The precision and order of arriving troops stood in stark contrast to the pandemonium in the thick of the battle, which resembled a barroom brawl of galactic proportions, spread out not only as far as I could see, but as high as I could see. I wanted to cry for help, but was too terrified to speak, fearing I would be heard in the din by the wrong warrior and become a target.

Suddenly the black-haired warrior, my defender, fell back on me, pushed by his opponent. The same shark-eyed soldier who’d sliced my arm raised his razor-sharp four-foot sword and laughed sadistically as he swung it down toward my head.

My bodyguard, immediately back on his feet, stepped up from my blind side and swung his sword horizontally, deflecting the blow so it missed my head, instead slicing a quarter inch of flesh off my left forearm. Howling at the white-hot pain, I tried to clutch the wound with my limp right hand. In a cloud of combat dust I crawled to low, soft ground. Two dark warriors flew over me, fleeing from the battle. Suddenly they screeched, facing the swords of their own army’s rear guard, who assaulted the deserters and pushed them back to the front lines.

Helpless, with nothing to defend me, I could only hurt and watch. Despite the would-be deserters, I saw that the dark army had a distinct advantage. The people on the ground, walking the roads, seemed oblivious to the battle; they wore no defensive armor, refused to flee and seek refuge, and generally did very little to assist the bright warriors fighting on their behalf. The people fell in battle as steadily as raindrops from the eaves of a house, some screaming, others with no more than a groan or whimper.

In the distance I could see a short young man running in the thick of battle. It was Quon!

“Nick,” he called, desperation in his voice. I pitied him, yet felt relief that at least I wasn’t the only one trapped in this war zone. He waved at me and tried to run toward me, but he was rolled over by wrestling warriors. I stood up on weak knees, hoping to stagger toward him. So many troops battled between us that I had to keep moving, finding any open space not in front of a dark warrior’s sword. In the melee, I got turned around and lost sight of him.

Trembling at the fierce warfare around me, I lay low again. As I looked from east to west, I became aware of two gigantic commanders at opposite ends of the valley, titans surrounded by smaller attendants. Their sculpted powerful faces were almost indistinguishable but for their expressions. The titans looked like identical twins long separated, equals who had chosen opposite sides, the dark commander dressed in gray, his counterpart in red.