Mistborn: The Hero of Ages (10 page)

I made m y body opaque,
TenSoon realized.
Like that of a human, with tan skin to obscure the
muscles beneath
. Why had that come so naturally to him? Once, he had cursed the years he spent among the humans, using their bones instead of a True Body. Perhaps he had fallen to that same old default because his captors hadn't given him a True Body. Human bones. An insult, of sorts. TenSoon stood. "What?" he asked at the look in VarSell's eyes.

"I just picked a random set of bones from the storeroom," VarSell said. "It's ironic that I would give you a set of bones that you'd originally contributed." TenSoon frowned. What?

And then he made the connection. The body that TenSoon had created around the bones must look convincing as if it were the original one that these bones had belonged to. VarSell assumed that TenSoon had been able to create such a realistic approximation because he'd originally digested the human's corpse, and therefore knew how to create the right body around the bones. TenSoon smiled. " I've never worn these bones before."

VarSell eyed him. He was of the Fifth Generation two centuries younger than TenSoon. Indeed, even among those of the Third Generation, few kandra had as much experience with the outside world as TenSoon.

"I see," VarSell finally said.

TenSoon turned, looking over the small chamber. Three more Fifth Generationers stood near the door, watching him. Like VarSell, few of them wore clothing and those who did wore only open-fronted robes. Kandra tended to wear little while in the Homeland, as that allowed them to better display their True Bodies . TenSoon saw two sparkling rods of metal embedded in the clear muscles of each Fif th's shoulders all three had the Blessing of Potency. The Second Generation was taking no risk of his escaping. It was, of course, another insult. TenS oon had come to his fate willingly .

"Well ? " TenSoon asked, turning back to VarSell . "Are we to go?" VarSell glanced at one of his companions. "Forming the body was expected to take you longer." TenSoon snorted. " The Second Generation is unpracticed. They assume that because it still takes them many hours to create a body, the rest of us require the same amount of time."

"They are your elder generation," VarSell said. " You should show them respect."

"The Second Generation has been sequestered in these caves for centuries," TenSoon said, "sending the rest of us to serve Contracts while they remain lazy. I passed them in skill long ago." VarSell hissed, and for a moment TenSoon thought the younger kandra might slap him. VarSell restrained himself, barely to TenS oon's amusement. After all, as a member of the Third Generation, TenSoon was senior to VarSell much in the same way that the Seconds were supposedly senior to TenSoon. Yet, the Thirds were a special case. They always had been. That's why the Seconds kept them out on Contracts so much it wouldn't do to have their immediate underlings around all the time, upsetting their perf ect little kandra utopia.

"Let's go, then," VarSell f inally decided, nodding for two of his guards to lead the way. The other one joined VarSell, walking behind TenSoon. Like VarSell, these three had True Bodies formed of stone. Those were popular among the Fifth Generation, who had time to commission and use lavish True B

odies. They were the favored pups of the Seconds, and tended to spend more time than most in the Homeland.

They had given TenSoon no c lothing. So, as they walked, he dissolved his genitals, and re-formed a smooth crotch, as was common among the kandra. He tried to walk with pride and conf idence, but he knew this body wouldn't look very intimidating. It was emaciated he'd lost much mass during his imprisonment and more to the acid, and he hadn't been able to form very large muscles. The smooth, rock tunnel had probably once been a natural formation, but over the centuries, the younger generations had been used during their infancy to smooth out the stone with their digestive juices. TenSoon didn't see many other kandra. VarSell kept to back corridors, obviously not wanting to make too much of a show. I've been away so long, TenSoon thought. The Eleventh Generation must have been chosen by now. I still don't know most of the Eighth, let alone the Ninth or
Tenth
. He was beginning to suspect that there wouldn't be a Twelf th Generation. Even if there were, things could not continue as they had. The Father was dead. What, then, of the First Contract? His people had spent ten centuries enslaved to humankind, serving the Contracts in an effort to keep themselves safe. Most of the kandra hated men for their situation. Up until recently, TenSoon had been one of those.

It's ironic, TenSoon thought. Bu t , even when we wear True Bodies, we
wear them in the f orm of
humans. Two arms, two legs, even faces formed a f ter the fashion o f mankind
.
Sometimes
he wondered if the unbirthed the creatures that the humans called mistwraiths were more honest than their brothers the kandra. The mistwraiths would form a body however they wished, connecting bones in odd arrangements, making almost artistic designs from both human and animal bones. The kandra, though they created bodies that looked human. Even while they cursed humankind for keeping them enslaved.

Such a strange people they were. But they were his. Even if he had betrayed them. And now I have to convince the First Generation that I was right in that betra yal. Not
for me. For
them. For all of us
.

They passed through corridors and chambers, eventually arriving at sections of the Homeland that were more familiar to TenSoon. He soon realized that their destination must be the Trustwarren. He would argue his defense in his people's most sacred place. He should have guessed. A year of torturous imprisonment had earned him a trial bef ore the First Generation. He'd had a year to think about what to say . And if he failed, he'd have an eternity to think about what he'd done wrong.

. 25 201

It is too easy for people to characterize Ruin as simply a force of destruction. Think rather of Ruin as
intelligent decay. Not simply chaos, but a force that sought in a rational and dangerous way to break
ever ything down to its most basic forms
.

Ruin could plan and care f ully plot , knowing i f he built one thing up, he could use it to knock down
two others. The nature of the world is that when we create something, we of ten destroy something
else in the process
.

8

ON THE FIRST DAY OUT OF VETITAN,
Vin and Elend murdered a hundred of the villagers. Or, at least, that was how Vin f elt.

She sat on a rotting stump at the center of camp, watching the sun approach the distant horizon, knowing what was about to happen. Ash fell silently around her. And the mists appeared. Once not so long ago the mists had come only at night. During the year following the Lord Ruler's death, however, that had changed. As if a thousand years of being confined to the darkness had made the mists restless.

And so, they had begun to come during the day. S ometimes, they came in great rolling waves, appearing out of nowhere, disappearing as quickly. Most commonly, however, they j ust appeared in the air like a thousand phantoms, twisting and growing together. Tendrils of mist that sprouted, vinelike tentacles creeping across the sky. Each day, they retreated a little bit later in the day, and each day they appeared a little earlier in the evening. Soon perhaps before the year ended they would smother the land permanently. And this presented a problem, for ever since that night when Vin had taken the power of the Well of Ascension, the mists killed. Elend had had trouble believing Sazed's stories two years before, when the Terrisman had come to Luthadel with horrific reports of terrified villagers and mists that killed. Vin too had assumed that Sazed was mistaken. A part of her wished she could continue in that delusion as she watched the waiting townspeople, huddled together on the broad open plain, surrounded by soldiers and koloss.

The deaths began as soon as the mists appeared. Though the mists left most of the people alone, they chose some at random, causing them to begin shaking. These fell to the ground, having a seizure, while their friends and family watched in shock and horror.

Horror was still Vin's reaction. That, and frustration. Kelsier had promised her that the mists were an ally that they would protect her and give her power. She'd believed that to be true until the mists started to f eel alien to her, hiding shadowed ghosts and murderous intent.

"I hate you," she whispered as the mists continued their grisly work. It was like watching a beloved old relative pick strangers out of a crowd and, one at a time, slit their throats. And there was nothing at all she could do. Elend's scholars had tried everything hoods to keep the mists from being bre athed in, waiting to go outside until the mists had already establ ished themselves, rushing people inside the moment they started shaking. Animals were immune for some reason, but every human was potentially susceptible. If one went outside in the mists, one risked death, and nothing could prevent it.

It was over soon. The mists gave the f its to fewer than one in six, and only a small fraction of those died. Plus, one only needed to risk these new mists once one gamble, and then you were immune. Most who f ell sick would recover. That was no comfort to the families of those who died. She sat on her stump, staring out into the mists, which were still lit by the setting sun. Ironically, it was more difficult f or her to see than it would have been if it were dark. She couldn't burn much tin, lest the sunlight blind her but without it, she couldn't pierce the mists.

The result was a scene that reminded her why she had once feared the mists. Her visibility reduced to barely ten feet, she could see little more than shadows. Amorphous f igures ran this way and that, calling out. Silhouettes knelt or stood terrified. Sound was a traitorous thing, echoing against unseen obj ects, cries coming from phantom sources .

Vin sat among them, ash raining around her like burnt tears, and bowed her head.

"Lord Fatren!" Elend's voice called, causing Vin to look up. Once, his voice hadn't carried nearly as much authority. That seemed like so long ago. He appeared from the mists, dressed in his second white uniform the one that was still clean his face hardened against the mortalities. She could f eel his Allomantic touch on those around him as he approached his Soothing would make the people's pain less acute, but he didn't Push as hard as he could have. She knew from talking to him that he didn't f eel it was right to remove all of a person's grief at the death of one they loved.

"My lord!" she heard Fatren say, and saw him approaching. " This is a disaster!"

"It looks far worse than it is, Lord Fatren," Elend said. "As I explained, most of those who have fallen will recover."

Fatren stopped beside Vin's stump. Then, he turned and stared into the mists, listening to the weeping and the pain of his people. "I can't believe we did this. I can't . . . I can't believe you talked me into making them stand in the mists."

"Your people needed to be inocul ated, Fatren," Elend said.

It was true. They didn't have tents f or all of the townsfolk, and that left only two options. Leave them behind in their dying village, or force them north make them go out in the mists, and see who died. It was terrible, and it was brutal, but it would have happened eventually. Still, even though she knew the logic of what they had done, Vin f elt terrible for being part of it.

"What kind of monsters are we?" Fatren asked in a hushed tone.

"The kind we have to be," Elend said. "Go make a count. Find out how many are dead. Calm the living and promise them that no f urther harm will come from the mists ."

"Yes, my lord," Fatren said, moving away.

Vin watched him go. "We murdered them, Elend," she whispered. "We told them it would be all right. We forced them to leave their village and come out here, to die."

"It will be all right," Elend said, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Better than a slow death in that village."

"We could have given them a choice."

Elend shook his head. "There was no choice. Within a few months, their city will be covered in mists permanently. They would have had to stay inside their homes and starve, or go out into the mists. Better that we take them to the Central Dominance, where there is still enough mistless daylight to grow crops." "The truth doesn't make it any easier."

Elend stood in the mists, ash falling around him. "No," he said. "It doesn't. I'll go gather the koloss so they can bury the dead."

"And the wounded? " Those the mists attacked, but didn't kill, would be sick and cramped for several days, perhaps longer. If the usual percentages held, then nearly a thousand of the villagers would fall into that category.

"When we leave tomorrow, we'll have the koloss carry them. If we can get to the canal, then we can probably f it most of them on the barges ." Vin didn't like feeling exposed. She'd spent her childhood hiding in corners, her adolescence playing the silent nighttime assassin. So it was incredibly difficult
not
to feel exposed while traveling with five thousand tired villagers along one of the Southern Dominance's most obvious routes.

She walked a short distance away from the townspeople she never rode and tried to find something to distract herself from thinking about the deaths the evening before. Unfortunately, Elend was riding with Fatren and the other town leaders, busy trying to smooth relations. That left her alone. Except for her single koloss.

The massive beast lumbered beside her. She kept it close partially out of convenience; she knew it would make the villagers keep their distance f rom her. As willing as she was to be distracted, she didn't want to deal with those betrayed, frightened eyes. Not right now.

Nobody understood the koloss, least of all Vin. She'd discovered how to control them, using the hidden Allomantic trigger. Yet, during the thousand years of the Lord Ruler's reign, he had kept the koloss separated from mankind, letting very little be known about them beyond their brutal prowess in battle and their simple bestial nature.