The City of the Beast or Warriors of Mars

by Michael Moorcock

  "I understand," I told her. "But what can I do? How can I help?"

  "Help? It is not for you—a guest—to concern yourself with our problems. I was thoughtless—I should have sent you away with Telem Fas Ogdai."

  "I am not a coward," I reminded her. "I am a skilled swordsman and have been shown great kindness and hospitality by you and your folk. I would regard it as an honor to fight for you!"

  She smiled then. "You are a noble stranger, Michael Kane. I know not how you came to Vashu—but I feel it is good that you should be here now. Go then—find Darnad and he will tell you how you can help."

  I bowed briefly and left, running down the stairs of the tower until I had reached the main hall, now in confusion, with men and women rushing this way and that.

  I made my way through them, asking a warrior if he knew where I might find the Bradhinak Darnad.

  "I heard that the east wall is weakest. You will probably find him there."

  I thanked the warrior and left the palace, heading for the east wall. The main buildings of the city, sturdily built of stone as they were, were not damaged by the fire-bombs hurled by the Argzoon catapults, but here and there bundles of fabric and dry sticks had caught, and single pumps were being operated by women in an effort to put them out. Thick smoke burnt my lungs and made my eyes water. My ears were assailed by cries and shouts from all sides.

  And outside—outside the mighty hordes of Blue Giants battered against the city walls. An invincible force?

  I did not let my thoughts dwell on that idea!

  At last I saw Darnad through the smoke near the wall. He was in consultation with two of his officers who were pointing up at the walls, evidently showing him the weakest points. He was frowning thoughtfully, his mouth set in a grim line.

  "How can I assist you?" I asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

  He looked up wearily.

  "I do not know, Michael Kane. Could you magically bring half a million men to our aid?"

  "No," I said, "but I can use a sword."

  He deliberated. Plainly he was unsure of me and I could not blame him for wondering about one who was, after all, untried.

  Just then there came an exultant shout from the wall—a shout that did not issue from a Karnala throat.

  It was one of those roaring, triumphant shouts I had heard earlier.

  All eyes turned upward.

  "Zar! The devils have breached a section of our defense!"

  We could see them. Only a few of the blue warriors had gained the top of the wall but, unless they were halted, I knew that soon hundreds would be stepping over.

  Scarcely stopping to think, I drew my blade from my belt and leapt for the nearest ramp leading to the wall-top. I ran up it faster than I had ever thought possible.

  A blue Argzoon warrior, towering above me, turned as I shouted a challenge from behind.

  Again he voiced that deep, maniacal laugh. I lunged with my blade and he parried the thrust with a swift movement of his own thick sword. I danced and saw a slight chance as his arm came round. I darted my sword at the exposed upper arm and was fortunate enough to draw blood. He yelled an oath and swung at me with his other weapon, a short-hafted battle-axe. Again my faster speed saved me and I ducked in under his clumsy guard to take him high in the belly. The sword flashed into his flesh and came out again.

  His eyes seemed to widen and then, with a dying growl, he toppled from the wall.

  Another came at me, more cautiously than his comrade. Again I took the attack to the towering monster.

  Twice I lunged, twice he parried, then he lunged at me. I blocked his thrust and saw that my blade was only an inch from his face. I pressed the blade forward and took him in the eye.

  I had now got the feel of my sword—a marvellous weapon, better even than the best I had used on Earth.

  Now reinforcements had come to my aid. I glanced down on the other side of the wall at what seemed to be a great tide of turbulent blue flesh, leathern armor and flashing steel. A scaling ladder had been raised. More of the Argzoon were scaling it.

  That ladder had to be destroyed. I made it my objective.

  Although the scene was so confused and I could hardly tell what the general situation was, I felt a peculiar calmness sweep over me.

  I knew the feeling. I had experienced it before in the jungles of Vietnam—had even experienced something like it in a particularly difficult engagement while fencing for sport.

  Now that I had a few comrades at least, I felt even better. I stumbled on something and looked down. One of my assailants had lost his battle-axe. I picked it up in my left hand, testing its weighty and found it was not too badly balanced for me if I held it fairly close to the blade.

  Both weapons ready, I moved forward in a halfcrouched position towards the next blue invader.

  He was leading his fellows along the wall towards the ramp. The wall was wide enough to take three of us, and two warriors ranged themselves on either side of me.

  I felt rather like Horatius holding the bridge at that moment, but the Blue Giants were unlike Lars Porsena's men in that none of them was crying 'back.' They all seemed to have the same obsession—to press forward at all costs.

  Their huge bodies came towards us, lumbering, powerful. Their slitted eyes stared black hatred at us and I shuddered as, for an instant, I stared directly into one face. There was something less than human, something primeval about that gazesomething so primitive that I felt I had a vision of Hell!

  Then they were upon us!

  I remember only a fury of fighting. The rapid cut and thrust of the duel; the desperate sense of having to hang on, having to win, having to bring out every ounce of energy and skill if we were to drive them back to the ladder—and destroy it.

  Yet it seemed at first as if the most we could do was hold the wall against these huge beast-men, looming above us with their great, corded muscles rolling under blue skins, their hate-filled, slitted eyes, their teeth-filled gashes of mouths, and their heavy weapons, the weight of which alone could sweep us from the wall to our doom!

  I remember that my wrists, my arms, my back, my legs—my whole body—were aching. Then the aching seemed to stop and I felt only a strange numbness as we fought on. I remember the killing, also. We fought against their superior strength and numbers—and we killed. More than half-a-dozen Blue Giants fell beneath our blades.

  We had more to fight for than just a city. We had an ideal, and this gave us a moral strength which the Argzoon lacked.

  We began to advance, driving the giants back towards their ladder. This advantage gave us extra strength and we redoubled our attack, fighting shoulder to shoulder like old comrades—though I was a stranger from another planet, another time even.

  And as the sun began to sink, staining the sky a deep purple shot with veins of scarlet and yellow, we had reached their ladder.

  Holding the ladder we were able to stop the giants as they attempted to climb up.

  While the others concentrated on stopping any more of the Argzoon gaining the wall, I chopped at the ladder as far down as I could, shortening it so that it no longer topped the wall. Spears clattered around me, but I worked on desperately.

  At length my task was as finished as I could make it. I stood up, ignoring the missiles that flew about my body, took careful aim with the axe, aiming at the middle section of the ladder. Then I flung it.

  It hit a main strut about half-way down and it went in deep. Several Argzoon warriors were above the place where I had hit the ladder. Their weight completed my work for me—the ladder cracked, splintered and then broke.

  With horrible screams the Argzoon fell upon the heads of their comrades crowding the ground below.

  Luckily it was the only ladder they had managed to raise, and only because the halberd-type weapons the defenders used to push the ladders back had not been available on this section.

  This was rectified as two halberdiers took up their positions.

  I was feeli
ng somewhat shaky after my efforts and turned to grin at my comrades. One of them was a boy, even younger than Darnad—a redheaded youngster with freckles and a snub nose. I gripped his hand and shook it, though he was not familiar with the custom. Nonetheless, he responded in the right spirit, guessing the meaning of the gesture.

  I reached out my hand to grasp that of the other man. He gave me a glazed look, tried to stretch out his own arm and then pitched forward towards me.

  I knelt beside him and examined his wound. A blade had gone right through him. By rights he should have been dead an hour before. Head bowed, I paid my silent respects to such a brave fighter.

  Then I was up again, looking around for Darnad, wondering how the battle went. Night soon fell and flares were lighted. It seemed we were to have some relief, for the Argzoon horde retreated some distance from the walls and began to pitch tents.

  I staggered along the wall and down a ramp. I learned from a wall commander that Darnad had been called to the south wall but would be returning to the palace soon.

  Rather than seek him along the wall, I went wearily back to the palace.

  In the ante-room of the main hall, I found Shizala. The guard who had brought me here left and I was again uncomfortably alone with her. Even in my exhausted condition I could not help admiring her tall beauty.

  At her silent indication I sank upon cushions that had been heaped on the floor.

  She brought me a flask of basu. Thankfully I drank it down, almost in a single draught. Then I handed the flask back to her, feeling a little better.

  "I have heard what you did," she said softly, not looking directly at me. "It was a heroic deed. Your action may have saved the city—or at least a large number of our warriors."

  "It was necessary, that is all," I replied. "You are a modest hero." She still did not look my way but raised her eyebrows a little ironically.

  "Merely truthful," I replied in the same manner. "How goes the defense?"

  She sighed. "Satisfactorily, considering our shortage of men and the size of the Argzoon horde. Those Argzoon, they are fighting well and cunningly—with more cunning than I had suspected they possessed. They must have a clever leader."

  "I did not think cleverness was an Argzoon quality," I said, "from what I have experienced myself."

  "Neither did I. If only we could reach their leader—to destroy him would probably defeat the entire plan of attack and the Argzoon, leaderless, might disperse."

  "You think so?" I said.

  "I think it likely. The Argzoon can rarely be persuaded to fight with overall strategy of the sort they are applying now. They pride themselves on their individuality—refuse to fight as an army or under any commander. They enjoy fighting, but not the discipline demanded for ambitious fighting involving armies and planned strategy. They must have a superior kind of leader if he has persuaded them to fight as they are doing now."

  "How could we reach the leader?" I enquired. "We cannot disguise ourselves as Argzoon—we could dye ourselves blue but could not add eight or ten kilodas to our height"—a kiloda is about a third of a foot—"so an attempt to reach his tent would be impossible." "Yes." She spoke tiredly.

  "Unless"—a thought had suddenly struck me— "unless we could attack him from the air!"

  "The air—yes . . ." Her eyes gleamed. "But even then we do not know who their leader is. They seem to be one great tide of warriors—I saw no obvious commanders. Did you?"

  I shook my head. "And yet he must be out there somewhere. It was too confused today. Let us wait until dawn, when we will be able to see their camp before they resume the attack."

  "Very well. You had better go to your room and sleep now—you have exhausted yourself and will need all your strength for tomorrow. I will have a guard wake you just before dawn."

  I got up, bowed and left her. I went up to my room and stood for a moment at the window. The sweet smell of the Martian night—cool, somehow nostalgic—was tinged now by the stink of war.

  How I hated those Blue Giants!

  Someone had left some meat and fruit on the table next to my bed. I did not feel hungry but common sense told me to eat. I did. I washed the dried blood, dirt, and sweat of the day's warfare from me, climbed beneath that heavy fur and was asleep immediately I lay down.

  Next morning the same girl servant awakened me. I received glances from her which were even more overtly admiring than before. It seemed I was something of a talking point in Varnal. I felt flattered but a little bewildered. After all, I had only done what anyone else would have done. I knew I had done my chosen task well, but that was all. I felt myself grow a trifle red with embarrassment as I accepted the food she brought me.

  It was not yet dawn, but would be in a very short time—less than two shatis, I guessed. A shati is roughly an eighth of an Earth hour.

  Just as I was buckling on my sword-belt, a light knock sounded on the door. I opened it and faced a guard.

  "The Bradhinaka awaits you in the tower," he told me.

  I thanked him and made my way up to the tower-chamber where we had met the previous day.

  Shizala and Darnad were both there, already on the balcony, tense and waiting for the sun to rise.

  It began to rise as I joined them. They said nothing as we exchanged nods.

  Soon the sun was flooding golden light over the scene. It struck the lovely walls of Varnal, gleamed on water and illuminated the dark camp of the Argzoon surrounding our city. I say 'our' city because that is how I was already thinking of itmore so now.

  The Argzoon tents were affairs of skin stretched on wooden frames—oval in shape mainly, though a few were circular or even square. Most of the common warriors seemed to be sleeping on the ground and were beginning to stir as light pervaded the scene.

  But from one tent—no larger than the others—a banner flew. All the others were undecorated and tended to surround that solitary oval tent sitting in their centre. There was no doubt in my mind that the cunning Argzoon leader slept there.

  "So now we know where their leader is," I said, staring hard at the waving Argzoon banner. It seemed to depict some sort of writhing, snake-like creature with eyes not unlike those of the Argzoon themselves.

  "The N'aal Beast," Shizala explained with a shudder when I asked her what it symbolized. "Yes, it is the N'aal Beast."

  "What—?" I broke off as Darnad pointed.

  "Look," he cried, "they are already preparing to attack!"

  He rushed back into the room and came out bearing a long, curling trumpet. He blew on this with all his might and a high, melancholy note echoed through the city. Other trumpet-calls sounded in reply.

  The warriors of Varnal—many of whom had slept at their posts—began to make ready for another day's fighting. It could well be their last.

  Shizala said: "Although it will take Telem Fas Ogdai another day before he reaches Mishim Tep, he will have stopped off at nearer cities on the way and relief might come by tonight or tomorrow morning. If we can hold out until then ..."

  "We may not need to if I can borrow one of your aircraft," I said. "It only needs one man to drop from the air on to the Argzoon commander— and despatch him."

  She smiled. "You are very brave. But the aircraft motors take the best part of a day to warm up. Even if we switched them on now they would not be ready before evening."

  "Then I suggest that you order them to be switched on at once," I said disappointedly, "for the opportunity might still arise and be welcomed by you when it does."

  "I will do as you say. But you would perish in a venture such as you contemplate."

  "It would be worth it," I said simply.

  She turned away from me then, and I wondered why. Perhaps she thought me stupid—an unintelligent boor who only knew how to die. After all, I had offended her earlier by behaving tactlessly and unsubtly. Again I controlled my thoughts. It did not matter what she thought, I told myself.

  I sighed. Knowing nothing of the science that had developed the ai
rcraft, I could not suggest any way of getting their motors ready faster. Obviously, I thought, it was some sort of slow reaction system—probably very safe and foolproof, but at a time like that I would have preferred something faster even if more dangerous.

  I felt as if Shizala were deliberately hampering me for some reason, as if she did not want me to put my plan into operation. I wondered why.

  Darnad now put down the trumpet and clapped me on the shoulder. "Do you want to come with me?"

  "Willingly," I said. "You must tell me how I can be most useful."

  "I was unsure of you yesterday," he said with a smile. "But that is not true today."

  "I'm glad. Farewell, Shizala."

  "Farewell, sister," said Darnad.

  She replied to neither of us as we left. I wondered if I had offended her in some way. After all, I was unfamiliar with the customs of Vashu and might have done so unknowingly.

  But there was no time for such speculation.

  Soon the walls of the city were shaking again to another Argzoon attack. I helped with the siege weapons, tipping cylinders of flaring fat down on the attackers, hurling stones on them, flinging their own javelins back into their ranks.

  They seemed to care little for their own lives and even less for the lives of their comrades. As Shizala had pointed out, they were individualistic warriors and, though they were taking part in an organized mass attack, you could still see that they were having to control their own instincts. Once or twice I saw a couple of them fighting between themselves while their fellows milled around them and our missiles rained down.

  By midday little had been gained or lost, save that whilst the defenders were weary almost to the point of dropping, the attackers could bring in fresh reserves. I learned that the system of reserves was alien to the Argzoon normally, and this was another puzzling factor of their attack.

  Though fierce and feared, the Argzoon had never been a really important threat since they could not be organized into one mass for long enough. Also, this monstrous attack so far from their homeland— an attack without warning—spoke of fantastic planning and ingenuity. It might also speak of treachery, I thought privately—an ally letting the horde through his land by pretending to ignore it But I still did not know enough of Vashu politics to make any fair guesses.