Steris froze on the docks. Her workers and constables were still busy doing as she asked, but something felt… odd? About the moment? She turned toward the waters and looked out across the misty sea.
Gripping the little silver spear she wore at her neck, she said a prayer.
***
“Now!” Harmony said.
Wayne made the perfect speed bubble. Most Allomancers with his powers couldn’t change the shape of a bubble. But bendalloy was so expensive, people couldn’t really afford to practice.
He could. He’dprobably done this more than any person alive. In that moment, he made a bubble that contained the three barrel devices—but had a hole to exclude the device on the wall that coordinated the explosions.
Then he burned duralumin andPushed.
People didn’t often refer to speed bubbles and slowness bubbles as Pushing and Pulling, like they talked about Steelpushes and Ironpulls. But it was the same. What Wayne did, it was Pushing on reality itself. Distorting it, shoving it inward, warping it.
Today he Pushed harder than any person in history. He Pushed like a god, on account of wearing Sazed’s own hat. On account of that strange metal, and on account of Wayne bein’ the hero. Time squeezed in aroundhim, compressed like coal bein’ made into rustin’ diamond. Further, further, as a whole damn stomach full of bendalloy was burned in an instant.
God himself froze. Standing motionless. The bubble crystallized into a visible sphere. Lights that had been blinking halted, half-on. Something funny even happened to his eyesight, everything going all strange until he took another vial of Harmony’s metals and burned steel to see that way instead.
Go.
Canteen in hand, Wayne flooded the first bomb. He ducked back as the water dripped, then Pushed that barrel right out of the speed bubble as the explosion started. It transfixed him momentarily, fire and light erupting from the barrel, all outlined in these strange blue lines. As if that barrel was releasing its soul to the afterlife.
Cracks started to appear in his crystallized speed bubble. Damn. Wayne leaped to the second barrel and poured, then Pushed it out too. It sent electric warnings up the wires—but the box that controlled the detonation was stuck in slow time, the signals moving like molasses.
Damn, how fast was he moving? And he’dthought he was getting slow because of old age. Heh.
He slammed into the third barrel and dumped the rest of the canteen’s water out into it. He Pushed it, then turned, gazing out at all three barrels hanging motionless in time. He was going so fast, only the first one was exploding, and that because he’dtaken the longest to Push it out. The blast was completely halted now.
He let out a breath and dropped the canteen. He’dbeen gobbled up, it was true. But when that happened, you strangled the monster from the inside.
His crystalline speed bubble shattered.
And all became red light and blossoms of fire.
72
Wax struggled in the dark waters.
Then something erupted to his right. A flash of light, blinding and dazzling. Followed by a shock wave in the air, and another in the water. For both, he thought he glimpsed—briefly, through the omnipresent light—the sight of a figure dulling the wave directly in front of him. A calm Terrisman standing tall on the surface of the water, with one hand stretched forward.
Then, darkness again. Wax blinked, his eyes blinded by the blast. Debris rained around him. Splashing into the choppy waves.
In moments, Wax was struggling to stay afloat. He’dhit the water hard, and thought he’dbroken at least one leg. Wayne, trying to save his life? That frustrating, infuriating…
… that wonderful man.
“Farewell, my friend,” Wax whispered, choking on his emotion. “You incrediblerustingman. Thank you.”
As the waters grew more choppy, Wax had to struggle harder. He forced through pain, grief, and fatigue to keep himself—barely—afloat. He burned his steel, then… something else. Something deep within, which kept him warm.
Despite that, he was lost in darkness, and even the mists kept their distance. With his leg not working, with his coat dragging him down,with the exhaustion of a nation’s hopes weighing on him, he felt himself begin to slip. Begin to lose his fight with the waters. Begin to…
What wasthat?
A tiny light, drifting closer. Small, yet unyielding in the mists. It resolved into… a lantern? On a small boat? How…
The boat motored right up to him, and then a man in a coachman’s outfit with white gloves stood up on the deck and reached out to Wax.