He glanced backward, teeth gritted. Vin stood before a rising cloud of dust. The pewter dust, he thought. She’s Pushing on it—Pushing the flakes along the ground, stirring up the dust and ash.

A massive wave of dust, metal, and ash slammed into the archers, washing over them. It blew around the soldiers, making them curse and shield their eyes, and some fell to the ground, holding their faces. Vin swung back onto her horse, then galloped away from the billowing mass of wind-borne particles.