by Stuart Moore
He banked sharply, lost control, and dove again—into the mazelike pipework of the city’s refineries, the steaming brass network that fed power to its streets. Two Zodangan fliers were right on his tail now. Carter dodged thick, scalding-hot pipes, pulling up hard on the flier’s stick as he’d seen the pilots of Barsoom do.
Every slight twitch made the flier lurch sharply beneath him. This ain’t no horse, he thought.
He banked, swerved, shot to the side—and suddenly found himself beneath the city, weaving through its rows of gigantic moving legs. They pressed down into the sand like oil derricks, like pile drivers. Carter grimaced, tightening his grip on the flier’s controls.
One of the Zodangans was too slow and slammed right into a leg. His flier exploded in a burst of fire.
But as Carter slowed, disoriented, the second Zodangan pressed his advantage. He swerved to the side, pulling up even with Carter, then banked back hard, aiming his grapnel gun straight at his prey. Carter grimaced.
A shot rang out. The Zodangan spun off his flier, trailing blood. Carter looked around frantically. He was almost clear of the city now, and he could see the empty trench left behind in its wake. The last few legs clomped past him, and he spotted the shooter standing on the flat sand below.
Sola, with her Thark rifle. Woola stood next to her, yapping excitedly.
Carter bumped his way down to an uneasy landing. Behind him, the city lumbered slowly onward through the trackless desert.
When he dismounted, Sola swept him up like a mother reunited with her child.
“Easy now!” he said. “Sola—”
“I told you Woola could find you anywhere,” she replied.
He smiled down at the beast, which was hopping up and down with joy. Then he turned away, started back toward his flier.
“Where are you going?” Sola asked.
“To save Dejah. And I’m going to need an army to do it.” He kicked the flier to life. “Get on.”
“No.” Sola hesitated. “It is unnatural. Tharks do not fly.”
Again Carter smiled. “They do now.”
They made quite a sight: Carter in the pilot’s seat, Sola perched behind, clasping four arms painfully around his chest—and Woola stretched out like a hood ornament on the front of the flier. At first the animal seemed dubious, but soon he was howling with excitement into the onrushing wind.
When they reached the Thark settlement, Carter discovered that landing the flier was even more difficult with passengers. He collided with a dune, sending a wave of sand spitting up into the air. They skidded noisily to a halt, blinded by dust.
When the dust cleared, they found themselves staring into the barrels of two Thark rifles.
“Take me to the Jeddak,” Carter said. “Now!”
The guards led them through the maze of tents. Sarkoja sneered at them as they passed. Sola cringed, turning quickly away.
When they reached the Jeddak’s tent, Carter pushed straight through the flap. “Tars! They’re gonna kill Dejah—”
But the Thark sitting in the Jeddak’s chair was not Tars Tarkas. Tal Hajus jerked his head up from a platter of food, a dark grin forming on his face.
“Issus truly rewards the just,” he said.
They dumped Carter through a grate and he dropped twenty feet or more down to a ruined dungeon. A heavy rock fell after him, chained to his leg.
Tal Hajus smirked down at him, then replaced the grate and walked away.
Carter’s eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. Tall, elongated Thark skeletons filled the corners of the dark, foul-smelling space…and something else, too. Another figure…
“I see the dead.”
The voice was raspy but familiar. Carter squinted. “Tars?”
The former Jeddak slumped against a wall, naked and battered. Dozens of tiny wounds covered his body.
He seemed more dead than alive and only half aware of his surroundings.
“The Virginia I knew,” Tars said, “he traveled the Iss—”
“Virginia has returned, my friend.” Carter bent to examine him. “What have they done to you?”
Tars looked up, seeming to focus on Carter for the first time. “Your once great Jeddak now battles starved banths in the arena.” He coughed blood. “When I saw you I wished to believe it was a sign that something new could come into this world. No matter. My daughter is with her mother in paradise. I take comfort in that.”
Carter hesitated. “Ah, Tars…actually, Sola came back here. With me.”
Tars reared up, amazingly fast, and struck Carter full strength. Carter flew across the room, slamming hard against the far wall. The chain and rock followed, almost hitting him.
With a murderous look, Tars Tarkas rose to his full height and began advancing toward the Earthman.
“Tars. No—wait!” Carter held up a hand. “Dejah, Helium. They’re about to—”
“This is how you repay your debt to me?”
Tars reached out with all four hands and began to choke the life out of the Earthman. Carter gasped, struggled to speak. “Tars—don’t—Helium! They’re—”
But it was no use. Even wounded, the Thark was far stronger than Carter. Carter felt the iron grip of green hands, saw the dungeon begin to fade into a death haze. His eyes settled on one of the skeletons: that’ll be me soon.
Then the hands went slack on his neck, and Tars Tarkas passed out from exhaustion.
A huge door swung open and three Thark guards stormed in. They prodded Carter with spears, poking Tars until his eyes snapped open.
“Up. Now!” the first guard said. “We go!”
Carter swatted the spears away, no longer caring what the guards did to him. To his surprise, they backed off and let him help Tars Tarkas to his feet.
“We are finished,” Tars said quietly.
“Nonsense.” Carter forced a smile. “Leave a Thark his head and one hand and he may yet conquer. Right?”
“Your spirit annoys me.”
As the guards led them out, Carter felt a sudden, irrational hope. With Tars Tarkas at his side, he might yet escape.
But not, he knew, without a battle.
Light washed over Carter—glaring, blinding light—as the huge stone wall lifted up, revealing the Thark arena beyond. Beside him, Tars Tarkas tensed for battle.
Crumbling grandstands filled with cheering, chanting Tharks lined the huge amphitheater. A high wall topped with iron spikes separated the arena from the spectators. The arena itself was littered with dry bones and the huge, putrefying carcasses of a half dozen banths.
Carter gestured at the carnage. “This your work?”
Tars nodded wearily.
Behind them the stone wall slammed down, trapping them in the arena. No escape.
High above, in the grandstand, a single figure rose from the wreckage of a carved throne. Tal Hajus raised his arms, and the crowd instantly fell silent.
“Weakness. Sentiment.” Tal gestured down at Carter. “Allowing abominations like this white worm to contaminate the horde!”
Again the Tharks cheered.
“We are united because we cull our freaks,” the new Jeddak continued. “We are strong because we despise weakness.” He glared down the stands at Sola, who sat collared and chained like a dog. Sarkoja, cruel as ever, held her leash.
“Let them be crushed like our unhatched eggs!”
The crowd jeered and began to throw rubble down into the arena. Tars flinched under the pelting, falling to his knees. Carter moved to protect him but came up short against the chain still bound to his leg. He looked back and saw that the Thark guards had anchored the other end of his chain to a large boulder near the door. Restrained this way, Carter would only be able to reach the center of the arena.
Then a scream rang out—a nightmare cry of predatory hunger, unlike anything Carter had ever heard before. Its near-human fury chilled him on a base, instinctive level.
“Was that a banth?” he asked.
“No
.” Tars shook his head slowly, eyes filled with dread. “It is a white ape.”
On the far side of the arena, an iron gate creaked upward. The white ape burst free: gigantic, four-armed, twice the height and three times the bulk of a Thark, with no visible eyes. It stopped in the center of the arena and sniffed the air blindly, then turned slowly toward Tars and Carter.
The Tharks cheered.
“God almighty,” Carter whispered.
The ape howled and charged. Carter reached out to protect the weakened Tars Tarkas—too late. The ape struck out blindly with flailing arms and flung Tars clear across the arena. When Tars crashed down, the ape turned and began trudging back toward him, abandoning Carter for the moment.
Carter took off at a run after the creature. But once again the chain stopped him in his tracks. As he watched, helpless, the ape closed in on the former Jeddak, roaring and thumping the ground.
The Tharks rose to their feet, howling with excitement. Carter caught a quick glimpse of Sola pressing her face between the barrier spikes, eyes wide as she watched Tars’s plight. Sarkoja still held tightly to her leash.
Carter tugged at his chain, frustrated beyond belief. He couldn’t help Sola, and he couldn’t help Tars. Tal Hajus ruled the Tharks now, and Sab Than would soon rule the rest of Barsoom. And Dejah…Dejah Thoris…
No. He could not let it all fall apart. Not for him, not for the Tharks who’d become his comrades in battle. And especially not for her.
Gritting his teeth, Carter reached out and grabbed his chain in both hands. He whipped it up and down, slapping it against the ground as hard as he could. Once, twice, four and five times.
The white ape paused above Tars Tarkas’s unmoving body and turned at the noise.
Then it charged Carter.
The ape was upon him quicker than he’d expected. Carter sprang up, sailing over the creature’s head, then jerked to a halt in mid-air as the chain reached its end. He slammed hard to the ground, momentarily dazed.
Again the ape charged. Again, Carter leaped.
In the crowd, Tal Hajus turned to a guard and coldly demanded: “Release the other one.”
As he landed, the second ape charged him. Carter stared at it for a moment, then whirled around to see the first ape approaching from the other side. He could leap again, but there was no escape now. He looked around frantically, eyes straying from the dead banths to the cheering Tharks—and then Sola flipped herself into the arena, vaulting over the spiked wall.
Sarkoja—still holding Sola’s leash—let out a yelp as the leash went taut, flinging Sarkoja up into the air after the younger female. Sarkoja’s armor snagged on the spikes, catching her on the wall above the arena. She cursed, waving her sword wildly.
Sola landed in the center of the arena. The apes turned, sniffing the air.
On the floor, Tars Tarkas roused himself. “Sola! Are you mad?”
“No,” Sola cried. “The blood of my father drives me!”
Sarkoja wriggled free of the spikes and glared down into the arena. “Father?”
Sola gave a sharp tug on the chain, and Sarkoja tumbled down into the arena. Right into the arms of the first white ape.
It howled once, then ripped her in half.
The crowd jeered and booed.
As Carter watched, Sola helped Tars Tarkas to his feet. Barely looking around, Tars reached behind him and plucked a discarded spear from a banth carcass. He hurled it at the second ape, landed it firmly in the beast’s chest.
The ape yanked the spear out, howling and bleeding, then took off in a fury after Tars and Sola.
Carter smiled. This was more like it.
He began circling around the first ape, winding his chain around its fearsome body. The ape howled and jerked free, yanking out an entire chunk of the stone wall at the end of the chain. Straining his muscles to the limit, Carter whirled the chain around above his head, with boulder and stone attached, and struck the ape square in the face.
There was a sickening crack, and the ape fell to the ground. Dead.
The other ape was howling in agony, still chasing Sola and Tars around the arena. As they ran past Sarkoja’s broken body, Carter called out: “Sola!”
Sola ducked sideways, snatched up Sarkoja’s sword, and tossed it to Carter, just as the ape began to descend on Sola and Tars.
Carter sprang into action, plucking the sword out of the air. He landed near the two Tharks just as the white ape crushed them all. For a long series of seconds, the arena was still. And then, the point of the sword pierced through the back of the ape. Carter cut his way through the beast, covered in its blood, and the crowd erupted.
When he emerged, sword held high, the Tharks cheered.
“Virginia! Virginia! Virginia!”
Sola led her father away, limping, from the ape’s twitching carcass.
Coated with gore, Carter strode boldly toward the grandstand. With a single thrust, he hacked his chain in two, then pointed his sword straight up at Tal Hajus. The Tharks grew silent.
“I claim the right of challenge!” Carter cried.
The crowd gasped.
Tal Hajus stood slowly. He glared down at Carter, but his tone was less confident now. “You have no right of challenge. You are not Thark.”
“He is Thark!” Tars Tarkas shook his fist. “He is Dotar Sojat!”
Sola started up a new chant: “Do-tar So-jat! Do-tar So-jat!”
Soon the entire crowd was on their feet. “Do-tar So-jat! Do-tar So-jat! Do-tar So-jat!”
A flicker of fear crossed Tal Hajus’s face.
Carter swept his sword around, taking in the whole arena. “Who will pledge their metal to mine?”
The Tharks cheered even louder. Tars Tarkas and Sola moved in to join Carter but he waved them back. His attention—and his sword—were focused solely on Tal Hajus.
Tal made his move. He grabbed four swords from the guards attending him, one with each hand. Then he vaulted easily over the spiked wall and into the arena, a fierce war cry on his green lips.
Carter tensed and leaped in response. As he passed Tal Hajus in mid-air, Carter reached out with his sword and sliced. Earth muscles strained as the sword cut into…something. It was all happening too fast to see.
Carter landed, catlike, and turned to see Tal Hajus sneering back at him. For a moment, Carter thought his sword stroke had missed, struck some flying debris by mistake.
Then Tal’s perfectly sliced head slid off his torso, falling to land on the arena floor.
Carter looked to the stunned crowd. Once again they began to chant. “Do-tar So-jat! Do-tar So-jat!”
Sola placed a hand on his shoulder, and Tars gave him a weary Thark smile. Carter smiled back…then he leaped again, soaring up over the wall to land atop Tal’s abandoned throne. Carter scanned the crowd, raised his sword. The Tharks fell back into an obedient silence.
“The Jeddak of Zodanga means to crush Helium this very night,” Carter said. “And if Helium falls, so falls Barsoom. We must throw off the yoke of old hatreds. Tharks did not begin this, but by Issus, Tharks will end it!”
The crowd went berserk. In the arena below, Tars’s eyes shone with pride.
“We ride,” Carter screamed, “for Zodanga!”
SAB THAN felt oddly restless as he watched the wedding party file into the Palace of Light. This was his goal, the culmination of everything he’d been working toward. Yet even now, Matai Shang’s consciousness squatted on his brain, intruding into his thoughts.
Even this, he thought, is not mine.
The cream of Zodangan royalty filed in through one entrance, resplendent in red. From the opposite side, the Heliumites marched in, a sea of blue. The two groups crossed to staircases on either side, climbing to a common balcony beneath the shimmering dome. The wedding would take place on the central dais, where Sab now stood with his five groomsmen and a single bodyguard.
On the other side of the dais, Dejah Thoris approached her father, Tardos Mors. He handed her
one end of a ceremonial chain, and they began to speak in low tones.
“Would you like to hear their words?” Matai Shang asked in Sab’s mind. Sab nodded, and suddenly he was privy to every word of Tardos and Dejah’s conversation. No doubt Matai had another spy planted in the Helium royal party and was sharing the Thern group consciousness again.
“I know,” Tardos said, “this is not the fate you would have chosen, daughter. For yourself, or for Helium. But choice is a luxury, even for a Jeddak of Barsoom. Your heart—”
“A heart is a luxury too,” Dejah replied.
Then they turned and began to walk toward the center of the dais. Sab Than stepped toward her, forcing a smile. Dejah’s face was hard, emotionless.
“Easy,” Matai Shang said to him alone. “Remember that she is not the prize.”
The groomsmen moved in on Sab’s side, and Dejah’s maidens joined her. Sab fell in beside his bride-to-be, and the priestess took up her officiating position before them.
High above, a mirror mounted at the top of the dome flipped over. A beam of moonlight stabbed down to a receptor on the dais—and the dais began to levitate, rising slowly up into the air. When it reached the level of the balcony, the ceremony would begin.
“The prize is Barsoom,” Matai said.
Zodanga was easy to find. It hadn’t traveled far since Carter’s escape, and its path of destruction was visible miles away. When its spires came into view, the Earthman let out a rebel yell, and several hundred mounted Tharks stormed the city’s gates.
At Tars Tarkas’s command, the Tharks fired off a volley, shattering the main gate to scrap. Tharks poured into the streets, whooping and roaring. Carter tensed himself for resistance, pulling hard on his thoat’s reins. He looked around, past the old stone buildings and guard barracks, and saw…
Nothing. No crowds, no wedding party, no defenses. No army. Only a few Zodangan guards and civilians running hastily for cover from the green horde.
The Thark charge slowed to a bewildered crawl. Tars Tarkas rode up beside Carter, and they exchanged puzzled glances.
Sola spotted a Zodangan guard hiding in a doorway. She leaped off her thoat and snatched him up, holding him close to her sharp tusks. “Why is Zodanga undefended?” she asked. “Where is everyone?”
