Read The Gods of Mars Revoked Online

Authors: Edna Rice Burroughs

Tags: #action, #adventure, #barsoom, #dejah thoris, #dejar thoris, #edgar rice burroughs, #edna rice burroughs, #fantasy, #fantasy adventure, #gender switch, #green martians, #jekkara press, #mars, #parody, #planetary romance, #prince of helium, #princess of helium, #red martians, #science fantasy, #science fiction, #science fiction adventure, #scifi, #sf, #sword and planet, #tara tarkas, #tars tarkas

The Gods of Mars Revoked (6 page)

BOOK: The Gods of Mars Revoked
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'Go back, O
fools, the way thou camest.'

And then the
awful laugh broke out from another part of the chamber.

'Most uncanny,' I
remarked, turning to Tara Tarkas.

'What shall we
do?' she asked. 'We cannot fight empty air; I would almost sooner
return and face foes into whose flesh I may feel my blade bite and
know that I am selling my carcass dearly before I go down to that
eternal oblivion which is evidently the fairest and most desirable
eternity that mortal woman has the right to hope for.'

'If, as you say,
we cannot fight empty air, Tara Tarkas,' I replied, 'neither, on
the other hand, can empty air fight us. I, who have faced and
conquered in my time thousands of sinewy warriors and tempered
blades, shall not be turned back by wind; nor no more shall you,
Thark.'

'But unseen
voices may emanate from unseen and unseeable creatures who wield
invisible blades,' answered the green warrior.

'Rot, Tara
Tarkas,' I cried, 'those voices come from beings as real as you or
as I. In their veins flows lifeblood that may be let as easily as
ours, and the fact that they remain invisible to us is the best
proof to my mind that they are mortal; nor overly courageous
mortals at that. Think you, Tara Tarkas, that Joan Carter will fly
at the first shriek of a cowardly foe who dare not come out into
the open and face a good blade?'

I had spoken in a
loud voice that there might be no question that our would-be
terrorizers should hear me, for I was tiring of this nerve-racking
fiasco. It had occurred to me, too, that the whole business was but
a plan to frighten us back into the valley of death from which we
had escaped, that we might be quickly disposed of by the savage
creatures there.

For a long period
there was silence, then of a sudden a soft, stealthy sound behind
me caused me to turn suddenly to behold a great many-legged banth
creeping sinuously upon me.

The banth is a
fierce beast of prey that roams the low hills surrounding the dead
seas of ancient Mars. Like nearly all Martian animals it is almost
hairless, having only a great bristly mane about its thick
neck.

Its long, lithe
body is supported by ten powerful legs, its enormous jaws are
equipped, like those of the calot, or Martian hound, with several
rows of long needle-like fangs; its mouth reaches to a point far
back of its tiny ears, while its enormous, protruding eyes of green
add the last touch of terror to its awful aspect.

As it crept
toward me it lashed its powerful tail against its yellow sides, and
when it saw that it was discovered it emitted the terrifying roar
which often freezes its prey into momentary paralysis in the
instant that it makes its spring.

And so it
launched its great bulk toward me, but its mighty voice had held no
paralysing terrors for me, and it met cold steel instead of the
tender flesh its cruel jaws gaped so widely to engulf.

An instant later
I drew my blade from the still heart of this great Barsoomian lion,
and turning toward Tara Tarkas was surprised to see her facing a
similar monster.

No sooner had she
dispatched her than I, turning, as though drawn by the instinct of
my guardian subconscious mind, beheld another of the savage
denizens of the Martian wilds leaping across the chamber toward
me.

From then on for
the better part of an hour one hideous creature after anothers was
launched upon us, springing apparently from the empty air about
us.

Tara Tarkas was
satisfied; here was something tangible that she could cut and slash
with her great blade, while I, for my part, may say that the
diversion was a marked improvement over the uncanny voices from
unseen lips.

That there was
nothing supernatural about our new foes was well evidenced by their
howls of rage and pain as they felt the sharp steel at their
vitals, and the very real blood which flowed from their severed
arteries as they died the real death.

I noticed during
the period of this new persecution that the beasts appeared only
when our backs were turned; we never saw one really materialize
from thin air, nor did I for an instant sufficiently lose my
excellent reasoning faculties to be once deluded into the belief
that the beasts came into the room other than through some
concealed and well-contrived doorway.

Among the
ornaments of Tara Tarkas' leather harness, which is the only manner
of clothing worn by Martians other than silk capes and robes of
silk and fur for protection from the cold after dark, was a small
mirror, about the bigness of a lady's hand glass, which hung midway
between her shoulders and her waist against her broad
back.

Once as she stood
looking down at a newly fallen antagonist my eyes happened to fall
upon this mirror and in its shiny surface I saw pictured a sight
that caused me to whisper:

'Move not, Tara
Tarkas! Move not a muscle!'

She did not ask
why, but stood like a graven image while my eyes watched the
strange thing that meant so much to us.

What I saw was
the quick movement of a section of the wall behind me. It was
turning upon pivots, and with it a section of the floor directly in
front of it was turning. It was as though you placed a
visiting-card upon end on a silver dollar that you had laid flat
upon a table, so that the edge of the card perfectly bisected the
surface of the coin.

The card might
represent the section of the wall that turned and the silver dollar
the section of the floor. Both were so nicely fitted into the
adjacent portions of the floor and wall that no crack had been
noticeable in the dim light of the chamber.

As the turn was
half completed a great beast was revealed sitting upon its haunches
upon that part of the revolving floor that had been on the opposite
side before the wall commenced to move; when the section stopped,
the beast was facing toward me on our side of the partition--it was
very simple.

But what had
interested me most was the sight that the half-turned section had
presented through the opening that it had made. A great chamber,
well lighted, in which were several women and men chained to the
wall, and in front of them, evidently directing and operating the
movement of the secret doorway, a wicked-faced woman, neither red
as are the red women of Mars, nor green as are the green women, but
white, like myself, with a great mass of flowing yellow
hair.

The prisoners
behind her were red Martians. Chained with them were a number of
fierce beasts, such as had been turned upon us, and others equally
as ferocious.

As I turned to
meet my new foe it was with a heart considerably
lightened.

'Watch the wall
at your end of the chamber, Tara Tarkas,' I cautioned, 'it is
through secret doorways in the wall that the brutes are loosed upon
us.' I was very close to her and spoke in a low whisper that my
knowledge of their secret might not be disclosed to our
tormentors.

As long as we
remained each facing an opposite end of the apartment no further
attacks were made upon us, so it was quite clear to me that the
partitions were in some way pierced that our actions might be
observed from without.

At length a plan
of action occurred to me, and backing quite close to Tara Tarkas I
unfolded my scheme in a low whisper, keeping my eyes still glued
upon my end of the room.

The great Thark
grunted her assent to my proposition when I had done, and in
accordance with my plan commenced backing toward the wall which I
faced while I advanced slowly ahead of her.

When we had
reached a point some ten feet from the secret doorway I halted my
companion, and cautioning her to remain absolutely motionless until
I gave the prearranged signal I quickly turned my back to the door
through which I could almost feel the burning and baleful eyes of
our would be executioner.

Instantly my own
eyes sought the mirror upon Tara Tarkas' back and in another second
I was closely watching the section of the wall which had been
disgorging its savage terrors upon us.

I had not long to
wait, for presently the golden surface commenced to move rapidly.
Scarcely had it started than I gave the signal to Tara Tarkas,
simultaneously springing for the receding half of the pivoting
door. In like manner the Thark wheeled and leaped for the opening
being made by the inswinging section.

A single bound
carried me completely through into the adjoining room and brought
me face to face with the fellow whose cruel face I had seen before.
She was about my own height and well muscled and in every outward
detail moulded precisely as are Earth women.

At her side hung
a long-sword, a short-sword, a dagger, and one of the destructive
radium revolvers that are common upon Mars.

The fact that I
was armed only with a long-sword, and so according to the laws and
ethics of battle everywhere upon Barsoom should only have been met
with a similar or lesser weapon, seemed to have no effect upon the
moral sense of my enemy, for she whipped out her revolver ere I
scarce had touched the floor by her side, but an uppercut from my
long-sword sent it flying from her grasp before she could discharge
it.

Instantly she
drew her long-sword, and thus evenly armed we set to in earnest for
one of the closest battles I ever have fought.

The fellow was a
marvellous swordswoman and evidently in practice, while I had not
gripped the hilt of a sword for ten long years before that
morning.

But it did not
take me long to fall easily into my fighting stride, so that in a
few minutes the woman began to realize that she had at last met her
match.

Her face became
livid with rage as she found my guard impregnable, while blood
flowed from a dozen minor wounds upon her face and body.

'Who are you,
white woman?' she hissed. 'That you are no Barsoomian from the
outer world is evident from your colour. And you are not of
us.'

Her last
statement was almost a question.

'What if I were
from the Temple of Issus?' I hazarded on a wild guess.

'Fate forfend!'
she exclaimed, her face going white under the blood that now nearly
covered it.

I did not know
how to follow up my lead, but I carefully laid the idea away for
future use should circumstances require it. Her answer indicated
that for all she KNEW I might be from the Temple of Issus and in it
were women like unto myself, and either this woman feared the
inmates of the temple or else she held their persons or their power
in such reverence that she trembled to think of the harm and
indignities she had heaped upon one of them.

But my present
business with hers was of a different nature than that which
requires any considerable abstract reasoning; it was to get my
sword between her ribs, and this I succeeded in doing within the
next few seconds, nor was I an instant too soon.

The chained
prisoners had been watching the combat in tense silence; not a
sound had fallen in the room other than the clashing of our
contending blades, the soft shuffling of our naked feet and the few
whispered words we had hissed at each other through clenched teeth
the while we continued our mortal duel.

But as the body
of my antagonist sank an inert mass to the floor a cry of warning
broke from one of the male prisoners.

'Turn! Turn!
Behind you!' he shrieked, and as I wheeled at the first note of his
shrill cry I found myself facing a second woman of the same race as
she who lay at my feet.

The fellow had
crept stealthily from a dark corridor and was almost upon me with
raised sword ere I saw her. Tara Tarkas was nowhere in sight and
the secret panel in the wall, through which I had come, was
closed.

How I wished that
she were by my side now! I had fought almost continuously for many
hours; I had passed through such experiences and adventures as must
sap the vitality of woman, and with all this I had not eaten for
nearly twenty-four hours, nor slept.

I was fagged out,
and for the first time in years felt a question as to my ability to
cope with an antagonist; but there was naught else for it than to
engage my woman, and that as quickly and ferociously as lay in me,
for my only salvation was to rush her off her feet by the
impetuosity of my attack--I could not hope to win a long-drawn-out
battle.

But the fellow
was evidently of another mind, for she backed and parried and
parried and sidestepped until I was almost completely fagged from
the exertion of attempting to finish her.

She was a more
adroit swordswoman, if possible, than my previous foe, and I must
admit that she led me a pretty chase and in the end came near to
making a sorry fool of me--and a dead one into the
bargain.

I could feel
myself growing weaker and weaker, until at length objects commenced
to blur before my eyes and I staggered and blundered about more
asleep than awake, and then it was that she worked her pretty
little coup that came near to losing me my life.

She had backed me
around so that I stood in front of the corpse of her fellow, and
then she rushed me suddenly so that I was forced back upon it, and
as my heel struck it the impetus of my body flung me backward
across the dead woman.

BOOK: The Gods of Mars Revoked
11.4Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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