“Blue fire ran along the blade. With the Goddess’s commanding pose and a flaming sword in hand, she resembled angel Uriel.”

“Sword, I name thee Brisingr!And with a sound of rushing wind the blade burst into flame, an envelope of sapphire-blue fire writhing about the razor-sharp steel.”

“D'Orsay's voice was cold. "Sponsors, control your warriors."Hastings gave an almost imperceptable shrug. His warrior was upright only through the grace of his opponent. Wylie, on the other hand, was in Ellen's face immediately."What's the matter with you?" he hissed. "Finish him off, and let's be done with this." He made as if to grab her sword arm, as if he intended to settle the matter himself, but she threw him off hard. He landed in the grass. "You're a killer, Ellen!" he shouted. You've trained for this for a lifetime. Now do what comes naturally!"Ellen pointed her sword at Wylie and flame ran along the blade. "Be careful what you wish for," she said coldly.”

“You named your sword Fire? Fire? What kind of a boring name is that? You might as well name your sword 'Blazing Blade' and be done with it. Fire indeed. Humph. Wouldn't you rather have a sword called Sheepbiter or Chrysanthemum Cleaver or something else with imagination?”

“Leslie Ann was now agonizing over a full-length Flame gown that actually appeared to be burning fire covering her lush body: cool blue flames hugging her neck, red-hot flames usually covering her breasts, fluttering orange and yellow fire hips, all down along her white-hot legs to her Bunsen burner tipped high-heel shoes.”

“They fought because they loved the dance, and the weight of a sword in their hands. The clash and spark of metal and hiss of flame was like music written just for them. They fought for glory, but not for blood. They were Weirlind, heirs of the warrior's stone. And they always slept better with blades beneath their beds.”