The Martian Megapack

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

  They could not guess my whereabouts or my fate, for none on all Barsoom even dream of such a place as this. Nor would it have advantaged me any had they known the exact location of my prison, for who could hope to penetrate to this buried sea in the face of the mighty navy of the First Born? No: my case was hopeless.

  Well, I would make the best of it, and, rising, I swept aside the brooding despair that had been endeavouring to claim me. With the idea of exploring my prison, I started to look around.

  Xodar sat, with bowed head, upon a low stone bench near the centre of the room in which we were. He had not spoken since Issus had degraded him.

  The building was roofless, the walls rising to a height of about thirty feet. Half-way up were a couple of small, heavily barred windows. The prison was divided into several rooms by partitions twenty feet high. There was no one in the room which we occupied, but two doors which led to other rooms were opened. I entered one of these rooms, but found it vacant. Thus I continued through several of the chambers until in the last one I found a young red Martian boy sleeping upon the stone bench which constituted the only furniture of any of the prison cells.

  Evidently he was the only other prisoner. As he slept I leaned over and looked at him. There was something strangely familiar about his face, and yet I could not place him.

  His features were very regular and, like the proportions of his graceful limbs and body, beautiful in the extreme. He was very light in colour for a red man, but in other respects he seemed a typical specimen of this handsome race.

  I did not awaken him, for sleep in prison is such a priceless boon that I have seen men transformed into raging brutes when robbed by one of their fellow-prisoners of a few precious moments of it.

  Returning to my own cell, I found Xodar still sitting in the same position in which I had left him.

  “Man,” I cried, “it will profit you nothing to mope thus. It were no disgrace to be bested by John Carter. You have seen that in the ease with which I accounted for Thurid. You knew it before when on the cruiser’s deck you saw me slay three of your comrades.”

  “I would that you had dispatched me at the same time,” he said.

  “Come, come!” I cried. “There is hope yet. Neither of us is dead. We are great fighters. Why not win to freedom?”

  He looked at me in amazement.

  “You know not of what you speak,” he replied. “Issus is omnipotent. Issus is omniscient. She hears now the words you speak. She knows the thoughts you think. It is sacrilege even to dream of breaking her commands.”

  “Rot, Xodar,” I ejaculated impatiently.

  He sprang to his feet in horror.

  “The curse of Issus will fall upon you,” he cried. “In another instant you will be smitten down, writhing to your death in horrible agony.”

  “Do you believe that, Xodar?” I asked.

  “Of course; who would dare doubt?”

  “I doubt; yes, and further, I deny,” I said. “Why, Xodar, you tell me that she even knows my thoughts. The red men have all had that power for ages. And another wonderful power. They can shut their minds so that none may read their thoughts. I learned the first secret years ago; the other I never had to learn, since upon all Barsoom is none who can read what passes in the secret chambers of my brain.

  “Your goddess cannot read my thoughts; nor can she read yours when you are out of sight, unless you will it. Had she been able to read mine, I am afraid that her pride would have suffered a rather severe shock when I turned at her command to ‘gaze upon the holy vision of her radiant face.’”

  “What do you mean?” he whispered in an affrighted voice, so low that I could scarcely hear him.

  “I mean that I thought her the most repulsive and vilely hideous creature my eyes ever had rested upon.”

  For a moment he eyed me in horror-stricken amazement, and then with a cry of “Blasphemer” he sprang upon me.

  I did not wish to strike him again, nor was it necessary, since he was unarmed and therefore quite harmless to me.

  As he came I grasped his left wrist with my left hand, and, swinging my right arm about his left shoulder, caught him beneath the chin with my elbow and bore him backward across my thigh.

  There he hung helpless for a moment, glaring up at me in impotent rage.

  “Xodar,” I said, “let us be friends. For a year, possibly, we may be forced to live together in the narrow confines of this tiny room. I am sorry to have offended you, but I could not dream that one who had suffered from the cruel injustice of Issus still could believe her divine.

  “I will say a few more words, Xodar, with no intent to wound your feelings further, but rather that you may give thought to the fact that while we live we are still more the arbiters of our own fate than is any god.

  “Issus, you see, has not struck me dead, nor is she rescuing her faithful Xodar from the clutches of the unbeliever who defamed her fair beauty. No, Xodar, your Issus is a mortal old woman. Once out of her clutches and she cannot harm you.

  “With your knowledge of this strange land, and my knowledge of the outer world, two such fighting-men as you and I should be able to win our way to freedom. Even though we died in the attempt, would not our memories be fairer than as though we remained in servile fear to be butchered by a cruel and unjust tyrant—call her goddess or mortal, as you will.”

  As I finished I raised Xodar to his feet and released him. He did not renew the attack upon me, nor did he speak. Instead, he walked toward the bench, and, sinking down upon it, remained lost in deep thought for hours.

  A long time afterward I heard a soft sound at the doorway leading to one of the other apartments, and, looking up, beheld the red Martian youth gazing intently at us.

  “Kaor,” I cried, after the red Martian manner of greeting.

  “Kaor,” he replied. “What do you here?”

  “I await my death, I presume,” I replied with a wry smile.

  He too smiled, a brave and winning smile.

  “I also,” he said. “Mine will come soon. I looked upon the radiant beauty of Issus nearly a year since. It has always been a source of keen wonder to me that I did not drop dead at the first sight of that hideous countenance. And her belly! By my first ancestor, but never was there so grotesque a figure in all the universe. That they should call such a one Goddess of Life Eternal, Goddess of Death, Mother of the Nearer Moon, and fifty other equally impossible titles, is quite beyond me.”

  “How came you here?” I asked.

  “It is very simple. I was flying a one-man air scout far to the south when the brilliant idea occurred to me that I should like to search for the Lost Sea of Korus which tradition places near to the south pole. I must have inherited from my father a wild lust for adventure, as well as a hollow where my bump of reverence should be.

  “I had reached the area of eternal ice when my port propeller jammed, and I dropped to the ground to make repairs. Before I knew it the air was black with fliers, and a hundred of these First Born devils were leaping to the ground all about me.

  “With drawn swords they made for me, but before I went down beneath them they had tasted of the steel of my father’s sword, and I had given such an account of myself as I know would have pleased my sire had he lived to witness it.”

  “Your father is dead?” I asked.

  “He died before the shell broke to let me step out into a world that has been very good to me. But for the sorrow that I had never the honour to know my father, I have been very happy. My only sorrow now is that my mother must mourn me as she has for ten long years mourned my father.”

  “Who was your father?” I asked.

  He was about to reply when the outer door of our prison opened and a burly guard entered and ordered him to his own quarters for the night, locking the door after him as he passed through into the further chamber.

  “It is Issus’ wish that you two be confined in the same room,” said the guard when he had returned to our cell. “This cowardly slave
of a slave is to serve you well,” he said to me, indicating Xodar with a wave of his hand. “If he does not, you are to beat him into submission. It is Issus’ wish that you heap upon him every indignity and degradation of which you can conceive.”

  With these words he left us.

  Xodar still sat with his face buried in his hands. I walked to his side and placed my hand upon his shoulder.

  “Xodar,” I said, “you have heard the commands of Issus, but you need not fear that I shall attempt to put them into execution. You are a brave man, Xodar. It is your own affair if you wish to be persecuted and humiliated; but were I you I should assert my manhood and defy my enemies.”

  “I have been thinking very hard, John Carter,” he said, “of all the new ideas you gave me a few hours since. Little by little I have been piecing together the things that you said which sounded blasphemous to me then with the things that I have seen in my past life and dared not even think about for fear of bringing down upon me the wrath of Issus.

  “I believe now that she is a fraud; no more divine than you or I. More I am willing to concede—that the First Born are no holier than the Holy Therns, nor the Holy Therns more holy than the red men.

  “The whole fabric of our religion is based on superstitious belief in lies that have been foisted upon us for ages by those directly above us, to whose personal profit and aggrandizement it was to have us continue to believe as they wished us to believe.

  “I am ready to cast off the ties that have bound me. I am ready to defy Issus herself; but what will it avail us? Be the First Born gods or mortals, they are a powerful race, and we are as fast in their clutches as though we were already dead. There is no escape.”

  “I have escaped from bad plights in the past, my friend,” I replied; “nor while life is in me shall I despair of escaping from the Isle of Shador and the Sea of Omean.”

  “But we cannot escape even from the four walls of our prison,” urged Xodar. “Test this flint-like surface,” he cried, smiting the solid rock that confined us. “And look upon this polished surface; none could cling to it to reach the top.”

  I smiled.

  “That is the least of our troubles, Xodar,” I replied. “I will guarantee to scale the wall and take you with me, if you will help with your knowledge of the customs here to appoint the best time for the attempt, and guide me to the shaft that lets from the dome of this abysmal sea to the light of God’s pure air above.”

  “Night time is the best and offers the only slender chance we have, for then men sleep, and only a dozing watch nods in the tops of the battleships. No watch is kept upon the cruisers and smaller craft. The watchers upon the larger vessels see to all about them. It is night now.”

  “But,” I exclaimed, “it is not dark! How can it be night, then?”

  He smiled.

  “You forget,” he said, “that we are far below ground. The light of the sun never penetrates here. There are no moons and no stars reflected in the bosom of Omean. The phosphorescent light you now see pervading this great subterranean vault emanates from the rocks that form its dome; it is always thus upon Omean, just as the billows are always as you see them—rolling, ever rolling over a windless sea.

  “At the appointed hour of night upon the world above, the men whose duties hold them here sleep, but the light is ever the same.”

  “It will make escape more difficult,” I said, and then I shrugged my shoulders; for what, pray, is the pleasure of doing an easy thing?

  “Let us sleep on it to-night,” said Xodar. “A plan may come with our awakening.”

  So we threw ourselves upon the hard stone floor of our prison and slept the sleep of tired men.

  THE GODS OF MARS, by Edgar Rice Burroughs (Part 2)

  CHAPTER XI

  WHEN HELL BROKE LOOSE

  Early the next morning Xodar and I commenced work upon our plans for escape. First I had him sketch upon the stone floor of our cell as accurate a map of the south polar regions as was possible with the crude instruments at our disposal—a buckle from my harness, and the sharp edge of the wondrous gem I had taken from Sator Throg.

  From this I computed the general direction of Helium and the distance at which it lay from the opening which led to Omean.

  Then I had him draw a map of Omean, indicating plainly the position of Shador and of the opening in the dome which led to the outer world.

  These I studied until they were indelibly imprinted in my memory. From Xodar I learned the duties and customs of the guards who patrolled Shador. It seemed that during the hours set aside for sleep only one man was on duty at a time. He paced a beat that passed around the prison, at a distance of about a hundred feet from the building.

  The pace of the sentries, Xodar said, was very slow, requiring nearly ten minutes to make a single round. This meant that for practically five minutes at a time each side of the prison was unguarded as the sentry pursued his snail like pace upon the opposite side.

  “This information you ask,” said Xodar, “will be all very valuable AFTER we get out, but nothing that you have asked has any bearing on that first and most important consideration.”

  “We will get out all right,” I replied, laughing. “Leave that to me.”

  “When shall we make the attempt?” he asked.

  “The first night that finds a small craft moored near the shore of Shador,” I replied.

  “But how will you know that any craft is moored near Shador? The windows are far beyond our reach.”

  “Not so, friend Xodar; look!”

  With a bound I sprang to the bars of the window opposite us, and took a quick survey of the scene without.

  Several small craft and two large battleships lay within a hundred yards of Shador.

  “To-night,” I thought, and was just about to voice my decision to Xodar, when, without warning, the door of our prison opened and a guard stepped in.

  If the fellow saw me there our chances of escape might quickly go glimmering, for I knew that they would put me in irons if they had the slightest conception of the wonderful agility which my earthly muscles gave me upon Mars.

  The man had entered and was standing facing the centre of the room, so that his back was toward me. Five feet above me was the top of a partition wall separating our cell from the next.

  There was my only chance to escape detection. If the fellow turned, I was lost; nor could I have dropped to the floor undetected, since he was no nearly below me that I would have struck him had I done so.

  “Where is the white man?” cried the guard of Xodar. “Issus commands his presence.” He started to turn to see if I were in another part of the cell.

  I scrambled up the iron grating of the window until I could catch a good footing on the sill with one foot; then I let go my hold and sprang for the partition top.

  “What was that?” I heard the deep voice of the black bellow as my metal grated against the stone wall as I slipped over. Then I dropped lightly to the floor of the cell beyond.

  “Where is the white slave?” again cried the guard.

  “I know not,” replied Xodar. “He was here even as you entered. I am not his keeper—go find him.”

  The black grumbled something that I could not understand, and then I heard him unlocking the door into one of the other cells on the further side. Listening intently, I caught the sound as the door closed behind him. Then I sprang once more to the top of the partition and dropped into my own cell beside the astonished Xodar.

  “Do you see now how we will escape?” I asked him in a whisper.

  “I see how you may,” he replied, “but I am no wiser than before as to how I am to pass these walls. Certain it is that I cannot bounce over them as you do.”

  We heard the guard moving about from cell to cell, and finally, his rounds completed, he again entered ours. When his eyes fell upon me they fairly bulged from his head.

  “By the shell of my first ancestor!” he roared. “Where have you been?”

  “I
have been in prison since you put me here yesterday,” I answered. “I was in this room when you entered. You had better look to your eyesight.”

  He glared at me in mingled rage and relief.

  “Come,” he said. “Issus commands your presence.”

  He conducted me outside the prison, leaving Xodar behind. There we found several other guards, and with them the red Martian youth who occupied another cell upon Shador.

  The journey I had taken to the Temple of Issus on the preceding day was repeated. The guards kept the red boy and myself separated, so that we had no opportunity to continue the conversation that had been interrupted the previous night.

  The youth’s face had haunted me. Where had I seen him before. There was something strangely familiar in every line of him; in his carriage, his manner of speaking, his gestures. I could have sworn that I knew him, and yet I knew too that I had never seen him before.

  When we reached the gardens of Issus we were led away from the temple instead of toward it. The way wound through enchanted parks to a mighty wall that towered a hundred feet in air.

  Massive gates gave egress upon a small plain, surrounded by the same gorgeous forests that I had seen at the foot of the Golden Cliffs.

  Crowds of blacks were strolling in the same direction that our guards were leading us, and with them mingled my old friends the plant men and great white apes.

  The brutal beasts moved among the crowd as pet dogs might. If they were in the way the blacks pushed them roughly to one side, or whacked them with the flat of a sword, and the animals slunk away as in great fear.

  Presently we came upon our destination, a great amphitheatre situated at the further edge of the plain, and about half a mile beyond the garden walls.

  Through a massive arched gateway the blacks poured in to take their seats, while our guards led us to a smaller entrance near one end of the structure.

  Through this we passed into an enclosure beneath the seats, where we found a number of other prisoners herded together under guard. Some of them were in irons, but for the most part they seemed sufficiently awed by the presence of their guards to preclude any possibility of attempted escape.