The Gods Of Mars (24 page)

We turned to look in the direction from whence the first report had
come, and there we saw, just clearing the tops of the nearer hills, a
great battleship swinging majestically through the air. Her bow gun
spoke again even as we looked, and another shell burst among the
fleeing Warhoons.

As she drew nearer I could not repress a wild cry of elation, for upon
her bows I saw the device of Helium.

As Carthoris, Xodar, Tars Tarkas, and I stood gazing at the magnificent
vessel which meant so much to all of us, we saw a second and then a
third top the summit of the hills and glide gracefully after their
sister.

Now a score of one-man air scouts were launching from the upper decks
of the nearer vessel, and in a moment more were speeding in long, swift
dives to the ground about us.

In another instant we were surrounded by armed sailors, and an officer
had stepped forward to address us, when his eyes fell upon Carthoris.
With an exclamation of surprised pleasure he sprang forward, and,
placing his hands upon the boy’s shoulder, called him by name.

“Carthoris, my Prince,” he cried, “Kaor! Kaor! Hor Vastus greets the
son of Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium, and of her husband, John
Carter. Where have you been, O my Prince? All Helium has been plunged
in sorrow. Terrible have been the calamities that have befallen your
great-grandsire’s mighty nation since the fatal day that saw you leave
our midst.”

“Grieve not, my good Hor Vastus,” cried Carthoris, “since I bring not
back myself alone to cheer my mother’s heart and the hearts of my
beloved people, but also one whom all Barsoom loved best—her greatest
warrior and her saviour—John Carter, Prince of Helium!”

Hor Vastus turned in the direction indicated by Carthoris, and as his
eyes fell upon me he was like to have collapsed from sheer surprise.

“John Carter!” he exclaimed, and then a sudden troubled look came into
his eyes. “My Prince,” he started, “where hast thou—” and then he
stopped, but I knew the question that his lips dared not frame. The
loyal fellow would not be the one to force from mine a confession of
the terrible truth that I had returned from the bosom of the Iss, the
River of Mystery, back from the shore of the Lost Sea of Korus, and the
Valley Dor.

“Ah, my Prince,” he continued, as though no thought had interrupted his
greeting, “that you are back is sufficient, and let Hor Vastus’ sword
have the high honour of being first at thy feet.” With these words the
noble fellow unbuckled his scabbard and flung his sword upon the ground
before me.

Could you know the customs and the character of red Martians you would
appreciate the depth of meaning that that simple act conveyed to me and
to all about us who witnessed it. The thing was equivalent to saying,
“My sword, my body, my life, my soul are yours to do with as you wish.
Until death and after death I look to you alone for authority for my
every act. Be you right or wrong, your word shall be my only truth.
Whoso raises his hand against you must answer to my sword.”

It is the oath of fealty that men occasionally pay to a Jeddak whose
high character and chivalrous acts have inspired the enthusiastic love
of his followers. Never had I known this high tribute paid to a lesser
mortal. There was but one response possible. I stooped and lifted the
sword from the ground, raised the hilt to my lips, and then, stepping
to Hor Vastus, I buckled the weapon upon him with my own hands.

“Hor Vastus,” I said, placing my hand upon his shoulder, “you know best
the promptings of your own heart. That I shall need your sword I have
little doubt, but accept from John Carter upon his sacred honour the
assurance that he will never call upon you to draw this sword other
than in the cause of truth, justice, and righteousness.”

“That I knew, my Prince,” he replied, “ere ever I threw my beloved
blade at thy feet.”

As we spoke other fliers came and went between the ground and the
battleship, and presently a larger boat was launched from above, one
capable of carrying a dozen persons, perhaps, and dropped lightly near
us. As she touched, an officer sprang from her deck to the ground,
and, advancing to Hor Vastus, saluted.

“Kantos Kan desires that this party whom we have rescued be brought
immediately to the deck of the Xavarian,” he said.

As we approached the little craft I looked about for the members of my
party and for the first time noticed that Thuvia was not among them.
Questioning elicited the fact that none had seen her since Carthoris
had sent her thoat galloping madly toward the hills, in the hope of
carrying her out of harm’s way.

Immediately Hor Vastus dispatched a dozen air scouts in as many
directions to search for her. It could not be possible that she had
gone far since we had last seen her. We others stepped to the deck of
the craft that had been sent to fetch us, and a moment later were upon
the Xavarian.

The first man to greet me was Kantos Kan himself. My old friend had
won to the highest place in the navy of Helium, but he was still to me
the same brave comrade who had shared with me the privations of a
Warhoon dungeon, the terrible atrocities of the Great Games, and later
the dangers of our search for Dejah Thoris within the hostile city of
Zodanga.

Then I had been an unknown wanderer upon a strange planet, and he a
simple padwar in the navy of Helium. To-day he commanded all Helium’s
great terrors of the skies, and I was a Prince of the House of Tardos
Mors, Jeddak of Helium.

He did not ask me where I had been. Like Hor Vastus, he too dreaded
the truth and would not be the one to wrest a statement from me. That
it must come some time he well knew, but until it came he seemed
satisfied to but know that I was with him once more. He greeted
Carthoris and Tars Tarkas with the keenest delight, but he asked
neither where he had been. He could scarcely keep his hands off the
boy.

“You do not know, John Carter,” he said to me, “how we of Helium love
this son of yours. It is as though all the great love we bore his
noble father and his poor mother had been centred in him. When it
became known that he was lost, ten million people wept.”

“What mean you, Kantos Kan,” I whispered, “by ‘his poor mother’?” for
the words had seemed to carry a sinister meaning which I could not
fathom.

He drew me to one side.

“For a year,” he said, “Ever since Carthoris disappeared, Dejah Thoris
has grieved and mourned for her lost boy. The blow of years ago, when
you did not return from the atmosphere plant, was lessened to some
extent by the duties of motherhood, for your son broke his white shell
that very night.”

“That she suffered terribly then, all Helium knew, for did not all
Helium suffer with her the loss of her lord! But with the boy gone
there was nothing left, and after expedition upon expedition returned
with the same hopeless tale of no clue as to his whereabouts, our
beloved Princess drooped lower and lower, until all who saw her felt
that it could be but a matter of days ere she went to join her loved
ones within the precincts of the Valley Dor.

“As a last resort, Mors Kajak, her father, and Tardos Mors, her
grandfather, took command of two mighty expeditions, and a month ago
sailed away to explore every inch of ground in the northern hemisphere
of Barsoom. For two weeks no word has come back from them, but rumours
were rife that they had met with a terrible disaster and that all were
dead.

“About this time Zat Arras renewed his importunities for her hand in
marriage. He has been for ever after her since you disappeared. She
hated him and feared him, but with both her father and grandfather
gone, Zat Arras was very powerful, for he is still Jed of Zodanga, to
which position, you will remember, Tardos Mors appointed him after you
had refused the honour.

“He had a secret audience with her six days ago. What took place none
knows, but the next day Dejah Thoris had disappeared, and with her had
gone a dozen of her household guard and body servants, including Sola
the green woman—Tars Tarkas’ daughter, you recall. No word left they
of their intentions, but it is always thus with those who go upon the
voluntary pilgrimage from which none returns. We cannot think aught
than that Dejah Thoris has sought the icy bosom of Iss, and that her
devoted servants have chosen to accompany her.

“Zat Arras was at Helium when she disappeared. He commands this fleet
which has been searching for her since. No trace of her have we found,
and I fear that it be a futile quest.”

While we talked, Hor Vastus’ fliers were returning to the Xavarian.
Not one, however, had discovered a trace of Thuvia. I was much
depressed over the news of Dejah Thoris’ disappearance, and now there
was added the further burden of apprehension concerning the fate of
this girl whom I believed to be the daughter of some proud Barsoomian
house, and it had been my intention to make every effort to return her
to her people.

I was about to ask Kantos Kan to prosecute a further search for her
when a flier from the flagship of the fleet arrived at the Xavarian
with an officer bearing a message to Kantos Kan from Arras.

My friend read the dispatch and then turned to me.

“Zat Arras commands me to bring our ‘prisoners’ before him. There is
naught else to do. He is supreme in Helium, yet it would be far more
in keeping with chivalry and good taste were he to come hither and
greet the saviour of Barsoom with the honours that are his due.”

“You know full well, my friend,” I said, smiling, “that Zat Arras has
good cause to hate me. Nothing would please him better than to
humiliate me and then to kill me. Now that he has so excellent an
excuse, let us go and see if he has the courage to take advantage of
it.”

Summoning Carthoris, Tars Tarkas, and Xodar, we entered the small flier
with Kantos Kan and Zat Arras’ officer, and in a moment were stepping
to the deck of Zat Arras’ flagship.

As we approached the Jed of Zodanga no sign of greeting or recognition
crossed his face; not even to Carthoris did he vouchsafe a friendly
word. His attitude was cold, haughty, and uncompromising.

“Kaor, Zat Arras,” I said in greeting, but he did not respond.

“Why were these prisoners not disarmed?” he asked to Kantos Kan.

“They are not prisoners, Zat Arras,” replied the officer.

“Two of them are of Helium’s noblest family. Tars Tarkas, Jeddak of
Thark, is Tardos Mors’ best beloved ally. The other is a friend and
companion of the Prince of Helium—that is enough for me to know.”

“It is not enough for me, however,” retorted Zat Arras. “More must I
hear from those who have taken the pilgrimage than their names. Where
have you been, John Carter?”

“I have just come from the Valley Dor and the Land of the First Born,
Zat Arras,” I replied.

“Ah!” he exclaimed in evident pleasure, “you do not deny it, then? You
have returned from the bosom of Iss?”

“I have come back from a land of false hope, from a valley of torture
and death; with my companions I have escaped from the hideous clutches
of lying fiends. I have come back to the Barsoom that I saved from a
painless death to again save her, but this time from death in its most
frightful form.”

“Cease, blasphemer!” cried Zat Arras. “Hope not to save thy cowardly
carcass by inventing horrid lies to—” But he got no further. One does
not call John Carter “coward” and “liar” thus lightly, and Zat Arras
should have known it. Before a hand could be raised to stop me, I was
at his side and one hand grasped his throat.

“Come I from heaven or hell, Zat Arras, you will find me still the same
John Carter that I have always been; nor did ever man call me such
names and live—without apologizing.” And with that I commenced to bend
him back across my knee and tighten my grip upon his throat.

“Seize him!” cried Zat Arras, and a dozen officers sprang forward to
assist him.

Kantos Kan came close and whispered to me.

“Desist, I beg of you. It will but involve us all, for I cannot see
these men lay hands upon you without aiding you. My officers and men
will join me and we shall have a mutiny then that may lead to the
revolution. For the sake of Tardos Mors and Helium, desist.”

At his words I released Zat Arras and, turning my back upon him, walked
toward the ship’s rail.

“Come, Kantos Kan,” I said, “the Prince of Helium would return to the
Xavarian.”

None interfered. Zat Arras stood white and trembling amidst his
officers. Some there were who looked upon him with scorn and drew
toward me, while one, a man long in the service and confidence of
Tardos Mors, spoke to me in a low tone as I passed him.

“You may count my metal among your fighting-men, John Carter,” he said.

I thanked him and passed on. In silence we embarked, and shortly after
stepped once more upon the deck of the Xavarian. Fifteen minutes later
we received orders from the flagship to proceed toward Helium.

Our journey thither was uneventful. Carthoris and I were wrapped in
the gloomiest of thoughts. Kantos Kan was sombre in contemplation of
the further calamity that might fall upon Helium should Zat Arras
attempt to follow the age-old precedent that allotted a terrible death
to fugitives from the Valley Dor. Tars Tarkas grieved for the loss of
his daughter. Xodar alone was care-free—a fugitive and outlaw, he
could be no worse off in Helium than elsewhere.

“Let us hope that we may at least go out with good red blood upon our
blades,” he said. It was a simple wish and one most likely to be
gratified.

Among the officers of the Xavarian I thought I could discern division
into factions ere we had reached Helium. There were those who gathered
about Carthoris and myself whenever the opportunity presented, while
about an equal number held aloof from us. They offered us only the
most courteous treatment, but were evidently bound by their
superstitious belief in the doctrine of Dor and Iss and Korus. I could
not blame them, for I knew how strong a hold a creed, however
ridiculous it may be, may gain upon an otherwise intelligent people.