PART ONE: ANACHRONISM

Chapter XVI: The Witch of Dale

A house collapsed in front of me. Its walls had been charred black by the flames. As the support beams finally crumbled and the house caved in on itself, sparks were sent flying into the air. I yelped and turned away, shielding my eyes from the heat.

Well, that was a great way to start.

I had Skipped to a burning city. I heard shrill screams and desperate shouts from behind me. People ran through the streets. A little girl in a gray dress was crying for her mother. A white-haired woman clutched her right arm, which was marked with deep burns. Five men with mismatched armor and blunted swords raced past me. Flames danced across the thatched roofs. The air was thick with smoke, and winds would send showers of embers and debris onto the city streets.

Of all the destinations I'd Skipped to…this ranked somewhere in the bottom-middle. It was awful and terrible, and to this day I can still hear the screams. But honestly, after the burning of the White City and the death of the Fellowship, this catastrophe was only so-so on the horrifying scale.

At least, it was until a deep roar filled the city, causing even the ground beneath me to tremble.

Dread formed in the pit of my stomach, and slowly, I lifted my gaze to the sky.

A red dragon soared overhead. Its body cast a dark shadow over the town, and with each beat of its leathery wings, a gust of wind would pass through the town, stirring up embers.

Great. Smaug was here. Just great. Suddenly, this had dropped to near the bottom of the Skipping list. I'd take another round with the trolls or even the thunder giants over frigging Smaug.

Smaug opened his jaws wide, and a jet of flames engulfed a building on the south side of the city.

A man sprinted past. His elbow slammed into my shoulder, almost knocking me off balance. He glanced back at me, and I saw a red gash on the side of his head, his dark hair matted with blood.

"King Thrór!" he cried, his eyes wide and panicked. "Where is the King Under the Mountain? Where is his armies?"

When I didn't answer quick enough, the man moved on, shouting at the other people fleeing the dragon's flames. The others had no answer either.

Through the smoke, I could see the looming slopes of the Lonely Mountain and the massive front doors carved with the runes of Durin's folk. It didn't matter what the man shouted; the doors of the dwarf kingdom remained firmly shut.

I glanced up at the dragon in the sky. Smaug stretched his wings as he made a smooth circle around the city. Bit by bit, the pieces fell into place, and I realized I was standing in the lost city of Dale. Only…it wasn't lost just yet.

"Witchcraft! It is witchcraft!"

"What? Where?" I spun around, trying to catch sight of the witch; vaguely, I wondered if a witch could help me with my Skipping problem. But instead of a witch, I saw a thin old woman standing in the middle of the street, pointing at me.

Her white hair was singed from Smaug's fires, and there was a nasty burn on her left shoulder. Nevertheless, she aimed a long, bony finger at me and shouted, "She is a witch! She appeared out of the air! A witch—she must be in league with the dragon!"

"Who me?" I asked. "In league with Smaug? Oh, that's rich."

"She knows the dragon's name," said a bald man, taking up the woman's cry.

One by one, the people forgot about the flames that trapped them inside the city walls. Flight wasn't possible and desperation had started settling in. Rather than focus their anger and fear on the real threat in the sky, the people of Dale decided that I was the culprit. Which did not bode well for me, as I was a much, much easier target.

"She has brought the dragon upon us!"

"She will be the death of us all!"

"Catch her! Sell her to the dragon!"

I raised my hands in surrender. "Really, you are all taking this way out of proportion. There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this." I looked around at the burnt and broken faces of the people of Dale. Judging by the panic in their eyes, these people had no interest in reasonable explanations. I let out a small, nervous laugh. And then, I fled.

"Catch her!" the old woman shouted.

I sprinted through the streets of Dale as fast as my stout legs could carry me. It was difficult to navigate the maze of blazing buildings, as their walls broke and spilled burning debris into the roads. My flight was made even worse by the fact that I had never been to Dale before and I knew nothing of the layout. The people who chased after me, however, had lived in Dale for all their lives, and they easily cut off my escape route.

I managed to flee for a whole three minutes before I ended up trapped between the collapsed wall of a house and an angry mob.

About a dozen people, their faces pale under the dirt and their expression frantic, surrounded me, blocking off any escape.

The bald man grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron. "You brought this dragon down upon us."

"Let me go! This isn't funny!" I wriggled and squirmed against his grasp. "I'm not laughing! Well, actually, I did—but I'm not laughing anymore! Please don't sacrifice me to the dragon! Let me go!"

By pure luck, Smaug decided right then was a good time to breathe fire onto the building across the street. The man holding me cried out as a blazing heat filled the air, and with a howl of pain, he released me.

I ducked under his arm and, figuring there was no other escape route, I charged into the burning building behind me.

"Catch her!" someone screamed.

"Your city's on fire!" I shouted over my shoulder. "Don't you have better things to do than chase me?"

The flames ate at the wood of the house, and none of the mob tried to follow me. Which was good. What was not good was that a part of the roof collapsed, almost hitting me on the arm. I shrieked and threw myself out of one of the open windows. My foot caught on the sill, and I landed with a thud on the dirt below.

My right arm and shoulder ached from the fall, but I didn't have time to feel the pain. The people of Dale were trying to sacrifice me to a dragon. I leapt to my feet and started running again, trying to find a way out of Dale.

I had been accused of being a witch before, of course. When I was fourteen, I was seen when I Skipped to a town in Dunland, but rather than try to murder me, the people had viewed me as some sort of prophet and had asked me to tell their fortunes. Then, when I was seventeen, I'd made the mistake of talking about the internet with a merchant in Osgiliath. Unlike the lovely people of Dunland, the merchant had tried to have me burned at the stake for witchcraft. Thankfully, the ruler of Osgiliath at the time had been a reasonable man and had decided the merchant was misguided.

There were other instances, the word thrown out as an insult. Usually, it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. A word I hated but had caused me no serious harm. However, I'd never been called a witch by a desperate city of people trying to save themselves from the siege of a fire-breathing dragon before. Somehow, I didn't think being called a witch would turn out as well for me this time as it had before.

I turned the corner of a narrow, side street, but instead of finding a clear path and easy escape, I ran face first into a soldier.

Well, this was not going to end well.

The man had severe eyes and short cropped beard. He scowled at me, and when I turned to scamper away, he grabbed me roughly by the back of my shirt. He lifted his gaze to the end of the street where several people had appeared. In a gruff voice, he asked, "Is this the witch?"

The old woman inspected my face carefully and then nodded. "Aye, she is the witch."

"Come on," I wailed, struggling against the soldier's grip. "I'm not a witch. I just got dumped here at a very bad time."

"She even speaks in the words of a witch," said a young woman. "In riddles and trickery."

"I'm a foreigner," I snapped. "A foreigner does not mean witch. It means different. Different!"

"Do not listen to her words—she is trying to put a spell on us."

"Oh my God!" I waved my hands empathically, trying desperately to make them see reason. "Smaug is attacking your town, and you're off witch hunting—this is crazy! Do something about Smaug! Fight him! Or at least try to escape this place!"

To me relief, I saw doubt flash through some eyes. However, a second later, the old woman spoke with a voice sharp as a blade. "She knows the dragon's name."

"She must be his ally," declared another voice from the mob.

"I'm not! I'm just passing through. Now, let me go!"

A sudden hush fell over the mob. They weren't paying any attention to me any longer, their gazes captivated by someone at the back of the crowd. I watched as the people stepped to the side, forming a pathway. From amongst them emerged a tall, dark-haired man with a curling beard fine clothing.

The soldier holding me bowed his head. "Lord Girion, we have caught the witch."

I squirmed in the soldier's grasp. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not a witch!"

"Thank you, Dagar." Girion frowned, his dark gaze scanning over my face. "Any captured witch would deny being a witch."

"And any non-witch captured for being a witch would deny being a witch," I snapped. "Look, I don't want to stay here. I'll just head over to Erebor. I'm friends with Thorin."

"Thorin?"

"His grandfather is King Under the Mountain," I said. "If you do anything to accuse me of being a witch, Thorin will bring down his grandfather's wrath upon you, and no one is going to be happy."

Girion and his people regarded me suspiciously. Dagar shook me roughly by the shoulder and growled, "The King Under the Mountain will soon fall under Smaug's might. He has no power now."

I knew Dagar was right, of course. I'd been there when Smaug's fires had breached the walls of Erebor, but that didn't meant Dagar knew he was right. I scanned the faces of the mob. There were about sixteen of them now, standing in the street, their faces pale under the soot and ash. They weren't going to believe me. No matter how much I argued, I'd never convinced them I wasn't a witch. No while Smaug's fires raged around us.

Well then, it was time to make a gamble.

I drew myself to my full height, trying to look impressive and confident. "The dwarves of Erebor will survive Smaug!"

A hush fell over the people of Dale. Even Smaug, who still circled the city, seemed to have fallen silent with those words.

A good start.

I tried to push Dagar's hand away but his grip was immovable. Finally, I gave up on escaping and continued with Plan B: lying through my teeth. "I have the gift of foresight. The dwarves of Erebor will fight off the dragon and preserve their homeland. They will help you rebuild after this tragedy has passed. However, if you harm Thorin's dearest friend in any way, King Thrór will bring his wrath upon you instead of his aid."

I hoped my speech was convincing. Some of people looked confused, while others had whispered conversations. At least the old woman wasn't shouting "witch" anymore. That was a good sign, right?

"You are right," said Girion finally. "We must do what we can to save Dale and her people." He looked up at Dagar. "Take the witch to the highest point in Dale, and tell the dragon that we will kill his ally unless he leaves our city."

"Wait." I looked back and forth between Girion and Dagar, my eyes growing wide. "What?"

Girion glared at me. "We will not be deceived by the words of a witch."

"But I'm not a witch!" I cried.

"You just admitted to your crimes," said Girion.

"No, I was lying! I just want to live!"

Despite my protests and struggles, Dagar dragged me by the back of the shirt away from the crowd. The people of Dale cheered my approaching death until Smaug let out another blast of fire and the mob remembered that their city was burning. Serves them right. Dale had swiftly become one of my least favorite Skip destinations.

Dagar took me one of the few buildings that had so far been untouched by Smaug's fire. He kicked open the door and started dragging me up the wooden staircase. I writhed against Dagar's iron grasp, but he refused to let go.

On the top floor of the house, there was a window that opened out onto the roof. Dagar opened the shutters to reveal the mob standing in the street below, waiting to witness me being sacrificed to the dragon.

"I'm not a witch!" I screamed until my voice was hoarse. "I can't cast spells! I can't do anything! I'm pathetic! Don't kill me! Smaug hates me! Smaug has tried to kill me twice in the past! Twice! Actually, it happens in the future—but still! Smaug hates me! Don't sacrifice me! No!"

But Dagar and the people of the Dale were beyond hearing reason or possessing even an ounce of pity. Their city was on fire. Their homes in ruin. And it seemed that any chance of escape had disappeared as the dragon circled above, his gaze watching the surrounding mountainside.

I stared up as the massive, red body of Smaug as Dagar shoved me out onto the slanting, stone roof of the house. My steps were uneven and I had to grab onto Dagar's arm to stop myself from sliding down. Dagar jerked his arm out of my reach. With a gasp, I grabbed onto the pointed top of roof for balance. The stone grated against my palms.

"I hate you too." I checked my palms and sure enough, the stone had drawn blood. Bitterness curled in my chest. I lifted my gaze to Dagar's and said, hoping my voice carried to the street below, "Your beloved city is going to burn, and your people will never come back! And then, I'm going to help Thorin on a quest to reclaim all the gold in Erebor, and when he gets the gold back, I'll make sure your descendants don't get a cent, you jerks!"

Wind howled around me as Smaug soared overhead. I inhaled sharply, taking in a breath full of smoke, and then descended into a coughing fit.

"Dragon!" Dagar drew his sword and raised it into the air. "We have taken your ally captive!"

"He's not going to listen," I said. "He's a frigging dragon!"

Where he failed to bargain with the dragon, Dagar succeeded in capturing Smaug's attention. From his place in the sky, the dragon turned his massive head, and his yellow eyes focused on us. With a flap of his wings and another gust of wind, he descended and landed atop two buildings not far from where Dagar and I stood. Smaug's claws dug into the roofs. One was made of stone and held up under the dragon's weight, but the other had a thatched roof, licked by flames, and it crumbled into the street, sending sparks flying.

I could hear the people of Dale screaming in the streets below. Smaug paid them no mind. Instead, he cocked his head to the side and watched Dagar and me with large, golden eyes.

"You really had to call out a dragon, you crazy jerk." I inched away from Dagar, heading toward the edge of the roof. The house was only three stories high, but perhaps if I jumped down the Skip would take me away. However, the sight of the ground made m nauseous and instead I dug my fingers into an indent in the roof, using it as a handhold. "If he breathes fire on us, I want you to know this is all your fault."

"Silence, witch," snapped Dagar. Then, he addressed Smaug in a booming voice. "This is your ally, the witch. No harm will come to her as long as you listen to our demands. You must harm Dale no longer. You are free to move past Dale and attack the Lonely Mountain. We will not stop you. Harm the city of Dale and her people no longer."

"I'm embarrassed to be seen with you, right now." I turned to Smaug and shouted, "I have no connection to these people!"

"Silence!" Dagar slapped me.

The slap rung through my head as I fell back on the stone roof. I probably would've toppled off the edge if I hadn't been holding on. It took me a second to remember what was happening, and when I sat upright again, all I could feel was the stinging pain in my cheek. I glared up at Dagar. "Don't blame me for your stupidity."

Dagar ignored me, his attention focused on Smaug. That poor, desperate man—he had no idea what he was getting into. He actually thought what he was saying had any effect on Smaug.

The dragon yawned, scratched his nose with his claw, and then let out a massive roar.

"You're doomed now," I said.

Dagar glared at me. "This is your fault, witch!"

"My fault?" I cried. "Who was it who called me a witch and climbed up a building to threaten a dragon? I told you this was a bad idea, but does anyone ever listen to me?"

Smaug opened his mouth.

"Suggestion," I said. "Run."

Dagar stared at me for a half a second. Then, he turned and sprinted through the open window.

"Wait!" I cried. "Don't leave me here!"

I threw myself at the window. It was not most graceful landing as I hit the wooden floor and rolled to the top of the staircase just as Smaug let loose a jet of flame. The fire missed the window, but heat engulfed the house. I waited for the Skip to take me, but it seemed content to leave me in the middle of an inferno. And, for a second, I thought I would die as the stupid witch of Dale. But then, the raging heat receded, and I found that I was alive.

Of course, there was the little problem of the house catching fire.

"This is not funny," I shouted, taking the stairs five steps at a time. "Skip me away already!"

I turned a corner and slammed into Dagar's back. He stood frozen in place, staring in horror at the second-floor landing in front of us. Vibrant flames danced across the darkening wood. Even if the stone roof had protected us, it seemed that the fire had found its way into the lower floors. Some of the ceiling had collapsed to block our path to the first floor. There was no way out. The flames crackled, taunting us to come closer.

The Skip, it seemed, still didn't want to take me away. Frustration stuck in my throat as I rounded on Dagar and cried, "I just wanted to leave this city, but no, you have to frigging sacrifice me to a frigging dragon! I am not a frigging witch!"

Dagar frowned. "Why would the dragon try to kill his own ally?"

I resisted the urge to bang my head against the wall in exasperation. "How dense can you get? He would try to kill his own ally because I'm not his ally. Smaug hates me. He's tried to kill me twice—three times now."

Dagar shook his head and pushed me away from him, almost causing me to fall backwards. I glowered up at him, but he only said, "The unanswered questions must be put aside. First, we must escape this place."

I was fairly certain that Dagar couldn't care less if I escaped the burning house or not, but as long as he was using "we", I was willing to go along with it.

We stood on the second-floor landing, watching as the flames ate at the wooden floorboards, cutting across our path to the ground floor. There was an open window that we could probably jump down to the street if we could make it through the fire. We needed to do something. The longer we waited, the worse the flames became.

Dagar took a step back, almost bumping into me.

"Watch it!" I cried.

Dagar ignored me. His gaze focused on the burning floor. His muscles tensed and his whole body was taut with concentration. It to me a second, but I realized that he was going to attempt to jump over the fire. His legs bent, he lurched forward—

The ceiling collapsed.

Debris rained down onto the weakened floor. There was a loud cracking sound that filled my head. Then, something gave way beneath my feet, and with a shriek, I found myself plummeting downward.

I grabbed hold of Dagar's arm. Wood and sparks flew in all direction as we fell down onto the hard ground of the floor below.

My shoulder hit something hard before I rolled to the side and curled into the fetal position. Heat filled the air as flames danced around us. I hissed in pain as sparks struck my bare skin, but for the most part, I was unharmed. My right hand still grasped the sleeve of Dagar's tunic. He lay unmoving beside me.

Releasing his arm, I leapt to my feet and cried, "Get up! You're an ass, and I have no problems leaving you here, Dagar!"

Dagar groaned, and I saw that he had taken the worst of the fall. A burning floorboard had landed on his back, and while he had pushed it off, the damage had been done to his body. However, rather than be consumed by the pain, Dagar dragged himself to his feet. He drew his sword. "Do not leave me here to die, witch."

I took a step back. "I'm not a witch, and I was waiting for you to get up despite everything you've done to kill me."

Dagar was beyond reasoning. He leapt towards me, blade flashing in the light of the fire.

The inferno raged around us.

"Even if I perish, I will bring you to ruin with me," sneered Dagar. "You cannot escape, witch."

I gritted my teeth. The walls were burning and smoke engulfed me. Another chunk of ceiling fell, sending sparks in my direction. It wasn't the ideal choice, but I was out of options. I flipped Dagar off. "Watch me, jerk."

And then, I walked into the flames.

Skip.

The Skip decided to dump me behind a generator on roof of my apartment building. The beige-painted machine whirred and trembled, radiating heat—which I appreciated as February in Ohio was still chilly. However, the ledge was just a foot behind me, and if I lifted my neck even a little, I could see the beginning of the sheer drop into the narrow alley below. My head started to spin at the sight. Sometimes I thought the Skips just enjoyed messing with me.

Of course, I couldn't stay crouched on the roof forever, so I stood up, keeping an eye on the ledge, and inched my way out from behind the generator.

"I swear," someone was saying, "She fell. She was standing right here—about to jump. I called out her name…and she fell."

I stopped. On the other side of the roof, their backs turned to me, were two police officers (one short and thin, one tall and fat), the apartment manager (Laurel Burns—a sweet, plump woman with graying brown hair), and Jack (the adorable next-door neighbor). The four of them were standing near the ledge I had jumped from earlier, having a heated discussion.

"She jumped," cried Jack. "I'm telling you—she jumped!"

"I don't think Ana would do something like that," said Laurel, frowning. "She's always so cheerful."

"There's no body," said the tall officer.

"She disappeared," insisted Jack. He was cute even when he was arguing with the police. His hands were clenched, and his cheeks were slightly flushed with frustration.

The two policemen exchanged skeptical glances.

"Young man," said short officer, "we don't have time to deal with these kinds of calls."

"I'm not pranking you," said Jack. "She jumped off the roof."

"Ana would never jump off the roof," said Laurel. "She doesn't even like heights. Once, I was selling cheap tickets to a big Browns game, but the seats were in the nosebleed section, and Ana practically fainted at the thought."

"I did not," I said. "I just didn't want to see the Browns lose miserably…again."

Laurel's head whipped around, her eyes wide with fright, but she smiled when she caught sight of me. "Ana, what are you doing there?"

"I heard some noise and decided to come see what all the fuss was about." I crossed my arms. "Do you tell people the fainting-rather-than-go-to-the-Browns-game story all the time?"

"Only when the situation calls for it," said Laurel sheepishly.

"I'm not that terrified of heights," I said. Laurel shot me a pitying glance and I sighed. "Okay, I'm pretty afraid of heights. Especially tree climbing, it turns out."

"Tree climbing?" asked the tall officer.

"Ah…yeah." I really needed to learn how to shut up. "Long story. Really boring. You don't want to hear it."

The officer opened his mouth, as if he was about to say that he would like to hear it.

"I forgot the introduce myself. Ana Stonbit. Nice to meet you." I stuck my hand under the tall officer's nose, a not-so-subtle change of subject. After a moment, the officer took my hand and shook it. I greeted his partner too. Then, I stepped back and said, "I think Jack's a little confused. I did jump off the roof, but that's because I locked myself out of my apartment. I couldn't get a hold of Laurel, so I decided to try climbing down into my apartment window from the roof…" I pulled my apartment key out of my pocket. "See, it worked!"

Laurel paled at the thought of me climbing down from the roof, while the two officers seemed to be at a loss for words.

"That's not exactly safe," said the short officer at last.

"Didn't you just say you were terrified of heights?" asked Jack.

"It's okay," I said, waving away their words. "I've been in a lot more dangerous situations… Um, it's easier than it looks."

There was a pause where everyone evaluated the truth of my story. To be honest, as far as excuses go, it was pretty thin. However, it seemed the policemen didn't want to deal with this situation any longer than necessary.

Sure enough, the tall officer sighed and said, "Well, I guess there's no need for us anymore."

"Sorry to have wasted your time," I said with my best smile. "I guess I gave Jack a little scare. But he wasn't trying to prank call you."

Jack looked as though he wanted to protest more. However, his indignant expression soon faded as he realized the police officers and Laurel had already bought my fantastical story. That didn't stop Jack from shooting a glare in my direction, though.

"I'll show you out," said Laurel, ushering the two officers back down the stairs. "Would you like some coffee before you go? I just made a pot down in my office."

She closed the door as the three of them headed back into the building. I breathed a sigh of relief—until I remembered that there was still Jack to deal with.

"Hey," I said, plastering my winning smile back on my face. "That was awkward, huh?"

"You jumped and disappeared," said Jack. "I saw it. You didn't climb down into your apartment. You disappeared into thin air and then you appeared back here."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."