45 The Center Line Collapses

The longsword handled well; while it was lighter than the weapon Jacob was used to, the added maneuverability was a blessing in the tight confines of the walls. His blade struck out like a viper, impaling any foes it came in contact with. Commander Ericksson noticed his assistance, nodding a single time before leading the way down the wall. Men filled the space left behind them, preventing any further goblins from making it past.

Hundreds of goblins fell to the commander and Jacob, the physical exertion taking its toll on both of them. It showed more prominently in Jacob, who was not yet at the same indomitable physique the commander had. Eventually, the entire wall was cleared of invaders, leaving a situation much the same as on the Western Wall. Sitting down within the training ground with a paltry few who were similarly exhausted, Jacob caught his breath.

Commander Ericksson followed the younger soldier not long after. "Thank you for helping me, private," he said, sitting down next to him. Adan Ericksson was not a mountain of a man like Will was, but he was still bulky in the Delreyan fashion.

"Sir, if you don't mind my candor, there's no way we're getting out of this, is there?" Jacob asked, cold realism punching through the exhausted atmosphere.

"No, there isn't. Our job is to kill as many of them as we can and hope that our sacrifice will mean something. It won't be long before the Fifth Infantry comes to take over for us. The Kingdom will be made aware then," Commander Ericksson replied, favoring Jacob with the truth. It was a gesture that he appreciated greatly.

"If you don't mind me suggesting something, sir, I might have something," Jacob offered, relieved that the commander didn't appear to take it as an insult. "The mages probably have enough firepower for one or two of them to break through and warn someone."

"We need them to kill as many of these green monsters as they can. Not many can do what you and I just did among the regulars. Only mages and swordmasters are capable of such," Commander Ericksson explained. While the sentiment was acknowledged, Jacob would have committed his mages to escape. It meant a quicker and more certain death for the soldiers stuck within the fortress, but it would give Delreya the chance to prepare.

A chorus of screams cut that line of thinking short. Commander Ericksson stood, looking towards the Eastern Wall. Picking up his greatsword, the commander bounded up the steps to the ramparts. Jacob followed close behind, pushing his muscles beyond the point of exhaustion. The center line had fallen. The goblins were splitting to destroy the flanks. Jacob shared a look with the commander. Raising his sword high, Jacob charged towards the left flank. Ericksson took the other.

The moonlight glinted off the blade, the iron cutting through many goblins on his path. Jacob ducked under a particularly annoying goblin's blade, punching it with his fist. Unlike earlier, this had a much-diminished effect. The goblin, wearing its people's trademark grin, rammed its blade into Jacob's thigh. A bloodcurdling cry left his mouth.

Enraged, Jacob's longsword came crashing back, taking the creature's life with a blow it never saw coming. Jacob's strength was failing; he could no longer rely on his physical abilities to see him through to the beleaguered left flank. With goblins filling the void he left, Jacob needed to move swiftly. An application of wind magic, utilized as a pulse of air around him, sent the goblins nearest to the wall's edge careening downwards.

Jacob pressed onwards, the humans' cries growing fainter and fainter with their draining numbers. The army was hemorrhaging; any semblance of defense was a thing of the past. Another goblin fell to Jacob's blade as he ran by, taking advantage of the shocked creatures.

He used the spell twice more, reaching his capacity. Each time, twenty goblins fell to the ground, dead on impact. The rest within the area of effect hit the rampart's floors hard, dazing them long enough for Jacob to find his way past them. He caught sight of the man at the left flank's frontline. Smaller than his compatriots, Rod made up for his smaller frame with his will.

Now in close quarters, Rod's shortsword was a valuable tool. The shield he held was close to broken, but it still had a little life left in it. There were other men around him, but all were nursing wounds that would turn fatal soon if they were not treated. Avoiding death was a powerful motivator to overcome pain.

Jacob slipped past the human wall, getting a shocked nod from Rod to do so. He sat with a few of the critically wounded, hoping to regain enough strength to return to the fight. His left leg burned from the goblin's attack and the run to this end of the wall. The trail of bodies in his wake was certainly worth the pain, however. Second only to the commander and the mages in terms of total kills to his name, he was one of the greatest defenders of the Fourth.

The thought of being among the most heroic figures of the battle despite his "comrades'" poor treatment of him tickled. He almost laughed, but the pain returned in short order.

Rod joined him behind the front lines. The shield he once held onto was no longer present on his left arm. "You're a maniac, you know that?" Rod said, slapping Jacob on the back. Both soldiers winced at the impact. "Sorry."

"Not like the commander, though. He's a machine."

"Machine?"

"Don't worry about it. How many men do we have left here?" Jacob quickly switched topics.

"Less than two hundred, Jacob. There's no end to these monsters, is there?" Rod spat on the smooth stone composing the wall. Anger had taken root in the peaceful boy's heart; Jacob mourned its presence.

"Then let's show as many of them the express route to Death?" Jacob asked, offering his arm to Rod as he stood. The latter accepted it with a grin.

Like agents of Death himself, Jacob and Rod took up arms once more.