44 The Eastern Walls Under Attack

Blood flowed freely from wounds all over his body. The green men's rusted weapons had yet to pierce his breastplate, but the scratches were accumulating. At least a dozen goblins had fallen to Jacob's blade, but the horde kept coming. Rod next to him was even worse of for wear, his leather armor nearly completely shredded by this point.

A goblin threw itself at Jacob, its maddened smile reminiscent of the other twelve that had tried this same strategy not so long ago. Jacob dodged underneath the outstretched blade, thrusting a palm into the goblin's chest. Once it fell to the ground in front of him, Jacob dealt the final blow. The gurgles it let out made Jacob want to heave, but now was not the time.

Rod was beset by another of the fell creatures, but the boy was unable to react in time to the unexpected enemy. Jacob was. His heavy blade flashed out, taking the goblin by the neck. With a grateful nod, Rod acknowledged Jacob's assistance. Jacob smiled, turning his attention back to the line.

The creatures climbed the walls with a strange deftness, as if they were made for such endeavors. Once they reached the top, they jumped into the air, selecting a target at random to attack. It was terribly inefficient, but the occasional soldier fell to the tactic. There were simply too many of them to be constantly on guard in every direction.

"Switch!" a major called, one of the five serving under Commander Ericksson. With a sigh of relief, Jacob stepped back from the walls, letting his allies replace him. He shuffled down the stairs and to the training grounds. Swathes of men sat there in clumps, resting against the wall and each other. For the third straight hour of fighting, the soldiers were not in too good of condition. Most were wounded, and at least 500 had fallen as of yet. The longer the battle wore on, the less they'd be able to hold onto the fort.

Even from the training ground, Jacob could hear the goblins' battle cries: a strange shriek that bordered on unnatural. The pained cries of humans intermingled with them, vanishing any hope of true rest before his next turn at the walls. Then, an abnormality. A fireball bloomed from the right flank of the wall; one of the mages was using a spell. Hundreds of goblins on the other side of the wall wailed, falling victim to the indiscriminate flames. If he focused hard, Jacob thought that he might be able to smell the burnt creatures.

Much to his surprise, the mages attached to the Fourth had deigned to stay and fight with their commander. A small respect for the prideful people bloomed in Jacob's chest. While he hated what they stood for and how it advantaged them, he had to give credit where it was due. Jacob himself had not used his magic, for there was no use. It was better to save his spells for when his physical strength flagged and he needed the extra advantage control over the winds would give him.

Earth and water magic were useless on the walls. Unfortunate as it was, Jacob had no idea how to command flames, which would've been mighty helpful – the fire mage from earlier proved just how disastrous their power was. Wind magic could probably push a swarm of goblins off the walls and back into the shifting mass below, but he had maybe two or three casts total. There'd be little mass destruction for him.

Rod was much more able to find sleep. He nodded off, resting his head against the wall. Jacob was surprised the emotional boy was so capable of finding sleep in this most stressful of situations, but he supposed that he didn't know everything there was to know about him.

Instead, he inspected his blade. The edge was failing and a few chips were evident as he ran his fingers along the iron. "Damn. Looks like I won't have much more use of this," Jacob mumbled, standing up and running to the armory.

A lieutenant guarded the doors, retrieving a spare longsword for Jacob to use. It was of similar quality to his heavy blade, but it certainly felt flimsier. He supposed that was all just a matter of perception. Uncomfortable with a shield, Jacob declined the lieutenant's offer to fetch him one. Saluting, Jacob turned on his heels and made his way back to Jacob.

The shared crisis made everyone friendlier, Jacob noted. The lieutenants no longer avoided him out of principle, and his deeds in saving a couple of his fellow soldiers had been seen. Soldiers he didn't even know nodded to him as he passed, an acknowledgement he hadn't felt in months.

As he was halfway across the yard, the tolling of the bells began again. "Goblins from the east!" Jacob froze. How in the world could they be assailed from the pass? There was nowhere for the creatures to come from! Sprinting now, Jacob ran up the eastern ramparts. The sight he saw caused bile to rise up his throat.

Rows of goblins, perhaps even more than those that attacked them from the west, ran towards the fortress. This side, undefended by any given the crisis on the western wall, was going to fall in just minutes. A few curious soldiers appeared beside him, each of them stilling as he had. Commander Ericksson's voice boomed over the din of battle.

"We must hold! There is nowhere to run! Third, Fourth, and Fifth divisions, man the Eastern Walls!" Commander Ericksson roared, appearing beside Jacob and the few soldiers that stood near him. Rod was among the first to answer the summons, while the others from the training yard quickly took their positions on the wall. They were still assembling when the first goblins reach the top.

With a fury that Jacob had never seen, Ericksson threw himself into the fray, buying time for his troops to respond to his call. He was a whirlwind of death, blooms of red flying everywhere as he moved from one foe to the next. The commander was more skilled than any man Jacob had ever seen, except for maybe Will.

The sight gave Jacob hope. Steadying his blade, Jacob leaped forward, accompanying his superior officer on his warpath.