Читать онлайн «Mistborn: Secret History»
Автор Брендон Сандерсон
Brandon Sanderson
MISTBORN: SECRET HISTORY
2016
FOR NATHAN HATFIELD
Preface
This story contains enormous spoilers for the first three Mistborn novels. Seriously, please don’t read this unless you’ve read those books. I’d actually prefer you wait until you’ve finished book six,
What follows is something I started planning in 2004, over a decade ago at this point. For years I wasn’t certain if I’d be able to write it; it depended on how popular Mistborn was, and on whether people cared about the greater cosmere or not.
Well, responses to both have been incredible. So, off and on over the years I worked on scenes for this when I had a spare moment. Though I love how it turned out, I want to warn you. Structurally, this isn’t like most pieces I’ve written. It relies on knowledge of the original Mistborn Trilogy, and though it tells its own cohesive narrative, the elements of that narrative are scattered across three years’ time in-world.
That creates something unlike anything I’ve done before. Something weird, but audacious in its own right.
Now, it’s finally time to reveal some secrets.
Part One
EMPIRE
1
Kelsier burned the Eleventh Metal.
Nothing changed. He still stood in that Luthadel square, facing down the Lord Ruler. A hushed audience, both skaa and noble, watched at the perimeter. A squeaking wheel turned lazily in the wind, hanging from the side of the overturned prison wagon nearby. An Inquisitor’s head had been nailed to the wood of the wagon’s bottom, held in place by its own spikes.
Nothing changed, while everything changed. For to Kelsier’s eyes, two men now stood before him.
One was the immortal emperor who had dominated for a thousand years: an imposing figure with jet-black hair and a chest stuck through with two spears that he didn’t even seem to notice.
Next to him stood a man with the same features – but a completely different demeanor. A figure cloaked in thick furs, nose and cheeks flush as if cold. His hair was tangled and windswept, his attitude jovial, smiling.It was the same man.
Black ash fell lightly between them. The Lord Ruler glanced toward the Inquisitor that Kelsier had killed. “Those are very hard to replace,” he said, his voice imperious.
That tone seemed a direct contrast to the man beside him: a vagabond, a mountain man wearing the Lord Ruler’s face.
And so, Kelsier smiled.
“I killed you once,” the Lord Ruler said.
“You tried,” Kelsier replied, his heart racing. The other plan, the secret plan. “But you can’t kill me, Lord Tyrant. I represent that thing you’ve never been able to kill, no matter how hard you try. I am hope. ”
