The Collected John Carter of Mars (Volume 2)

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

  As Tul Axtar gained sufficient altitude and straightened out upon his course he opened the throttle wide, so that the wind rushing by me at terrific velocity seemed momentarily upon the point of carrying me from my precarious hold and hurtling me to the ground far below. Fortunately I am a strong man—none other could have survived that ordeal—yet how utterly helpless I was.

  Had Tul Axtar guessed the truth he could have raised the after hatch and had me at his mercy, for though my pistol hung at my side I could not have released either hand to use it, but doubtless Tul Axtar did not know, or if he did he hoped that the high speed of the ship would dislodge whoever or whatever it might have been that he felt drop upon it.

  I had hung there but a short time before I realized that eventually my hold must weaken and be torn loose. Something must be done to rectify my position. Tavia must be saved, and because I alone could save her, I must not die.

  Straining every thew I dragged myself further forward until I lay with my chest upon the turret. Slowly, inch by inch, I wormed myself forward. The tubular sheeting of the periscope was just in front of me. If I could but reach that with one hand I might hope to attain greater safety. The wind was buffeting me, seeking to tear me away. I sought a better hold with my left forearm about the turret, and then I reached quickly forward with my right hand and my fingers closed about the sheathing.

  After that it was not difficult to stretch a part of my harness about the front of the turret. Now I found that I could have one hand free, but until the ship stopped I could not hope to accomplish anything more.

  What was transpiring beneath me? Could Tavia be safe even for a brief time in the power of Tul Axtar? The thought drove me frantic. The Jhama must be stopped, and then an inspiration came to me.

  With my free hand I unsnapped my pocket-pouch from my harness, and drawing myself still further forward, I managed to place the open pouch over the eye of the periscope.

  Immediately Tul Axtar was blind; he could see nothing, nor was it long before the reaction that I had expected and hoped for came—the Jhama slowed down and finally came to a stop.

  I had been lying partially upon the forward hatch, and now I drew myself away from and in front of it. I hoped that it would be the forward hatch that he would open. It was the closer to him. I waited, and then glancing forward I saw that he was opening the ports. In this way he could see to navigate the ship and my plan was blocked.

  I was disappointed, but I would not give up hope. Very quietly I tried the forward hatch, but it was locked upon the inside. Then I made my way swiftly and silently to the after hatch. If he should start the Jhama again at full speed now, doubtless I should be lost, but I felt that I was forced to risk the chance. Already the Jhama was in motion again as I had my hand upon the hatch cover. This time I was neither silent nor gentle. I heaved vigorously and the hatch opened. Not an instant did I hesitate, and as the Jhama leaped forward again at full speed, I dropped through the hatchway to the interior of the craft.

  As I struck the deck Tul Axtar heard me, and wheeling from the controls to face me, he recognized me. I think I never before beheld such an expression of mingled astonishment, hatred and fear as convulsed his features. At his feet lay Tavia, so quietly still that I thought her dead, and then Tul Axtar reached for his pistol and I for mine, but I have led a cleaner life than Tul Axtar had. My mind and muscles co-ordinate with greater celerity than can those of one who has wasted his fibre in dissipation.

  Point-blank I fired at his putrid heart, and Tul Axtar, Jeddak and tyrant of Jahar, lunged forward upon the lower deck of the Jhama dead.

  Instantly I sprang to Tavia’s side and turned her over. She had been bound and gagged and, for some unaccountable reason, blindfolded as well, but she was not dead. I almost sobbed for joy when I realized that. How my fingers seemed to fumble in their haste to free her; yet it was only a matter of seconds ere it was done and I was crushing her in my arms.

  I know that my tears fell upon her upturned face as our lips were pressed together, and I am not ashamed of that, and Tavia wept too and clung to me and I could feel her dear body tremble. How terrified she must have been, and yet I knew she had never shown it to Tul Axtar. It was the reaction—the mingling of relief and joy at the moment when the despair had been blackest.

  In that instant, as our hearts beat together and she drew me closer to her, a great truth dawned upon me. What a stupid fool I had been! How could I ever have thought that the sentiment that I entertained for Sanoma Tora was love? How could I ever believe that my love for Tavia had been such a weak thing as friendship? I drew her closer, if such were possible.

  “My princess,” I whispered.

  Upon Barsoom those two words, spoken by man to maid, have a peculiar and unalterable significance, for no man speaks thus to any woman that he does not wish for wife.

  “No, no,” sobbed Tavia. “Take me, I am yours; but I am only a slave girl. Tan Hadron of Hastor cannot mate with such.”

  Even then she thought only of me and my happiness, and not of herself at all. How different she was from such as Sanoma Tora! I had risked my life to win a clod of dirt and I had found a priceless jewel.

  I looked her in the eyes, those beautiful, fathomless wells of love and understanding. “I love you, Tavia,” I said. “Tell me that I may have the right to call you my princess.”

  “Even though I be a slave?” she asked.

  “Even though you were a thousand times less than a slave,” I told her.

  She sighed and snuggled closer to me. “My chieftain,” she whispered in a low, low voice.

  That, as far as I, Tan Hadron of Hastor, am concerned, is the end of the story. That instant marked the highest pinnacle to me which I may ever hope to achieve, but there is more that may interest those who have come thus far with me upon adventures that have carried me half-way around the southern hemisphere of Barsoom.

  When Tavia and I could tear ourselves apart, which was not soon, I opened the lower hatch and let the corpse of Tul Axtar find its last resting-place upon the barren ground below. Then we turned back towards Jhama, where we discovered that earlier in the morning Nur An had come to one of the roofs of the palace and been discovered by Phao.

  When Nur An had learned that I had entered the palace just before dawn, he had become apprehensive and instituted a search for me. He had not known of the coming of Tul Axtar, and believed that the Jeddak must have arrived after he had retired for the night; nor had he known how close Tavia had been, lying bound in the Jhama close beside the palace wall.

  His search of the palace, however, had revealed the fact that Phor Tak was missing. He had summoned the slaves and a careful search had been made, but no sign of Phor Tak was visible.

  It occurred to me then that I might solve the question as to the whereabouts of the old scientist. “Come with me,” I said to Nur An; “perhaps I can find Phor Tak for you.”

  I led him to the laboratory. “There is no use searching there,” he said, “we have looked in a hundred times to-day. A glance will reveal the fact that the laboratory is deserted.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Let us not be in too much of a hurry. Come with me; perhaps yet I may disclose the whereabouts of Phor Tak.”

  With a shrug he followed me as I entered the vast laboratory and walked towards the bench upon which a disintegrating-ray rifle was mounted. Just back of the bench my foot struck something that I could not see, but that I had expected to find there, and stooping I felt a huddled form beneath a covering of soft cloth.

  My fingers closed upon the invisible fabric and I drew it aside. There, before us on the floor, lay the dead body of Phor Tak, a bullet-hole in the centre of his breast.

  “Name of Issus!” cried Nur An. “Who did this?”

  “I,” I replied, and then I told him what had happened in the laboratory as the last night waned.

  He looked around hurriedly. “Cover it up quickly,” he said. “The slaves must not know. They would destroy us. Let us get out
of here quickly.”

  I drew the cloak of invisibility over the body of Phor Tak again. “I have work here before I leave,” I said.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “Help me gather all of the disintegrating-ray shells and rifles into one end of the room.”

  “What are you going to do?” he demanded.

  “I am going to save a world, Nur An,” I said.

  Then he fell to and helped me, and when they were all collected in a pile at the far end of the laboratory, I selected a single shell, and returning to the rifle mounted upon the bench I inserted it in the chamber, closed the block and turned the muzzle of the weapon upon that frightful aggregation of death and disaster.

  As I pressed the button all that remained in Jhama of Phor Tak’s dangerous invention disappeared in thin air, with the exception of the single rifle, for which there remained no ammunition. With it had gone his model of The Flying Death and with him the secret had been lost.

  Nur An told me that the slaves were becoming suspicious of us, and as there was no necessity to risk ourselves further, we embarked upon the flier that John Carter had given me, and, taking the Jhama in tow, set our course towards Helium.

  We overtook the fleet shortly before it reached the Twin Cities of Greater Helium and Lesser Helium, and upon the deck of John Carter’s flag-ship we received a welcome and a great ovation, and shortly thereafter there occurred one of the most remarkable and dramatic incidents that I have ever beheld. We were holding something of an informal reception upon the forward deck of the great battleship. Officers and nobles were pressing forward to be presented, and numerous were the appreciative eyes that admired Tavia.

  It was the turn of the Dwar, Kal Tavan, who had been a slave in the palace of Tor Hatan. As he came face to face with Tavia I saw a look of surprise in his eyes.

  “Your name is Tavia?” he repeated.

  “Yes,” she said, “and yours is Tavan. They are similar.”

  “I do not need to ask from what country you are,” he said. “You are Tavia of Tjanath.”

  “How do you know?” she asked.

  “Because you are my daughter,” he replied. “Tavia is the name your mother gave you. You look like her. By that alone I should have known my daughter anywhere.”

  Very gently he took her in his arms, and I saw tears in his eyes, and hers too, as he pressed his lips against her forehead, and then he turned to me.

  “They told me that the brave Tan Hadron of Hastor had chosen to mate with a slave girl,” he said; “but that is not true. Your princess is in truth a princess—the granddaughter of a jed. She might have been the daughter of a jed had I remained in Tjanath.”

  How devious are the paths of fate! How strange and unexpected the destinations to which they lead! I had set out upon one of these paths with the intention of marrying Sanoma Tora at the end. Sanoma Tora had set out upon another in the hope of marrying a jeddak. At the end of her path she had found only ignominy and disgrace. At the end of mine I had found a princess.

  GLOSSARY OF NAMES AND TERMS

  Aaanthor. A dead city of ancient Mars.

  Aisle of Hope. An aisle leading to the court-room in Helium.

  Apt. An Arctic monster. A huge, white-furred creature with six limbs, four of which, short and heavy, carry it over the snow and ice; the other two, which grow forward from its shoulders on either side of its long, powerful neck, terminate in white, hairless hands with which it seizes and holds its prey. Its head and mouth are similar in appearance to those of a hippopotamus, except that from the sides of the lower jawbone two mighty horns curve slightly downward toward the front. Its two huge eyes extend in two vast oval patches from the centre of the top of the cranium down either side of the head to below the roots of the horns, so that these weapons really grow out from the lower part of the eyes, which are composed of several thousand ocelli each. Each ocellus is furnished with its own lid, and the apt can, at will, close as many of the facets of his huge eyes as he chooses. (See THE WARLORD OF MARS.)

  Astok. Prince of Dusar.

  Avenue of Ancestors. A street in Helium.

  Banth. Barsoomian lion. A fierce beast of prey that roams the low hills surrounding the dead seas of ancient Mars. 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 with several rows of long needle-like fangs, and its mouth reaches to a point far back of its tiny ears. It has enormous protruding eyes of green. (See THE GODS OF MARS.)

  Bar Comas. Jeddak of Warhoon. (See A PRINCESS OF MARS.)

  Barsoom. Mars.

  Black pirates of Barsoom. Men six feet and over in height. Have clear-cut and handsome features; their eyes are well set and large, though a slight narrowness lends them a crafty appearance. The iris is extremely black while the eyeball itself is quite white and clear. Their skin has the appearance of polished ebony. (See THE GODS OF MARS.)

  Calot. A dog. About the size of a Shetland pony and has ten short legs. The head bears a slight resemblance to that of a frog, except that the jaws are equipped with three rows of long, sharp tusks. (See A PRINCESS OF MARS.)

  Carter, John. Warlord of Mars.

  Carthoris of Helium. Son of John Carter and Dejah Thoris.

  Dak Kova. Jed among the Warhoons (later jeddak).

  Darseen. Chameleon-like reptile.

  Dator. Chief or prince among the First Born.

  Dejah Thoris. Princess of Helium.

  Djor Kantos. Son of Kantos Kan; padwar of the Fifth Utan.

  Dor. Valley of Heaven.

  Dotar Sojat. John Carter’s Martian name, from the surnames of the first two warrior chieftains he killed.

  Dusar. A Martian kingdom.

  Dwar. Captain.

  Ersite. A kind of stone.

  Father of Therns. High Priest of religious cult.

  First Born. Black race; black pirates.

  Gate of Jeddaks. A gate in Helium.

  Gozava. Tars Tarkas’ dead wife.

  Gur Tus. Dwar of the Tenth Utan.

  Haad. Martian mile.

  Hal Vas. Son of Vas Kor the Dusarian noble.

  Hastor. A city of Helium.

  Hekkador. Title of Father of Therns.

  Helium. The empire of the grandfather of Dejah Thoris.

  Holy Therns. A Martian religious cult.

  Hortan Gur. Jeddak of Torquas.

  Hor Vastus. Padwar in the navy of Helium.

  Horz. Deserted city; Barsoomian Greenwich.

  Illall. A city of Okar.

  Iss. River of Death. (See A PRINCESS OF MARS.)

  Issus. Goddess of Death, whose abode is upon the banks of the Lost Sea of Korus. (See THE GODS OF MARS.)

  Jav. A Lotharian.

  Jed. King.

  Jeddak. Emperor.

  Kab Kadja. Jeddak of the Warhoons of the south.

  Kadabra. Capital of Okar.

  Kadar. Guard.

  Kalkans. Cruiser; transport under Vas Kor.

  Kantos Kan. Padwar in the Helium navy.

  Kaol. A Martian kingdom in the eastern hemisphere.

  Kaor. Greeting.

  Karad. Martian degree.

  Kar Komak. Odwar of Lotharian bowmen.

  Komal. The Lotharian god; a huge banth.

  Korad. A dead city of ancient Mars. (See A PRINCESS OF MARS.)

  Korus. The Lost Sea of Dor.

  Kulan Tith. Jeddak of Kaol. (See THE WARLORD OF MARS.)

  Lakor. A Thern.

  Larok. A Dusarian warrior; artificer.

  Lorquas Ptomel. Jed among the Tharks. (See A PRINCESS OF MARS.)

  Lothar. The forgotten city.

  Marentina. A principality of Okar.

  Matai Shang. Father of Therns. (See THE GODS OF MARS.)

  Mors Kajak. A jed of lesser Helium.

  Notan. Royal psychologist of Zodanga.

  Nutus. Jeddak of Dusar.

  Od. Martian foot.

  Odwar. A commander, or general.


  Okar. Land of the yellow men.

  Old Ben (or Uncle Ben). The writer’s body-servant (coloured).

  Omad. Man with one name.

  Omean. The buried sea.

  Orluk. A black and yellow striped Arctic monster.

  Otz Mountains. Surrounding the Valley Dor and the Lost Sea of Korus.

  Padwar. Lieutenant.

  Panthan. A soldier of fortune.

  Parthak. The Zodangan who brought food to John Carter in the pits of Zat Arras. (See THE GODS OF MARS.)

  Pedestal of Truth. Within the courtroom of Helium.

  Phaidor. Daughter of Matai Shang. (See THE GODS OF MARS.)

  Pimalia. Gorgeous flowering plant.

  Plant men of Barsoom. A race inhabiting the Valley Dor. They are ten or twelve feet in height when standing erect; their arms are very short and fashioned after the manner of an elephant’s trunk, being sinuous; the body is hairless and ghoulish blue except for a broad band of white which encircles the protruding, single eye, the pupil, iris and ball of which are dead white. The nose is a ragged, inflamed, circular hole in the centre of the blank face, resembling a fresh bullet wound which has not yet commenced to bleed. There is no mouth in the head. With the exception of the face, the head is covered by a tangled mass of jet-black hair some eight or ten inches in length. Each hair is about the thickness of a large angleworm. The body, legs and feet are of human shape but of monstrous proportions, the feet being fully three feet long and very flat and broad. The method of feeding consists in running their odd hands over the surface of the turf, cropping off the tender vegetation with razor-like talons and sucking it up from two mouths, which lie one in the palm of each hand. They are equipped with a massive tail about six feet long, quite round where it joins the body, but tapering to a flat, thin blade toward the end, which trails at right angles to the ground. (See THE GODS OF MARS.)

  Prince Soran. Overlord of the navy of Ptarth.

  Ptarth. A Martian kingdom.

  Ptor. Family name of three Zodangan brothers.

  Sab Than. Prince of Zodanga. (See A PRINCESS OF MARS.)

  Safad. A Martian inch.

  Sak. Jump.

  Salensus Oll. Jeddak of Okar. (See THE WARLORD OF MARS.)