Mistborn #02 The Well of Ascension

stood at Elend's side, though Ham was off organizing things among the city guard. OreSeur, wearing the wolfhound's body, sat patiently on the wall walk beneath Vin.
    "How did we miss their approach?" Elend asked.
    "Straff," Clubs said. "This Cett came in from the same direction, and our scouts were focused on him. Straff probably knew about this other army a few days ago, but we had virtually no chance of seeing them."
    Elend nodded.
    "Straff is setting up a perimeter of soldiers, watching the enemy army," Vin said. "I doubt they're friendly to each other." She stood atop one of the sawtooth parapet crenels, feet positioned dangerously close to the wall's edge.
    "Maybe they'll attack each other," Elend said hopefully.
    Clubs snorted. "I doubt it. They're too evenly matched, though Straff might be a little stronger. I doubt Cett would take the chance by attacking him."
    "Why come, then?" Elend asked.
    Clubs shrugged. "Maybe he hoped he'd beat Venture to Luthadel, and get to take it first."
    He spoke of the event—the capture of Luthadel—as if it were a given. Elend's stomach twisted as he leaned against the battlement, looking out through a merlon. Vin and the others were thieves and skaa Allomancers—outcasts who had been hunted for most of their lives. Perhaps they were accustomed to dealing with this pressure—this fear—but Elend was not.
    How did they live with the lack of control, the sense of inevitability? Elend felt powerless. What could he do? Flee, and leave the city to fend for itself? That, of course, was not an option. But, confronted with not one, but two armies preparing to destroy his city and take his throne, Elend found it hard to keep his hands steady as he gripped the rough stone of the battlement.
    Kelsier would have found a way out of this , he thought.
    "There!" Vin's voice interrupted Elend's thoughts. "What's that?"
    Elend turned. Vin was squinting, looking toward Cett's army, using tin to see things that were invisible to Elend's mundane eyes.
    "Someone's leaving the army," Vin said. "Riding on horseback."
    "Messenger?" Clubs asked.
    "Maybe," Vin said. "He's riding pretty fast. . .." She began to run from one stone tooth to the next, moving along the wall. Her kandra immediately followed, padding quietly across the wall beneath her.
    Elend glanced at Clubs, who shrugged, and they began to follow. They caught up with Vin standing on the wall near one of the towers, watching the oncoming rider. Or, at least, Elend assumed that was what she watched—he still couldn't see what she had.
    Allomancy , Elend thought, shaking his head. Why couldn't he have at least ended up with one power—even one of the weaker ones, like copper or iron?
    Vin cursed suddenly, standing up straight. "Elend, that's Breeze !"
    "What!" Elend said. "Are you sure?"
    "Yes! He's being chased. Archers on horseback."
    Clubs cursed, waving to a messenger. "Send riders! Cut off his pursuit!"
    The messenger dashed away. Vin, however, shook her head. "They won't make it in time," she said, almost to herself. "The archers will catch him, or at least shoot him. Even I couldn't get there fast enough, not running. But, maybe. . ."
    Elend frowned, looking up at her. "Vin, that's way too far to jump—even for you."
    Vin glanced at him, smiled, then leaped off the wall.

    Vin readied the fourteenth metal, duralumin. She had a reserve, but she didn't burn it—not yet. I hope this works , she thought, seeking an appropriate anchor. The tower beside her had a reinforced iron bulwark on the top—that would work.
    She Pulled on the bulwark, yanking herself up to the top of the tower. She immediately jumped again, Pushing herself up and out, angling into the air away from the wall. She extinguished all of her metals except for steel and pewter.
    Then, still Pushing against the bulwark, she burned duralumin.
    A sudden force smashed against her. It was so powerful, she was certain that only an equally powerful flash of pewter held her body together. She blasted away from the keep, hurtling through the sky as if tossed by some giant, invisible god. The air rushed by so quickly that it roared, and the pressure of sudden acceleration made it difficult to think.
    She floundered, trying to regain control. She had, fortunately, picked her trajectory well: she was shooting right toward Breeze and his pursuers. Whatever Breeze had done, it had been enough to make someone extremely angry—for there were a full two dozen men charging after