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 legs and the blood of others that sullied his form. Not to mention the profuse sweat that ran in beads from the drenched hair beneath his bronze helmet. Yet alas, with each individual victory came a growing terror. The mainland soldiers, like a devouring infestation, kept cutting through his fellow men. With a cruel and unrelenting hunger.

As Essen cut down another foe he scanned the messy scene for fellow fighters. The odd one, two or three dotted about, here and there, bravely holding out - or falling to their fate. The flicker of a Brynnyfirdian standard stood tall against the tumult, but quickly fell from view. The Harbour Lands had fallen. The 'Pliant King', far, far away from battle - as far away as it was possible to be whilst still being on the island - now undisputed king in name. King Mizmeam undisputed king in reality. Essen screamed to the few stragglers in his vicinity to fall back, but none could hear. He looked to cut a path for himself from the carnage, but suddenly, a large sword blow came heavy against his armour, knocking him off balance. As he stumbled to brace himself he quickly turned and replied. His sword cut up through the body of his aggressor, ripping out the insides. The bright piercing weapon screeching and scraping against the underside of the breastplate. Essen cut down a further mainland soldier, this time his sword roaring across the head and neck with violent temper. He then dropped back deeper.

Eventually, another Brynnyfirdian joined his attempt to retire, tall and exhausted from battle, a bloody wound marring his face. Together they covered their retreat. Their eyes watching the grand scene as they moved backwards towards the forest cover, before slinking into the trees. Their lives were a hollow consolation. The Harbour Lands were lost.