Worlds of Edgar Rice Burroughs

by Mike Resnick

  Then, for what seemed an interminably long time, they made no further attempts to persecute me. I was hoping that they would assume I was dead and carry me out of the room, and once outside I intended to make a break for freedom.

  At last I heard a door open, and awaited the sound of metal accoutrements clanking together, but none was forthcoming. Instead, a strange shuffling sound came to my ears.

  I made no move until I felt a heavy hand grab my arm, and, opening my eyes slightly, I was greeted by a most horrible sight. I knew at once that I was looking at a targath, for those protruding fangs and that eyeless head could belong only to the creature Tan Hadron had described to me.

  I wrenched myself free and backed off from the targath. His movements brought to mind the picture of a giant sloth, but in appearance he was unique. No words can adequately describe that unseeing face, those great patches of long, gray hair, the sheer brute power of his nine-foot frame.

  He snarled and lunged at me, but I was too fast for him. Sidestepping quickly, I grabbed one of his massive arms and twisted with all the strength that remained in my weakened body. He spun through the air and landed on his back with a resounding thud.

  My sword was out now, and the fighting smile that has ever been my trademark spread across my face. If I was to die, at least it would be in mortal combat with a tangible foe.

  He was soon on his feet again, but as he rushed me I jumped to one side and severed one of his boneless hands. With a roar of rage and pain he wheeled and pressed on his attack, but it was only a matter of time now, for he was fighting with the Warlord of Barsoom, not with the pitiful creature who had so recently been teetering on the brink of madness.

  I put a deep gash in the targath’s breast as he turned to face me, and an instant later his head rolled to the floor.

  A quick glance around the room told me that all the doors were locked again, and, without hesitation, I jumped upward to a crossbeam. My act had so surprised my captors that they had turned the light onto the floor of the room before they realized I wasn’t there, and for the first time I was able to determine its location. It was set into the wall some fifteen feet above the stone floor in such a way as to be invisible from the ground. As I watched its effect, I learned why I could never escape its rays, turn as I might: the ornamentation on the doors was so highly polished as to act as reflectors, and the blinding light, upon hitting the doors, shot off in all directions.

  All this, which has taken so long to relate, happened very rapidly. It couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds from the time the targath grabbed me until I discovered the secret of the light. I was now in complete possession of my senses, and knew that I must act with haste if my recent efforts were to avail me at all. To remain on the beam was hopeless; to return to the floor even less than hopeless. I had but one alternative: I must go up.

  The sorapus beams were attached to a smooth section of the wall, and I could discern no possible handholds there. Looking above me, I could see naught but shadowy shapes, but it were far better to fall to my death than to remain a prisoner in the Chamber of Madness.

  My decision made, I leapt as high as I could. My hand brushed against something hard at the apex of my leap, and I instantly grabbed a firm hold of it. Pulling myself up, I found myself to be on another beam, but this one was broad and thick, unlike the one I had just quit.

  As I stood up I was startled to feel a draft of cool air blowing across my face. I walked quickly in the direction from which it had come, and soon came into contact with a panel which gave way when I threw my weight against it. On the other side of the panel was a dimly lit corridor, and, pausing only to replace the panel as best I could, I broke into a run, my footsteps echoing down the winding passage.

  I turned into different corridors whenever possible, and after a while I suddenly came to one which had such an accumulation of dust on the floor that I was sure no one had traversed it for many years.

  Unlike most of the passages I had seen, this one had no branches, although I passed a multitude of doors. I felt certain that my tormentors would still be trying to find me in the gloomy rafters of the Chamber of Madness, and that it would be some time before they discovered how I had escaped. That, plus the fact that the corridor I was in would probably be among the last to be searched, gave me a feeling of comparative safety.

  I had traveled for another half mile before I decided to examine one of the rooms which faced the corridor. Choosing one at random, I opened the door and entered a long-deserted storeroom. I closed and latched the door behind me and surveyed my surroundings.

  There was a finely carved ersite table, a chair of skeel (a Barsoomian hardwood), and several bundles of silks and furs.

  A sudden sound from a darkened corner of the room brought me to attention, and I was soon confronting an ulsio. I made short work of the deadly rodent, and then tried to determine how he had made his way into the place. The answer was soon apparent. There was another door on the opposite side of the room, leading into another corridor, and it was partially open.

  Crossing the room, I looked into the new passageway. Like the one I had just left, it was dusty and deserted, and was illuminated only by an occasional radium torch, that remarkable invention which can provide light for indefinite periods of time. This door I also locked, and then, turning to the dead ulsio, I neatly skinned it with my sword and cut off its haunches, which I proceeded to eat with relish. I know the thought is repulsive, but if you have never suffered from hunger do not judge me too harshly.

  Having eaten, I lay down upon a pile of furs and promptly fell into a long, deep sleep. It was risky, sleeping while an entire city was searching for me, but I was in no condition to proceed.

  I must have slept almost an entire day, for I felt as good as ever when I awoke. My arm was still stiff and a bit sore from the banth’s talons, but except for that I seemed to have recovered from my ordeal,

  I had no knowledge as to where I was, and so, opening the door through which I had entered, I proceeded once more down the long corridor. Far ahead I could hear indistinct noises, but whether they were Hin Abtol’s warriors or the ulsios which haunted the catacombs of Ayathor I knew not.

  Then, suddenly, the corridor turned abruptly, and I found myself face-to-face with Bal Daxus.

  “John Carter!” he exclaimed. “I had given you up for dead, and was on my way to rescue Lirai myself.”

  “What of Tan Hadron?” I asked.

  “Talon Gar became suspicious of me and doubled Tan Hadron’s guard. It was impossible to release him.”

  “You say this corridor leads to Lirai?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “I came across the maps of Ayathor a short time ago. It seems that the Tower of the Apts, in which Lirai is imprisoned, was once in antiquity the private chamber of a long-dead Jeddak. Fearing insurrection, he had a secret corridor built as a means of escape. Hin Abtol changed the room into a prison, never guessing the secret it held,”

  “If we accomplish Lirai’s escape,” I began, “and I see no reason why we should fail, I must then return to the Pits and try to release Tan Hadron. Will you give me the directions?”

  He looked hurt. “Directions? I will lead you there myself!”

  “Bal Daxus, you have done enough. There is no need to further endanger Lirai and yourself on our behalf.”

  For an answer he unbuckled his sword and threw it at my feet. In Earthly terms, this act is the equivalent of his pledging to me his sword, his life, his soul, his honor, and his obedience until death and beyond. It is an oath of allegiance, and from that day on, were I right or wrong, my word would be his only truth. It was a noble and touching gesture, and in accordance with Barsoomian custom, I placed the hilt of the sword to my lips and returned it to him. “And now,” I said, “to the task at hand.”

  “To the death?” It was not intended as a question.

  “To the death,” I replied, and we advanced grimly along the narrow corridor.

  Reunion an
d Pursuit

  Far ahead the passage curved again, and Bal Daxus drew to a halt.

  “It is here,” he said, “that we may begin to run into difficulties. The Tower of the Apts is not far from here, and if anyone else knows of this secret corridor, there will be guards posted.”

  “That suits me fine,” I answered, for after the Chamber of Madness I was ready to wreak my vengeance upon the whole of Ayathor, and there was no better way to begin than by stealing Hin Abtol’s newest object of lust and killing a few of his men into the bargain. I drew my sword.

  “You do not understand, John Carter,” said Bal Daxus. “After we come to the turn in the corridor, it is a straight fifty ads to the door of the Tower.”

  An ad is about 9.75 Earth feet. This meant that we’d be sitting ducks for the guards, and I had no doubt that they wouldn’t hesitate to use their radium pistols on us long before we could close with them.

  Slowly and silently we made our way to the turn. Then, cautiously, I looked around the corner and, sure enough, there were four guards stationed by the door.

  “What are we to do?” asked Bal Daxus.

  “Has Lirai told Hin Abtol that you are her betrothed yet?” I asked.

  “No,” he answered. “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Good! Then run out into their vision and tell them that you’ve seen me in one of the rooms. Since you are still in Hin Abtol’s favor, they won’t suspect a trick, and if you follow them to the turn, we’ll have them trapped between us.”

  “An excellent idea,” he agreed and promptly ran off toward Lirai’s cell shouting, “The Warlord! I’ve found the Warlord!”

  The four men immediately ran to meet him. “Where is he?” demanded the one who appeared to be their leader.

  Bal Daxus pointed in my direction, and I quickly drew back out of sight. “Go ahead,” he said. “I am weary from my efforts and will bring up the rear.”

  The warriors asked no questions, but hastened toward me. When the sound of their footsteps told me that they were nearing the corner, I stepped out into the middle of the corridor.

  “Here he is!” cried the leader, and with that they fell upon me furiously. I stepped back for a moment before this onslaught, but even as I retreated, my blade drank deep of the lifeblood of the nearest of my opponents. He had scarcely fallen ere Bal Daxus was upon them from behind, hewing and slashing before they knew he was there. Soon only one remained, and, sidestepping a wicked thrust, I ran him through. I then proceeded to transfer his shortsword, dagger and radium pistol to my harness.

  “Let us hasten,” I said, “for we have no idea when their replacements may arrive.”

  In a matter of minutes we had forced open the door, and shortly thereafter Bal Daxus was holding a beautiful young girl in his arms. This, I knew, must be Lirai.

  It was a tender and touching scene, but I had to urge them out, as we were still in immediate danger there. As we left, I closed the door as best I could, hoping that that would afford us another minute of safety from pursuit.

  “Now what?” asked Bal Daxus.

  “There is a deserted room in which I rested not too long ago,” I replied. “Lirai will be safe there while we try to rescue Tan Hadron of Hastor.”

  This agreed upon, I stopped by another corpse long enough to remove a radium pistol. This I handed to Lirai.

  “I don’t believe anyone will find you before we return,” I told her, “but in case they should, this will offer you ample protection.”

  She took it and then lifted a dagger from the corpse’s harness. Bal Daxus looked questioningly at her, and she met his gaze with a brave expression on her lovely face. “Should you not return,” she said.

  We soon reached the room which contained the ulsio I had slain. Lirai saw the creature lying on the floor, but never hesitated. I waited in the corridor while Bal Daxus bade her good-bye, and then, following him, I set off for the Pits.

  “Once there,” I asked him, “how will we free Hadron?” I had been living from one instant to the next, and it now occurred to me that reaching the Pits was just the first step: now we had to figure out how to get into Tan Hadron’s cell and unchain him.

  “You forget,” said Bal Daxus, “that I am Dwar of the Third Utan. I have access to the Pits, and serve guard duty there daily.”

  “How will you explain my presence away?” I asked.

  “If you have any red pigment left, we can go back and rob one of the men we just killed of his harness; then you could easily pass for one of my warriors.”

  I shook my head, explaining that the pigment was still aboard my flier.

  “I must admit that I am now at a loss,” he said.

  Then a plan struck my mind, and I immediately proposed it to him.

  “How is time measured here?” I asked. “I remember you said that you served guard duty ‘daily.’”

  “There is a large clock in the Throne Room.”

  “And the guards have no way of knowing the time until they are relieved?”

  He gave me a smile of comprehension. “Of course!” he exclaimed. “I could relieve the dwar on duty and never be challenged.”

  “Once you are in charge,” I continued, “it should be an easy matter to unlock Tan Hadron. Should anyone ask you, reply that you are taking him to the Games.”

  “An excellent plan!” he exclaimed. “So simple, and yet that simplicity is the beauty of it! Come, and I will show you where you may wait until we return.”

  He led me to a point where the corridor came to its last fork before reaching the Pits.

  “In this direction,” he said, “lie half a million frozen warriors. Unless we are attacked and have immediate need of them, you will be safe here, for only one man is needed to guard Hin Abtol’s frozen army. Should anyone chance upon this corridor before I return, I think you will know what to do.”

  Without another word, I slipped into the dark passageway while Bal Daxus continued along the main corridor. So this was the location of Hin Abtol’s army! I fixed it in my mind, for it might soon prove very useful indeed.

  I wondered how our ruse would fare, nor did I have long to wait for my answer, for soon Bal Daxus returned, and at his side was Tan Hadron of Hastor.

  “It went very smoothly,” said Bal Daxus. “but we have no time to lose. The dwar I replaced will discover our plot shortly, and we had best put as much distance as possible between the Pits and ourselves.”

  We hastened to Lirai’s room and were dismayed to discover that she was gone. The pistol and dagger were on the floor, and the room showed signs of a struggle.

  “The other door is open!” cried Bal Daxus, and raced into the adjoining corridor.

  “Finding her will be child’s play,” I said, as Tan Hadron and I followed him out of the room.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Observe the floor of the corridor,” I said. “There are two sets of prints in the dust, one much larger than the other. Some man evidently followed our own prints in the other corridor, entered the room, and abducted Lirai.”

  The dank, dust-filled corridor was unfamiliar to Bal Daxus, and, as it became lighter, we slowed our pace and proceeded with more care. There were no forks or branches, and we had no trouble following the trail Lirai and her abductor had left. Then the corridor took a sudden dip, and we descended until it seemed certain that we must soon rise again or suffocate from the lack of fresh air. Yet two people before us had followed this path, and we would do it, too. So, never faltering, we hurried onward.

  At last we came to a large wooden door, which marked the corridor’s end, and, opening it, we found ourselves on the shore of the Sea of Ayathor.

  Some half a mile away, lying trussed upon a raft, was Lirai. Her captor was paddling furiously, and I recognized him at once, despite the distance and the darkness; it was Talon Gar.

  “Evidently he learned where Lirai was hidden,” said Tan Hadron, “and made off with her before Hin Abtol could stop him. Probably no one is ye
t aware of his absence.”

  “Where is he going?” I asked. “I believe the shaft lies in the opposite direction.”

  “It would be useless for him to try and escape through the shaft without a flier,” answered Bal Daxus, “and Hin Abtol controls all the fliers. No, John Carter, he is not headed for the shaft.”

  “What, then, is his destination?” I asked, mystified.

  “There is only one place he could land in the direction he is heading: the Island of the Dead.”

  “What are we to do, then?” asked Tan Hadron. “We cannot follow him without some craft.”

  We fell to searching the shore, but there were no more rafts. Then a wild idea occurred to me. It seemed absurd, but there was no alternative if we were to save Lirai from that sadistic maniac.

  “The door!” I said, “We’ll make a raft out of the door!”

  They looked skeptical, but fell to work immediately. The door was about twelve feet in height, and better than five feet across. The three of us tore it off its hinges and, hoping against hope, set it in the water.

  It floated, and, pausing only long enough to hack off part of the frame to serve as crude paddles, we soon were in full pursuit of Talon Gar, the moaning sounds from the Island of the Dead ringing louder and ever louder in our ears.

  The Island of the Dead

  The sea was still and placid, and only that fact kept our makeshift craft from capsizing; Talon Gar and Lirai were out of sight now, but Bal Daxus directed us accurately along our course, and soon the island loomed large before us.

  We saw Talon Gar’s raft lying on the shore and landed next to it. Then, walking ashore, we again picked up his trail.

  We walked by a group of deserted huts, and I was reminded of an African village, so closely did the layout resemble various native bombas I had seen during my travels on Earth. There was no sign of life, however, and we did not stop to investigate the dwellings.