Distaste warred with desperation as Twilight's battlefield-honed
perceptions assessed the tactical situation in the Hall of Bone.
Balefire dying, almost gone, but evidently taking with him the archfoe
responsible for this abomination of a hall.  A monstrous *something*
coalescing above their magic-suffused tableau.  The parallels with the
reenactment she'd seen earlier made horribly clear by the leaping,
slashing figures fighting what had to be Denigroth.  Denigroth who
seemed to be trying to advance toward the warmage, and were barely being
held in check by Elfiran and the others.  A sense that reality was
losing its hold on the environs, that the Art would work sporadically at
best in the spell-saturated and warped hall, and that dissolution
impended in the citadel...

Her lightning-fast assessment made, she leaped toward the nearest group
of warriors, slashing and dodging in a blur of movement, a frenzied
hunting cat with cold logic barely in control of emotions she had
dismissed or denied for years.  Training and experience guided her body
in the dance of swords, while her mind called out to her unhearing,
fast-fading swordbrother.

"You knew how I felt, damn you, all along, and now you die on me!  'Tis
not fair, Lord Balefire!"

Crouch, spin, and her sword licked out adder-quick.

"You taught me so much, and kept me alive countless times, and now you
find me helpless to save you."

Duck, slash, recover, and she barely sidestepped the blow of a great
cleaver.

"I never really minded the others; I knew you had more to give than even
I could take.  And you never lied to me."

Lunge, pierce, twist, withdraw, squat below the slash, and the wind of
the passing blow caressed her tear-wet cheek.

"We were a *team*, damn you, the best there ever was.  You cannot mean
to die without me at your side.  I won't allow it, Lord Balefire!"

Descending blade, sides blocked by allies, dive between the
monstrousity's legs, tuck and roll, spring up and around and she
beheaded the foul creature.

"You always said 'Do not call me "Lord"', swordbrother, but you will
always be my lord.  I cannot save you, but by all the gods you affected
to spurn, I shall make you a final gift of heaped corpses.  And we shall
see if yon red-eyed shadow cannot be sent after you as a death-gift,
too."

Twisting, feinting, leaping, blade darting, Twilight engaged another
Denigroth, her body moved panther-like as her mind moaned in anguish.

"You always counseled no regrets, old partner, old lover, and you lived
as you spoke.  You ask too much.  Henceforth, for as long as I live, my
battlecry shall be..."

"Balefire!" Twilight screamed aloud, the pain-filled cry impelling her
to ever-faster movement, her blade flashing and striking, tears catching
the magelight where they glinted among her flying raven locks.