Cold stone dug into her back, and her legs were folded numbly under her body, but Lindal could not bring herself to move. She had never experienced such a lack of strength— such immobilization— before. She could do nothing but curse her own weakness. The world around her continued, but she existed on a separate plane. People ran past; shouting and screaming, but she was insignificant, just another victim waiting to die. One of the voices rose above the others. A dark shape took form in her hazy vision, and through the veil of pain, she recognized his face.

"Lindal!" Barda roared, his voice fraught with shock. Her heart pounded and she managed to prop herself halfway up on her elbows. His face was suddenly clear in her mind, although she could not properly see it through the pain. He threw himself to his knees at her side, and clasped his hands against her own. The warmth of his body was a comforting presence.

"It seems," Lindal rasped with a rueful smile, "that my time has come quickly."

She had, of course, pictured her death before. She had been fighting the Shadowlord for so long, and she had seen so many of her friends fall. In her head, she had always seen herself dying on her feet, with a spear in her hands. But a warrior's death had not been gifted to her.

"Barda!" At the sound of his name, Barda turned, although he did not let her go. Jasmine and Manus were sprinting towards them, faces flushed and eyes terribly wide. Jasmine grasped desperately at Barda's arm when she reached him, as if trying to pull him to his feet, and although even Lindal could see how his eyes softened upon seeing his friend, he did not rise.

"Lief was wrong!" Manus cried, twisting his hands anxiously. "He thought that the amethyst had paled, but it had changed colour!"

The horrible truth wormed its way into Lindal's mind, and Barda found it just as quickly. He let her go with surprising tenderness and rose shakily to his feet.

"Sickness, not poison. It is just as we first feared," Jasmine hissed, her voice tainted with fear.

Barda nodded slowly, and lifted a hand to rest upon her small shoulder, but his eyes were back upon Lindal. "So. We are dead on our feet," he knelt again. Lindal thought that perhaps he had his hand on her knee, but could not tell for certain, through her haze.

"I must take my leave," Manus's face was twisted with anguish. "Lief told me to evacuate everyone who could still move. Except you, Barda, and you, Jasmine. In fact, he calls upon you for aid. He believes that the fourth Sister was hidden somewhere beneath the chapel. I must go and fulfil my duty!" He nodded briskly and hurried off back down the hall, before questions could be asked of him.

"In the chapel?" Barda exclaimed. "But that is not the middle of the palace at all!"

"The boy is a fool if he thinks he will make me leave in this time of danger!" Lindal said roughly. She closed her eyes and held her breath as a wave of pain shuddered through her body. Grimly, she realized that she would not be counted as one who could leave.

"But what of everyone else who was at the meeting?" Jasmine cried suddenly. "We held it in the sickroom! They will all die too; Doom and Zeean and—" she shook her head and said nothing more, but pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.

"Come now, Jasmine," Barda chided gently. "There is no time to grieve. Lief needs our help. If we are to die tonight, then we will die fighting!"

Jasmine lowered her hand and gave him a sad half-smile. "Perhaps we were always meant to die this way."

Barda held her gaze. "Together." He looked back at Lindal and hesitated for only a moment before he gave her a swift kiss.

Despite the pain and illness that had turned her strong body into something so strangely fragile, Lindal managed— for a sweet, single moment— to kiss him back.

"Well then, old bear," Lindal said with a smile as he drew away. "Words have never been my way. It is good to know they are not yours, either."

Barda let out a huff, somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh. She gripped his arm as fiercely as the Plague would allow.

"I am very sorry to interrupt," Jasmine broke in with surprising tenderness. "But from Manus's words, we must go to Lief now."

"Yes, and Jasmine has some unspoken words for him, too," Lindal could hear the fond smile in Barda's voice.

"Hush," the girl admonished, but she spoke without anger, only deep love and sorrow.

"We will go to him, one last time," Barda's eyes were focused intently on her own. "Goodbye, Lindal."

"Goodbye, Barda," she let go of his hand, and felt her heart go with him. She watched as they hurried away, and although she knew what was coming, she smiled.

This is a rewrite of a fic I published here in 2010 or 2011, entitled 'Fare The Well, Love'.