The City of the Beast or Warriors of Mars

by Michael Moorcock

  "I do not know."

  The light increased, probably because Chinod Sai was peering into his horrible crypt, using a torch for illumination.

  His voice rose querulously. "He must be down there!"

  Darnad's tone seemed lighter now. "You can see he is not—unless one of these skeletons is his."

  "Impossible! Guards!"

  I heard the faint sound of feet above me.

  Chinod Sai continued: "Take up some more of these stones—see if the other prisoner is hiding in a corner. He is down here somewhere. Meanwhile, bring up the Karnala."

  More sounds, and I gathered that Darnad had been escorted away.

  Then I heard the guards beginning to tear up other slabs and I grinned to myself, hoping that they would not think of looking in the pipe. Then something occurred to me. It was not a pleasant thought but it might save me and give me, in turn, a chance to save Darnad.

  I wriggled up the pipe again and reached up to take hold of some of the bones of the unfortunate who had been there before me. He had not been lucky but, even though dead some years, he might be able to help me now—and help me avenge him if and when the opportunity came.

  Squeezing myself up against one section of the pipe as tightly as I could, I began to pass bones down in front of me until quite a heap lay below my feet. I did this as soundlessly as possible, and any noise I did make was probably drowned by the racket the desperate guards were making pulling up flagstones and crawling around in the semidarkness trying to find me.

  "He isn't here," I heard one of them say. "You are a fool," answered another. "He must be here!"

  "Well, I tell you he isn't. Come and look for yourself."

  Another guard joined the first and I heard him stumbling around, too.

  "I don't understand—there is no way out of here. We've put enough of them down here one time or another. Hey—what's this?"

  The guard had found the pipe. The light increased.

  "Could he have gone up here? If he did it won't do him any good. It's blocked at the other end!"

  Then the guard found the bones. "Ugh! He didn't go up, but someone else tried to. These bones are old."

  "What are we going to tell the Bradhi?" The first guard spoke nervously. "This smacks of magic!" "There's no such thing!"

  "So we're told these days, but my grandfather says there are stories ..."

  "Shut your mouth! Magic—ghosts. Nonsense . . . Still, I must admit that he had a strange look about him. He seemed to belong to no nation I've ever seen. And I have heard that beyond the ocean lies another land where men have powers greater than normal. And then there are the Sheev..."

  "The Sheev! That's it!"

  "Hold your tongue. Chinod Sai will tear it out if he hears such language spoken in his palace!"

  "What do we tell him?"

  "Only the facts. The man was here—but he is no longer here."

  "But will he believe us?"

  "We must hope that he does."

  I heard the guards clamber up and march away. The instant they had gone I slipped down the pipe as fast as I could and was soon standing up in what had been my prison, my head just above the level of the floor. Flagstones had been ripped out and the whole floor was in a mess. I was glad of that, at least.

  No one was in the room, which seemed to be some sort of throne room judging by the huge, ornately carved, precious-metal gilded chair at one end.

  I heaved myself up and stood in the room. As swiftly and as silently as I could, I ran towards the door and stood by it, listening.

  It was half open. Angry voices came from the other side.

  There were more sounds coming from outside the palace itself—shouts, cries. They sounded angry.

  Somewhere in the distance several pairs of fists began to beat on a door.

  Then I stepped back as, suddenly, someone came into the room.

  It was Chinod Sai.

  He stared at me in horror for a moment.

  That moment was all I needed. In a flash I had darted forward and snatched his own sword from his belt!

  I pressed the point gently against his throat and said with a grim smile on my lips: "Call for your guards, Chinod Sai—and you call for death!"

  He paled and gurgled something. I gestured for him to come into the room and shut the door. I had been lucky. Everyone had been too busy with whatever else they were concerned with to notice what had happened to their "Bradhi".

  "Speak in a low voice," I ordered. "Tell me what is happening and where my comrade is."

  "How—how did you escape?"

  "I am asking the questions, my friend. Now—answer!"

  He grunted. "What do you mean?"

  "Answer!"

  "The scum are attacking my palace," he said. "Some petty dahara-thief seeks to replace me."

  "I hope he makes a better chief than you. And where is my comrade?"

  He waved a hand behind him.

  "In there."

  Suddenly someone entered. I had expected the guards to knock and had intended that Chinod Sal should tell them not to enter.

  But this was not a guard.

  It was the surviving Argzoon. He looked astonished to see me. He turned, giving a roar of warning to the men in the room.

  They came in and I backed away, looking around for a means of escape, but all the windows in this room were barred.

  "Kill him!" screamed Chinod Sai, pointing a shaking finger at me. "Kill him!"

  Led by the blue Argzoon, the guards came at me. I knew that I faced death—they would not take me a prisoner a second time.

  Chapter Ten

  INTO THE CAVES OF DARKNESS

  SOMEHOW I managed to keep them at bay, though I will never know how. Then I saw Darnad appear behind them, waving a sword he had got from somewhere. Together, one on each side, we took on Chinod

  Sai and his men, but we knew we must be beaten eventually.

  Then there came a sudden, elated roar, and bursting into the throne room came a wild mob waving swords, spears and halberds.

  They were led by a good-looking young man, and by the gleam in his eyes—at once calculating and triumphant—I guessed him to be the next contender for the paltry throne of the City of Thieves.

  Now, while the others helped Darnad deal with the Argzoon and the guards, I concentrated on Chinod Sai. This time, I promised myself, he would not retreat.

  Chinod Sai realized my intention and this seemed to improve his skill.

  Back and forth across the broken floor of the throne room, over the bones of the wretches he had incarcerated for his own perverted pleasure, we fought.

  Lunging, parrying, thrusting, the steel of our blades rang through the hall while to one side the mob fought, a thick mass of struggling men.

  Then came disaster for me—or so I thought. I tripped over one of the flagstones and fell backwards into the pit!

  I saw Chinod Sai raise his arm for the thrust that would finish me as, sprawled out on the slime, I stared up at him.

  Then, as the sword came towards my heart I rolled away, under part of the floor that was still intact. I heard him curse and saw him drop down after me. He saw me and lunged. Raising myself on my left arm, I returned his lunge and caught him exactly in the heart. I pushed home my thrust and he fell back with a groan.

  I climbed from the pit. "A fitting burial place, Chinod Sai," I said. "Lie with the bones of those you have slain so horribly. You had a swifter death than you deserved!"

  I was just in time to see Darnad dispose of the last Argzoon.

  The fight was over and the young leader of the mob raised his right hand high, shouting:

  "Chinod Sai is defeated—the tyrant dies!"

  The mob replied exultantly: "Salute Morda Kohn, Bradhi of Narlet!"

  Morda Kohn swung round and grinned at me. "Enemies of Chinod Sai are friends of mine. Indirectly you helped me gain the throne. But where is Chinod Sai?"

  I pointed at the floor. "I slew him," I said simply.
<
br />   Morda Kohn laughed. "Good, good! You are even more of a friend for that little service."

  "It was no service to you," I said, "but something I had promised myself the pleasure of accomplishing"

  "Quite so. I was truly sorry about the death of your friend."

  "My friend?" I said as Darnad joined us. He had a flesh wound on his right shoulder but otherwise seemed all right.

  "Belet Vor—did you not know?"

  "What has happened to Belet Vor?" Darnad asked urgently.

  I must admit I was not only thinking of Belet Vor—but of the girl I had sent to him, Shizala.

  "Why, that is what enabled me to arouse the people against Chinod Sai," Morda Kohn said. "Chinod Sai and his blue friend learned that you had been seen in the house of Belet Vor. They went there and they ordered him to be beheaded on the spot!"

  "Belet Vor, dead? Beheaded-oh, no!" Darnad's face turned pale with horror.

  "I am afraid so."

  "But the girl we rescued—the one we sent to him?" I spoke in some trepidation, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  "Girl? I do not know—I heard nothing of a girl Perhaps she is still at his house, hiding somewhere."

  I relaxed. That was probably true. "There is still another missing," Darnad said. "The Vladnyar woman—Horguhl. Where is she?"

  Together we searched the palace but there was ho sign of her.

  Night was falling as we borrowed mounts from the new 'Bradhi' and rushed to Belet Vor's house.

  Inside, it had been torn apart. We called Shizala's name but she did not answer. Shizala had gone—but where? And how? We stumbled out of the house. Had we fought and risked so much only to fail now?

  Back to the palace to see if Morda Kohn could help us.

  The new Bradhi was supervising the replacement of the flagstones. "They will be securely cemented down," he said. "They will never be put to the same dreadful use again."

  "Morda Kohn," I said desperately, "the girl was not at Belet Vor's house. And we know she would hot have gone anywhere of her own accord. Did any of Chinod Sai's guards survive? If they did, one of them may be able to tell us what happened."

  "I think there are several prisoners in the anteroom." Morda Kohn nodded. "Question them if you like."

  We went to the ante-room. There were three sulking, badly wounded prisoners. "Do any of you know where Shizala is?" I asked.

  "Shizala?" One of them looked up with a frown.

  "The blonde girl—the prisoner who was here."

  "Oh, her—I think they both went off together."

  "Both?"

  "Her and the dark-haired woman."

  "Where did they go?"

  "What's it worth to tell you what I know?" The guard looked cunningly at me.

  "I will speak to Morda Kohn. He owes us a favor. I will ask him to show mercy to you."

  "You'll keep your word?"

  "Of course."

  "I think they went to the Mountains of Argzoon."

  "Ah-but why?" Darnad broke in. "Why should a Vladnyar willingly go to Argzoon? The Blue Giants are no-one's friends."

  "There is something mysterious about Horguhl's association with the Argzoon. Perhaps when we find her we will learn the answer," I said. "Could you lead us to the Mountains of Argzoon, Darnad?"

  "I think so." He nodded.

  "Come, then—let's make haste after them. With luck we may even catch them before they reach the mountains."

  "Best that we did," he said. "Why?"

  "Because the Argzoon literally dwell in the mountains—in the Caves of Darkness that run under the range. Some say it is really the Bleak World of the Dead, and from what I've heard it's possible!"

  We spoke briefly to Morda Kohn, telling him to show the guard mercy. Then we strode outside, mounted our daharas and rode into the nightheading for the dreadful Caves of Darkness.

  We were not lucky. First Darnad's beast cut its foot on a sharp rock and went lame. We had to travel at walking pace for a full day until we came to a camp where we could exchange Darnad's prime mount for a rather stringy beast that looked as if it had little stamina.

  Then we lost our bearings on a barren plain known as the Wilderness of Sorrow—and we could understand why anyone would feel sorrowful on encountering it.

  On the other hand, the mount that Darnad had exchanged was in fact very strong—and my own beast wearied before his did!

  We finally crossed the Wilderness of Sorrow and emerged on the shores of an incredibly wide river—wider even than the Mississippi.

  Another pause while we borrowed a boat from a friendly fisherman and managed to cross. Luckily Darnad had a precious ring on his finger and was able to convert this into pearls, which were the general currency of these parts.

  We bought supplies in the riverside town and learned—to our relief, for there had always been the chance that the guard was lying maliciously— that two women answering to the description of Horguhl and Shizala had passed that way. We enquired if Shizala had seemed to be under restraint, but our informant told us that she did not appear to be bound.

  This was puzzling and we could not understand why Shizala should seem to be travelling to the terrible domain of the Argzoon of her own free will.

  But, as we told ourselves, all this would be learned the quicker if we caught up with them. They were still some three days ahead of us.

  So we crossed the Carzax River in the fisherman's boat, ferrying our mounts and provisions with us. It was a difficult task and the current drew us many miles down river before we reached the other side. The fisherman would collect the boat later. We pulled it ashore, strapped our provisions to our animals and mounted.

  It was forest land now, but the trees were the strangest I had ever seen.

  Their trunks were not solid like the tree-trunks on Earth, but consisted of many hundreds of slender stems curling around one another to form trunks some thirty or forty feet in diameter. On the other hand, the trees did not reach very high, but fanned out so that sometimes when passing through a particular grove of low-growing trees our heads actually stood out above the trees. It made me feel gigantic!

  Also, the foliage had a tinge similar to the ferns of the Crimson Plain—though red was only the main color. There were also tints of blue, green and yellow, brown and orange. It seemed, in fact, that the forest was in a perpetual state of autumn and I was pleased by the sight of it. Strange as the stumpy trees were they reminded me, in some obscure way, of my boyhood.

  Had it not been for the object of our quest, I would have liked to relax more and spend longer in that strange forest.

  But there was something else in the forest that I was to meet shortly—and that decided me, if nothing else could have done, on the necessity of moving on.

  We had been travelling in the forest for two days when Darnad suddenly pulled his mount up short and pointed silently through the foliage.

  I could see nothing and shook my head in puzzlement.

  Darnad's beast now seemed to move a little restlessly, and so did mine.

  Darnad began to turn his dahara, pointing back the way we had come. The peculiar, ape-like beast obeyed the guiding reins and my own followed suit, rather quickly, as if glad to be turning back.

  Then Darnad stopped again and his hand fell to his sword.

  "Too late," he said. "And I should have warned you."

  "I see nothing—I hear nothing. What should you have warned me of?"

  "The heela"

  "Heela—what is a heela?"

  "That-" Darnad pointed.

  Skulking towards us, its hide exactly the same mottled shades as the foliage of the trees, came a beast out of a nightmare.

  It had eight legs and each leg terminated in six curved talons. It had two heads and each head had a broad, gaping mouth full of long, razor-like teeth, glaring yellow eyes, flaring nostrils. A single neck rose from the trunk and then divided near the top to accommodate the heads.

  It had two tails, scaly and powerfu
l-looking, and a barrel-shaped body rippling with muscle.

  It was unlike anything I could describe. It could not exist—but it did!

  The heela stopped a few yards away and its twin tails lashed as it regarded us with its two pairs of eyes.

  The only thing to its advantage, as far as I could see, was that it measured only about half the size of an ordinary dahara.

  Yet it still looked dangerous and could easily dispose of me, I knew.

  Then it sprang. Not at me and not at Darnad— but at the head of Darnad's dahara.

  The poor animal shrieked in pain and fear as the heela sank its eight sets of talons into its great flat head and simply clung there, biting with its two sets of teeth at the dahara's spinal cord.

  Darnad began to hack at the heela with his sword. I tried to move in to help him but my animal refused to budge.

  I dismounted—it was the only thing I could do— and paused behind the clinging heela's back. I did not know much about Martian biology, but I selected a spot on the heela's neck corresponding to the place where he was biting the dahara. I knew that many animals will go for a spot on other species which corresponds with their own vital spots.

  I plunged my sword in.

  For a few moments the heela still clung to the dahara's head; then it released its grip and with a blood-curdling scream of anguish and fury fell to the mossy ground. I stood back, ready to meet any attack it might make. But it got up, stood shakily on its legs, took a couple of paces away from me— and then fell dead.

  Meanwhile, Darnad had dismounted from the dahara, now moaning in pain and stamping on the moss.

  The poor beast's flesh had been ripped away from a considerable area of its head and neck. It was beyond any help we could give it—save to put it out of its pain.

  Regretfully, I saw Darnad place his sword against the creature's head and drive it home, wincing as he did so.

  Soon dahara and heela lay side by side. A useless waste of life, I reflected.

  What was more, we should now have to ride double and though my dahara was strong enough to carry both of us, we should have to travel at about half our previous speed.

  Bad luck was dogging us, it seemed.