"But you do not understand," Garrick said, and Kendra was chilled by the sincerity she heard in his voice. "The only way to kill a witch is to plunge a newly honed blade into her heart. I told Navarre this, but he would not yield to me. He would not yield. These two are the evil ones, not I. These two!"

"You are insane."

Kendra wracked her brain frantically for some possible means of escape. This couldn't be the way her life ended, not now, not when she was carrying Navarre's baby. Wasn't it enough Navarre had been taken from her? Wasn't it enough that she was probably trapped here in the past forever?

"Please God," she whispered aloud, "please help us."

"You do not seem to understand," the sheriff said, his voice strained. Kendra gasped as he pressed the sharp point of the dagger into the soft skin beneath her collarbone, pricking her slightly. She began to tremble as a thin stream of blood trickled down her chest. "I am the Sheriff of Nottingham," he said, his words growing more fervent, more intense, "and you must do as I command or I will kill this witch as I did the other."

"Then you must destroy us both," Cennach replied calmly, "for I will not let you kill her without a fight, and I will not tell you the secret."

"I will kill her and I will make you long for death. In the end you will tell me what I want to know."

Garrick's laughter broke against Kendra's ear and she shuddered. Her mind was blank, her ability to move, gone. In all of her adventures as a reporter she now realized she had really never worried about making it out of whatever danger she had placed herself. She had always weathered it through, using her survival skills when and if she could. If she lived, fine, if she didn't, at least she'd be with James and Nicole. Perhaps she would feel the same now, would rush headlong toward death in order to be with Navarre again, if it were not for the little life inside of her. Now she wanted more than anything to live, to have one more chance to do it right.

Kendra saw something flicker in Cennach's eyes and he walked slowly to the left, causing Garrick to turn with him until his back was squarely toward the open door. "Be still, old man. I know many ways of torture, which, I assure you would soon have you begging for death."

It was the distant sound of a horse's neigh that alerted him. Garrick turned just as a blade came crashing down, knocking the dagger from his hand. The sheriff thrust Kendra away from him and drew his sword, bringing it up barely in time to block the next sweep of his attacker's sword as metal rang out against metal like the triumphant peal of a bell in a cathedral. Kendra had fallen to the floor during the melee, and she lay there with her hands over her head, her legs beneath her, afraid to move lest she be caught in the middle of the swordplay.

Now, the sword was struck as well from Garrick's hand and it clattered to the floor. With a loud cry, the sheriff threw himself across the room, toward Kendra's crumpled figure, one hand closing around her arm as he stumbled back to his feet and pulled Kendra to hers. His bruised fingers darted to encircle her throat as he thrust her in front of him and she clawed at his hands. She froze when she got her first look at Garrick's assailant.

He stood silhouetted in front of the doorway, the sunlight behind him reverberating like a halo around him, his shoulders filling the space, his dark hair flying freely about his rugged face, his bloodied sword gripped tightly in his hand. Wordlessly he untied the cloak about his neck and flung it to one side as he stepped into the light streaming down through the skylight.

Navarre. She tried to speak his name, but Garrick's fingers bit too tightly into her neck. Navarre. How could it be? How could he be alive? Relief, painfully sweet, flooded through her as the knight, now clad only in a loose linen shirt and leggings, took a step toward her, his golden eyes burning as he stood, sword in hand, like some dark avenging angel about to deal Satan a crushing blow. Tears flooded down her cheeks.

Garrick didn't seem startled at all, and Kendra knew, as she stood trembling with reaction, that the sheriff had known all along Navarre was alive; had known, and had enjoyed torturing her by keeping the knowledge from her.

"And now the celebration is complete," Garrick said. "My old friend Navarre has arrived to be reunited with his ladylove in death. How quaint, how heroic. The kind of thing bards will sing about, no doubt."

"Surrender, Garrick," Navarre ordered, and the sound of his deep voice sent a thrill coursing through Kendra's veins. "Let Kendra go and let us put an end to this."

"And let you skewer me in cold blood? I think not, old friend. However, if you are willing to give me a more sporting chance I will be happy to release the lady."

Navarre smiled, his golden eyes narrow with hatred, and Kendra thought it was the most frightening sight she had ever seen. "Very well. Let her go and pick up your sword. But let us step outside where there is room to swing a blade."

Garrick shoved Kendra toward Navarre and he caught her. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, kissing his chest through the V of the shirt he wore, weeping over the ragged burn encircling his neck. She ran her hands over his chest and arms, as if to reassure herself that he was real. He was alive. Navarre was alive.

The knight pulled his gaze from the sheriff long enough to bend his lips to hers. Kendra kissed his mouth, his chin, his cheekbones, his nose, laughing and crying at the same time. Cennach circled around the sheriff, never getting within arm's length as he moved to stand beside the couple.

"I thought you were dead," she whispered, "Oh, Navarre, I thought you were dead." He touched his lips to her hair briefly and Kendra felt a surge of warmth course through her.

"Nay, sweet love, I am very much alive."

"But only for a time." Garrick brandished his sword in front of him, back and forth, watching the blade, his eyes glazed. "Remember all the times we dueled together, Navarre? Testing our strength, testing one another?" He looked up and smiled. "Have you ever bested me? I think not. Why do you think you can best me now when you are ragged and weary and wounded?"

Navarre did not answer him, and instead bowed toward the door. Garrick laughed and swept out of the room with Cennach and Kendra following quickly after. The two men faced one another in the clearing, like animals-predators-Kendra thought, each waiting for the other to make his move. At last. Navarre's sword rose and the now familiar metallic sound rang out as Garrick raised his own to block the sweeping blade. As though someone had rung a bell, they began to fight in earnest.

Garrick was a good swordsman, swift and agile. Kendra watched anxiously as Navarre bore down upon the man, again and again, silver metal flashing between them, the sound of their swords echoing across the valley. She took heart, for if Garrick was a good fighter, her knight was nothing short of incredible. Kendra watched Navarre fight with a kind of awe. He was like a machine, a terminator in action, but as the fight wore on, her hope faltered. Navarre was weakening, his sword arm drooping a little more with each blow he fielded from Garrick.

"Are you ready to surrender and place yourself once again at my mercy, oh mighty Navarre, bastard friend of the great Richard?"

"I shall be happy to accept your surrender at any time, old friend."

Watching them fight was like watching an old movie, Kendra thought, as the two men squared off again and began their vicious strokes anew. Navarre was slower than Garrick but stronger. In spite of his wounds, their different strengths made them about equally matched. Metal rang out against metal and Kendra cried out as Garrick lunged, his sword's point nicking the side of Navarre's arm. The knight recovered quickly and brought his weapon upward, knocking the blade aside.

They circled each other, then fought. Circled, then fought. Kendra felt Navarre's weariness, could see it on the sheriff's face as well. It wouldn't be long before one of the men would drop from sheer exhaustion and the other be the victor. As they circled each other again for what seemed like the hundredth time, Garrick suddenly went down in front of Kendra. She stepped back, but it was too late. Garrick rolled, sprang to his feet and grabbed her, thrusting her in front of him, his sword across her middle.

"You would hide behind a woman's skirt, Garrick?" Navarre said, approaching him cautiously, sweat dripping from his face, his breath labored. "Is there no honor left in you? I thought in spite of everything you were still a man. But perhaps I am mistaken."

The long, wide blade was instantly beneath her chin and Navarre froze in his tracks. Kendra stiffened as well, afraid to breathe, let alone move.

"I would not say such things if I were you, my friend," Garrick whispered. "I fear it would cause great consternation for you if your ladylove's head were to roll at your feet. Put down your sword."

"Aye," Navarre said, dropping his sword to the ground and spreading his hands apart. "Very well, Garrick. Kill me if you must, but let her go. Let her go back to where she belongs."

"She shall, indeed, return." Garrick raised one blond brow. "And do not fear for her, dear Navarre, for I shall be at her side."

Kendra's mouth went suddenly dry as she shot Cennach a desperate look. She'd rather die here and now, with her baby, than risk this madman having access to Navarre's child, as well as the rest of her time's weapons and evils. The wiseman nodded imperceptibly and she knew he wouldn't tell Garrick the secret. Wouldn't willingly tell, she thought frantically, but what if Garrick tortured him? How much could a man bear before he broke and confessed all?

"Let her go, Garrick, and I swear I will do whatever you ask."

"Would you really?" Garrick lowered the sword and gazed at Navarre thoughtfully. "Of course, I think you know what I shall require of you, my dear, dear friend. Hmm, interesting. I will think upon your offer, but first things first. You will kneel before me, Navarre de Galliard."

Navarre hesitated, then moved in front of the man and knelt. Garrick began to laugh, the sound chilling Kendra as she choked back an angry protest.

"At last, old friend, you are in the right position-at my feet, begging for my mercy. Stay there a moment and let me look at you, let me grow used to the adulation of my people."

"Of course, my Lord Sheriff," Navarre said, bowing his head respectfully. Kendra stared down at him, wide-eyed. What was he up to?

"Soon you will call me 'Sire,' " Garrick said, the crazed light returning to his eyes. "So begin now, please."

"Of course, Sire."

"Of course, Sire," Navarre said. "I bow humbly before you and offer up my fealty to you."

Kendra felt Garrick release her abruptly, and startled, she ran to Cennach's side, clutching his arm as she wondered what in the world Navarre was up to. The sheriff stepped toward the kneeling figure, his mouth open, his eyes glazed.

"Will you truly, Navarre?" His voice was breathless, his chin-length blond hair falling over his forehead like a child's. " 'Tis more than I hoped for. But if you are willing, we may join together once again." His face was flushed, his smile too bright. "If you will, I promise that together we shall rule England."

Kendra watched the insanity sparkle in the man's eyes and glanced at Navarre kneeling on the ground before him. Garrick still held his sword and Kendra's heart began to flutter like a dove within her chest as the sheriff stopped directly in front of Navarre, the blade in his hand.

Suddenly Garrick lifted his chin, and Kendra marveled not for the first time at the beauty of the man's face. In that moment the sheriff looked quite regal, quite kingly in his craziness, and she felt a sudden pity for him. She quickly dismissed the emotion as he lifted the sword and balanced the Hat of the blade on Navarre's shoulder.

"Navarre de Gaillard, I, Garrick, King of England, am about to dub thee a true knight of the realm. Do you swear fealty to me as your king from this day forth?"

He's completely insane, Kendra thought fearfully. What if Navarre doesn't respond the way he expects him to? She couldn't imagine Navarre swearing fealty to him, not even to save her.

"Aye, Garrick," Navarre said. "I promise I will swear fealty to you as my king," he looked up solemnly, his golden eyes steady. "On the day we meet in hell."

With a roar of outrage, Garrick lifted the sword above his head and brought it down. Navarre rolled away, the blade missing him by inches. His foot shot out, striking the sheriff in the knee with a loud crack. As the man went down, Navarre wrenched the sword from his hand, then rolled to his feet and stood panting, his golden eyes flashing his victory.

"I yield, I yield," Garrick said, his voice muffled. "I am beaten." His body was curled up almost in a ball as he began rocking back and forth, his hands stuffed inside the open edges of his tunic.

"Stand up," Navarre commanded.

As the man on the floor slowly uncurled, Kendra went cold. The gun. Garrick still had the gun.

"Navarre, the gun!" she screamed just as Garrick sprang to his feet and whirled, the Smith and Wesson in both hands. "No," she said, shaking her head as the despair came crashing down on her. "No."

"Ah, yes, my sweet Kendra. Yes, yes, yes. Now I hold the power, and I shall have the unique privilege of letting my dear friend Navarre watch you die, a little piece at a time. I see you remember this little instrument of power, eh Sir Knight?" His features hardened. "Put up your sword."

Navarre glared at him, shaking with anger and frustration, then with an oath, resheathed his sword. "Why are you doing this, Garrick?" he asked savagely. "We were friends once. Why do you hate me so now?"

Garrick's face twisted, his thin lips curling back from his teeth, his eyes narrowing. "Why do I hate you, dear Navarre? Perhaps because it is my lot in life to hate. Perhaps because in spite of the fact that your upbringing was very nearly as horrible as mine, you rose above those dreadful memories in a way that I never could. Perhaps I hate you because you never respected me the way you respected Richard."

Kendra looked up at Navarre, and saw sadness mirrored in the eyes of the man she loved.

Kendra trembled in Navarre's arms as Garrick's eyes grew wilder, his voice more strained.

"You reject me, just like her-like that witch who was my mother." The gun in his hand dipped as he wiped the moisture from his face. '"I killed her you know," he said, the maniacal grin faltering for a moment, then returning full force. "Yes, I killed her with my own hands, with a newly honed dagger in the heart. 'Twas the only way I could be free of her incantations, of her spells."

The smile faded and suddenly Kendra had a fearful glance at the little boy who had endured a demented woman's torture. His gray eyes clouded and he looked down at the gun he held as though he had never seen it before. His lower lip began to tremble.

"She would sing to me, sometimes," he said softly, "after she had-had done things. And the songs were so sweet it almost made the pain worth enduring."

Navarre carefully moved Kendra away from him, his body tensed like a lion about to spring. The sheriff saw the motion and snapped the gun back level between them, his gaze clearing and his smile returning.

"Pain can be so sweet, can it not, Navarre? At least, to the one inflicting it. I shall greatly enjoy inflicting many kinds of sweet, sweet pain on your lady, and letting you watch. Now, how shall we begin? I think that first I must at least partially disable you in order to fully enjoy this lovely lady at my leisure. After all, I do not want to be interrupted by a mad knight's quest for vengeance."

"Stop now and I will not kill you," Navarre said, his voice dangerously low as he placed Kendra firmly behind him.

"I cannot stop, dear Navarre," the sheriff said, cocking the gun and squinting one eye as he aimed the barrel at Navarre's belly. "Have you ever had a gut wound, old friend? No? Ever seen a man die from a gut wound? Ah, yes, in the Crusade. Then you know it takes quite a long time and is very painful. I think such an injury would give me the time I need in which to relish your lady, and would protect me from any heroic tendencies you might feel compelled to exercise."

Kendra's heart pounded so loudly she felt sure everyone else could hear it. If Garrick shot Navarre in the stomach at this distance it wouldn't make him die slowly but would instantly kill him. Forgotten was the baby, the chance to travel back to her own time. She couldn't bear to lose him again. She couldn't.

"Let us begin," Garrick said.

"No!" Kendra ran the short distance separating them and threw her entire body weight against Garrick, managing to wrench his arm up slightly just as she felt the pistol recoil and heard the shot resound across the glen. They fell to the ground together, rolling across the rough terrain as each fought for possession of the weapon. The sheriff twisted her arm savagely and Kendra screamed as Garrick wrenched the gun away from her and sprang to his feet, pointing the gun directly at Navarre's heart.

"I grow weary of battling your wenches, Navarre," Garrick shouted, "and so I must dispense with allowing you a lingering death." A drop of spittle trickled from the corner of his mouth and his eyes became unfocused, clouded. "Now it is ended, my friend," he said sorrowfully. "Now it is over."

Kendra jumped to her feet and ran to Navarre just as she heard the fatal click of the trigger and... nothing happened. She spun around to see the sheriff staring down into the muzzle of the gun, his brows knit together.

Out of bullets! she thought gleefully. And not another one to be found in the entire twelfth century! A new thought seized her. Had the gun merely misfired?

Before she could warn Navarre, he let out a ferocious roar of rage and shoved her out of the way, drawing his sword once again. Garrick took one look at the furious knight and fled, stumbling backward over the rocky ground. Halfway to his horse he turned at last and ran, flinging himself on the back of the white stallion, and pulling himself barely erect before digging his heels into the startled horse's side, sending it leaping into action. Kendra felt her knees give way with relief, and she crumpled to the ground. She cried out as Navarre tore after the man and threw himself on the back of Kamir, his face dark with rage.

"Navarre, wait!" she cried, stumbling to her feet and running to block the way of his prancing black stallion. Kamir reared back on his hind legs as her arms began flailing in front of him and she screamed as one hoof came perilously close to her face.

"Kendra!" Navarre jerked Kamir's head to one side and the horse's hooves came down only inches away from where she stood. Undaunted but breathless, she grabbed the reins of the steed and glared up at the knight.

"You aren't going after him, Navarre!" Kendra shouted. "You don't understand- there may still be another bullet in the gun. It may have misfired!"

"All the more reason I must follow him. Where do you think he is headed?" He shouted back. "You heard his tirade-do you think he will stop now? He is going after Richard!"

"Then let someone else stop him!"

"Nay, you are safe now and I must honor my promise! Let go of the bridle, Kendra, and get out of the way!"

Kendra stepped back from the horse, feeling as though she'd been kicked in the stomach as Navarre's horse plunged forward, carrying the Black Lion back into battle.

Chapter Seventeen.

Kendra stared after Navarre, feeling stunned as she watched him disappear into the forest. Then she felt anger, red hot and furious. All this time she'd been talking herself blue trying to convince him not to kill Richard and now that she needed him, was about to leave his life forever, now he had to be a hero and save the king! Shaking her fist after him impotently she turned to face Cennach, feeling her old investigative reporting adrenalin starting to flow-only this time she would use it for a much more personal goal.

"He isn't leaving me behind," she said, in a tone meant to brook no opposition. "I need your help. Please pack food for me and let me borrow some of your clothing."

"Kendra," he said, walking slowly toward her, his white brows pressed together disapprovingly, "I feel I should warn you that if you interfere in Navarre's quest, King Richard could truly be killed and all of history changed."

"I don't care!" she said petulantly, even though she felt a warm flush of embarrassment wash over her. "He's not going to leave me like this." Tears brimmed in her eyes and she brushed the moisture away brusquely. "I'm sorry. Of course I care, but I'm not going to stop him. I'm going to help him. Now will you help me or not?"

Cennach shook his head. "No, my dear. Navarre is an excellent horseman and you would never catch up with him. You would be making yourself vulnerable to every piece of highway riffraff in England. Besides, you have no way of knowing where he's gone."

Kendra turned away from the man, arms folded tightly across her chest. "I know exactly where he's gone-to save King Richard. Well, that's just fine but he's not doing it without me. If he can find him, so can I."

The old professor crossed and placed his arm around her shoulders, which smelled faintly of lavender and herbs. Kendra steeled herself against the rational tone of his voice. "A frantic ride on horseback day and night to catch up with Navarre would be most ill-advised. Remember, you carry Navarre's child. Don't you owe it to him and to yourself to protect that child? On top of everything else, you could miss your opportunity to return to your own time."

He squeezed her shoulder comfortingly and Kendra couldn't help but feel his calm seeping into her frazzled nerves, but she shook her head anyway, furious at herself for being unable to stop the cascading tears. Damn Navarre for his blasted honor, and damn Cennach for being an old man who couldn't ride with her to catch the wretched knight!

Kendra pushed a lock of wavy auburn hair back from her face, feeling immediately ashamed. If Navarre didn't have his damnable code of honor he wouldn't be Navarre. And of course, Cennach was right. She couldn't take off on her own, it was too dangerous. If it was just herself, she wouldn't hesitate, but she had to think of her baby. Already the events of the day had taken their toll on her strength. She felt dizzy and sick to her stomach and her hands were shaking. The weakness of her own flesh, now, when she needed her strength, made her even angrier.

"I know, I know," she cried in frustration, shaking off his comforting arm and pacing back and forth, waving her fists in the air. "But you don't understand. I'm never going to see him again!"

"How do you know?"

She stopped in her tirade and looked back at him. "What did you say?"

"I said, how do you know you'll never see him again? Kendra, I have traveled back and forth between our two times. There's no reason to think that you may not be able to do the same."

Kendra stared at him. "Sort of like a commuter marriage, you mean? I live on the east coast and he lives on the west and we visit from time to time." She laughed bitterly, pressing her palm against her head. "From time to time-that would be funny if it wasn't so awful. Besides, I can't come back and see him if he's dead, can I?"

"Your logic is indisputable," he said gently.