Someone Else's Kingdom, BOOK II - Scene LVI
Essen's sword slid through the stomach of his opponent, who slumped to the sticky ground. The clangour of battle so incessant it competed and blended with his vision: armour, silver, flesh, blood; skies and clouds. But most of all the dark, trampled fields beneath him, and the boots and feet that moved upon it. Far above, swarms of starlings murmured in the sky - like graceful iron filings in stormy fields. Flux, deluge, death and discharge. The natural world spooked, matching man's appetite for dread and destruction. In the swirling cauldron Essen lived as pure instinct. The flow of information from his senses processed through his stomach, heart and lungs. A swoosh of his sword, a duck, a twist, a pant of breath. Every bodily move a perfect response to the terrible data. From the corner of his eye a coming assault from behind. A turn, a sweep, another enemy slain and disposed of. Every battle won. Neither cut nor bruise laying claim to his skin. Only the mud that caked his le...