B00CGOH3US EBOK (52 page)

He did fight. With everything he had within him, he waged war against the dragon's pull as never before, but it was a foe neither honed skill nor sharp steel could defeat. Sweat broke out on his forehead from the strain of his inner battle and yet he couldn't stop himself from taking another step closer, drawing ever nearer to the kill.

"Don't, Baelin. Please don't do this." Jill's lower lip trembled as she struggled against her human bonds. "I love you."

His dragon heart swelled with joy at her words, even as he drew his sword slowly from its sheath, the warm sting of a single tear trailing down his cheek.

"Yes, my love. That's right," Isylte crooned. "Finish it."

His sword arm tensed and shook, even as his fingers refused to release their grip. Nay, he could not let this happen. He had to end the witch's control over the beast inside of him. He had to stop the dragon. He must. He could not harm Jill.

God in Heaven,
he would not kill her.

"For the love of God, my lord, do not hurt Lady Jill!" Owen cried out.

Baelin heard the deep rumbling growl of the dragon holding the whimpering boy captive. He forced his gaze away from Jill to face the beast. Its jaws were half open, revealing razor-sharp teeth. It was as if the creature was laughing at him, knowing it had a hand in this wicked game the witch played. As its golden eyes pierced him with their evil glow, its massive claws closed in reflexively, slowing crushing the small boy within its grasp.

"Owen!" Kendale shouted. Baelin watched from the corner of his eye as the knight rallied, breaking free of the warriors surrounding him and charged to the boy's aid. The witch's warriors gave chase but slowed, more afraid of the fire breathing beast than the witch's wrath.

Kendale's sword sliced down on the dragon's claw, the sharp blade skittering across the impenetrable scales without leaving a mark.

The beast swung its horned head, its massive jaws snapping closed on naught but air as the knight jumped out of harm's way. He edged down the dragon's side, stabbing the tip of his sword at the edges of the scales, trying to find space between the tight plates to thrust the blade inside and into the vulnerable flesh beneath. It did the beast no injury, but only served to anger it, forcing it to turn to keep the dragonslayer in its sights.

Enraged, the dragon opened its maw wide, spitting fire at the pest plaguing him. With no shield of hardened metal to protect him from the hot flames, Kendale dove into the midst of the witch's guard, availing himself of a human barrier instead.

Shrieks of agony rang through the great hall as several of the unfortunate men tasted the kiss of the dragon's fire.

"Uhtred!" The Dark Witch stood, her violet eyes wide with anger and just a trace of alarm. "Do not wipe out my entire garrison in one breath!"

As the remaining knights attempted to aid their comrades, Kendale rushed the dragon once again.

Baelin's soul felt torn in two, one part desperate to join the battle and help his friend to save the boy. The other, darker side, still wrenched against his will, urging him on to the kill.

The witch laughed at his plight. "Ah, poor Baelin. Why do you struggle so? The dragon is a part of you. You cannot fight yourself."

Baelin stilled, cold sweat chilling his skin, and he knew at once the truth in the Dark Witch's words. The beast was indeed a part of him. Not the flesh and blood dragon Kendale battled nearby, but the one inside. And if he couldn't slay the creature within, then he must destroy the vessel that shielded it before he lost control over what little humanity still remained of him.

With calm resolve, he raised his sword and looked into the eyes of the woman he loved.

"You are wrong, Isylte. I can."

Jill's face paled as she read the intent in his eyes.

"No, Baelin. Don't!"

The dragon twisted and reared, its large form reaching the arched ceiling of the great hall. In its single-minded pursuit of the dragonslayer, the beast had forgotten Baelin's presence. It was all he needed.

He looked one last time at Jill. "I love you."

He said the words calmly, softly, not certain if she even heard them. Then he pivoted and threw the blade with all his might, impaling the dragon through the starburst scales on its chest and deep into his human heart.

He heard mingled screams. The furious shriek of the witch. The anguished shout of Kendale. The pain-filled roar of the dragon as it stumbled and crashed to the ground. But Jill's mournful wale overrode them all, breaking his heart as surely as the sword's blade had cleaved it in two.

"
No!
"

But he couldn't see her. He dropped to his knees, unable to stand any longer as his world closed in. Blackness encroached all around him as pain from the phantom blade piercing his chest shot out, racing down his arms and legs, exploding in his head until there was nothing else.

"Jill." Her name came out in a whisper, and then the floor rushed up to meet him.

Suddenly, she was there at his side, turning him over. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks, her beautiful image blurring as his vision grew hazy.

"No, Baelin. No. Why did you do that? There had to be another way."

"There was not, my lady." He struggled, the effort to draw air into his charred lungs growing harder with each breath."I could not allow harm to come to you. Not by my hand. Ever."

"Oh, God." Her hand pressed against his chest, the heart within struggling to beat. She raised her hand, her palm covered with his blood. "Blood. There's so much blood."

He could feel the warm wetness seeping out, soaking through
aketon
, mail and surcoat. How was it that his blood did not burn her?

And then Kendale was there, on his other side.

"We have to stop the bleeding," Jill cried. "Give me something to stop the bleeding."

There was a tug at his waist as one of them pulled the tapestry free from his sword belt. Then pressure, as both of them pressed the weaving against a wound that was not there, to stop blood that would not cease to flow.

He heard the frantic thrashing of the dragon nearby, the pain-filled groan of the beast an agonizing sound echoing his own.

"Owen. The boy. Is he safe?"

"Aye. He is unharmed." Kendale glanced over to where the dragon lay. "The beast is breathing its last."

"As am I."

"
No!
" Jill cried. "Don't leave me, Baelin. Please don't leave me." She glared at the witch standing nearby. "You bitch! You did this to him. You put this curse on him. You forced him to do this. Do something! Save him!"

"I cannot," Isylte said, her voice soft and tinged with remorse, as if she already mourned his loss. "Death is beyond my power to overcome."

Baelin felt the cool tile of the floor beneath him as his wings withered and shriveled away.

"Stay with me, Baelin." Jill squeezed his hand, pressing it hard to her chest. "If I could give you my heart, I would. Take it, and it's yours."

The blood in his veins ceased to burn and the fire in his lungs cooled and died down, his breath easing out on a sigh.

"Oh, God, no. I can't lose you," she sobbed, her tears falling, warm drops on his cold skin. "I love you."

As I love you.

He tried to speak the words. He needed to. But he no longer had the strength. So he looked at her, willing her to see all the love he had for her in his eyes.

Then, slowly, the dragon heart within his chest beat once, twice.

And then no more.

Jill opened her eyes to find her own startled image staring back at her. She had to blink several times before she realized where—and when—she was.

She stood on a sidewalk, facing the plate glass window of a storefront, staring at a reflection of herself, tearful and pale, in its mirrored surface.

She didn't understand. She spun around and looked at all the people passing by on the street. There was no mistaking it. She was back where she started. Back in Carytown, with its eclectic shops and cozy cafés.

Back in the twenty-first century.

How had this happened? How did she get back to her time? And if she was here, where was everybody else? Where was Roderick? Owen?

Where was Baelin?

She turned around and examined the store in front of her. "World of Mirth" was printed in colorful letters across the large display window. Life-sized stuffed animals and elaborately painted marionettes, magic kits and erector sets stood on display behind the glass. It was the toy store she'd been looking for before everything went crazy and her life had changed forever.

Or had it?

Had any time passed at all? Had everything been a wild figment of her imagination? A vivid hallucination experienced all within a few seconds of hitting her head on the window? But she'd never had a dream seem so real, or experienced such devastation, such loss, upon awakening.

Then she examined her reflection for the second time. Clutched in her hands was a piece of fabric. A piece of fabric she would know anywhere.

The tapestry.

And she wasn't wearing the blouse and slacks she'd had on when she went shopping for Zoe's present. She was wearing a torn and tattered medieval gown. A gown with dried bloodstains marring the faded saffron wool.

Baelin's blood.

Jill closed her eyes to the sight of it, fighting back tears, but feeling them stream down her cheeks all the same.

She hadn't imagined it all. She had gone back in time. Baelin was real.

And he had given his life to save her.

She wanted to curl in on herself and give into the misery drowning her from the inside out.

Then raw determination gave her new-found strength. No, she would not let it end this way. She had to find the vintage clothing store. She had to find that crazy sales lady who'd given her the tapestry fragment and figure out how to get back to Baelin, to a time before he sacrificed everything for her so she could stop him from doing it again.

She ran up and down the sidewalk on both sides, searching for the shop with the moth-eaten clothes and creepy mannequin sitting at the front window drinking tea, but she couldn't find it anywhere.

Confused, she ended up back where she started, standing in front of the toy store.

But that couldn't be right. This was where the vintage clothing shop had been. She was sure of it. She looked around once more. Yes, there on each side was yarn store and the cosmetics boutique, just as she remembered. So where was the vintage clothing shop and that mysterious little saleslady?

She barged into the toy store and went straight up to a young woman with a short, choppy haircut and heavy black-rimmed eyes standing behind the counter.

"Can I help you?" the clerk asked, eying her blood-spattered gown.

"Didn't there used to be a vintage clothing store here?"

The girl shook her head, sunlight glinting off the silver stud in her nose. "I don't think so."

"No, I'm sure of it. Bygone Treasures or something like that. A tiny old lady with coke bottle glasses ran it." Jill tapped the glass counter with her index finger. "It was right here. I was in it just a month ago."

Goth girl arched her black brows, taking in Jill's medieval gown and disheveled hair, and gave her a great-I've-got-another-crazy-customer look. "Sorry, but this store has been here for twenty years. As far as I know, there's never been a vintage clothing store at this location. Ever."

No! That wasn't true.

Jill stumbled out of the store into the bright afternoon sun. She turned around on the sidewalk and looked at the toy-filled display window in disbelief. It didn't make sense. How could it not be here? It was as if the entire store had vanished off the face of the earth. Or that it had never existed at all.

She knew it had been real, just as she knew with all of her heart Baelin had been real, too.

But if she couldn't find the shop, she would not be able to find the saleslady and the strange little woman was her only hope of finding Baelin again, if he was still alive.

Jill found herself standing at a street corner, not completely certain how she got there. She didn't have the will to walk one more step. She didn't want to take one more breath. She leaned against the lamp post, needing its firm support before she collapsed in a puddle on the sidewalk among the torn flyers and discarded cigarette butts.

A flapping sound pricked her ears and a passing shadow crossed her face. Her heart leapt in her throat. Could it be a dragon knight—her dragon knight—soaring through the sky?

She looked up, hope giving her wild imagination wings. But that hope came crashing to the ground when she saw the real cause. A banner decorating the lamp post flapped in the warm afternoon breeze, the vivid red watermelon on a bright yellow background mocking her with its whimsical display.

But the watermelon banners were for the big Watermelon Festival held every year in mid-August. When she'd gone shopping, the Fourth of July banners were still up. Proof yet again that she had lost an entire month out of her life.