The Swordsman of Mars

by Otis Adelbert Kline

  When it came Thorne's turn, the officer asked "Your name?"

  "Sheb Takkor."

  "What is your real name?"

  "I have told you," Thorne replied.

  The officer shrugged. "It will be so entered, though the report says you are an impostor. But that will be a matter for the judges."

  He signed to the soldier with the rings, who clamped one about Thorne's neck and called the number. The soldier gave him a push that sent him stumbling into the yard, and the officer began questioning the next prisoner.

  Recovering his balance, the Earthman walked morosely to the center of the inclosure. A glance about him at the high walls patrolled by heavily armed warriors convinced him that escape would be next to impossible. Beyond the walls on all sides he saw the upper stories of many cylindrical, flat-topped buildings. He concluded, from this, that he must be in the midst of a large and populous city.

  Having completed his inspection of his surroundings, he found a place where he could sit and lean against the wall, and think. His case, it seemed, was well nigh hopeless.

  As he sat there, Thorne noticed coming toward him a man with a huge chest and shoulders, long, ape-like arms, and abnormally short legs. With a start of surprise, he recognized the Jen of the Takkor Free Swordsmen.

  "Yirl Du!" he exclaimed.

  "I shield my eyes, my lord Sheb," said the Jen, "and thank Deza that you still live. Lal Vak and I thought you dead, and so reported at the castle."

  "What brought you here?"

  "My arrest came so suddenly," replied Yirl Du, "that I am still bewildered. I was sent here this morning charged with inciting the Free Swordsmen to revolt against the Kamud."

  "And should they be able to prove such an absurd charge, what will be the penalty?"

  "Death. In what form, I know not. The seven dread judges of the Kamud deal out death in many fiendish forms. Their most merciful sentence is the stroke of the sword. Then there are the mines. A sentence to the mines is really a death sentence, for few men survive their rigors for many days."

  "And what sentence do you think they will pass on me?"

  "Of what is my lord accused?"

  "I slew a soldier of the Kamud who attacked me. Also I am to be charged with impersonating myself, because I am officially dead. Furthermore, there is some suspicion attached to me, which I cannot fathom, because I was wearing a sword of the Ma Gongi."

  Yirl Du groaned. "You might have obtained an acquittal on the first two counts, but I fear this latter spells your doom. Deza grant that I, Yirl Du, Jen of the Takkor Free Swordsmen, may never live to see my Rad die in such dishonor."

  "But why should a sword of the Ma Gongi constitute such damning evidence?"

  "It is believed," the Jen told him, "that the Ma Gongi are plotting to overthrow the Old Race--to conquer all Mars. There have been persistent rumors that one of the archaeologists has unearthed the secret of the deadly green ray.

  "Although we would not dare to publicly voice our suspicions, there are also those among us who suspect Sel Han of plotting with the Ma Gongi. He has so wormed himself into the good graces of Irintz Tel that a word breathed against him would bring instant disaster to almost any man.

  "It is said, also, that the Dixtar intends to wed his daughter Neva to this arch-plotter, and that through marriage with her he will eventually succeed to the dixtarship of Xancibar."

  "It is obvious that this Sel Han is indeed a menace to all mankind," said Thorne.

  "I have a further suspicion," went on Yirl Du, "born when you told me of the disappearance of Thaine's father. Miradon Vil, a prisoner, would be of inestimable value to Sel Han in his plans for conquest. With the Vil in his power, he could hold the royalists as well as the Kamud in the hollow of his hand. A colony of the Ma Gongi inhabits a part of the marsh not far from Miradon's hiding place. And it may well be that they, at the instigation of their ally, Sel Han, have captured the Vil and are holding him in some secret hiding place."

  Thorne was about to reply when a shrill whistle sounded.

  "Come," said Yirl Du. "That was the food signal, and the last ten men in line always go hungry."

  They both sprang forward to where a long line of prisoners was forming before a table containing some small cakes and cubical cups of pulcho, presided over by four orderlies who had already begun to hand a cup and cake to each man, under the watchful eyes of the half dozen soldiers with drawn swords. Thorne saw, on looking back, that there were exactly ten men behind him.

  Shuffling forward with the others, he was surprised to feel a powerful hand clapped on his shoulder. Before he could offer the slightest resistance, he was spun around, and found himself walking behind the man who had previously been just behind him.

  Thorne seized the brawny arm of the man who had supplanted him and swung him around. He had a swift glimpse of a glaring face, crisscrossed by a frightful pattern of livid scars. Then he drove a smashing right hook to the point of the jaw that sent the man reeling backward to the ground.

  In a moment the fellow began to recover from the effect of the blow, and sat up looking about him. Suddenly spying Thorne, he shook his bullet head, then lurched to his feet, and charged.

  Thorne turned at the sound, and prepared to meet the shock of the attack. With both arms outstretched, the man attempted to seize him, but a blow in the solar plexus followed by a swift uppercut downed him again.

  Instantly, Yirl Du, who had drained his pulcho cup and was munching his cake, tossed the food aside and sprang forward. "Let me handle this beast, my lord. He is Sur Det, the most dreaded duelist and assassin in all Xancibar."

  By this time most of the prisoners were crowding around, talking excitedly while they munched and drank.

  "Swords!" some one shouted. "Bring swords!"

  A group of guards cam shouldering through the crowd, making way for a handsome fellow who wore the purple cloak of an officer of the Kamud.

  "What's this, Sur Det?" he asked. "Fighting again?"

  Sur Det scrambled to his feet and saluted. "That fellow," he said, glaring at Thorne, "has twice assaulted me. I ask settlement by swords, which is my right according to the prison rules."

  The officer turned to Thorne. "What say you? Do you, also, desire settlement by swords?"

  "I do," the Earthman replied.

  "Obviously you have not heard of the prowess of Sur Det," said the officer. "But on your own head be your decision. Give them swords, soldiers, and let a circle be formed."

  CHAPTER 8

  As he stood, sword in hand, before his scar-faced opponent, Thorne was hooted by the multitude. A few who had heard of his supposed cowardice in his duel with Sel Han, quickly spread the word.

  "Don't puncture him too quickly, Sur Det," called one.

  "Slice him neatly," shouted another. "Let us see how good a meat-cutter you are."

  They saluted. Then Sur Det, instead of engaging Thorne's extended blade as was the custom, avoided it and attacked with a swift lunge. The Earthman was barely able to save his life by side-stepping the point.

  But Sur Det had left himself completely uncovered. Thorne now had but to extend his point, and the duel would be over. He started the lunge, but instead of sending the blade home, with a deft motion of his wrist cut the Martian symbol for the digraph "sh," a perpendicular line with a short hook to the right at the bottom.

  A murmur of surprise went up from the crowd at this, for they knew he had his enemy at his mercy. Both men recovered. After a bewildering swirl of blades Thorne found a second opening, and instead of piercing the heart of his antagonist, slashed two horizontal lines beside the first character, the Martian symbol for "e."

  "He's writing his name on the killer!" cried a spectator.

  "Write him a love letter!" yelled another.

  "Draw us a picture!" howled a third.

  When Thorne marked his chest for the second time without inflicting death, Sur Det began to realize that this strange young swordsman from Takkor, whom he had expe
cted to slay so easily, was only playing with him. With that realization, he went berserk with fear.

  Thorne met the attack that followed, merely parrying and sidestepping until he felt his opponent's wrist begin to weaken. Then with a graceful, easy lunge, he carved the last symbol of his Martian name on that barrel chest, the "b."

  At this, the crowd roared its applause, but Thorne had not yet finished; he suddenly beat down his opponent's blade with a sharp blow close to the guard--then caught it, bound it with his own blade, and with a sudden twirling wrench, sent it flashing away over the heads of the spectators. For a moment the bewildered killer stood looking in blank amazement. Then, with a shriek of terror, he turned and fled. Thorne followed closely at his heels, spanking hiundly--with the flat of his sword until the creature fell down and begged for mercy.

  “Puncture the boastful bladder and let out the wind," a spectator shouted.

  "Carve your name on his craven heart," cried another. Satisfied that the killer had been sufficiently humbled, Thorne returned to where the young officer stood, and saluted. "I am obliged to you for this diversion," he said, tendering the sword.

  "The obligation is entirely ours," replied the officer, taking the weapon. "I have never seen such marvelous sword-work, or, I am convinced, has any one in all Xancibar. And now, to the victor goes the reward. Ho, orderly!"

  At this a man came up, bearing a steaming jar of pulcho, a cup and a great platter heaped with cakes.

  "What's this?" asked Thorne.

  "The prize," smiled the officer, taking the jar from the orderly and filling a cup which he handed to the Earthman. "I regret that so distinguished a swordsman and so gallant a gentleman may not be more suitably rewarded. But this, after all is a prison."

  "To your long life," said Thorne, draining his cup. Then he turned to the orderly. "Distribute the cakes and the rest of the pulcho to the ten who were not served, including my defeated opponent."

  At this added evidence of the generosity of their new champion, the multitude shouted its approbation. More than a half hour elapsed before Thorne was able to get away from his numberous admirers and sit alone once more with Yirl Du.

  "That was a marvelous fight, my lord," said the Jen. "It will surely remove the stigma attached to your name by that unfortunate incident at the military school. The great pity of it is that it comes at a time when death by order of the Kamud is almost certain to be your lot."

  "It will be certain enough if Sel Han has his way."

  "We have many good reasons to kill that flat-nosed traitor," replied Yirl Du, "and there are two which I have not related to you. One is, that among the men who attacked us in the air I recognized one of his henchmen. So it was he who sent those assassins to slay us."

  "What is the other?" asked Thorne.

  "I have hesitated to tell you that one, as I would not give you needless pain on what may well be your last day of life. Know, then, that Sheb Takkor the elder was murdered. I was making my last round of the castle before retiring, to see if all was well, when I noticed him seated before the fireplace in his great swinging chair, hunched over in a most unnatural position. I called to him, but he made no response. I ran to his side, and saw that he was dead. A dagger had been driven into his back up to the hilt."

  "And you think it was Sel Han who struck the blow?"

  "More likely one of his hired assassins. He, and no one else, had much to gain by the death of our beloved Rad. And he alone profited by it."

  "Perhaps there was an enemy with a grudge."

  "That is not likely. The Rad never left Takkor except to hunt in the marshes or the desert, or to secretly do what he could for our deposed sovereign and his daughter. So he had no opportnity to make enemies in other than his own raddek. And I'll swear that there was not a man, woman or child among his people who did not love and revere him. Moreover, the dagger was of foreign make and delicate workmanship, not the plain sturdy kind our Takkor folk are wont to carry. I hid it in the castle, hoping that it might some day afford us proof of the identity of the assassin."

  At this juncture two guards with drawn swords in their hands stopped before Thorne.

  "Are you he who calls himself Sheb Takkor?" asked one.

  "I am," Thorne replied.

  "The Dixtar has sent for you. Come with us." Thorne stood up, but as he did so Yirl Du flung himself between the Earthman and the guards. "Wait! Don't take him! Take me! I am Sheb Takkor!"

  One of the guards laughed contemptuously. "Out of the way, O great oaf, ere I cut you down. My comrade and I sat on the wall and saw this man defeat Sur Det, the killer. Do you think you could pass for him? Moreover, have we not eyes to read the numbers on your collars?"

  Yirl Du turned to Thorne. "I fear it is the end, my lord," he groaned. He saluted. "Farewell, my lord. Deza grant you life, yet if that be not His will, a brave death."

  Thorne returned the salute. "Farewell, my friend," he answered.

  The Earthman was led through a gate into what was obviously one of the streets of a large city. It was paved with a tough, resilient material of a reddish-brown color, and was thronged with people and strange vehicles of many descriptions. There was one thing, however, which the vehicles all had in common. They did not travel on wheels, but ran about on multiple sets of jointed metal legs shod with balls of the resilient reddish-brown substance. The smallest of these odd vehicles had only two pairs of legs, but some of the larger ones had so many that they reminded him of gigantic caterpillars, moving smoothly and swiftly along the thoroughfare.

  In a moment an open vehicle with twelve pairs of legs drew up before the gate and stopped. There were three saddle-shaped seats with high backs, one in front and two side by side in the rear. A canopy overhead shaded the passengers. The front seat was occupied by a driver in military uniform. In one of the rear seats sat the Jen of the Prison Guards.

  "The Dixtar has commanded that I bring you before him," he said. "Give me your word that you will not attempt to escape while in the custody of Kov Lutas, and I will spare you the ignominy of chains."

  The Earthman thought for a moment. If he gave his word, once out of the custody of Kov Lutas, he could, with honor, make the attempt.

  "I give my word that I will not try to escape while in your custody."

  The Jen ordered the guards to remove Thorne's prison collar, and when this was done, dismissed them with a wave of his hand. "Get in," he invited.

  Thorne climbed into the vacant saddle. The driver, who sat holding two levers that projected up through the floor at either side of his saddle, now slowly moved these forward. At this, the vehicle started silently and was soon moving through the traffic at a considerable speed.

  Thorne saw that when the driver wished to turn to the right he advanced the left lever and drew back the right, and heye reversed the process to turn to the left. To increase the speed, he pushed both levers forward, and to decrease it drew them backward. When they were drawn back to a certain point, the vehicle came to a full stop.

  Having satisfied his curiosity regarding the vehicle, Thorne turned his attention to the strange sights about him.

  Noting the Earthman's interest in his surroundings, Kov Lutas said: "Apparently this is your first visit to Dukor. Perhaps you would like to have me explain some of the sights of the city."

  "I should be grateful," Thorne replied.

  "Dukor is divided into four equal quarters by the intersecting triple canals, Zeelan and Corvid. We are now in the northwest quarter of the city, and about to cross the Zeelan Canal into the northeast quarter, where the palace which formerly belonged to the Vil, but is now occupied by the Dixtar, is located."

  "It must be a tremendous city."

  "There are approximately five million people residing in each quarter," replied Kov Lutas, "or twenty million in all. Also, we have each day about ten million transients who come on commercial or state business, or simply to visit and to see the sights. Dukor is a fair-sized city as cities go. Of course it does
not seem large in comparison with Raliad, capital city of Kalsivar, which commands the intersections of four great triple canals, for Raliad is said to have a population of a hundred million."

  While he was speaking they came to the approach of a tremendous arched bridge, so long they could not see the farther end of it. In a moment they were out upon it, and Thorne was looking down upon the surface of the first of the three canals which collectively bore the name of Zeelan because they occupied the same huge trench. This canal swarmed with craft of many sizes and shapes, a large number of which were discharging freight into the dock warehouses which lined its banks.

  The huge central canal at the bottom of the great trench, which caught the drainage from the two upper irrigating canals, was lined with bathers of all ages who wore no clothing whatever.