"BASTARD!" The nearest man finally collected himself, as he reached for the dagger at his belt and thrust it towards Oliver, as the two continued to crouch.
There was another man towards his rear, and many more beyond him. He'd landed in the centre of the wall, so he knew there would be enemies on both sides. Still, he had the advantage, in that only he knew the arrows would be stopping now. The bandits would still be keeping their eyes out.
He removed the hand that thrust the knife towards him with a single flick of his sword. He stood upright once the arrows had passed, and with a downward chop, he removed the still kneeling man's head.
It would have been worthwhile to deal with the man behind him as well, but Oliver had settled into a certain pattern when fighting larger groups of enemies, a habit that had grown from his days of killing goblins. He always preferred to deal with one side first. He went forward instead, sprinting his way.
The wall curved inwards, which made it difficult to see where the crouched men were until the moment that he descended upon them.
"ATTACKER ON THE WALL! SOME BOY! ATTACKER!" The next man shouted down the length of the wall, hoping to rally support, as he urgently crawled away. He heard Oliver coming more than saw him. Even if Oliver had wanted to approach quietly, the creaking wood would have easily given him away.
The man turned his head, seeing the sword so near. "Please…" he said, in a quiet voice. Those sorts of negotiations didn't work on a blade mid-swing. Oliver hardly slowed his stride as he cut across the man's back and moved on to the next man.
"Jez!" A nearby voice called his distress, hearing the death cries of his friend but also announcing himself. He too had cast aside his bow in favour of the knife at his hip as he tried to crawl off the wall, no doubt heading for the ladders and the men down beneath.
That didn't exactly go according to plan. Not unless his plan involved steel shoved through his midsection, and a puddle of blood falling out his mouth.
That man marked the last easy kill. By then, the men were beginning to recover. They seemed to realize that the arrow fire had stopped, for even though many still crouched, they allowed themselves to stand higher than before, as they tried to group up.
Oliver's next obstacle was a group of three, standing just around the curve, with three bows drawn ready and waiting for him.
"DIE!" The middle man announced with a vicious and toothless smile.
Oliver grabbed the body of the man that he'd just killed and heaved it in front of him. He moved the dead weight with surprising fluidity, considering that he barely had the use of his sword hand, and could only grab the weight with a few of his fingers.
The arrows punched straight into the corpse, their barbed tips piercing out of the back of the man's furs, bringing a flesh splatter of blood on Oliver's already bloodied clothes.
As Oliver tossed the corpse aside, the middleman's victorious smile quickly faded. There seemed to be a second of understanding there. Then Oliver was running, and the man was reaching for the axe at his hip, as were the two men next to him.
One man managed, and the other two were slow. Oliver ducked the axe swung out to meet him, and slashed the legs of two men with his sword, leaving them to squeal their agony as he hit the third with his free fist and then knocked him with his shoulder out over the wall.
Half-legless as they were, the other two were quickly shortly after. Oliver was racing, covering the length of the long wall, killing as many men as he could as quickly as he could. Two managed to climb back down the ladder before he reached the leftmost side of the wall, but he ignored them, and began to race in the other direction, his feet thudding a furious rhythm on the rickety old wood.
On this side, spared of the bloodshed as many of them were, the men made the mistake of staying. There were fifteen of them, nervous and intermingled, their bows ready in their hands, cautiously proceeding back towards the centre, as they checked over the corpses that Oliver had left, only managing to catch fleeting glimpses of the boy himself as he ran.
He didn't try to hide. There didn't seem much point. Speed was his primary objective. They wanted to secure the wall before the reinforcements from below came up.
"Get these other ladders up!" He heard Northman shout from below, now that the attention of the archers was solely on Oliver.
Cormrant's command followed soon after. "INFANTRY! FORWARD! ARCHERS, CONTINUE TO COVER, BUT PREPARE TO ENGAGE WHEN THE OPPORTUNITY IS PRESENTED!"
Even the archers heard that command. A few of the men made the mistake of glancing over the side of the wall towards the rush of soldiers that were quickly speeding their way, but Oliver was also rushing towards them.
As soon as he breached the steepest part of the curve, bringing him back towards the centre, two nervous arrows shot his way. He easily pulled back clear of them – they weren't targeted shots. More shots that he was meant to run into.
They slowed him just for a second, before he grabbed another one of the corpses that he'd left and revealed himself.
"HE'S JUST ONE BOY! KILL HIM!" One of the men shouted. They were bunched up together, like a proper squadron of archers, and that collectiveness lent them a false confidence. They released their bow strings almost angrily, sending most of their arrows slamming straight into the meat shield that Oliver had proffered. The rest went rushing by him, and Oliver himself was rushing too.
Even with the corpse in hand, he hadn't stood still, he'd been closing the distance between them all the while.