Oathbreaker, Book 1: The Knight's Tale - Colin McComb

“You can get out of bed now,” he said. “Your commander is coming to see you, get the
measure of the new improvements. I want you standing for him, and you’ll want to be used to
your abilities before he comes.”
The Archmagus turned, paused, and turned back. “One more thing. Tell my apprentice
Trellaise what sort of weapon you prefer. She will make one specifically for you, and it shall
become your salvation.”
He swept from the room, and that was their second graduation.
The third came a week past that. They had been exercising their new abilities (under
close observation from their commanders and from the magi who had operated on them) during
this week, sparring with one another, and testing their limits—by catching arrows, among other
things. It had taken them some time to adjust to their hugely advanced strength and speed. At
first, they fell frequently, but they quickly learned to balance themselves. They moved in a near-
constant blur until Trellaise informed them that such movement reduced their healing factor and
would eventually place such strain on them that their sinews might snap, which would require an
operation similar to the excruciation to repair them. They began practicing ordinary movement
immediately.
Then Michael Fellsfield broke his arm throwing a boulder as large as his torso, which
prompted another angry rebuke. They were informed that though they were strong, they should
give their bones time to adjust to these new muscles, and work their way up to such feats.
Michael (who the others called “the Fortunate”) was given a tight dressing to ensure the bone
knitted properly; there was no splint, and he was healed before the week was through. In the
meantime, the others trained fervently in order to speed the adjustment.
Of the eight, Kelvin was the most charismatic, Michael the most adventurous, Tarrason
the most ambitious, and Allan the most naturally talented. Kildare was the strongest, though not
by much, Sonia the fastest, and Lyral the brightest. Pelagir was strong and fast and bright, too, but
his talent lay in the nearly bottomless reservoir of endurance—or possibly obstinacy—that his
father had built unwittingly.
But as talented as these new knights were, something inside of them had broken during
the excruciation, as it had broken for all those before them. Neither did they cry or show emotion
of any sort. Where before they were tough, now they were hard and empty.
They barely noticed what they had given away.
Caltash came among them then, with others of the Elite, and they trained the newcomers
to marry their speed with their minds, and of secret techniques in unarmed combat. Each of them,
Colin McComb Oathbreaker, Book 1: The Knight's Tale
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