People, some of whom I’d just seen, walked on the ground underneath the great combatants. Now they appeared translucent, almost invisible. Most of them stepped casually, unguardedly, apparently unaware of the battle raging above and around them. One man was out on the battlefield in his underwear, lying on a recliner, sipping a soda. I laughed, but when I saw a huge warrior with a mace raised over him, I turned away, cringing as I heard a sickening crunch.

Behind and above came the sound of flapping tarp. I turned to see a monstrous carrion-fowl plunging at me. Hands on my neck I ran forward as he circled again and came at me from behind. He dived and pursued me, coming at me this way and that, as if he were herding me somewhere. Before I knew it, I found myself on the plain, in the thick of battle.

Arrows shot past me. Then I heard a swoosh and felt something pierce my left shoulder. I saw the arrow just before I felt the pain, as lightning before thunder. I screamed in agony.

I fell to the ground on my right side, alternately covering my unprotected head with my hands and trying to pull out the arrow from my shoulder. I writhed, looking for help but seeing none. I lay flat on my back, clasped both hands around the arrow shaft, and pushed away, screaming as the arrow pulled out of the flesh that had closed around it.

I swooned, the pain threatening to sweep me into unconsciousness. I opened my eyes to see a powerful warrior standing over me, his face contorted. He raised a sword up high, like an executioner. I froze, held by pain and fear. He brought down the sword, and I saw it glimmer in the sunlight just a moment before it sliced into my right arm, just above my elbow. Waves of convulsing agony ushered me into the darkness.

7

WARM BLOOD FROM MY SHOULDER wound awakened me—or maybe it was the deep cut above my elbow that screamed for attention. I tried to stop the bleeding, but my right arm hung limp and useless.

Where was the enemy who’d cut me? Why hadn’t he finished me off? Twenty feet away stood the answer. Another great warrior—I saw only his back, with jet-black hair dangling halfway down—battled him with his sword, pushing him away from me.

Surprisingly lucid, considering the pain, I lay motionless, left hand moving from one wound to the other, trying to bind them with strips of my torn shirt. Clanging sounds of battle surrounded me. Several warriors hovered over me, swords clashing. Others had lost their weapons and fought hand to hand. Unable to move, I watched the fighting grow more furious from one end of the valley to the other. Battalions and brigades arrived, bringing reinforcements. Phalanxes of troops moved in from both east and west.