William Dietrich - The Barbary Pirates

"Oh, I will be revered, never doubt. Winners are always honored by posterity. The most powerful become gods and goddesses. It's the ruthless who are worshipped."

"Brave words when you sic a mongrel on a near infant and have me outnumbered a hundred to one. You've never been anything but a bully, Aurora. Too much the tart to ever win a real man, a dabbler in the wilderness dependent on her brother, a female with the mothering skills of a Gorgon, and a sportsman with the shooting expertise of an English fop."

She stiffened, her habit when hearing the truth. "You saw me shoot this gun in Canada!" And she held up my own beloved rifle. It had traveled perhaps fifteen thousand miles since its forging in Jerusalem, and my heart quickened when I saw it. "I can outshoot any man in this fortress!"

"You can't outshoot me. Remember what I did to your brother, twice."

She flushed. "The one shot at Cecil was lucky and the other almost point-blank."

Astiza had gone still as deep water during this exchange, waiting for me to make a miracle. I saw one, or at least a tiny chance.

"I'm still better than you."

"It's my rifle now, Ethan."

"Let me prove it. You've never shot against me."

"You propose a competition?"

"I'm just saying it's easy to boast when your opponent has a blunderbuss in his back and a hundred soldiers stalking him. But at anything like fair terms, you'd never win. Especially in a shooting match."

She laughed, and Sokar barked. "Pick a target!"

"Aurora, we've no time for this nonsense," Dragut protested.

"Now that we have him, we have all the time in the world. Pick a target!"

I looked, and pointed upward. "That glass pane in the dome, no bigger than a hand. I'll hit it before you, and when I do…you have to give us a minute head start."

"That's so absurd, given your situation, that I'd spit on it and you if I wasn't so certain I'm the better marksman! Let's make it interesting, instead. I'll bet the head of your son."

"No! Leave Harry out of this!" But I secretly knew this monstrous idea of hers that I'd triggered was our only hope.

"Yes," she said, almost speaking to herself, "his terror from your absurdity. Hamidou, keep your gun on Gage because he's full of tricks! Ethan, we're going to put a glass flute on your little monster's head and aim for its stem. I'll go first, and I guarantee I will completely miss the boy and clip the stem if his mother holds him still enough. Then you can have a turn, and if by a miracle you break the glass more times than I do without blowing off the head of your child, I'll give you your little race, with Sokar in pursuit. It will be amusing to watch him run you all down and hear the screams, since I had to hear my brother's."

"I like a girl with enthusiasms."

She tied my family's tether around a pillar with the assuredness of a sailor, testing its tightness. "Whore, crouch and hold your child like a statue," she ordered Astiza. "If he twitches an inch, one or the other of us might miss."

Trembling, her expression toward Aurora exhibiting the purest hate I'd ever seen, the woman I loved kneeled, noose at her neck, and took our two-year-old darling into her arms. "Horus," she whispered, "you must be very, very still. Mama will hold you to be safe."

My boy was crying again, completely confused by what was going on. Aurora put the goblet upon his head, which wobbled as he snuffled, and walked around the bathing pool to where I waited, bringing my rifle. She brushed my cheek with a kiss-it was like the lick of that reptile in her satanic ship's hold-and took my pistols from my belt, tossing them into the pool. With a plonk, they sank out of reach. Then she turned and raised my gun with the assurance of the trained marksman. The muzzle of my weapon was steady as a rock as she aimed.

I held my breath, terrified that Harry would bolt into the path of the bullet. There was a flash, roar, and a high ping as the glass stem was clipped in two by the ball. The cup of the goblet fell and shattered while poor Harry screamed and wept. Astiza clung to him even tighter, whispering in his ear.

There were shrieks and cries from the harem's concubines, no doubt jammed into the back of this complex by their anxious eunuchs. The bullet had ricocheted above them.

The woman I'd once lusted after slammed the butt of my rifle onto the marble floor, took out a cartridge of powder and shot, and reloaded with the efficiency of a deadly huntress. Then she handed my weapon back to me, first drawing her own pistol to aim at my head.

"Put the next glass on his head!" she called to Astiza. Then she turned to me. "I warn you, if that rifle barrel strays even minutely away from your wretched offspring, we'll kill you in an instant and turn the two of them over to the slavers."

"What's the matter, Aurora? Afraid I might equal you and that you can't get lucky a second time?"

"Just shoot and miss. And then beg for my mercy."

Astiza and Harry had absolutely frozen, mother murmuring into her son's ear. The glass flute was bright as a diamond.

"Remember, if you do miss, the game is over," Aurora said.

I aimed as carefully as I ever had, drawing breath, holding, and then letting a slow hiss escape as I pulled the trigger, the gun aimed at a target I could barely see in the gloom.

I fired, the flash and bang cacophonous in the marble chamber. The harem women screamed.

And the leash of my loved ones snapped, cut in two by the ball as I intended! The end of their collar flapped loose in the harem air.

Our ears rang with the report of the gun. For the briefest fraction of time everyone was frozen, surprised at my shot.

Then I popped the stock atop my shoulder and rammed my rifle backward, catching Dragut full in the face with its butt. He reeled, his blunderbuss swinging away. I twisted to grab it and deliberately fell to the floor as Aurora's pistol went off, the ball singing over my head. I then swung my own piece like a scythe to try to break her ankles. She jumped and fell, both our guns empty now.

I scrambled up, wrenching the blunderbuss from the stunned Dragut. "Run!" I cried. I longed to use the gun on our tormentors, but guessed I'd need it on the stairway outside. The blunderbuss in one hand and the longrifle in the other, I waited for my lover and son.

Astiza tucked Harry, frozen and mute, under one arm and dashed past us, the end of her tether flapping. Then I was up and after her before Dragut or Aurora could recover their wits. My longrifle felt as if a lost limb had been restored, even if the weapon was empty. In my left hand was Smith's loaded thunder gun. We burst out the harem door, slammed it shut, and hurdled the tied eunuch. Janissaries sprang up from where they'd waited in ambush on the marble stairs and I cut loose with the blunderbuss. The gun bucked, there was a spray of bullets, and the gang of them parted like the Red Sea, men screaming as they somersaulted down the stairs. I swung my rifle for good measure, knocking aside a couple of obstinate ones like tenpins. Then we were plunging down the stairs past them to the royal reception room below, even as all the eunuchs began screaming.

Behind us came Aurora's sharp command: "Sokar! Kill!" And then to Dragut: "Get to your ship, idiot, and cut off whatever boat they have to escape!"

I could hear the baying of the mastiff and the skitter of its nails on the marble flooring as it chased after us. I slammed the throne room door, threw its light latch, and watched the wood stretch like canvas as the big dog slammed against the other side, howling and slavering. I'd little time to reload, but I could buy a few seconds. "Save our boy! Past that tapestry is a stair to the dungeon! A companion waits there!" I had just time to pour powder, but not yet ram patch and ball. Then there was a gunshot, the edge of the door exploded into splinters, and the frenzied dog burst through, howling for blood.