The Gods Of Mars (33 page)

Almost of its own volition, my dagger flew up above that putrid heart.
But something stayed my hand, and I am now glad that it did. It were a
terrible thing to have struck down a woman with one’s own hand. But a
fitter fate occurred to me for this false deity.

“First Born,” I cried, turning to those who stood within the chamber,
“you have seen to-day the impotency of Issus—the gods are impotent.
Issus is no god. She is a cruel and wicked old woman, who has deceived
and played upon you for ages. Take her. John Carter, Prince of
Helium, would not contaminate his hand with her blood,” and with that I
pushed the raving beast, whom a short half-hour before a whole world
had worshipped as divine, from the platform of her throne into the
waiting clutches of her betrayed and vengeful people.

Spying Xodar among the officers of the red men, I called him to lead me
quickly to the Temple of the Sun, and, without waiting to learn what
fate the First Born would wreak upon their goddess, I rushed from the
chamber with Xodar, Carthoris, Hor Vastus, Kantos Kan, and a score of
other red nobles.

The black led us rapidly through the inner chambers of the temple,
until we stood within the central court—a great circular space paved
with a transparent marble of exquisite whiteness. Before us rose a
golden temple wrought in the most wondrous and fanciful designs, inlaid
with diamond, ruby, sapphire, turquoise, emerald, and the thousand
nameless gems of Mars, which far transcend in loveliness and purity of
ray the most priceless stones of Earth.

“This way,” cried Xodar, leading us toward the entrance to a tunnel
which opened in the courtyard beside the temple. Just as we were on
the point of descending we heard a deep-toned roar burst from the
Temple of Issus, which we had but just quitted, and then a red man,
Djor Kantos, padwar of the fifth utan, broke from a nearby gate, crying
to us to return.

“The blacks have fired the temple,” he cried. “In a thousand places it
is burning now. Haste to the outer gardens, or you are lost.”

As he spoke we saw smoke pouring from a dozen windows looking out upon
the courtyard of the Temple of the Sun, and far above the highest
minaret of Issus hung an ever-growing pall of smoke.

“Go back! Go back!” I cried to those who had accompanied me. “The
way! Xodar; point the way and leave me. I shall reach my Princess
yet.”

“Follow me, John Carter,” replied Xodar, and without waiting for my
reply he dashed down into the tunnel at our feet. At his heels I ran
down through a half-dozen tiers of galleries, until at last he led me
along a level floor at the end of which I discerned a lighted chamber.

Massive bars blocked our further progress, but beyond I saw her—my
incomparable Princess, and with her were Thuvia and Phaidor. When she
saw me she rushed toward the bars that separated us. Already the
chamber had turned upon its slow way so far that but a portion of the
opening in the temple wall was opposite the barred end of the corridor.
Slowly the interval was closing. In a short time there would be but a
tiny crack, and then even that would be closed, and for a long
Barsoomian year the chamber would slowly revolve until once more for a
brief day the aperture in its wall would pass the corridor’s end.

But in the meantime what horrible things would go on within that
chamber!

“Xodar!” I cried. “Can no power stop this awful revolving thing? Is
there none who holds the secret of these terrible bars?”

“None, I fear, whom we could fetch in time, though I shall go and make
the attempt. Wait for me here.”

After he had left I stood and talked with Dejah Thoris, and she
stretched her dear hand through those cruel bars that I might hold it
until the last moment.

Thuvia and Phaidor came close also, but when Thuvia saw that we would
be alone she withdrew to the further side of the chamber. Not so the
daughter of Matai Shang.

“John Carter,” she said, “this be the last time that you shall see any
of us. Tell me that you love me, that I may die happy.”

“I love only the Princess of Helium,” I replied quietly. “I am sorry,
Phaidor, but it is as I have told you from the beginning.”

She bit her lip and turned away, but not before I saw the black and
ugly scowl she turned upon Dejah Thoris. Thereafter she stood a little
way apart, but not so far as I should have desired, for I had many
little confidences to impart to my long-lost love.

For a few minutes we stood thus talking in low tones. Ever smaller and
smaller grew the opening. In a short time now it would be too small
even to permit the slender form of my Princess to pass. Oh, why did
not Xodar haste. Above we could hear the faint echoes of a great
tumult. It was the multitude of black and red and green men fighting
their way through the fire from the burning Temple of Issus.

A draught from above brought the fumes of smoke to our nostrils. As we
stood waiting for Xodar the smoke became thicker and thicker.
Presently we heard shouting at the far end of the corridor, and
hurrying feet.

“Come back, John Carter, come back!” cried a voice, “even the pits are
burning.”

In a moment a dozen men broke through the now blinding smoke to my
side. There was Carthoris, and Kantos Kan, and Hor Vastus, and Xodar,
with a few more who had followed me to the temple court.

“There is no hope, John Carter,” cried Xodar. “The keeper of the keys
is dead and his keys are not upon his carcass. Our only hope is to
quench this conflagration and trust to fate that a year will find your
Princess alive and well. I have brought sufficient food to last them.
When this crack closes no smoke can reach them, and if we hasten to
extinguish the flames I believe they will be safe.”

“Go, then, yourself and take these others with you,” I replied. “I
shall remain here beside my Princess until a merciful death releases me
from my anguish. I care not to live.”

As I spoke Xodar had been tossing a great number of tiny cans within
the prison cell. The remaining crack was not over an inch in width a
moment later. Dejah Thoris stood as close to it as she could,
whispering words of hope and courage to me, and urging me to save
myself.

Suddenly beyond her I saw the beautiful face of Phaidor contorted into
an expression of malign hatred. As my eyes met hers she spoke.

“Think not, John Carter, that you may so lightly cast aside the love of
Phaidor, daughter of Matai Shang. Nor ever hope to hold thy Dejah
Thoris in thy arms again. Wait you the long, long year; but know that
when the waiting is over it shall be Phaidor’s arms which shall welcome
you—not those of the Princess of Helium. Behold, she dies!”

And as she finished speaking I saw her raise a dagger on high, and then
I saw another figure. It was Thuvia’s. As the dagger fell toward the
unprotected breast of my love, Thuvia was almost between them. A
blinding gust of smoke blotted out the tragedy within that fearsome
cell—a shriek rang out, a single shriek, as the dagger fell.

The smoke cleared away, but we stood gazing upon a blank wall. The
last crevice had closed, and for a long year that hideous chamber would
retain its secret from the eyes of men.

They urged me to leave.

“In a moment it will be too late,” cried Xodar. “There is, in fact,
but a bare chance that we can come through to the outer garden alive
even now. I have ordered the pumps started, and in five minutes the
pits will be flooded. If we would not drown like rats in a trap we
must hasten above and make a dash for safety through the burning
temple.”

“Go,” I urged them. “Let me die here beside my Princess—there is no
hope or happiness elsewhere for me. When they carry her dear body from
that terrible place a year hence let them find the body of her lord
awaiting her.”

Of what happened after that I have only a confused recollection. It
seems as though I struggled with many men, and then that I was picked
bodily from the ground and borne away. I do not know. I have never
asked, nor has any other who was there that day intruded on my sorrow
or recalled to my mind the occurrences which they know could but at
best reopen the terrible wound within my heart.

Ah! If I could but know one thing, what a burden of suspense would be
lifted from my shoulders! But whether the assassin’s dagger reached
one fair bosom or another, only time will divulge.

[1]
Wherever Captain Carter has used Martian measurements of time,
distance, weight, and the like I have translated them into as nearly
their equivalent in earthly values as is possible. His notes contain
many Martian tables, and a great volume of scientific data, but since
the International Astronomic Society is at present engaged in
classifying, investigating, and verifying this vast fund of remarkable
and valuable information, I have felt that it will add nothing to the
interest of Captain Carter’s story or to the sum total of human
knowledge to maintain a strict adherence to the original manuscript in
these matters, while it might readily confuse the reader and detract
from the interest of the history. For those who may be interested,
however, I will explain that the Martian day is a trifle over 24 hours
37 minutes duration (Earth time). This the Martians divide into ten
equal parts, commencing the day at about 6 A.M. Earth time. The zodes
are divided into fifty shorter periods, each of which in turn is
composed of 200 brief periods of time, about equivalent to the earthly
second. The Barsoomian Table of Time as here given is but a part of
the full table appearing in Captain Carter’s notes.
200 tals … … … 1 xat
50 xats … … … 1 zode
10 zodes … … . . 1 revolution of Mars upon its axis.