The Gods Of Mars (21 page)

“Your stature, your manner, the terrible ferocity of your
swordsmanship,” said the boy, “are as my mother has described them to
me a thousand times—but even with such evidence I could scarce credit
the truth of what seemed so improbable to me, however much I desired it
to be true. Do you know what thing it was that convinced me more than
all the others?”

“What, my boy?” I asked.

“Your first words to me—they were of my mother. None else but the man
who loved her as she has told me my father did would have thought first
of her.”

“For long years, my son, I can scarce recall a moment that the radiant
vision of your mother’s face has not been ever before me. Tell me of
her.”

“Those who have known her longest say that she has not changed, unless
it be to grow more beautiful—were that possible. Only, when she
thinks I am not about to see her, her face grows very sad, and, oh, so
wistful. She thinks ever of you, my father, and all Helium mourns with
her and for her. Her grandfather’s people love her. They loved you
also, and fairly worship your memory as the saviour of Barsoom.

“Each year that brings its anniversary of the day that saw you racing
across a near dead world to unlock the secret of that awful portal
behind which lay the mighty power of life for countless millions a
great festival is held in your honour; but there are tears mingled with
the thanksgiving—tears of real regret that the author of the happiness
is not with them to share the joy of living he died to give them. Upon
all Barsoom there is no greater name than John Carter.”

“And by what name has your mother called you, my boy?” I asked.

“The people of Helium asked that I be named with my father’s name, but
my mother said no, that you and she had chosen a name for me together,
and that your wish must be honoured before all others, so the name that
she called me is the one that you desired, a combination of hers and
yours—Carthoris.”

Xodar had been at the wheel as I talked with my son, and now he called
me.

“She is dropping badly by the head, John Carter,” he said. “So long as
we were rising at a stiff angle it was not noticeable, but now that I
am trying to keep a horizontal course it is different. The wound in
her bow has opened one of her forward ray tanks.”

It was true, and after I had examined the damage I found it a much
graver matter than I had anticipated. Not only was the forced angle at
which we were compelled to maintain the bow in order to keep a
horizontal course greatly impeding our speed, but at the rate that we
were losing our repulsive rays from the forward tanks it was but a
question of an hour or more when we would be floating stern up and
helpless.

We had slightly reduced our speed with the dawning of a sense of
security, but now I took the helm once more and pulled the noble little
engine wide open, so that again we raced north at terrific velocity.
In the meantime Carthoris and Xodar with tools in hand were puttering
with the great rent in the bow in a hopeless endeavour to stem the tide
of escaping rays.

It was still dark when we passed the northern boundary of the ice cap
and the area of clouds. Below us lay a typical Martian landscape.
Rolling ochre sea bottom of long dead seas, low surrounding hills, with
here and there the grim and silent cities of the dead past; great piles
of mighty architecture tenanted only by age-old memories of a once
powerful race, and by the great white apes of Barsoom.

It was becoming more and more difficult to maintain our little vessel
in a horizontal position. Lower and lower sagged the bow until it
became necessary to stop the engine to prevent our flight terminating
in a swift dive to the ground.

As the sun rose and the light of a new day swept away the darkness of
night our craft gave a final spasmodic plunge, turned half upon her
side, and then with deck tilting at a sickening angle swung in a slow
circle, her bow dropping further below her stern each moment.

To hand-rail and stanchion we clung, and finally as we saw the end
approaching, snapped the buckles of our harness to the rings at her
sides. In another moment the deck reared at an angle of ninety degrees
and we hung in our leather with feet dangling a thousand yards above
the ground.

I was swinging quite close to the controlling devices, so I reached out
to the lever that directed the rays of repulsion. The boat responded
to the touch, and very gently we began to sink toward the ground.

It was fully half an hour before we touched. Directly north of us rose
a rather lofty range of hills, toward which we decided to make our way,
since they afforded greater opportunity for concealment from the
pursuers we were confident might stumble in this direction.

An hour later found us in the time-rounded gullies of the hills, amid
the beautiful flowering plants that abound in the arid waste places of
Barsoom. There we found numbers of huge milk-giving shrubs—that
strange plant which serves in great part as food and drink for the wild
hordes of green men. It was indeed a boon to us, for we all were
nearly famished.

Beneath a cluster of these which afforded perfect concealment from
wandering air scouts, we lay down to sleep—for me the first time in
many hours. This was the beginning of my fifth day upon Barsoom since
I had found myself suddenly translated from my cottage on the Hudson to
Dor, the valley beautiful, the valley hideous. In all this time I had
slept but twice, though once the clock around within the storehouse of
the therns.

It was mid-afternoon when I was awakened by some one seizing my hand
and covering it with kisses. With a start I opened my eyes to look
into the beautiful face of Thuvia.

“My Prince! My Prince!” she cried, in an ecstasy of happiness. “‘Tis
you whom I had mourned as dead. My ancestors have been good to me; I
have not lived in vain.”

The girl’s voice awoke Xodar and Carthoris. The boy gazed upon the
woman in surprise, but she did not seem to realize the presence of
another than I. She would have thrown her arms about my neck and
smothered me with caresses, had I not gently but firmly disengaged
myself.

“Come, come, Thuvia,” I said soothingly; “you are overwrought by the
danger and hardships you have passed through. You forget yourself, as
you forget that I am the husband of the Princess of Helium.”

“I forget nothing, my Prince,” she replied. “You have spoken no word
of love to me, nor do I expect that you ever shall; but nothing can
prevent me loving you. I would not take the place of Dejah Thoris. My
greatest ambition is to serve you, my Prince, for ever as your slave.
No greater boon could I ask, no greater honour could I crave, no
greater happiness could I hope.”

As I have before said, I am no ladies’ man, and I must admit that I
seldom have felt so uncomfortable and embarrassed as I did that moment.
While I was quite familiar with the Martian custom which allows female
slaves to Martian men, whose high and chivalrous honour is always ample
protection for every woman in his household, yet I had never myself
chosen other than men as my body servants.

“And I ever return to Helium, Thuvia,” I said, “you shall go with me,
but as an honoured equal, and not as a slave. There you shall find
plenty of handsome young nobles who would face Issus herself to win a
smile from you, and we shall have you married in short order to one of
the best of them. Forget your foolish gratitude-begotten infatuation,
which your innocence has mistaken for love. I like your friendship
better, Thuvia.”

“You are my master; it shall be as you say,” she replied simply, but
there was a note of sadness in her voice.

“How came you here, Thuvia?” I asked. “And where is Tars Tarkas?”

“The great Thark, I fear, is dead,” she replied sadly. “He was a
mighty fighter, but a multitude of green warriors of another horde than
his overwhelmed him. The last that I saw of him they were bearing him,
wounded and bleeding, to the deserted city from which they had sallied
to attack us.”

“You are not sure that he is dead, then?” I asked. “And where is this
city of which you speak?”

“It is just beyond this range of hills. The vessel in which you so
nobly resigned a place that we might find escape defied our small skill
in navigation, with the result that we drifted aimlessly about for two
days. Then we decided to abandon the craft and attempt to make our way
on foot to the nearest waterway. Yesterday we crossed these hills and
came upon the dead city beyond. We had passed within its streets and
were walking toward the central portion, when at an intersecting avenue
we saw a body of green warriors approaching.

“Tars Tarkas was in advance, and they saw him, but me they did not see.
The Thark sprang back to my side and forced me into an adjacent
doorway, where he told me to remain in hiding until I could escape,
making my way to Helium if possible.

“‘There will be no escape for me now,’ he said, ‘for these be the
Warhoon of the South. When they have seen my metal it will be to the
death.’

“Then he stepped out to meet them. Ah, my Prince, such fighting! For
an hour they swarmed about him, until the Warhoon dead formed a hill
where he had stood; but at last they overwhelmed him, those behind
pushing the foremost upon him until there remained no space to swing
his great sword. Then he stumbled and went down and they rolled over
him like a huge wave. When they carried him away toward the heart of
the city, he was dead, I think, for I did not see him move.”

“Before we go farther we must be sure,” I said. “I cannot leave Tars
Tarkas alive among the Warhoons. To-night I shall enter the city and
make sure.”

“And I shall go with you,” spoke Carthoris.

“And I,” said Xodar.

“Neither one of you shall go,” I replied. “It is work that requires
stealth and strategy, not force. One man alone may succeed where more
would invite disaster. I shall go alone. If I need your help, I will
return for you.”

They did not like it, but both were good soldiers, and it had been
agreed that I should command. The sun already was low, so that I did
not have long to wait before the sudden darkness of Barsoom engulfed us.

With a parting word of instructions to Carthoris and Xodar, in case I
should not return, I bade them all farewell and set forth at a rapid
dogtrot toward the city.

As I emerged from the hills the nearer moon was winging its wild flight
through the heavens, its bright beams turning to burnished silver the
barbaric splendour of the ancient metropolis. The city had been built
upon the gently rolling foothills that in the dim and distant past had
sloped down to meet the sea. It was due to this fact that I had no
difficulty in entering the streets unobserved.

The green hordes that use these deserted cities seldom occupy more than
a few squares about the central plaza, and as they come and go always
across the dead sea bottoms that the cities face, it is usually a
matter of comparative ease to enter from the hillside.

Once within the streets, I kept close in the dense shadows of the
walls. At intersections I halted a moment to make sure that none was
in sight before I sprang quickly to the shadows of the opposite side.
Thus I made the journey to the vicinity of the plaza without detection.
As I approached the purlieus of the inhabited portion of the city I was
made aware of the proximity of the warriors’ quarters by the squealing
and grunting of the thoats and zitidars corralled within the hollow
courtyards formed by the buildings surrounding each square.

These old familiar sounds that are so distinctive of green Martian life
sent a thrill of pleasure surging through me. It was as one might feel
on coming home after a long absence. It was amid such sounds that I
had first courted the incomparable Dejah Thoris in the age-old marble
halls of the dead city of Korad.

As I stood in the shadows at the far corner of the first square which
housed members of the horde, I saw warriors emerging from several of
the buildings. They all went in the same direction, toward a great
building which stood in the centre of the plaza. My knowledge of green
Martian customs convinced me that this was either the quarters of the
principal chieftain or contained the audience chamber wherein the
Jeddak met his jeds and lesser chieftains. In either event, it was
evident that something was afoot which might have a bearing on the
recent capture of Tars Tarkas.

To reach this building, which I now felt it imperative that I do, I
must needs traverse the entire length of one square and cross a broad
avenue and a portion of the plaza. From the noises of the animals
which came from every courtyard about me, I knew that there were many
people in the surrounding buildings—probably several communities of
the great horde of the Warhoons of the South.

To pass undetected among all these people was in itself a difficult
task, but if I was to find and rescue the great Thark I must expect
even more formidable obstacles before success could be mine. I had
entered the city from the south and now stood on the corner of the
avenue through which I had passed and the first intersecting avenue
south of the plaza. The buildings upon the south side of this square
did not appear to be inhabited, as I could see no lights, and so I
decided to gain the inner courtyard through one of them.

Nothing occurred to interrupt my progress through the deserted pile I
chose, and I came into the inner court close to the rear walls of the
east buildings without detection. Within the court a great herd of
thoats and zitidars moved restlessly about, cropping the moss-like
ochre vegetation which overgrows practically the entire uncultivated
area of Mars. What breeze there was came from the north-west, so there
was little danger that the beasts would scent me. Had they, their
squealing and grunting would have grown to such a volume as to attract
the attention of the warriors within the buildings.