A moment later, an axe found Oogsly's eye, as Vol casually tossed one of the throwing axes from his belt in the man's direction. In a handful of minutes, five of Earl Maddon's best men had been cut down – and he'd been forced to watch it, unable to reach it for the crowd.
"Jasper…" Maddon said. "What is this!? What the hell is this?"
It didn't make the slightest lick of sense. They should have been dead. All of them. Now the middle army was being overrun, by the dispatch force to the right made of Silverfish and Vale was still continuing forward. They were just about to break through the last line of men.
Even with that kind of chaos at play, Maddon's eyes told him that this position ought to have been exclusively winning for them. They had too many men in too many key positions. So why did his instincts say the complete opposite? Why did he feel as if the flow of the battlefield had been reversed against him entirely?
