3 - Barbarians of Mars (6 page)

 
          
 
It could only be settled in blood now.

 
          
 
With a roar of anger, Zonom was already
rushing at Hool Haji.

 
          
 
His men came at us, too.

 
          
 
Soon the pair of us
were
fighting several whirling blades apiece. The barbarians were hardy, powerful
fighters, but lacked finesse in their sword-play.

 
          
 
It was fairly easy to defend ourselves, even
against so many, but we both knew we should be killed very soon unless we were
remarkably lucky.

 
          
 
Our backs were against the wall as we fought,
and our blades were soon stained from tip to hilt with the blood of our
attackers.

 
          
 
I dodged a clumsy thrust and stabbed over a
shield-rim, taking my assailant in the throat. It was only when I had killed
him and was already engaged with another opponent, that I realized I had killed
Zonom himself.

 
          
 
After a time my sword-arm began to ache, but I
fought on desperately, knowing that there was much more at stake in this fight
than our own lives.

 
          
 
The fate of Cend-Amrid was in the balance.
Perhaps even the fate of the whole of Mars.

 
          
 
We had to find the right machine, either in
the vaults or in the possession of the untutored barbarian who called himself
Rokin the Gold.

 
          
 
I blocked a blow from above and was half
winded when my attacker shoved at my chest with his shield.

 
          
 
I slid my sword down to his hilt, suddenly
disengaged and then thrust forward again, contriving to take him in the heart.

 
          
 
Yet it seemed that as fast as we killed them
there were others to take their places and, as usual, I soon lost all thought
of anything but the fight. I became, for all that I loathed it, a fighting
machine myself, my whole attention focused on preserving my life, even though
it meant taking so many other lives in the process.

 
          
 
For all my fine ideas, when it came down to it
I was as much a killer as others I despised for that reason.

 
          
 
I say this only to show that I do not enjoy
killing and avoid it where I can, even on Mars - that warlike world.

 
          
 
On and on we fought, until all sense of time
was lost and it seemed, over and over again, that we escaped death by a hair's
breadth.

 
          
 
But it seemed at last that our assailants were
tiring, too. I saw a break and decided that, in this case, we would serve our
purpose best if we tried to escape.

 
          
 
With a roar to Hool Haji, I dived through the
gap, seeing from the corner of my eye that he was following me.

 
          
 
Then, from somewhere in the shadows, I saw
another man dart at Hool Haji's side. I knew instinctively that Hool Haji would
not see him in time.

 
          
 
With a yell of warning I turned to save him. I
turned too sharply and lost my footing in slippery blood.

 
          
 
I remember a grinning, bearded face and a
shield smashing forward into my own.

 
          
 
I tried to keep a grip on my senses, struggled
to rise. I saw Hool Haji clutch at his side, grimacing with pain. Then my
vision clouded.

 
          
 
I fell forward, certain that I would never
wake again.

ROKIN THE GOLD

 
          
 
I DID wake again, but it was not a comfortable
awakening. I was being jolted along on the back of an animal.

 
          
 
Opening my eyes, blinking in the glare of
harsh sunlight, I saw that I was tied hand and foot, strapped over the back of
a large dahara, the universal riding animal and pack beast of all the Martians
I had ever encountered.

 
          
 
The sun was shining directly in my eyes, I had
a headache and every muscle in my body ached. But I seemed generally in one
piece.

 
          
 
I wondered what had become of Hool Haji.

 
          
 
And then I wondered what had happened to Ala
Mara, whom we had left in charge of the airship.

 
          
 
I prayed that the coarse barbarians had not
discovered her!

 
          
 
I closed my eyes against the sunlight,
beginning to think of ways of escaping from my captors, ways of finding the
machine - if it existed - for curing the plague in Cend-Amrid. I was so tired
that it was difficult to think logically.

 
          
 
The next time I opened my eyes I was staring
into the leering face of a barbarian.

 
          
 
"So you live." He grinned. “I
thought you southern folk weak - but we learned otherwise back there."

 
          
 
"Give me a sword and untie my hands and
you'll learn that lesson personally," I said thickly.

 
          
 
He shook his head wonderingly. "Give you
a beard and you could be a Bagarad. I think Rokin the Gold will like you."

 
          
 
"Where are we going?"

 
          
 
"To see Rokin."

 
          
 
"What happened to my friend?" I
deliberately did not mention the girl.

 
          
 
"He lives, too - though he got a slight
flesh wound." We were still moving as he spoke - he was riding a dahara. I
was filled with relief that Hool Haji had survived.

 
          
 
“We could not find your daharas," said
the barbarian. "How did you get here?"

 
          
 
I was further relieved on hearing this
question, because it meant they had not discovered Ala Mara. But where was she?
Why had they not noticed the airship? I tried to reply in a way that would
answer these questions for me, at least partially.

 
          
 
"We had an air vessel," I said.
"We flew here."

 
          
 
The barbarian guffawed.

 
          
 
"You've got guts," he said.
"You can he like a Bagarad as well as fight like one."

 
          
 
"You saw no airship?"

 
          
 
He grinned. "We saw no airship. You call
us barbarians, my friend, but even we know enough not to believe in children's
stories. Everyone knows that men aren't meant to fly -and can't,
therefore."

 
          
 
I smiled weakly back. He did not know that I
smiled at his naivete and because this certainly meant they had not seen either
my airship or Ala Mara. But I still wondered what had happened to the girl.

 
          
 
Perhaps the airship had somehow drifted away.
I could not guess. I could only hope that both were safe.

 
          
 
After a while my exhaustion caused me to fall
asleep in spite of the rough ride I was having.

 
          
 
When next I awoke it was dark and the dahara
was moving at a slower pace.

 
          
 
Above the murmur of the barbarians'
conversation I heard another murmur - the murmur of the sea.

 
          
 
With a sinking heart I realized that we had come
to the barbarians' base and I was soon to face their much-admired leader, Rokin
the Gold.

 
          
 
The dahara stopped after a while and heavy
hands hauled 302 the straps away from my body and dumped me on the ground. One
of the barbarians, perhaps the one I had spoken to earlier, put a skin of tepid
water to my lips and I drank thirstily.

 
          
 
"Food soon," he promised.
"After you've been looked over by Rokin."

 
          
 
He went away and I lay on hard shingle,
listening to the nearby sounds of the sea. I was still half in a daze.

 
          
 
Later I heard voices and there was a thump. I
turned my head and saw the great bulk of Hool Haji lying beside me. I noticed
his wound and saw that at least the barbarians had had the grace to dress it,
though crudely.

 
          
 
He turned his head and smiled at me grimly.

 
          
 
"At least we live," he said.

 
          
 
"But for how long?" I said.
"And will it be worth it? We must escape as soon as possible, Hool Haji.
You know why!"

 
          
 
"I know," he said evenly.
"Thoughts of escape are well in my mind. But at present we can only bide
our time. What of the girl you rescued from Cend-Amrid - where is she?"

 
          
 
"Safe, as far as I know," I told
him. "Or, at least, she was not captured by the barbarians."

 
          
 
"Good. How did you discover this?"

 
          
 
I told him the little I had learned.

 
          
 
"Perhaps she saw something of what
happened and went for help," he said, though clearly not convinced.

 
          
 
"She could not operate the controls
unless she had watched me very carefully indeed. I can think of no explanation.
I just hope that she will be all right."

 
          
 
"Have you noticed one thing?" Hool
Haji asked then. 'The one real chance we have?"

 
          
 
"What's that?"

 
          
 
"The secret skinning knife is still in my
harness."

 
          
 
That was something! All blue Martians carry
small knives hidden in their ornate war harness. To someone not used to looking
for such things, it seemed part of the general decoration of the harness, but I
had had cause to thank those secret knives once before. Unfortunately, I now
wore a Southern-style harness that did not contain a knife. Still, one was
better than none. If I could reach it with my teeth, I might be able to cut
Hool Haji's bonds.

 
          
 
I was rolling towards him with this intention
when suddenly there
came
a sound from above. I rolled
back and looked up.

 
          
 
Framed against the sky, which was lit only by
Phobos, I saw a gigantic figure, clad all.
in
bright
metal. The metal was gold, crudely fashioned into armour, with great, bent
rivets plainly visible, holding it all together. It was a splendid picture of
barbarian grandiose ostentation, and the man wore it well enough.

 
          
 
He had a finely combed yellow beard and hair
to match, long and flowing and plainly cleaner than that of his fellows. At his
hip he wore a huge broadsword, the hilt of which he gripped as he looked down
at me, a vast grin spreading across his face.

 
          
 
"Which are you," he said in a deep,
humorous voice, "the Bradhi or the Bradhinak?"

 
          
 
"Which are
you!
"
I said, though I guessed the obvious.

 
          
 
"Bradhi, my friend, as
you well know if you've talked as much to my men as they say.
Bradhi
Rokin the Gold, leader of these hounds, the Bagarad. Now - be civil and answer
me."

 
          
 
"I am the Bradhinak Michael Kane of
Vamal, City of the Green Mists, most beautiful in the whole of Vashu." I
spoke as grandiosely, using the Martian word for their planet.

 
          
 
He grinned again. "And you - the other
one. You must be the Bradhi, then, eh?"

 
          
 
"Bradhi of a long line," Hool Haji
said proudly. "Bradhi of the Mendishar - there is no greater boast."

 
          
 
"You think not, eh?"

 
          
 
Hool Haji did not reply. He looked at Rokin
with an unwinking stare.

 
          
 
Rokin did not seem to mind.

 
          
 
"You killed a lot of my men, I'm told,
including my finest lieutenant, Zonom the Render. I thought him
unkillable."

 
          
 
"It was easy," I said. "It was
incidental. I did not realize he was one of those I killed until after I had
done it."

 
          
 
Rokin roared with laughter. "What a
boaster!
Better than a Bagarad!"

 
          
 
"Some, I've been told," I said.
"It is not difficult to believe if they are all like Zonom." He frowned
a little, though he still grinned, pointing at me, his golden armour creaking
at the joints. "You think so? You'll find there are few to beat the
Bagarad."

 
          
 
"Few what?"

 
          
 
"Eh? What d'you mean?"

 
          
 
"Few what?
Children?"

 
          
 
"No!
Men, my friend!"
His face cleared. Like many primitive people he seemed to appreciate an insult
for its own sake, whether levelled at him or not. I knew, however, that there
was a point that could be over-stepped and it was not always easy to see it. I
did not bother to worry about it.

 
          
 
"What are you going to do with us
now?" I asked him.

 
          
 
"I'm not sure. They say you seemed
concerned about the weapons I've removed from that place we found. What do you
know about them?"

 
          
 
"Nothing," I said.

 
          
 
"They say you seemed to know a great deal
about them.”

 
          
 
"Then they were wrong."

 
          
 
*Tell him to give them back," growled
Hool Haji. "Tell him what we told his friend - they're fools to meddle
with such power!"

 
          
 
"So you do know something." Rokin
mused.
"How much?"