Mistborn #04 The Alloy of Law

the better the men shooting at him would get at judging the pauses. If he tried it too long, he’d get hit.
    Waxillium took in the scene, then held out a hand to Marasi. “Dynamite.”
    She handed him her stick.
    “Find cover. Try and hit that Coinshot when he comes down for us.” Waxillium dashed into the room, firing without looking toward the group of men. They cried out, ducking for cover. Waxillium reached Wayne as a speed bubble went up.
    “Thanks,” Wayne said. Streaks of sweat ran down the sides of his face, though he was grinning.
    “The Pewterarm?” Waxillium asked.
    “We fought to a standstill,” Wayne said. “Bastard is fast .”
    Waxillium nodded. Pewter burners always gave Wayne trouble. Wayne could heal far more quickly, but the Pewterarm’s powers made him fast and strong. In a hand-to-hand fight, Wayne was at the disadvantage.
    “He still has my lucky hat,” Wayne noted, nodding to where the gray-skinned man stood behind the group of Vanishers, egging them on. “This latest group came from that tunnel. I think there are more down there. Don’t know why Miles hasn’t brought them in.”
    “Too many guns firing in a room this size gets more and more dangerous for his men,” Waxillium said, looking about. “He’ll want reserves, try to wear us down. Where is Miles, by the way?”
    “Trying to flank me,” Wayne said. “I think he’s hiding to the side of the train car there.”
    Wayne and he stood in the center of the room, train car behind and to the left, boxes and crates behind and to the right, tunnel to the right.
    Waxillium could reach the train car pretty easily. “Great,” he said. “First plan to deal with Miles is still a go.”
    “I don’t think it’ll work.”
    “That’s why we have a second plan. But let’s hope this one does work. I’d rather not put Marasi in more danger.” Waxillium held up the dynamite. There was no fuse—it was meant to be set off by pulling a detonator. “You go for those men. I’ve got Miles. Ready?”
    “Yup.”
    Waxillium tossed the dynamite and Wayne dropped the speed bubble right before the dynamite hit the border. Any object—small ones particularly—that left a speed bubble was deflected slightly in an unpredictable way. That was why firing bullets out of one was practically useless.
    The Vanishers looked up from their hiding places. The dynamite fell toward them. Waxillium leveled Vindication and fired the last bullet in the cylinder at the falling dynamite.
    The explosion shook the room, loud enough to set Waxillium’s ears ringing. He spun, ignoring that, to see Miles step out from beside the broken train car. Waxillium grabbed a handful of rounds and ran for the vault car, hastily ducking inside to find cover as he reloaded.
    A figure darkened the doorway a moment later. “Hello, Wax,” Miles said. He stepped up into the vault car.
    “Hello, Miles.” Taking a deep breath, Waxillium Pushed against the metal hooks above, which he’d affixed there to hold the nets in place. They sprang free, dropping the nets around Miles.
    As Miles jerked about in surprise, Waxillium Pushed on the clasps at the bottom of the nets, shooting them out of the gaping hole where the door had been. That pulled the nets tight at the bottom and yanked Miles’s feet out from under him.
    Miles hit the floor of the railcar’s interior, banging his head against the box that held the aluminum. That probably wouldn’t even daze him, but the awkward fall did make him drop his gun. Waxillium leaped forward, grabbing it and pulling it out of the nets; then he stood, breathing quickly.
    Miles thrashed at the nets. Despite his incredible healing powers, he wasn’t any stronger than an ordinary man. The trick wasn’t to kill him. It was just to incapacitate him. Waxillium stepped forward, only now finding a chance to bind the wound on his arm. It wasn’t bad, but it was bleeding more than he’d have liked.
    Miles looked up at him, growing calm. Then he reached into his pocket, got out his cigar case, and pulled a small, slender stick of dynamite from it.
    Waxillium froze. He felt an awful moment of realization, followed by a jolt of terror.
    Aw, hell! He threw himself past Miles and out of the railcar. The awkward leap left him spinning in the air. He had a brief glance of Miles yanking at the dynamite’s blasting cap. The man was enveloped in a bright, powerful blast.
    The explosion hurled Waxillium forward like a leaf before the wind. He