Mistborn: The Hero of Ages (69 page)

Beldre cried out as the people, carefully prepared and planted, saw the proof that Spook had promised them. It didn't have the target he had intended, but the machine he had set in motion could not be halted now. The people gathered around Beldre, yelling in anger, shoving her among themselves. Spook stepped toward her, rais ing his wounded arm. Then a shadow fell on him.

"She was always planning to betray you, Spook," Kelsier said.

Spook turned, looking at the Survivor. He stood tall and proud, like the day when he'd faced the Lord Ruler.

"You kept waiting for an assassin," Kelsier said. "You didn't realize that Quellion had already sent one. His sister. Didn't it strike you as strange that he'd let her get away from him and enter the enemy's own base? She was sent there to kill you. You, S azed, and Breeze . The problem is, she was raised a pampered rich girl. She's not used to killing. She never was. You were never really in danger from her."

The crowd surged, and Spook spun, worried about Beldre. However, he calmed a bit as he realized that the people were simply pulling her toward the stage. "Survivor!" people were chanting. " Survivor of the Flames!"

"King!"

They cast Beldre before him, pushing her up onto the platform. Her scarlet clothing was ripped, her f igure battered, her auburn hair a mess. To the side, Quellion groaned. Spook appeared to have broken his arm without realizing it.

Spook moved to help Beldre. S he was bleeding from several small cuts, but she was alive. And she was crying.

"She was his bodyguard," Kelsier said, stepping over to Beldre. "That's why she was always with him. Quellion isn't an Allomancer. He never was." Spook knelt beside the girl, cringing at her bruised form.

"Now, you must kill her," Kelsier said.

Spook looked up, blood seeping from the cut on the side of his face, where the Thug had grazed him. Blood dripped from his chin. "
What?
"

"You want power, Spook?" Kelsier said, stepping forward. " You want to be a better Allomancer?

Well, power must come from somewhere . It is never free. This woman is a Coinshot. Kill her, and you can have her ability. I will give it to you."

Spook looked down at the weeping woman. He felt surreal, as if he were not quite there. His breathing was labored, each breath coming as a gasp, his body shaking despite his pewter. People chanted his name . Quellion was mumbling something. Beldre continued to cry.

Spook reached up with his bloodied hand, ripping off his blindfold, spectacles tumbling free . He stumbled to his feet, looking out over the city. And saw it burning.

The sounds of rioting echoed through the streets. Flames burned in a dozen diff erent spots, lighting the mists, casting a hellish haze over the city. Not the fires of rebellion at all. The fires of destruction.

"This is wrong . . ." Spook whispered.

"You will take the city, Spook," Kelsier said. "You will have what you always wanted! You'll be like Elend, and like Vin. Better than either! You'll have Elend's titles and Vin's power! You'll be like a god!"

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Spook turned away from the burning city as something caught his attention. Quellion was reaching out with his good arm, reaching tow ard . . . Toward Kelsier.

"Please," Quellion whispered. It seemed as if he could
see
the Survivor, though nobody else around them could. "My lord Kelsier, why have you forsaken me?" "I gave you pewter, Spook," Kelsier said angrily, not looking at Quellion. "Will you deny me now? You must pull f ree one of the steel spikes that support this stage. Then, you must take the girl, and press her to your chest. Kill her with the spike, and drive it into your own body. That is the only way!"

Kill her with the spike . . . Spook thought, feeling numb. This all began that day when I nearly died. I was f ighting a Thug in the market;
I used him as a shield. But . . . the other soldier struck anywa y,
stabbing through his friend and into me.

Spook stumbled away from Beldre, kneeling beside Quellion. The man cried out as Spook forced him down against the wooden planks.

"That's right," Kelsier said. "Kill him first."

But Spook wasn't listening. He ripped Quellion's shirt, looking at the shoulder and chest. There was nothing odd about either. The Citizen's upper arm, however, had a length of metal piercing it. It appeared to be bronze. Hand shaking, Spook pulled the metal free. Quellion screamed. But so did Kelsier.

Spook turned, bloodied bronze spike in his hand. Kelsier was enraged, hands like claws, stepping forward.

"What are you?" Spook asked.

The thing screamed, but Spook ignored it, looking down at his own chest. He ripped open his shirt, exposing the mostly healed wound in his shoulder. A glimmer of metal still shone there, the tip of the sword. The sword that had passed through an Allomancer killing the man and then entered Spook's own body. Kelsier had told him to leave the broken shard there. As a symbol of what Spook had gone through.

The point of the shard protruded f rom Spook's skin. How had he f orgotten about it? How had he ignored such a relatively large piece of metal inside of his body? Spook reached for it.

"No!" Kelsier said. "Spook, do you want to go back to being normal? Do you want to be useless again? You'll lose your pewter, and go back to being weak, like you were when you let your uncle die!"

Spook wavered.

No,
Spook thought.
Something is wrong. I was supposed to expose Quellion, get him to use his A
llomancy, but I just attacked instead. I wanted to kill. I forgot about plans
and preparation.
I brought
destruction to this city.

This is not right!

He pulled the glass dagger from his boot. Kelsier screamed terribly in his ears, but Spook reached up anyway, slicing the flesh of his chest. He reached in with pewter-enhanced fingers and grabbed the steel shard that was embedded inside.

Then, he ripped the bit of metal free, casting it across the stage, crying out at the shock of pain. Kelsier vanished immediately. And so did Spook's ability to burn pewter.

It hit him all at once the fatigue of pushing himself so hard during his time in Urteau. The wounds he'd been ignoring. The sudden explosion of light, sound, smell, and sensation that pewter had let him resist. It overcame him like a physical force, crushing him down. He collapsed to the platform. He groaned, unable to think anymore. He could simply let the blackness take him. . . .
Her cit y is burning.

Blackness . . .

Thousands will
die in the f lames.

The mists tickled his cheeks. In the cacophony, Spook had let his tin dim, relieving him of sensation, leaving him feeling blissfully numb. It was better that way.
You want to be like Kelsier? Really like
Kelsier? Then fight when you are beaten!

"Lord Spook!" The voice was faint.

Survive !

With a scream of pain, Spook flared tin. As the metal always did, it brought a wave of sensations thousands of them, shocking him at once. Pain. Feeling. Hearing. Sounds, smells, lights . And lucidity .

Spook forced himself to his knees, coughing. Blood still streamed down his arm. He looked up. Sazed was running toward the platform.

"Lord Spook!" Sazed said, puffing as he arrived. "Lord Breeze is trying to damp down riots, but we pushed this city too far, I think! The people will destroy it in their rage . "

"The flames," Spook croaked. "We have to put out the f ires. The city is too dry; it has too much wood. It will burn, with everyone in it."

Sazed looked grave. "There is no way. We must get out! This riot will destroy us." Spook glanced to the side. Beldre was kneeling beside her brother. She'd bound his wound, and then made a makeshift sling f or his arm. Quellion glanced at Spook, looking dazed. As if he'd j ust awoken from a dream.

Spook stumbled to his f eet. "We won't abandon the city, Sazed."

"But "

" No! " Spook said. "I ran from Luthadel and left Clubs to die. I will not run again! We can stop the flames. We just need water."

Sazed paused.

"Water," Beldre said, standing.

"The canals will f ill soon," Spook said. "We can organize fire brigades use the flood to stop the f lames."

Beldre glanced down. "There will be no flood, Spook. The guards you left . . . I attacked them with coins."

Spook felt a chill. "Dead?"

She shook her head, hair disheveled, her face scratched. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I didn't look."

"The waters have not come yet," Sazed said. "They . . . should have been released by now."

"Then we will bring them !" Spook snapped. He spun at Quellion, then stumbled, feeling dizzy.

"You!" he said, pointing at the Citizen. "You would be king of this city? Well, lead this people, then. Get control of them and prepare them to put out the fires."

"I can't, " Quellion said. "They'll kill me for what I've done." Spook wobbled, light-headed. He steadied himself against a beam, holding his head. Beldre took a step toward him.

Spook looked up, meeting Quellion's eyes. The fires of the city were so bright that his flared tin made it difficult to see. Yet, he dared not release the metal only the power of noise, heat, and pain was keeping him conscious.

"You will go to them," Spook said. "I don't give a damn if they rip you apart, Quellion. You're going to try to save this city. If you don't, I'll kill you myself.
Do you understand?
"
The Citizen
froze, then nodded.

"Sazed," Spook said, "take him to Breeze and Allrianne. I'm going to the cache. I'll bring the floodwaters to the canals, one way or another. Have Breeze and the others form fire brigades to douse the flames as soon as there is water."

Sazed nodded. "It is a good plan. But Goradel will lead the Citizen. I am coming with you." Spook nodded wearily. Then, as Sazed moved off to get the guard captain who had apparently established a def ensive perimeter around the square Spook climbed from the stage and forced himself to begin moving toward the cache.

Soon, he noticed someone catch up to him. Then, af ter a few moments, that person passed him and ran on. Part of his mind knew it was a good thing that Sazed had decided to move on the Terrisman had created the mechanism that would flood the city. He would throw the lever. Spook wasn't needed. Keep moving.

He did, walking on, as if each step were in atonement for what he had done to the city. After a short time, he realized that someone w as at his side, tying a bandage on his arm. He blinked. "Beldre?"

"I betrayed you," she said, looking down. "But, I didn't have a choice. I couldn't let you kill him. I . .

."

"You did the right thing," Spook said. "Something . . . something was interf ering, Beldre. It had your brother. It almost had me. I don't know. We have to keep walking, though. The lair is close . Just up the ramp."

She supported him as they walked. Spook smelled the smoke before he got there. He saw the light, and felt the heat. He and Beldre c limbed up to the top of the ramp, practically crawling, for she was nearly as battered as he was. However, Spook knew what he would find.

The Ministry building, like so much of the town, was burning. S azed stood before it, hand raised before his eyes. To Spook's overenhanced senses, the brilliance of the flames was so great that he had to look away. The heat made him feel as if he were standing just inches from the sun. Sazed tried to get closer to the building, but was forced back. He turned toward Spook, shielding his face. "It's too hot!" he said. "We need to f ind some water, or perhaps some sand. Put out the fire before we can get below ."

"Too late . . ." Spook whispered. "It will take too long." Beldre turned, looking over her city. To Spook's eyes, smoke seemed to twist and rise everywhere in the bright sky, reaching up, as if to meet the falling ash. He set his j aw, then stumbled forward, toward the fire.

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"Spook!" she cried out. But, she needn't have worried. The flames were too hot. The pain was so strong that he had to pull back before he'd crossed even half the distance. He stumbled away, joining Beldre and Sazed, gasping quietly, blinking tears. His heightened senses made it even more difficult for him to approach the flames.

"There is nothing we can do here," Sazed said. "We must gather crews and come back."

"I've failed," Spook whispered.

"No more than any of us," Saze d said. "This is my fault. The emperor put me in command."

"We were supposed to bring se curity to the city," Spook said. "Not destruction. I should be able to stop those f ires. But, it hurts too much."

Sazed shook his head. "Ah, Lord Spook. You are no god, to command f ire at your whim. You are a man, like the rest of us. We're all just . . . men." Spook allowed them to pull him away. Sazed was right, of course. He was j ust a man. Just Spook. Kelsier had chosen his crew with care. He'd left a note for them, when he died. It had listed the others Vin, Breeze, Dockson, Clubs, and Ham. He'd spoken of them, of why he'd picked them.

But not Spook. The only one who didn't fit in.

I named you, Spook. You were my friend.

Isn 't that enough?

Spook froze, forcing the others to stop. S azed and Beldre looked at him. Spook stared into the night. A night that was far too bright. The fires burned. The smoke was pungent.

"No," Spook whispered, feeling fully lucid for the first time since the evening's violence had started. He pulled himself free of Sazed's grip and ran back toward the burning building.

"Spook!" Two voices yelled in the night.

Spook approached the flames. His breathing grew forced, and his skin grew hot. The fire was bright consuming. He dashed right for it. Then, at the moment when the pain became too great, he extinguished his tin.

And became numb.

It happened just as it had before, when he had been trapped in the building without any metals. Flaring tin for so long had expanded his senses, but now that he wasn't burning it at all, those same senses became dull. His entire body grew deadened, lacking feeling or sensation. He burst through the doorway into the building, flames raining around him.