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

Only the man moved way too fast for them to even start their false fight. Much faster than
that—faster than any man I’ve ever seen. Before the pieces of the mug hit the floor, before Big
Tom was even done recovering from the throw, before the baby could even start crying under the
wet of the beer, that man was off his bench with his naked blade in his hand. He skewered Big
Tom right in the shoulder, ending Tom’s throwing days for good, and then he slipped that big
sword across Tom’s throat, ending Tom’s breathing and swallowing days for good, too.
Big Tom fell backward. His friends looked at the body.
The man looked at them. His sword arm hung loose and relaxed at his side, and his sword
hummed just under hearing so you could feel the power in the thing. That’s when we all knew
him for one of the King’s Chosen.
The boys looked at each other and then at the stranger. Their night got a whole lot more
serious then, and I could see them calculating their odds: a good five to one, and likely the rest of
the tavern’d be on the side of the local boys. But then, he was one of the fabled Knights of the
Empire, and that meant blood. That meant they’d have to finish him, and do it before he got the
law on them.
The locals watched the boys, then, ready to follow whatever card they played. With the
eyes of the town on them, the boys didn’t have much choice. Wordlessly they went for him. Their
neighbors came in right after, bent on avenging Big Tom, and they meant to kill the man, never
you mind that Tom started it or that they were against one of the King’s Chosen.
Now, I help out during the Harvest Festival, and I’ve seen people reaping the wheat and
barley, and sometimes someone drinks a little too much and starts spinning and cutting down the
stalks without a care for how they fall. This man was like that. He ducked and spun and turned
and everywhere he went his sword went, too, leaving stumps and blood spraying in its wake and
the bodies of the townsfolk toppling. There wasn’t a wasted movement that I could see. He made
my customers look slow and stupid, and maybe they were, but he was so much faster than them
that they never laid a hand on him, let alone one of their cudgels.
It was a massacre in there, the place laid to shambles. All I could do was stand behind the
counter with my mouth open. I couldn’t even run for help.
When he was finished with his work, there wasn’t a single person moaning. They were
all dead, and the blood was running in freshets from their wounds.
He sat down again, his bloody blade dripping on my table, and those dead eyes looked at
me and nailed me to the spot. I ain’t a coward, but I knew right then that he’d kill me if I gave
him the slightest offense, and I went on my belly like a dog. I didn’t care then if I disgusted him,
Colin McComb Oathbreaker, Book 1: The Knight's Tale
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