in a frenzy he tore at the red verticals adorning shield after shield , swinging no mace or sword but his fists , battering the image of the invincible machine , his madness pumping , spears clattering off his chest and arms as the dead pressed forwards , disadvantaged by the gradient , their sheer numbers now beginning to tell , although at a price beyond counting , those killed a second time providing the steps by which their comrades ascended .