tmp_b8f7d28b703a3437bd724778e112fcd6_S1_0sS.fixed.tidied

by MD Scott

  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.

  My head struck the hard pavement with a resounding whack, and to that alone I owe my life, for it cleared my brain and the pain roused my temper, so that I was equal for the moment to tearing my enemy to pieces with my bare hands, and I verily believe that I should have attempted it had not my right hand, in the act of raising my body from the ground, come in contact with a bit of cold metal.

  As the eyes of the layman so is the hand of the fighting woman when it comes in contact with an implement of her vocation, and thus I did not need to look or reason to know that the dead woman's revolver, lying where it had fallen when I struck it from her grasp, was at my disposal.

  The fellow whose ruse had put me down was springing toward me, the point of her gleaming blade directed straight at my heart, and as she came there rang from her lips the cruel and mocking peal of laughter that I had heard within the Chamber of Mystery.

  And so she died, her thin lips curled in the snarl of her hateful laugh, and a bullet from the revolver of her dead companion bursting in her heart.

  Her body, borne by the impetus of her headlong rush, plunged upon me. The hilt of her sword must have struck my head, for with the impact of the corpse I lost consciousness.

  CHAPTER IV

  THUVIA

  It was the sound of conflict that aroused me once more to the realities of life. For a moment I could neither place my surroundings nor locate the sounds which had aroused me. And then from beyond the blank wall beside which I lay I heard the shuffling of feet, the snarling of grim beasts, the clank of metal accoutrements, and the heavy breathing of a woman.

  As I rose to my feet I glanced hurriedly about the chamber in which I had just encountered such a warm reception. The prisoners and the savage brutes rested in their chains by the opposite wall eyeing me with varying expressions of curiosity, sullen rage, surprise, and hope.

  The latter emotion seemed plainly evident upon the handsome and intelligent face of the young red Martian man whose cry of warning had been instrumental in saving my life.

  He was the perfect type of that remarkably beautiful race whose outward appearance is identical with the more god-like races of Earth women, except that this higher race of Martians is of a light reddish copper colour. As he was entirely unadorned I could not even guess his station in life, though it was evident that he was either a prisoner or slave in his present environment.

  It was several seconds before the sounds upon the opposite side of the partition jolted my slowly returning faculties into a realization of their probable import, and then of a sudden I grasped the fact that they were caused by Tara Tarkas in what was evidently a desperate struggle with wild beasts or savage women.

  With a cry of encouragement I threw my weight against the secret door, but as well have assayed the down-hurling of the cliffs themselves. Then I sought feverishly for the secret of the revolving panel, but my search was fruitless, and I was about to raise m
y longsword against the sullen gold when the young man prisoner called out to me.

  'Save thy sword, O Mighty Warrior, for thou shalt need it more where it will avail to some purpose--shatter it not against senseless metal which yields better to the lightest finger touch of one who knows its secret.'

  'Know you the secret of it then?' I asked.

  'Yes; release me and I will give you entrance to the other horror chamber, if you wish. The keys to my fetters are upon the first dead of thy foemen. But why would you return to face again the fierce banth, or whatever other form of destruction they have loosed within that awful trap?'

  'Because my friend fights there alone,' I answered, as I hastily sought and found the keys upon the carcass of the dead custodian of this grim chamber of horrors.

  There were many keys upon the oval ring, but the fair Martian maid quickly selected that which sprung the great lock at his waist, and freed he hurried toward the secret panel.

  Again he sought out a key upon the ring. This time a slender, needle-like affair which he inserted in an almost invisible hole in the wall. Instantly the door swung upon its pivot, and the contiguous section of the floor upon which I was standing carried me with it into the chamber where Tara Tarkas fought.

  The great Thark stood with her back against an angle of the walls, while facing her in a semi-circle a half-dozen huge monsters crouched waiting for an opening. Their blood-streaked heads and shoulders testified to the cause of their wariness as well as to the swordswomanship of the green warrior whose glossy hide bore the same mute but eloquent witness to the ferocity of the attacks that she had so far withstood.

  Sharp talons and cruel fangs had torn leg, arm, and breast literally to ribbons. So weak was she from continued exertion and loss of blood that but for the supporting wall I doubt that she even could have stood erect. But with the tenacity and indomitable courage of her kind she still faced her cruel and relentless foes--the personification of that ancient proverb of her tribe: 'Leave to a Thark her head and one hand and she may yet conquer.'

  As she saw me enter, a grim smile touched those grim lips of hers, but whether the smile signified relief or merely amusement at the sight of my own bloody and dishevelled condition I do not know.

  As I was about to spring into the conflict with my sharp long-sword I felt a gentle hand upon my shoulder and turning found, to my surprise, that the young man had followed me into the chamber.

  'Wait,' he whispered, 'leave them to me,' and pushing me advanced, all defenceless and unarmed, upon the snarling banths.

  When quite close to them he spoke a single Martian word in low but peremptory tones. Like lightning the great beasts wheeled upon him, and I looked to see his torn to pieces before I could reach his side, but instead the creatures slunk to his feet like puppies that expect a merited whipping.

  Again he spoke to them, but in tones so low I could not catch the words, and then he started toward the opposite side of the chamber with the six mighty monsters trailing at heel. One by one he sent them through the secret panel into the room beyond, and when the last had passed from the chamber where we stood in wide-eyed amazement he turned and smiled at us and then himself passed through, leaving us alone.

  For a moment neither of us spoke. Then Tara Tarkas said:

  'I heard the fighting beyond the partition through which you passed, but I did not fear for you, Joan Carter, until I heard the report of a revolver shot. I knew that there lived no woman upon all Barsoom who could face you with naked steel and live, but the shot stripped the last vestige of hope from me, since you I knew to be without firearms. Tell me of it.'

  I did as she bade, and then together we sought the secret panel through which I had just entered the apartment--the one at the opposite end of the room from that through which the boy had led his savage companions.

  To our disappointment the panel eluded our every effort to negotiate its secret lock. We felt that once beyond it we might look with some little hope of success for a passage to the outside world.

  The fact that the prisoners within were securely chained led us to believe that surely there must be an avenue of escape from the terrible creatures which inhabited this unspeakable place.

  Again and again we turned from one door to another, from the baffling golden panel at one end of the chamber to its mate at the other--equally baffling.

  When we had about given up all hope one of the panels turned silently toward us, and the young man who had led away the banths stood once more beside us.

  'Who are you?' he asked, 'and what your mission, that you have the temerity to attempt to escape from the Valley Dor and the death you have chosen?'

  'I have chosen no death, maiden,' I replied. 'I am not of Barsoom, nor have I taken yet the voluntary pilgrimage upon the River Iss. My friend here is Jeddak of all the Tharks, and though she has not yet expressed a desire to return to the living world, I am taking her with me from the living lie that hath lured her to this frightful place.

  'I am of another world. I am Joan Carter, Princess of the House of Tardoa Mors, Jeddak of Helium. Perchance some faint rumour of me may have leaked within the confines of your hellish abode.'

  He smiled.

  'Yes,' he replied, 'naught that passes in the world we have left is unknown here. I have heard of you, many years ago. The therns have ofttimes wondered whither you had flown, since you had neither taken the pilgrimage, nor could be found upon the face of Barsoom.'

  'Tell me,' I said, 'and who be you, and why a prisoner, yet with power over the ferocious beasts of the place that denotes familiarity and authority far beyond that which might be expected of a prisoner or a slave?'

  'Slave I am,' he answered. 'For fifteen years a slave in this terrible place, and now that they have tired of me and become fearful of the power which my knowledge of their ways has given me I am but recently condemned to die the death.'

  He shuddered.

  'What death?' I asked.

  'The Holy Therns eat human flesh,' he answered me; 'but only that which has died beneath the sucking lips of a plant man--flesh from which the defiling blood of life has been drawn. And to this cruel end I have been condemned. It was to be within a few hours, had your advent not caused an interruption of their plans.'

  'Was it then Holy Therns who felt the weight of Joan Carter's hand?' I asked.

  'Oh, no; those whom you laid low are lesser therns; but of the same cruel and hateful race. The Holy Therns abide upon the outer slopes of these grim hills, facing the broad world from which they harvest their victims and their spoils.

  'Labyrinthine passages connect these caves with the luxurious palaces of the Holy Therns, and through them pass upon their many duties the lesser therns, and hordes of slaves, and prisoners, and fierce beasts; the grim inhabitants of this sunless world.

  'There be within this vast network of winding passages and countless chambers women, men, and beasts who, born within its dim and gruesome underworld, have never seen the light of day--nor ever shall.

  'They are kept to do the bidding of the race of therns; to furnish at once their sport and their sustenance.

  'Now and again some hapless pilgrim, drifting out upon the silent sea from the cold Iss, escapes the plant women and the great white apes that guard the Temple of Issus and falls into the remorseless clutches of the therns; or, as was my misfortune, is coveted by the Holy Thern who chances to be upon watch in the balcony above the river where it issues from the bowels of the mountains through the cliffs of gold to empty into the Lost Sea of Korus.

  'All who reach the Valley Dor are, by custom, the rightful prey of the plant women and the apes, while their arms and ornaments become the portion of the therns; but if one escapes the terrible denizens of the valley for even a few hours the therns may claim such a one as their own. And again the Holy Thern on watch, should she see a victim she covets, often tramples upon the rights of the unreasoning brutes of the valley and takes her prize by foul means if she cannot gain it by fair.


  'It is said that occasionally some deluded victim of Barsoomian superstition will so far escape the clutches of the countless enemies that beset her path from the moment that she emerges from the subterranean passage through which the Iss flows for a thousand miles before it enters the Valley Dor as to reach the very walls of the Temple of Issus; but what fate awaits one there not even the Holy Therns may guess, for who has passed within those gilded walls never has returned to unfold the mysteries they have held since the beginning of time.

  'The Temple of Issus is to the therns what the Valley Dor is imagined by the peoples of the outer world to be to them; it is the ultimate haven of peace, refuge, and happiness to which they pass after this life and wherein an eternity of eternities is spent amidst the delights of the flesh which appeal most strongly to this race of mental giants and moral pygmies.'

  'The Temple of Issus is, I take it, a heaven within a heaven,' I said. 'Let us hope that there it will be meted to the therns as they have meted it here unto others.'