He'd lost sight of Tolsey long ago. The man had been swept away in the tide of battle, in a completely opposite direction to where Beam was being pushed.
In fact, to Beam, it almost seemed as though he had no allies left. He could hardly see them. Every time he looked up, another soldier perished, be it to arrows, or to an axe. That commander had sent in another wave by now. There were an extra thirty, making up nearly fifty Yarmdon.
They'd struggled to deal with the first thirty – if Beam had to guess, they'd only really managed to kill half of them. And now there were thirty again, backing up the rest. It was enough to dull even the strongest blades.
