Oath - Bound : An Outlander ' s Rise Vol . 1 Content . I remember the first test of my sword arm vividly . I was eight and the blade unfamiliar . A dark , barbed thing that I pried from the ashen hand of a dying Dark Elf at my feet as he struggled to keep his eyes open and his fist closed . I did not understand the curse that rattled from his lips as the sword slipped from his grasp . Nearly as long as I was tall , I struggled more to heft that sword than to wrestle it from the slaver who had raised it to my throat moments before . He had been surprised by our resistance . They all were . We were three forgettable souls on a simple barge of sundries . Easy prey for the dozen armed thugs who overtook our tiny ship , or so they thought . My mother and father were not warriors by trade , but they carried with them the sword - arts of our ancestors . A proud tradition I was meant to carry on , though not this early in my youth . Before that day I had only crossed blunt driftwood spars with my parents . Whether it was eagerness to test myself or fear for the lives of my parents that drove me to take up the sword , I found myself undeterred by my unwieldy grip as I leapt into the fray with the immortal confidence of ignorance . Like a log on the tide , I was swept away with the melee , invisible and underfoot . First blood was drawn by a chop that was more stumble than swing . I brought the ugly Dark Elf blade down on the nearest slaver , struck him squarely in the back , and split his spine like a log . His body went slack in an instant and nearly pulled me overboard as he pitched over the lip of our barge . It felt to me as if time had stopped as the blade came free , wet with the blood of my enemy and glistening like the fang of a great spider , its dark metal robbing the gore of its vivid color . As I pried my gaze from the ghastly weapon , I caught my mother ' s eye from across the deck . The look she gave me was a mix of pride and remorse . I could have spent an eternity hanging on that moment , but the crash of my victim ' s corpse into the sea shook me from my grim reverie just in time to realize my attack had not gone unnoticed I had thought myself brave , but when faced with a pair of vicious slavers without the benefit of surprise , my resolve crumbled . I clamored over crates and sundries to keep out of reach of their prodding blades , I swatted at them with clumsy sweeps of my sword to their great amusement , and I called out to my parents like a mewling calf . My greatest regret is not that I had been a child who had succumbed to fear , but that I had been fool enough to think I was a warrior . I would not be the one to pay for my impetuousness . My mother and father gave a worthy account of themselves as they fought to reach me . Less than half the slavers who had boarded us still stood by the time my parents succumbed to their wounds and fatigue . My tormentors must have thought this loss had taken the fight out of me , mistaking tears of anger for those of fear . When one of the pair who harried me reached up to grasp my leg , I lashed out with an unexpected ferocity and split her face wide along the bridge of her nose . I bellowed and screamed like an unholy monster , keeping the three remaining slavers at bay with erratic slashes and unpredictable rage . That is how the Redoran soldiers found us , when their patrol arrived to butcher the monsters who robbed me of my peace and innocence . I was so clouded by rage and exhaustion that I could see no difference between the ash - faced slavers and my dusky saviors . The Redoran captain caught my reckless swing in his gauntlet with ease and pulled me to the deck . " Get up , boy , " he barked without malice or pity . " Try it again . "