Dead Where He Stands

The clacking of his boots echoed in the empty halls of Zephyr's fortress as he ran, sword in hand, back towards the battle.

'Why?'

The scene replayed in his mind, tormenting him. It was all so surreal.

'Why did he not pull his sword? He saw me come. He could have killed me, but instead he just looked at me with those wounded eyes.'

He closed his eyes in consternation, remembering the woman.

'And he pled for her life but not his own. I wonder... could there be something more to love than fleeting fancy and friendship than selfish interest... or have I killed the last of it?'

He paused in his stride, thinking to go back.

'He's dead now, isn't he?' he wondered, looking back. 'If he weren't, I'd like to ask him. I'd like to ask him why, but he's dead now, isn't he? I've killed him, haven't I?'

He felt a sudden shock of alarm as he realized the enormity of the consequences of his action.