I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.
Everything happened so quickly, but the moment still claws at my mind, desperately forcing me to remember, and I can only submit to it. (This whole line feels unnecessary. Your writing should show the moment happened quickly, and it's obvious the character is remembering it. The sentence feels a little overdone.)
I remember walking with you down that smooth stone hallway. Light from seemingly no source illuminated the ceiling. The silver tarnished silver spear clasped in my right hand (What's in his other hand? If it was empty he should hold the spear with two. If he's holding hands, mention it.)dragged lightly against the gold trim that held together the velvet red rug. I only broke my gaze (from what? Her? He's a poor bodyguard.) to examine the floor for a second. The rug resembled tanistry tapistry(?), an ornate design I can't remember in the center of the rug's body, printed clearly every few steps. I turned back to you. I was supposed to be exhausted speaking with you for so long (why was he supposed to?). My mind was refreshed when I saw you. I knew you were safe, I was looking right at you (This last part is unnecssary. We know he was looking at her.). I can't remember what you wore, but your clothing was lovely. I can't remember what it sounded like, but your melodic voice, the sentences you produced becoming performances that rivaled those of entire orchestras, your beautiful voice (You have already said a lot about she has a nice voice. Again, it feels overdone, but here you have actually repeated yourself. Unless she's got some kind of weird swarm voice going on, I'm not sure an orchestra is a brilliant comparison.) and clothing cleansed my body of fatigue. I looked ahead again, the fatigue burning my body anew (but you were just cleansed of fatigue?), and I saw the hallway bend. The hard curve resembled the top half of a hexagon, a wall jutting out from what was a straight hallway. I should have turned back then. I should have bought you with me (Unless he just abandoned her here, he did). An excuse to touch you for even a few seconds, even if to just take your hand and lead you back the other way.
I didn't. I kept going, and you followed me, which I made sure of. (clunky.) Freedom from fatigue, freedom from exhaustion (Why? and they're pretty much the same thing, so no point repeating yourself. It also feels clunky to start a sentence that way.) as I turned to see your perfect form again. I turned ahead (repeating 'turned' could probably be avoided.), and as we walked across that hallway, adjacent to that "top" wall to my left (what?), I felt the air chill. Cold air invaded my lungs, creating a contrast between my heated body and my cooled lungs. (this is very clunkily worded.) My eyes faced that wall, but my body didn't. My body was too slow, too weak to turn in time. The stone gave way, the body of the wall disintegrated as the remnant fell to the ground outside. Snow fell, leaving the ground near the cliff to the left of the breach covered in a layer, but unnaturally sparing the stone edifice that I could see miles across. (and what could he see?) The edifice that me and my ward had been traversing for some time. (this sentence is a part of a larger one, or should be.) I simply couldn't remember how long. From a gust of misty snow, a grey figure came into existence. I looked to my right hand (A soldier would look at the enemy, not his own hand.), trying desperately to lever my spear (lever seems the wrong word. You'd lever a spear against something. Tried desperately to bring up his spear, perhaps.). I couldn't.
The edges of my vision tore, and bled orange (That's not how vision works.), as some unstoppable force What kind of unstoppable force?bore a hole through my chest and carried me back. Nearly the entirety of my stomach (chest =/= stomach) was gone. My organs and guts (pretty sure the guts are an organ) didn't have time to spill. If not for my spine giving way under the force, my legs would have kicked as I flew. I turned (His whole body? Mid air?)to face you, to look at you (Yes, we know he'd look at her. He's done little but, and I doubt he'd turn to her so he can stare into the distance.). The look of fear and surprise in your face bought forth a cacophony of emotions. Tears were torn out of my eyes, and I turned away. (This is meant to happen very quickly. How is he turning around so much in mid air?) What could you have possibly done to deserve seeing me in sorrow (Sorrow comes later. Angony, pain, anguish, horror, would all fit the moment better.) for any reason, especially this one? Surprise became guilt, and guilt became despair. (Again, this is happening over a second or two at most. This is a lot of introspection.) I was going to die when my flight stopped. A thought rung in my mind as my flight backwards reached its peak.
"I couldn't protect you. I can't protect you anymore.(he got chumped by the first baddy. I'm not sure he ever could.) I'll never see you anymore."
The purity of despair had enveloped what remained of me (has he died yet? If not, this seems odd. If so, probably should have mentioned everything went dark or something along those lines. He's also already mentioned he's in despair.). All of my love for you would be something I could never show or give again. I couldn't remember if I confessed to you or not, but even if I had, you wouldn't have heard me. You were in danger, and you were still going to be in danger, even after I expired there. I couldn't help you, and there was nobody to blame but myself.
For even a glimpse at a glimmer of hope that I could save you, I would give my life again.