by your blood, Breeze, he told himself. The time for silliness is over. This is serious. Far too serious. How did you even end up here?

He redoubled his efforts, Soothing a new group of soldiers. He was one of the most powerful Allomancers in the Final Empire—especially when it came to emotional Allomancy. He could Soothe hundreds of men at once, assuming they were packed close enough together, and assuming that he was focusing on simple emotions. Even Kelsier hadn’t been able to manage those numbers.

Yet, the entire crowd of soldiers was beyond even his ability, and he had to do them in sections. As he began work on the new group, he saw the ones he had left begin to wilt, their anxiety taking over.

When those doors burst, these men are going to scatter.

The gates boomed. Men clustered on the walls, throwing down rocks, shooting arrows, fighting with a frantic lack of discipline. Occasionally, an officer would push his way past them, yelling orders, trying to coordinate their efforts, but Breeze was too far away to tell what they were saying. He could just see the chaos of men moving, screaming, and shooting.

And, of course, he could see the return fire. Rocks zipped into the air from below, some cracking against the ramparts. Breeze tried not to think about what was on the other side of the wall, the thousands of enraged koloss beasts. Occasionally, a soldier would drop. Blood dripped down into the courtyard from several sections of the ramparts.

“Fear, anxiety, terror…” Breeze whispered.

Allrianne had escaped. Vin, Elend, and Spook were safe. He had to keep focusing on those successes. Thank you, Sazed, for making us send them away, he thought.

Hoofbeats clopped behind him. Breeze continued his Soothing, but turned to see Clubs riding up. The general rode his horse with a hunched-over slouch, eyeing the soldiers with one eye open, the other perpetually squeezed closed in a squint. “They’re doing well,” he said.

“My dear man,” Breeze said. “They’re terrified. Even the ones beneath my Soothing watch those gates like they were some terrible void waiting to suck them in.” Clubs eyed Breeze. “Feeling poetic today, are we?”

“Impending doom has that effect on me,” Breeze said as the gates shook. “Either way, I doubt the men are doing ‘well.’” Clubs grunted. “Men are always nervous before a fight. But, these are good lads. They’ll hold.” The gates shook and quivered, splinters appearing at the edges. Those hinges are straining… Breeze thought.

“Don’t suppose you can Soothe those koloss?” Clubs asked. “Make them less ferocious?” Breeze shook his head. “Soothing those beasts has no effect. I’ve tried it.” They fell silent again, listening to the booming gates. Eventually, Breeze glanced over at Clubs, who sat, unperturbed, on his horse. “You’ve been in combat before,” Breeze said. “How often?” “Off and on for the better part of twenty years, when I was younger,” Clubs said. “Fighting rebellions in the distant dominances, warring against the nomads out in the barrens. The Lord Ruler was pretty good about keeping those conflicts quiet.” “And…how did you do?” Breeze asked. “Were you often victorious?”

“Always,” Clubs said.

Breeze smiled slightly.

“Of course,” Clubs said, glancing at Breeze, “we were the ones with koloss on our side. Damn hard to kill, those beasts.” Great, Breeze thought.

Vin ran.

She’d only been on one “pewter drag” before—with Kelsier, two years ago. While burning pewter at a steady flare, one could run with incredible speed—like a sprinter in their quickest dash—without ever growing tired.

Yet, the process did something to a body. Pewter kept her moving, but it also bottled up her natural fatigue. The juxtaposition made her mind fuzz, bringing on a trancelike state of exhausted energy. Her soul wanted so badly to rest, yet her body just kept running, and running, and running, following the canal towpath toward the south. Toward Luthadel.

Vin was prepared for the effects of pewter dragging this time, and so she handled them far better. She fought off the trance, keeping her mind focused on her goal, not the repetitive motions of her body. However, that focus led her to discomforting thoughts.

Why am I doing this? she wondered. Why push myself so hard? Spook said it—Luthadel has to have already fallen. There is no need for urgency.

And yet, she ran.

She saw images of death in her mind. Ham, Breeze, Dockson, Clubs, and dear, dear Sazed. The first real friends she had ever known. She loved Elend, and part of her blessed the others for sending him away from danger. However, the other piece of her was furious at them for sending her away. That fury guided her.

They let me abandon them. They forced me to abandon them!

Kelsier had spent months teaching her how to trust. His last words to her in life had been ones of accusation, and they were words she had never been able to escape. You still have a lot to learn about friendship, Vin.

He had gone on to risk his life to get Spook and OreSeur out of danger, fighting off—and eventually killing—a Steel Inquisitor. He had done this despite Vin’s protests that the risk was pointless.

She had been wrong.

How dare they! she thought, feeling the tears on her cheeks as she dashed down the canal’s highwaylike towpath. Pewter gave her inhuman balance, and the speed—which would have been perilous for anyone else—felt natural to her. She didn’t trip, she didn’t stumble, but an outside observer would think her pace reckless.

Trees whipped by. She leapt washouts and dips in the land. She ran as she had done only once before, and pushed herself even harder than she had on that day. Before, she had been running simply to keep up with Kelsier. Now she ran for those she loved.

How dare they! she thought again. How dare they not give me the same chance that Kelsier had! How dare they refuse my protection, refuse to let me help them!

How dare they die….

Her pewter was running low, and she was only a few hours into her run. True, she had probably covered an entire day’s worth of walking in those few hours. Yet, somehow, she knew it wouldn’t be enough. They were already dead. She was going to be too late, just as when she’d run years before. Too late to save their army. Too late to save her friends.

Vin continued to run. And she continued to cry.

“How did we get here, Clubs?” Breeze asked quietly, still on the floor of the courtyard, before the booming gate. He sat on his horse, amid a muddy mixture of falling snow and ash. The simple, quiet flutterings of white and black seemed to belie the screaming men, the breaking gate, and the falling rocks.

Clubs looked over at him, frowning. Breeze continued stare up, at the ash and snow. Black and white. Lazy.

“We aren’t men of principle,” Breeze said quietly. “We’re thieves. Cynics. You, a man tired of doing the Lord Ruler’s bidding, a man determined to see himself get ahead for once. Me, a man of wavering morals who loves to toy with others, to make their emotions my game. How did we end up here? Standing at the head of an army, fighting an idealist’s cause? Men like us shouldn’t be leaders.” Clubs watched the men in the courtyard. “Guess we’re just idiots,” he finally said.

Breeze paused, then noticed that glimmer in Clubs’s eyes. That spark of humor, the spark that was hard to recognize unless one knew Clubs very well. It was that spark that told the truth—that showed Clubs to be a man of rare understanding.

Breeze smiled. “I guess we are. Like we said before. It’s Kelsier’s fault. He turned us into idiots who would stand at the front of a doomed army.” “That bastard,” Clubs said.

“Indeed,” Breeze said.

Ash and snow continued to fall. Men yelled in alarm.

And the gates burst open.

“The eastern gate has been breached, Master Terrisman!” Dockson’s messenger said, puffing slightly as he crouched beside Sazed. They both sat beneath the wall-top battlements, listening to the koloss pound on their own gate. The one that had fallen would be Zinc Gate, the one on the easternmost side of Luthadel.

“Zinc Gate is the most well defended,” Sazed said quietly. “They will be able to hold it, I think.” The messenger nodded. Ash blew along the wall top, piling in the cracks and alcoves in the stone, the black flakes adulterated by the occasional bit of bone-white snow.

“Is there anything you wish me to report to Lord Dockson?” the messenger asked.

Sazed paused, glancing along his wall’s defenses. He’d climbed down from the watchtower, joining the regular ranks of men. The soldiers had run out of stones, though the archers were still working. He peeked over the side of the wall and saw the koloss corpses piling up. However, he also saw the splintered front of the gate. It’s amazing they can maintain such rage for so long, he thought, ducking back. The creatures continued to howl and scream, like feral dogs.

He sat back against the wet stone, shivering in the chill wind, his toes growing numb. He tapped his brassmind, drawing out the heat he’d stored therein, and his body suddenly flooded with a pleasant sensation of warmth.

“Tell Lord Dockson that I fear for this gate’s defenses,” Sazed said quietly. “The best men were stolen away to help with the eastern gates, and I have little confidence in our leader. If Lord Dockson could send someone else to be in charge, that would be for the best, I think.” The messenger paused.

“What?” Sazed asked.

“Isn’t that why he sent you, Master Terrisman?”

Sazed frowned. “Please tell him I have even less confidence in my own ability to lead…or to fight…than I do in that of our commander.” The messenger nodded and took off, scrambling down the steps toward his horse. Sazed cringed as a rock hit the wall just above him. Chips flipped over the merlon, scattering to the battlement in front of him. By the Forgotten Gods… Sazed thought, wringing his hands. What am I doing here?

He saw motion on the wall beside him, and turned as the youthful soldier captain—Captain Bedes—moved up to him, careful to keep his head down. Tall, with thick hair that grew down around his eyes, he was spindly even beneath his armor. The young man looked like he should have been dancing at balls, not leading soldiers in battle.

“What did the messenger say?” Bedes asked nervously.

“Zinc Gate has fallen, my lord,” Sazed replied.

The young captain paled. “What…what should we do?”

“Why ask me, my lord?” Sazed asked. “You are in command.”

“Please,” the man said, grabbing Sazed’s arm. “I don’t…I…”

“My lord,” Sazed said sternly, forcing down his own nervousness. “You are a nobleman, are you not?” “Yes…”

“Then you are accustomed to giving orders,” Sazed said. “Give them now.” “Which orders?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sazed said. “Let the men see that you are in charge.” The young man wavered, then yelped and ducked as a rock took one of the nearby archers in the shoulder, throwing him back into the courtyard. The men below scrambled out of the way of the corpse, and Sazed noticed something odd. A group of people had gathered at the back of the courtyard. Civilians—skaa—in ash-stained clothing.

“What are they doing here?” Sazed asked. “They should be hiding, not standing here to tempt the koloss once the creatures break through!” “Once they break through?” Captain Bedes asked.

Sazed ignored the man. Civilians he could deal with. He was accustomed to being in charge of a nobleman’s servants.

“I will go speak to them,” Sazed said.

“Yes…” Bedes said. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Sazed made his way down the steps, which were growing slick and wet with ashen slush, then approached the group of people. There were even more of them than he had assumed; they extended back into the street a short distance. The hundred or so people stood huddled together, watching the gates through the falling snow, looking cold, and Sazed felt a little guilty for his brassmind’s warmth.

Several of the people bowed their heads as Sazed approached.

“Why are you here?” Sazed asked. “Please, you must seek shelter. If your homes are near the courtyard, then go hide near the middle of the city. The koloss are likely to begin pillaging as soon as they finish with the army, so the edges of the city are more dangerous.” None of the people moved.

“Please!” Sazed said. “You must go. If you stay, you will die!”

“We are not here to die, Holy First Witness,” said an elderly man at the front. “We are here to watch the koloss fall.” “Fall?” Sazed asked.

“The Lady Heir will protect us,” said another woman.

“The Lady Heir has left the city!” Sazed said.

“Then we will watch you, Holy First Witness,” the man said, leaning with one hand on a young boy’s shoulder.

“Holy First Witness?” Sazed said. “Why call me this name?”

“You are the one who brought news of the Lord Ruler’s death,” the man said. “You gave the Lady Heir the spear she used to slay our lord. You were the witness to her actions.” Sazed shook his head. “That may be true, but I am not worthy of reverence. I’m not a holy man, I’m just a…” “A witness,” the old man said. “If the Heir is to join this fight, she will appear near you.” “I…am sorry…” Sazed said, flushing. I sent her away. I sent your god to safety.

The people watched him, their eyes reverent. It was wrong; they should not worship him. He was simply an observer.

Except, he wasn’t. He had made himself part of this all. It was as Tindwyl had indirectly warned him. Now that Sazed had participated in events, he had become an object of worship himself.

“You should not look at me like that,” Sazed said.

“The Lady Heir says the same thing,” the old man said, smiling, breath puffing in the cold air.

“That is different,” Sazed said. “She is…” He cut off, turning as he heard cries from behind. The archers on the wall were waving in alarm, and young Captain Bedes was rushing over to them. What is— A bestial blue creature suddenly pulled itself up onto the wall, its skin streaked and dripping with scarlet blood. It shoved aside a surprised archer, then grabbed Captain Bedes by the neck and tossed him backward. The boy disappeared, falling to the koloss below. Sazed heard the screams even from a distance. A second koloss pulled itself up onto the wall, then a third. Archers stumbled away in shock, dropping their weapons, some shoving others off the ramparts in their haste.

The koloss are jumping up, Sazed realized. Enough corpses must have piled below. And yet, to jump so high… More and more creatures were pulling themselves onto the top of the wall. They were the largest of the monsters, the ones over ten feet in height, but that only made it easier for them to sweep the archers out of their way. Men fell to the courtyard, and the pounding on the gates redoubled.

“Go!” Sazed said, waving at the people behind him. Some of them backed away. Many stood firm.

Sazed turned desperately back toward the gates. The wooden structures began to crack, splinters spraying through the snowy, ash-laden air. The soldiers backed away, postures frightened. Finally, with a snap, the bar broke and the right gate burst open. A howling, bleeding, wild mass of koloss began to scramble across the wet stones.

Soldiers dropped their weapons and fled. Others remained, frozen with terror. Sazed stood at their back, between the horrified soldiers and the mass of skaa.

I am not a warrior, he thought, hands shaking as he stared at the monsters. It had been difficult enough to stay calm inside their camp. Watching them scream—their massive swords out, their skin ripped and bloodied as they fell upon the human soldiers—Sazed felt his courage begin to fail.

But if I don’t do something, nobody will.

He tapped pewter.

His muscles grew. He drew deeply upon his steelmind as he dashed forward, taking more strength than he ever had before. He had spent years storing up strength, rarely finding occasion to use it, and now he tapped that reserve.

His body changed, weak scholar’s arms transforming into massive, bulky limbs. His chest widened, bulging, and his muscles grew taut with power. Days spent fragile and frail focused on this single moment. He shoved his way through the ranks of soldiers, pulling his robe over his head as it grew too restrictive, leaving himself wearing only a vestigial loincloth.

The lead koloss turned to find himself facing a creature nearly his own size. Despite its rage, despite its inhumanness, the beast froze, surprise showing in its beady red eyes.

Sazed punched the monster. He hadn’t practiced for war, and knew next to nothing about combat. Yet, at that moment, his lack of skill didn’t matter. The creature’s face folded around his fist, its skull cracking.

Sazed turned on thick legs, looking back at the startled soldiers. Say something brave! he told himself.

“Fight!” Sazed bellowed, surprised at the sudden deepness and strength of his voice.

And, startlingly, they did.

Vin fell to her knees, exhausted on the muddy, ash-soaked highway. Her fingers and knees hit the slushy cold, but she didn’t care. She simply knelt, wheezing. She couldn’t run any farther. Her pewter was gone. Her lungs burned and her legs ached. She wanted to collapse and curl up, coughing.

It’s just the pewter drag, she thought forcibly. She’d pushed her body hard, but hadn’t had to pay for it until now.

She coughed a moment longer, groaning, then reached a dripping hand into her pocket and pulled out her last two vials. They had a mixture of all eight base metals, plus duralumin. Their pewter would keep her going for a little bit longer….

But not long enough. She was still hours away from Luthadel. Even with pewter, she wouldn’t arrive until long after dark. She sighed, replacing her vials, forcing herself to her feet.

What would I do if I arrived? Vin thought. Why work so hard? Am I that eager to fight again? To slaughter?

She knew that she wouldn’t arrive in time for the battle. In fact, the koloss had probably attacked days ago. Still, this worried her. Her attack on Cett’s keep still flashed horrific images in her head. Things she had done. Death she had caused.

And yet, something felt different to her now. She had accepted her place as a knife. But what was a knife, but another tool? It could be used for evil or for good; it could kill, or it could protect.

That point was moot, considering how weak she felt. It was hard to keep her legs from trembling as she flared tin, clearing her head. She stood on the imperial highway, a sodden, pockmarked roadway that looked—in the softly falling snow—to twist onward for eternity. It ran directly beside the imperial canal, which was a snakelike cut in the land, wide but empty, extending beside the highway.

Before, with Elend, this road had seemed bright and new. Now it looked dark and depressing. The Well thumped, its pulsings growing more powerful with each step she took back toward Luthadel. Yet, it wasn’t happening fast enough. Not fast enough for her to stop the koloss from taking the city.

Not fast enough for her friends.

I’m sorry… she thought, teeth chattering as she pulled her cloak tight, pewter no longer aiding her against the cold. I’m so sorry that I failed you.

She saw a line of smoke in the distance. She looked east, then west, but didn’t see much. The flat landscape was clouded in ashen snows.

A village, thought her still-numb mind. One of many in the area. Luthadel was by far the dominant city of the small dominance, but there were others. Elend hadn’t been able to keep the others completely free of banditry, but they had fared far better than towns in other areas of the Final Empire.

Vin stumbled forward, pressing on through the slushy black puddles toward the village. After about fifteen minutes of walking, she turned off the main highway and made her way up a side road to the village. It was small, even by skaa standards. Just a few hovels, along with a couple of nicer structures.

Not a plantation, Vin thought. This was once a way village—a place for traveling noblemen to stop for the evening. The small manor—which would have once been run by a minor noble landlord—was dark. Two of the skaa hovels, however, had light shining through the cracks. The gloomy weather must have convinced the people to retire from their labors early.

Vin shivered, walking up to one of the buildings, her tin-enhanced ears picking out sounds of talking inside. She paused, listening. Children laughed, and men spoke with gusto. She smelled what must have been the beginnings of the evening meal—a simple vegetable stew.

Skaa…laughing, she thought. A hovel like this one would have been a place of fear and gloom during the days of the Lord Ruler. Happy skaa had been considered underworked skaa.

We’ve meant something. It’s all meant something.

But was it worth the deaths of her friends? The fall of Luthadel? Without Elend’s protection, even this little village would soon be taken by one tyrant or another.

She drank in the sounds of laughter. Kelsier hadn’t given up. He had faced the Lord Ruler himself, and his last words had been defiant. Even when his plans had seemed hopeless, his own corpse lying in the street, he had secretly been victorious.

I refuse to give up, she thought, straightening. I refuse to accept their deaths until I hold their corpses in my arms.

She raised a hand and pounded on the door. Immediately, the sounds inside stopped. Vin extinguished her tin as the door creaked open. Skaa, especially country skaa, were skittish things. She’d probably have to— “Oh, you poor thing!” the woman exclaimed, pulling the door open the rest of the way. “Come in out of that snow. What are you doing out there!” Vin hesitated. The woman was dressed simply, but the clothing was well made to stave off the winter. The firepit in the center of the room glowed with a welcome warmth.

“Child?” the woman asked. Behind, a stocky, bearded man rose to place a hand on the woman’s shoulder and study Vin.

“Pewter,” Vin said quietly. “I need pewter.”

The couple looked at each other, frowning. They probably thought her mind addled. After all, how must she look, hair drenched by the snow, clothing wet and stuck with ash? She only wore simple riding clothing—trousers and a nondescript cloak.

“Why don’t you come inside, child?” the man suggested. “Have something to eat. Then we can talk about where you came from. Where are your parents?” Lord Ruler! Vin thought with annoyance. I don’t look that young, do I?

She threw a Soothing on the couple, suppressing their concern and suspicion. Then, she Rioted their willingness to help. She wasn’t as good as Breeze, but she wasn’t unpracticed, either. The couple immediately relaxed.

“I don’t have much time,” Vin said. “Pewter.”

“The lord had some fine diningware in his home,” the man said slowly. “But we traded most of that for clothing and farming equipment. I think there are a couple of goblets left. Master Cled—our elder—has them in the other hovel….” “That might work,” Vin said. Though the metal probably won’t be mixed with Allomantic percentages in mind. It would probably have too much silver or not enough tin, making the pewter work more weakly than it would otherwise.

The couple frowned, then looked at the others in the hovel.

Vin felt despair crawl back into her chest. What was she thinking? Even if the pewter were of the right alloy, it would take time to shave it and produce enough for her to use in running. Pewter burned relatively quickly. She’d need a lot of it. Preparing it could take almost as much time as simply walking to Luthadel.

She turned, looking south, through the dark, snowy sky. Even with pewter, it would take hours more running. What she really needed was a spikeway—a path marked by spikes driven in the ground that an Allomancer could push against, throwing themselves through the air again and again. On such an organized pathway, she’d once traveled from Luthadel to Fellise—an hour’s carriage ride—in under ten minutes.

But there was no spikeway from this village to Luthadel; there weren’t even ones along the main canal routes. They were too hard to set up, too specific in their usefulness, to be worth the bother of running them long distances….

Vin turned, causing the skaa couple to jump. Perhaps they’d noticed the daggers in her belt, or perhaps it was the look in her eyes, but they no longer looked quite as friendly as they had before.

“Is that a stable?” Vin said, nodding toward one of the dark buildings.

“Yes,” the man said hesitantly. “But we have no horses. Only a couple of goats and cows. Surely you don’t want to—” “Horseshoes,” Vin said.

The man frowned.

“I need horseshoes,” Vin said. “A lot of them.”

“Follow me,” the man said, responding to her Soothing. He led her out into the cold afternoon. Others followed behind them, and Vin noticed a couple of men casually carrying cudgels. Perhaps it wasn’t just Elend’s protection that had allowed these people to remain unmolested.

The stocky man threw his weight against the stable door, pushing it to the side. He pointed to a barrel inside. “They were getting rusty anyway,” he said.

Vin walked up to the barrel and took out a horseshoe, testing its weight. Then she tossed it up in front of her and Pushed it with a solid flare of steel. It shot away, arcing far through the air until it splashed into a pool some hundred paces away.

Perfect, she thought.

The skaa men were staring. Vin reached into her pocket and pulled out one of her metal vials, downing its contents and restoring her pewter. She didn’t have much of it left by pewter-dragging standards, but she had plenty of steel and iron. Both burned slowly. She could Push and Pull on metals for hours yet.

“Prepare your village,” she said, burning pewter, then counting out ten horseshoes. “Luthadel is besieged—it might have fallen already. If you get word that it has, I suggest you take your people and move to Terris. Follow the imperial canal directly to the north.” “Who are you?” the man asked.

“Nobody of consequence.”

He paused. “You’re her, aren’t you?”

She didn’t need to ask what he meant. She simply dropped a horseshoe to the ground behind her.

“Yes,” she said quietly, then Pushed off of the shoe.

Immediately, she shot into the air at an angle. As she began to fall, she dropped another horseshoe. However, she waited until she was near the ground to Push against this one; she needed to keep herself going more forward than up.

She’d done all this before. It wasn’t that different from using coins to jump around. The trick was going to be to keep herself moving. As she Pushed against the second horseshoe—propelling herself into the snowy air again—she reached behind herself and Pulled hard on the first horseshoe.

The horseshoe wasn’t connected to anything, so it leaped into the air after her, crossing the distance through the sky as Vin dropped a third shoe to the ground. She let go of the first shoe, its momentum carrying it through the air above her head. It fell to the ground as she Pushed against the third shoe and Pulled on the second one, now far behind her.

This is going to be tough, Vin thought, frowning with concentration as she passed over the first shoe and Pushed on it. However, she didn’t get the angle right, and she fell too far before Pushing. The horseshoe shot out behind her, and didn’t give her enough upward momentum to keep her in the air. She hit the ground hard, but immediately Pulled the shoe to herself and tried again.

The first few tries were slow. The biggest problem was getting the angle down. She had to hit the shoe just right, giving it enough downward force to keep it in place on the ground, but enough forward motion to keep her moving in the right direction. She had to land often that first hour, going back to fetch horseshoes. However, she didn’t have time for much experimentation, and her determination insisted that she get the process right.

Eventually, she had three shoes working pretty well; it helped that the ground was wet, and that her weight pressed the horseshoes down in the mud, giving her a stronger anchor to use when Pushing herself forward. Soon she was able to add a fourth shoe. The more frequently she Pushed—the more horseshoes she had to Push against—the faster she would go.

By the time she was an hour out of the village, she added a fifth shoe. The result was a continuous flow of flipping metal chunks. Vin Pulled, then Pushed, then Pulled, then Pushed, moving with continual single-mindedness, juggling herself through the air.

The ground raced beneath her and horseshoes shot through the air above her. The wind became a roar as she Pushed herself faster and faster, steering her pathway to the south. She was a flurry of metal and motion—as Kelsier had been, near the end, when he had killed the Inquisitor.

Except, her metal wasn’t meant to kill, but save. I might not arrive in time, she thought, air rushing around her. But I’m not going to give up halfway.

I have a young nephew, one Rashek. He hates all of Khlennium with the passion of envious youth. He hates Alendi even more acutely—though the two have never met—for Rashek feels betrayed that one of our oppressors should have been chosen as the Hero of Ages.