The Bands of Mourning (Mistborn #6) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,48
hastening to the lone man. He was slender, and younger than she’d expected him to be from behind, considering how his posture slumped, and how he relied upon the cane to keep him upright. “Sir, it’s not safe for you here. You should move to the rear cars.”
He turned toward her with raised eyebrows. “I am always inclined to obey the wishes of a pretty woman,” he said. She could see that he kept one hand stiff at his side, fingers closed as if clutching something. “But what of you, miss? Is there no danger to you?”
“I can care for myself,” Marasi said, noting that the next car in line was crowded with corpses. She felt sick.
“Indeed!” the man said. “You look quite capable. Quite capable indeed.” He leaned in. “Are you more than you appear, perhaps? A Metalborn?”
Marasi frowned at the odd question. She’d taken a dose of cadmium, of course—for all the good it would do. Her Allomancy was generally something to laugh at; she could slow down time in a bubble around herself, which meant speeding it up for everyone else.
A wonderful power if you were bored and waiting for the play to start. But it wasn’t of so much use in combat, where you’d be left frozen in place while your enemies could escape, or just set themselves up to shoot you when the bubble dropped. True, she could make the bubble fairly large, so she could catch others inside of it—but that would still leave her trapped, and likely with hostiles.
The man smiled at her, then abruptly raised his hand, the one that appeared to be clutching something. Marasi started to react, bringing her rifle up. But at that moment, the train unexpectedly lurched, slowing as if someone had leaned on the brake. The man cursed, stumbling and slamming into the wall before falling to the floor. Marasi caught herself, but dropped the rifle.
She looked at the man, who regarded her with wide eyes before maladroitly stumbling to his feet—one of his legs didn’t work right—and hastening out of the train car onto the platform, slamming the door behind him.
Marasi stared after him, confused. She’d assumed he was pulling a gun on her, but that hadn’t been the case at all. The object had been far too small. She reached for her gun, and beside it on the floor she was surprised to find a small metal cube with bizarre symbols on it.
Gunfire sounded ahead. Marasi tucked the curiosity away and shouldered her rifle, determined to find Waxillium and, hopefully, her stupid sister.
* * *
Eyes closed, Wax felt the metal burning. That fire, comfortable and familiar. Metal was his soul. Compared to it, the chill of the river was no more than a raindrop on a bonfire.
He felt the gun in his fingers. A bandit’s gun, unfamiliar to him, yet he knew it—knew it by the lines pointing at its barrel, trigger, levers, the bullets inside. Five shots left. He could see them even with his eyes closed.
Go.
He opened his eyes and leaped out of the engine, Pushing himself forward in a rush. He passed over the coal tender, then burst into the first cargo car—laden with mail in heaping sacks—and passed through in a tempest. He skidded out onto its rear platform and Pushed to either side, launching two bandit guards upward and outward, one in each direction.
The train ran up beside the river here. Trees blurred past on the left, water on the right. Wax launched himself upward, onto the top of the second cargo car, noting the bandits with their device here. Another, larger group had gathered on top of the next car, the one they’d robbed.
Wax fired with cold precision, killing the three bandits. He stepped up to the “device” the engineer had mentioned, which was nothing more than a large case of dynamite and a trigger linked to a clock. Wax ripped the detonator off, tossed it aside, then Pushed the entire box away to be sure. It plunged into the river.
Something Pushed his gun out of his hand. He spun, finding the large bandit from before lumbering toward him across the roof. He’d left the larger group of bandits on the next rooftop over.
You again, Wax thought with a growl, dropping his gunbelt, but resting his foot on it to keep it from blowing away. The man came running toward Wax. With the brute very close, Wax knelt and yanked out Ranette’s sphere device.