Reverberating Cries

Rod stared at Jacob, a knife sticking out of his back. Collapsing, Rod nearly hit the ground before Jacob managed to catch him and lay him down gently. Rage boiled in his veins. Looking for the offending goblin, Jacob was as a whirlwind. Anything that came close to Rod's downed form was cut and bisected. Faintly, Jacob could hear his corporal, James of Northridge, calling out his battle commands. Few were capable of adhering to them, and Jacob was not one of them. Tightening the line was the last thing he was thinking of as he protected Rod.

For the boy, the only one who had professed any interest in friendship with him, Jacob would gladly die fighting alongside him. Testing his mana reserves, finding a couple last metaphorical drops, Jacob decided that he had nothing to lose by experimenting.

Utilizing spells of great force like the winds that had sent the goblins careening off the walls earlier was no longer an option. Instead, Jacob tried to mesh his sword skills and his magic, applying the tiniest extra rush of wind to increase the speed of his blade as he cut. It was as if there was a small jetpack attached to the blade, helping it through any that dared cross it.

This kind of fighting was much less mana intensive than his outrageous spells had been; he was only ever using a pinky's worth of air molecules to propel the blade at its tip. Blessing his physics class, Jacob remembered that he only really needed to create torque – a force causing an object to rotate – to give his blade strength. By using all the force at one end, he could maximize the torque received, and thus the total speed of his swings increased.

The effect was outwardly visible, but it allowed Jacob to catch a second wind. Rod, below him, took shuddering gasps as he dealt with the pain the knife no doubt dealt him. As the line fell backwards, tightening, Jacob was left outside. Goblins surrounded him from all directions, grinning and squealing in their manic way. Jacob answered with a crazed expression of his own.

He picked up a downed creature's blade, the rusty thing barely useful. But even the poor weapon could cut. Splitting his focus with an intensity he never had before, he spun with a blade in each hand. Streams of crimson filled the sky, illuminated by pale light. Rod watched as his stalwart defender held, killing dozens of goblins before taking a blade to the uninjured thigh.

Jacob sucked air in through his teeth. The injury hurt like hell. It would prevent him from doing much in the way of acrobatics. Focused now entirely on just repelling the blades, no more goblins fell. Another five minutes passed before his left arm was sliced open, forcing him to drop the short, rusty iron sword.

Armed with only his longsword, Jacob said a final prayer. He wasn't expecting a miracle, but he wished that he could've gone down without a collar around his neck. As he accepted his fate, battle cries resonated throughout Writha Pass. Men wearing silver armor rushed through the pass, their weapons raised. Colliding with the goblin horde, the green creatures were forced to fight a battle on two fronts. The remnants of the Fourth Infantry held them in the west and the Yorun army did battle in the east.

Hope rekindled in Jacob, giving him an extra adrenaline rush to push through the pain and the lightheadedness. Jacob stood strong, buying Rod and himself enough time for their reinforcements to arrive. Fifteen minutes later, they did.

By utilizing an arrowhead formation, the Yoruns were able to cut through the horde and make it to the beleaguered Fourth Infantry. The majority of their force remained behind to provide the anvil upon which this elite force would strike the goblins on.

A short man in chainmail armor cut through the goblins Jacob was throwing off himself. His surroundings stilled; not a goblin remained in sight. "Alright?" the man asked with a heavy accent. Jacob nodded, watching the man pull away to render aid to the failing right flank.

Corporal James appeared with a handful of men just in time to see Jacob sink to the floor, consciousness fading. The last thing Jacob remembered was being carried by a pair of men he didn't know along the wall.

When his eyes fluttered open, light was already streaming into the training yard. The two suns were already high in the sky. Inspecting his wounds, Jacob was surprised to see them already expertly bandaged. He wasn't bleeding all that heavily anymore; the bandages were close to white. Rod was slumped against the wall next to him, still asleep.

All along the training yard, soldiers in Delreya green and Yoru silver spoke. They sounded terrible to his ears; neither group could easily understand the other. The only two who seemed to actually comprehend the other was Commander Ericksson and the man who had come to Jacob's aid. Looking at him more closely, Jacob's savior was wearing golden trim along his armor. Clearly, he was in a command position, if not in command of the entire army that had appeared.

Commander Ericksson took a place center in the training yard. Clearing his throat, he spoke. "Last night, two forces of goblins attacked Writha Pass from both our side and Yoru's. Though we do not know why this has happened, we do know that we slew more than two hundred thousand together. This success did not come cheaply, as many of you already know." Commander Ericksson paused. His arms were bandaged even more heavily than Jacob's legs, and he favored one leg over the other. "We lost four thousand men. Their sacrifice will never be forgotten. The King will hear of their heroism."

"For the mages who fought staunchly beside us, you have my greatest respect. The King will also hear of your deeds. The family of John Brightflame will be compensated for their loss." The commander now swiveled his eyes towards Jacob's, meeting them with intensity.

"While many of us standing here today are heroes, none are more so than Jacob of Leafburrow. His blade was as a scythe, his form as a reaper. At least a thousand goblins fell to him alone. Henceforth, he is a sergeant of the Fourth Infantry," Ericksson proclaimed, smiling.

Jacob was shocked at the praise. He nearly teared up at the kindness the commander was showing him, but he was completely exhausted. Mind wandering as Ericksson's speech went on, he wondered absently whether his promotion would come with a pay raise.