The Collected John Carter of Mars (Volume 2)

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

  “What is the meaning of this?” I demanded. “Why are we made prisoners? Why have we been brought here?”

  She beckoned me to come to the divan on which she reclined, and as I approached she motioned to me to sit down beside her.

  “What you have seen to-night,” she said, “represents the three fates that lie in store for you. Ghron has taken a fancy to you and he is giving you your choice.”

  “I do not yet quite understand,” I said.

  “You saw the victim before the grill?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “Would you care to suffer that fate?”

  “Scarcely.”

  “You saw the unhappy ones being bent and broken for the dance of the cripples,” she pursued.

  “I did,” I answered.

  “And now you see this luxurious room—and me. Which would you choose?”

  “I cannot believe,” I replied, “that the final alternative is without conditions, which might make it appear less attractive than it now seems, for otherwise there could be no possible question as to which I would choose.”

  “You are right,” she said. “There are conditions.”

  “What are they?” I asked.

  “You will become an officer in the palace of the Jed, and as such you will conduct tortures similar to those you have witnessed in the pits of the palace. You will be guided by whatever whim may possess your master.”

  I drew myself to my full height. “I choose the fire,” I said.

  “I knew that you would,” she said sadly, “and yet I hoped that you might not.”

  “It is not because of you,” I said quickly. “It is the other conditions which no man of honour could accept.”

  “I know,” she said, “and had you accepted them I must eventually have despised you as I despise the others.”

  “You are unhappy here?” I asked.

  “Of course,” she said. “Who but a maniac could be happy in this horrid place? There are, perhaps, six hundred people in the city and there is not one who knows happiness. A hundred of us form the court of the Jed; the others are slaves. As a matter of fact, we are all slaves, subject to every mad whim or caprice of the maniac who is our master.”

  “And there is no escape?” I asked.

  “None.”

  “I shall escape,” I said.

  “How?”

  “The fire,” I replied.

  She shuddered. “I do not know why I should care so much,” she said, “unless it is that I liked you from the first. Even while I was helping to lure you into the city for the human spider of Ghasta, I wished that I might warn you not to enter, but I was afraid, just as I am afraid to die. I wish that I had your courage to escape through the fire.”

  I turned to Nur An, who had been listening to our conversation. “You have reached your decision?” I asked.

  “Certainly,” he said. “There could be but one decision for a man of honour.”

  “Good!” I exclaimed, and then I turned to the girl. “You will notify Ghron of our decision?” I asked.

  “Wait,” she said; “ask for time in which to consider it. I know that it will make no difference in the end, but yet——Oh, even yet there is a germ of hope within me that even utter hopelessness cannot destroy.”

  “You are right,” I said. “There is always hope. Let him think that you have half persuaded us to accept the life of luxury and ease that he has offered as an alternative to death or torture, and that if you are given a little more time you may succeed. In the meantime we may be able to work out some plan of escape.”

  “Never,” she said.

  chapter IX

  PHOR TAK OF JHAMA

  BACK IN OUR QUARTERS in the chimney tower, Nur An and I discussed every mad plan of escape that entered our brains. For some reason our fetters had not been replaced, which gave us at least as much freedom of action as our apartment afforded, and you may rest assured that we took full advantage of it, examining minutely every square inch of the floor and the walls as far up as we could reach, but our combined efforts failed to reveal any means for raising the partition which closed the only avenue of escape from our prison, with the exception of the window, which, while heavily barred and some two hundred feet above the ground, was by no means, therefore, eliminated from our plans.

  The heavy vertical bars which protected the window withstood our combined efforts when we sought to bend them, though Nur An is a powerful man, while I have always been lauded for my unusual muscular development. The bars were set a little too close together to permit our bodies to pass through, but the removal of one of them would leave an opening of ample size; yet to what purpose? Perhaps the same answer was in Nur An’s mind that was in mine—that when hope was gone and the sole alternative remaining was the fire within the grill, we might at least cheat Ghron could we but hurl ourselves from this high-flung window to the ground far below.

  But whatever end each of us may have had in view, he kept it to himself, and when I started digging at the mortar at the bottom of one of the bars with the prong of a buckle from my harness, Nur An asked no questions but set to work similarly upon the mortar at the top of the same bar. We worked in silence and with little fear of discovery, as no one had entered our prison since we had been incarcerated there. Once a day the partition was raised a few inches and food was slipped in to us beneath it, but we did not see the person who brought it, nor did anyone communicate with us from the time that the guards had taken us to the palace that first night up to the moment that we had finally succeeded in loosening the bar so that it could be easily removed from its seat.

  I shall never forget with what impatience we awaited the coming of night, that we might remove the bar and investigate the surrounding surface of the tower, for it had occurred to me that it might offer a means of descent to the ground below, or rather to the roof of the building which it surmounted, from where we might hope to make our way to the summit of the city wall undetected. Already, in view of this possibility, I had planned to tear strips from the fabric covering our walls wherewith to make a rope down which we might lower ourselves to the ground beyond the city wall.

  As night approached I commenced to realize how high I had built my hopes upon this idea. It already seemed as good as accomplished, especially when I had utilized the possibilities of the rope to its fullest extent, which included making one of sufficient length to reach from our window to the bottom of the tower. Thus every obstacle was overcome. It was then, just at dusk, that I explained my plan to Nur An.

  “Fine,” he exclaimed. “Let us start at once making our rope. We know how strong this fabric is and that a slender strand of it will support our weight. There is enough upon one wall to make all the rope we need.”

  Success seemed almost assured as we started to remove the fabric from one of the larger walls, but here we met with our first obstacle. The fabric was fastened at the top and at the bottom with large-headed nails, set close together, which withstood our every effort to tear it loose. Thin and light in weight, this remarkable fabric appeared absolutely indestructible, and we were almost exhausted by our efforts when we were finally forced to admit defeat.

  The quick Barsoomian night had fallen and we might now, with comparative safety, remove the bar from the window and reconnoitre for the first time beyond the restricted limits of our cell; but hope was now low within our breasts and it was with little anticipation of encouragement that I drew myself to the sill and projected my head and shoulders through the aperture.

  Below me lay the sombre, gloomy city, its blackness relieved by a few dim lights, most of which shone faintly from the palace windows. I passed my palm over the surface of the tower that lay within arm’s reach, and again my heart sank within me. Smooth, almost glass-like volcanic rock, beautifully cut and laid, offered not the slightest hand-hold—indeed an insect might have found it difficult to have clung to its polished surface.

  “It is quite hopeless,” I said as I drew my
head back into the room. “The tower is as smooth as a woman’s breast.”

  “What is above?” asked Nur An.

  Again I leaned out, this time looking upward. Just above me were the eaves of the tower—our cell was at the highest level of the structure. Something impelled me to investigate in that direction—an insane urge, perhaps, born of despair.

  “Hold my ankles, Nur An,” I said, “and in the name of your first ancestor, hold tightly!”

  Clinging to two of the remaining bars I raised myself to a standing position upon the window ledge, while Nur An clung to my ankles. I could just reach the top of the eaves with my extended fingers.

  Lowering myself again to the sill, I whispered to Nur An. “I am going to attempt to reach the roof of the tower,” I exclaimed.

  “Why?” he asked.

  I laughed. “I do not know,” I admitted, “but something within my inner consciousness seems insistently to urge me on.”

  “If you fall,” he said, “you will have escaped the fire—and I will follow you. Good luck, my friend from Hastor!”

  Once again I raised myself to a standing position upon the sill and reached upward until my fingers bent above the edge of the lofty roof. Slowly I drew myself upward; below me, two hundred feet, lay the palace roof and death. I am very strong—only a very strong man could have hoped to succeed, for I had at best but a precarious hold upon the flat roof above me, but at last I succeeded in getting an elbow over and then I drew my body slowly over the edge until, at last, I lay panting upon the basalt flagging that topped the slender tower.

  Resting a few moments, I arose to my feet. Mad, passionate Thuria raced across the cloudless sky; Cluros, her cold spouse, swung his aloof circle in splendid isolation; below me lay the valley of Hohr like some enchanted fairyland of ancient lore; above me frowned the beetling cliff that hemmed in this madman’s world.

  A puff of hot air struck me suddenly in the face, recalling to my mind that far below in the pits of Ghasta an orgy of torture was occurring. Faintly a scream arose from the black mouth of the flue behind me. I shuddered, but my attention was centered upon the yawning opening now and I approached it. Almost unbearable waves of heat were billowing upward from the mouth of the chimney. There was little smoke, so perfect was the combustion, but what there was shot into the air at terrific velocity. It almost seemed that were I to cast myself upon it I should be carried far aloft.

  It was then that a thought was born—a mad, impossible idea, it seemed, and yet it clung to me as I lowered myself gingerly over the outer edge of the tower and finally regained the greater security of my cell.

  I was about to explain my insane plan to Nur An when I was interrupted by sounds from the adjoining chamber and an instant later the partition started to rise. I thought they were bringing us food again, but the partition rose further than was necessary for the passing of food receptacles beneath it, and a moment later we saw the ankles and legs of a woman beneath the base of the rising wall. Then a girl stooped and entered our cell. In the light from the adjoining room I recognized her—she who had been selected by Ghron to lure me to his will. Her name was Sharu.

  Nur An had quickly replaced the bar on the window, and when the girl entered there was nothing to indicate that aught was amiss, or that one of us had so recently been outside our cell. The partition remained half raised, permitting light to enter the apartment, and the girl, looking at me, must have noticed my gaze wandering to the adjoining room.

  “Do not let your hopes rise,” she said with a rueful smile. “There are guards waiting at the level next below.”

  “Why are you here, Sharu?” I asked.

  “Ghron sent me,” she replied. “He is impatient for your decision.”

  I thought quickly. Our only hope lay in the sympathy of this girl, whose attitude in the past had at least demonstrated her friendliness. “Had we a dagger and a needle,” I said in a low whisper, “we could give Ghron his answer upon the morning of the day after tomorrow.”

  “What reason can I give him for this further delay?” she asked after a moment’s thought.

  “Tell him,” said Nur An, “that we are communing with our ancestors and that upon their advice shall depend our decision.”

  Sharu smiled. She drew a dagger from its sheath at her side and laid it upon the floor, and from a pocket-pouch attached to her harness she produced a needle, which she laid beside the dagger. “I shall convince Ghron that it is best to wait,” she said. “My heart had hoped, Hadron of Hastor, that you would decide to remain with me, but I am glad that I have not been mistaken in my estimate of your character. You will die, my warrior, but at least you will die as a brave man should and undefiled. Good-bye! I look upon you in life for the last time, but until I am gathered to my ancestors your image shall remain enshrined within my heart.”

  She was gone; the partition dropped, and again we had the two things that I most desired—a dagger and a needle.

  “Of what good are those?” asked Nur An as I gathered the two articles from the floor.

  “You will see,” I replied, and immediately I set to work cutting the fabric from the walls of our cell and then, standing upon Nur An’s shoulders, I removed also that which covered the ceiling. I worked quickly, for I knew that we had little time in which to accomplish that which I had set out to do. A mad scheme it was, and yet withal within the realms of practicability.

  Working in the dark, more by sense of feel than by sight, I must have been inspired by some higher power to have accomplished with any degree of perfection the task that I had set myself.

  The balance of that night and all of the following day Nur An and I laboured without rest until we had fashioned an enormous bag from the fabric that had covered the walls and ceiling of our cell, and from the scraps that remained we fashioned long ropes and when night fell again our task was completed.

  “May luck be with us,” I said.

  “The scheme is worthy of the mad brain of Ghron himself,” said Nur An; “yet it has within it the potentialities of success.”

  “Night has fallen,” I said; “we need not delay longer. Of one thing, however, we may be sure: Whether we succeed or fail we shall have escaped the fire, and in either event may our ancestors look with love and compassion upon Sharu, whose friendship has made possible our attempt.”

  “Whose love,” corrected Nur An.

  Once again I made the perilous ascent to the roof, taking one of our new-made ropes with me. Then, from the summit, I lowered it to Nur An, who fastened the great bag to it; after which I drew the fruits of our labours carefully to the roof beside me. It was as light as a feather, yet stronger than the well-tanned hide of a zitidar. Next, I lowered the rope and assisted Nur An to my side, but not until he had replaced the bar that we had removed from the window.

  Attached to the bottom of our bag, which was open, were a number of long cords, terminating in loops. Through these loops we passed the longest rope that we had made—a rope so long that it entirely encircled the circumference of the tower when we lowered it below the projecting eaves. We made it fast there, but with a slip knot that could be instantly released with a single jerk.

  Next, we slid the loops at the end of the ropes attached to the bottom of the bag along the cord that encircled the tower below the eaves until we had manoeuvred the opening of the bag directly over the mouth of the flue leading down into the furnace of death in the pits of Ghasta. Standing upon either side of the flue, Nur An and I lifted the bag until it commenced to fill with the hot air rushing from the chimney. Presently it was sufficiently inflated to remain in an erect position, whereupon, leaving Nur An to steady it, I moved the loops until they were at equal distances from one another, thus anchoring the bag directly over the centre of the flue. Then I passed another rope loosely through the loops and secured its ends together, and to opposite sides of this rope Nur An and I snapped the boarding hooks that are a part of the harness of every Barsoomian warrior, the primary purpose of which is
to lower boarding parties from the deck of one ship to that of another directly below, but which in practice are used in countless ways and numerous emergencies.

  Then we waited; Nur An ready to slip the knot that held the rope around the tower beneath the eaves, and I, upon the opposite side, with Sharu’s sharp dagger prepared to cut the rope upon my side.

  I saw the great bag that we had made filling with hot air. At first, loosely inflated, it rocked and swayed, but presently, its sides distended, it strained upward. Its fabric stretched tightly until I thought that it would burst. It tugged and pulled at its restraining cords, and yet I waited.

  Down in the valley of Hohr there was little or no wind, which greatly facilitated the carrying out of our rash venture.

  The great bag, almost as large as the room in which we had been confined, bellied above us. It strained upon its guy ropes in its impatience to be aloft until I wondered that they held, and then I gave the word.

  Simultaneously Nur An slipped his knot and I severed the rope upon the opposite side. Freed, the great bag leaped aloft, snapping us in its wake. It shot upward with a velocity that was astounding until the valley of Hohr was but a little hollow in the surface of the great world that lay below us.

  Presently a wind caught us, and you may be assured that we gave thanks to our ancestors as we realized that we were at last drifting from above the cruel city of Ghasta. The wind increased until it was blowing rapidly in a north-easterly direction, but little did we care where it wafted us as long as it took us away from the river Syl and the valley of Hohr.

  After we had passed beyond the crater of the ancient volcano, which formed the bed of the valley in which lay sombre Ghasta, we saw below us, in the moonlight, a rough volcanic country that presented a weird and impressive appearance of unreality; deep chasms and tumbled piles of basalt seemed to present an insurmountable barrier to man, which may explain why in this remote and desolate corner of Barsoom the valley of Hohr had lain for countless ages undiscovered.

  The wind increased. Floating at a great altitude we were being carried at considerable speed, yet I could see that we were very slowly falling as the hot air within our bag cooled. How much longer it would keep us up I could not guess, but I hoped it would bear us at least beyond the uninviting terrain beneath us.