Byzantine Pyrrichios: Back to the Fire

Knowing that Rose wouldn't be able to hold up under another prolonged period of scrutiny, Jack flashed himself and her back to Constantinople a few weeks after the night she had fled. Rose found herself refocusing her eyes from the searing blaze once more upon the soft, holy illumination of the Hagia Sofia, and took a moment to breathe in the ghost of incense, feeling it creep soothingly deep inside herself.

It was the last calm moment she'd have.

There wasn't a mass being said at the moment – in fact, the cathedral was nearly deserted. The guttering candles providing the only light – the pitch-black windows showing it was late at night – cast their flickering over but a few soldiers wearily standing guard at the back, and a lone, haggard, but familiar figure kneeling in prayer at the altar.

Emperor Constantine jerked his head up with a gasp at their brilliant, thundercracking arrival, his expression sliding instantly into something even more rapturous – and more desperate – that the first time. He sprang to his feet, exclaiming, "By all the holy saints above! Where have you been? We thought you had deserted us to ruin!"

"What's the situation?" Jack cut across the man's incipient rant, bringing the military leader out of the emperor instantly.

"We are besieged. The Turks have had us surrounded these forty days, and been battering down the walls. The accursed Mehmed has made no secret of his plan: his final assault will come at dawn!"

"What about Orban's cannon?" Jack asked sharply. That had been the major part of the plan, after all.

But Constantine shook his head with a snarl. "Speak not that accursed name! He was in truth an Ottoman spy, who had no intention of helping us. Days after you disappeared, he slipped out of the city with the rest of the gold, and took it and his services directly to Mehmed, with news of all our defenses, as well. The cannon he built, he built for the Turks, and they have been blasting holes in our weakest walls with it these weeks. He even named the monster, apparently for an old legend of his country. He called it the Bad Wolf."

Rose wondered at the grin that flittered briefly across Jack's face, but Constantine didn't see it.

"Then we've no time to lose," Jack replied. "They aren't going to wait until dawn, they're going to attack just after midnight." He shot Rose a level look. "It's volcano day." Not bothering to explain that mysterious comment, he turned back to Constantine. "The Saint Romanus Gate is where they've concentrated their cannon fire?"

Constantine nodded, bewildered at his foreknowledge, but then again... He started to turn towards the door, ready to mount the horse he must have had waiting outside to ride the twelve miles to the city walls, but Jack forestalled him.

"No time for horses. Grab my arm." He punched the coordinates of the gatehouse – noted during their previous rides of inspection – into the jumper, leaving the time alone, yelled "Meet us at the gate! Gather everyone and bring them there!" to the waiting guards, swiftly made sure both Rose and Constantine were holding on to either upper arm, and flashed them out of the cathedral.

It was a tossup as to who was more astonished at the method of his arrival, the Emperor or his second-in-command, already there by the huge old gate. The lower, outer wall built a thousand years before by the Emperor Theodosius showed unmistakable signs of its long bombardment – great holes had been smashed into it daily by the Turks' several cannons (the Bad Wolf was the largest, but not the only, cannon they had), while every night, the defenders had tipped great mounds of earth and rubble into the breaches in repair. That rubble proved an unexpected blessing – it was even better at absorbing the monster boulders thrown by the cannons with even less damage. Still, though, enough of the wall had been destroyed to make an assault practicable.

And that assault was unmistakably coming. The patterns of the distant torches showed a massive gathering of men, spread almost as far as they could see into the night, and a trio of huge bonfires in the center made no bones about both the location of the Turkish Sultan Mehmed, and the avenue of their coming attack.

"My lord!" The second found his voice. "Thank God you have arrived. I sent for you just minutes ago. They are about to begin, I am sure of it."

"Any sign of the demon this night?"

"No, my lord."

"Demon?" Jack put in, his ears pricked up.

The Emperor nodded. "The last two nights, some demon has been at work in the no-man's-land between the armies, just there out of range of our lights. We could see it, but couldn't make out what it was up to."

"Why do you call it a demon, then?"

"Because it was out of light, but not out of arrow range. It was hit – we are sure of that – but then got up again a minute later and ran off. What else could it be but a demon?"

Jack barked a short, sharp laugh. "Well, I've been called worse," he said to no one in particular.

"All right," he went on, making up his mind. "Now I know what to do. Rose..." Looking around, he drew her into the small guard room in the tower, telling an astonished Constantine, "We'll be back out shortly. Do NOT disturb us; we have preparations to make, for the final defense of the city," before shutting the door in his face.

"What are we going to do?" Rose asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking. This was so far beyond what she had expected. She was about to witness – hell, somehow prevent – a full-scale, medieval battle!

Jack looked quickly around the guardroom. It wasn't much, just a few paces across, with a small table and a couple of chairs on one side. He sat her down in one of them, and squatted down before her.

"I'm going to lay it all out, but first I need to get a few things. I need you to stay right here, on this chair, and don't move. I'll be back in five minutes. I promise. OK?"

She took a deep breath. "OK."

Beaming that cocky Captain Jack smile, he touched her cheek. "That's my girl." Then he stood and backed into the center of the room, and carefully bookmarked the precise time and space coordinates of that spot, before thinking a moment, punching in another series of numbers, and flashing out into the unknown.

The next three-and-a-half minutes were the longest of Rose's life, but she managed to sit still, by concentrating on just breathing. Sounds drifted in through the closed door, of a massive crowd of people gathering below and behind the wall – the citizens of Constantinople had come to defend their city in its final battle. Just as she recognized the sound, another intruded: a huge, distant explosion. From the cries of the men outside, she realized it was a cannon, and held her breath until it landed, evidently a short distance north along the wall.

She was starting to lose the battle against her nerves when the air was split with welcome thunder, and Jack returned, carrying a very large crate balanced precariously on one shoulder, and a long, skinny package (that seemed somehow familiar) held awkwardly under the other arm.. He set the crate on the floor with a grunt, and sat on it to catch his breath, leaning the package up against his knees. Rose caught her own breath, too, and found herself kneeling beside him before she was aware of moving. He was obviously exhausted – and filthy.

"What in the name of all the saints have you been up to?" She couldn't decide if she was concerned or bemused.

"Hey..." he said tiredly. "It's tough work, being a demon." He shook his head. "But never mind. Listen. This is what we're going to do."