by MD Scott
As though her cry was but a signal to the others, the entire great pack hurled themselves among the fighters. Panic reigned in an instant. Thern and black woman turned alike against the common enemy, for the banths showed no partiality toward either.
The awful beasts bore down a hundred women by the mere weight of their great bodies as they hurled themselves into the thick of the fight. Leaping and clawing, they mowed down the warriors with their powerful paws, turning for an instant to rend their victims with frightful fangs.
The scene was fascinating in its terribleness, but suddenly it came to me that we were wasting valuable time watching this conflict, which in itself might prove a means of our escape.
The therns were so engaged with their terrible assailants that now, if ever, escape should be comparatively easy. I turned to search for an opening through the contending hordes. If we could but reach the ramparts we might find that the pirates somewhere had thinned the guarding forces and left a way open to us to the world without.
As my eyes wandered about the garden, the sight of the hundreds of air craft lying unguarded around us suggested the simplest avenue to freedom. Why it had not occurred to me before! I was thoroughly familiar with the mechanism of every known make of flier on Barsoom. For nine years I had sailed and fought with the navy of Helium. I had raced through space on the tiny one-man air scout and I had commanded the greatest battleship that ever had floated in the thin air of dying Mars.
To think, with me, is to act. Grasping Thuviar by the arm, I whispered to Tara Tarkas to follow me. Quickly we glided toward a small flier which lay furthest from the battling warriors. Another instant found us huddled on the tiny deck. My hand was on the starting lever. I pressed my thumb upon the button which controls the ray of repulsion, that splendid discovery of the Martians which permits them to navigate the thin atmosphere of their planet in huge ships that dwarf the dreadnoughts of our earthly navies into pitiful significance.
The craft swayed slightly but he did not move. Then a new cry of warning broke upon our ears. Turning, I saw a dozen black pirates dashing toward us from the melee. We had been discovered. With shrieks of rage the demons sprang for us. With frenzied insistence I continued to press the little button which should have sent us racing out into space, but still the vessel refused to budge. Then it came to me--the reason that he would not rise.
We had stumbled upon a two-man flier. Its ray tanks were charged only with sufficient repulsive energy to lift two ordinary women. The Thark's great weight was anchoring us to our doom.
The blacks were nearly upon us. There was not an instant to be lost in hesitation or doubt.
I pressed the button far in and locked it. Then I set the lever at high speed and as the blacks came yelling upon us I slipped from the craft's deck and with drawn long-sword met the attack.
At the same moment a boy's shriek rang out behind me and an instant later, as the blacks fell upon me. I heard far above my head, and faintly, in Thuviar's voice: 'My Princess, O my Prince; I would rather remain and die with--' But the rest was lost in the noise of my assailants.
I knew though that my ruse had worked and that temporarily at least Thuviar and Tara Tarkas were safe, and the means of escape was theirs.
For a moment it seemed that I could not withstand the weight of numbers that confronted me, but again, as on so many other occasions when I had been called upon to face fearful odds upon this planet of warriors and fierce beasts, I found that my earthly strength so far transcended that of my opponents that the odds were not so greatly against me as they appeared.
My seething blade wove a net of death about me. For an instant the blacks pressed close to reach me with their shorter swords, but presently they gave back, and the esteem in which they suddenly had learned to hold my sword arm was writ large upon each countenance.
I knew though that it was but a question of minutes before their greater numbers would wear me down, or get around my guard. I must go down eventually to certain death before them. I shuddered at the thought of it, dying thus in this terrible place where no word of my end ever could reach my Dejar Thoris. Dying at the hands of nameless black women in the gardens of the cruel therns.
Then my old-time spirit reasserted itself. The fighting blood of my Virginian sires coursed hot through my veins. The fierce blood lust and the joy of battle surged over me. The fighting smile that has brought consternation to a thousand foemen touched my lips. I put the thought of death out of my mind, and fell upon my antagonists with fury that those who escaped will remember to their dying day.
That others would press to the support of those who faced me I knew, so even as I fought I kept my wits at work, searching for an avenue of escape.
It came from an unexpected quarter out of the black night behind me. I had just disarmed a huge fellow who had given me a desperate struggle, and for a moment the blacks stood back for a breathing spell.
They eyed me with malignant fury, yet withal there was a touch of respect in their demeanour.
'Thern,' said one, 'you fight like a Dator. But for your detestable yellow hair and your white skin you would be an honour to the First Born of Barsoom.'
'I am no thern,' I said, and was about to explain that I was from another world, thinking that by patching a truce with these fellows and fighting with them against the therns I might enlist their aid in regaining my liberty. But just at that moment a heavy object smote me a resounding whack between my shoulders that nearly felled me to the ground.
As I turned to meet this new enemy an object passed over my shoulder, striking one of my assailants squarely in the face and knocking her senseless to the sward. At the same instant I saw that the thing that had struck us was the trailing anchor of a rather fair-sized air vessel; possibly a ten woman cruiser.
The ship was floating slowly above us, not more than fifty feet over our heads. Instantly the one chance for escape that it offered presented itself to me. The vessel was slowly rising and now the anchor was beyond the blacks who faced me and several feet above their heads.
With a bound that left them gaping in wide-eyed astonishment I sprang completely over them. A second leap carried me just high enough to grasp the now rapidly receding anchor.
But I was successful, and there I hung by one hand, dragging through the branches of the higher vegetation of the gardens, while my late foemen shrieked and howled beneath me.
Presently the vessel veered toward the west and then swung gracefully to the south. In another instant I was carried beyond the crest of the Golden Cliffs, out over the Valley Dor, where, six thousand feet below me, the Lost Sea of Korus lay shimmering in the moonlight.
Carefully I climbed to a sitting posture across the anchor's arms. I wondered if by chance the vessel might be deserted. I hoped so. Or possibly it might belong to a friendly people, and have wandered by accident almost within the clutches of the pirates and the therns. The fact that it was retreating from the scene of battle lent colour to this hypothesis.
But I decided to know positively, and at once, so, with the greatest caution, I commenced to climb slowly up the anchor chain toward the deck above me.
One hand had just reached for the vessel's rail and found it when a fierce black face was thrust over the side and eyes filled with triumphant hate looked into mine.
CHAPTER VII
A FAIR GODDESS
For an instant the black pirate and I remained motionless, glaring into each other's eyes. Then a grim smile curled the handsome lips above me, as an ebony hand came slowly in sight from above the edge of the deck and the cold, hollow eye of a revolver sought the centre of my forehead.
Simultaneously my free hand shot out for the black throat, just within reach, and the ebony finger tightened on the trigger. The pirate's hissing, 'Die, cursed thern,' was half choked in her windpipe by my clutching fingers. The hammer fell with a futile click upon an empty chamber.
Before she could fire again I had pulled her so far over the edge of the deck that she
was forced to drop her firearm and clutch the rail with both hands.
My grasp upon her throat effectually prevented any outcry, and so we struggled in grim silence; she to tear away from my hold, I to drag her over to her death.
Her face was taking on a livid hue, her eyes were bulging from their sockets. It was evident to her that she soon must die unless she tore loose from the steel fingers that were choking the life from her. With a final effort she threw herself further back upon the deck, at the same instant releasing her hold upon the rail to tear frantically with both hands at my fingers in an effort to drag them from her throat.
That little second was all that I awaited. With one mighty downward surge I swept her clear of the deck. Her falling body came near to tearing me from the frail hold that my single free hand had upon the anchor chain and plunging me with her to the waters of the sea below.
I did not relinquish my grasp upon her, however, for I knew that a single shriek from those lips as she hurtled to her death in the silent waters of the sea would bring her comrades from above to avenge her.
Instead I held grimly to her, choking, ever choking, while her frantic struggles dragged me lower and lower toward the end of the chain.
Gradually her contortions became spasmodic, lessening by degrees until they ceased entirely. Then I released my hold upon her and in an instant she was swallowed by the black shadows far below.
Again I climbed to the ship's rail. This time I succeeded in raising my eyes to the level of the deck, where I could take a careful survey of the conditions immediately confronting me.
The nearer moon had passed below the horizon, but the clear effulgence of the further satellite bathed the deck of the cruiser, bringing into sharp relief the bodies of six or eight black women sprawled about in sleep.
Huddled close to the base of a rapid fire gun was a young white boy, securely bound. His eyes were widespread in an expression of horrified anticipation and fixed directly upon me as I came in sight above the edge of the deck.
Unutterable relief instantly filled them as they fell upon the mystic jewel which sparkled in the centre of my stolen headpiece. He did not speak. Instead his eyes warned me to beware the sleeping figures that surrounded him.
Noiselessly I gained the deck. The boy nodded to me to approach him. As I bent low he whispered to me to release him.
'I can aid you,' he said, 'and you will need all the aid available when they awaken.'
'Some of them will awake in Korus,' I replied smiling.
He caught the meaning of my words, and the cruelty of his answering smile horrified me. One is not astonished by cruelty in a hideous face, but when it touches the features of a god whose fine-chiselled lineaments might more fittingly portray love and beauty, the contrast is appalling.
Quickly I released him.
'Give me a revolver,' he whispered. 'I can use that upon those your sword does not silence in time.'
I did as he bid. Then I turned toward the distasteful work that lay before me. This was no time for fine compunctions, nor for a chivalry that these cruel demons would neither appreciate nor reciprocate.
Stealthily I approached the nearest sleeper. When she awoke she was well on her journey to the chest of Korus. Her piercing shriek as consciousness returned to her came faintly up to us from the black depths beneath.
The second awoke as I touched her, and, though I succeeded in hurling her from the cruiser's deck, her wild cry of alarm brought the remaining pirates to their feet. There were five of them.
As they arose the boy's revolver spoke in sharp staccato and one sank back to the deck again to rise no more.
The others rushed madly upon me with drawn swords. The boy evidently dared not fire for fear of wounding me, but I saw his sneak stealthily and cat-like toward the flank of the attackers. Then they were on me.
For a few minutes I experienced some of the hottest fighting I had ever passed through. The quarters were too small for foot work. It was stand your ground and give and take. At first I took considerably more than I gave, but presently I got beneath one fellow's guard and had the satisfaction of seeing her collapse upon the deck.
The others redoubled their efforts. The crashing of their blades upon mine raised a terrific din that might have been heard for miles through the silent night. Sparks flew as steel smote steel, and then there was the dull and sickening sound of a shoulder bone parting beneath the keen edge of my Martian sword.
Three now faced me, but the boy was working his way to a point that would soon permit his to reduce the number by one at least. Then things happened with such amazing rapidity that I can scarce comprehend even now all that took place in that brief instant.
The three rushed me with the evident purpose of forcing me back the few steps that would carry my body over the rail into the void below. At the same instant the boy fired and my sword arm made two moves. One woman dropped with a bullet in her brain; a sword flew clattering across the deck and dropped over the edge beyond as I disarmed one of my opponents and the third went down with my blade buried to the hilt in her breast and three feet of it protruding from her back, and falling wrenched the sword from my grasp.
Disarmed myself, I now faced my remaining foeman, whose own sword lay somewhere thousands of feet below us, lost in the Lost Sea.
The new conditions seemed to please my adversary, for a smile of satisfaction bared her gleaming teeth as she rushed at me bare-handed. The great muscles which rolled beneath her glossy black hide evidently assured her that here was easy prey, not worth the trouble of drawing the dagger from her harness.
I let her come almost upon me. Then I ducked beneath her outstretched arms, at the same time sidestepping to the right. Pivoting on my left toe, I swung a terrific right to her jaw, and, like a felled ox, she dropped in her tracks.
A low, silvery laugh rang out behind me.
'You are no thern,' said the sweet voice of my companion, 'for all your golden locks or the harness of Satora Throg. Never lived there upon all Barsoom before one who could fight as you have fought this night. Who are you?'
'I am Joan Carter, Princess of the House of Tardoa Mors, Jeddak of Helium,' I replied. 'And whom,' I added, 'has the honour of serving been accorded me?'
He hesitated a moment before speaking. Then he asked:
'You are no thern. Are you an enemy of the therns?'
'I have been in the territory of the therns for a day and a half. During that entire time my life has been in constant danger. I have been harassed and persecuted. Armed women and fierce beasts have been set upon me. I had no quarrel with the therns before, but can you wonder that I feel no great love for them now? I have spoken.'
He looked at me intently for several minutes before he replied. It was as though he were attempting to read my inmost soul, to judge my character and my standards of chivalry in that long-drawn, searching gaze.
Apparently the inventory satisfied him.
'I am Phaidor, son of Matain Shang, Holy Hekkador of the Holy Therns, Father of Therns, Mistress of Life and Death upon Barsoom, Sister of Issus, Princess of Life Eternal.'
At that moment I noticed that the black I had dropped with my fist was commencing to show signs of returning consciousness. I sprang to her side. Stripping her harness from her I securely bound her hands behind her back, and after similarly fastening her feet tied her to a heavy gun carriage.
'Why not the simpler way?' asked Phaidor.
'I do not understand. What 'simpler way'?' I replied.
With a slight shrug of his lovely shoulders he made a gesture with his hands personating the casting of something over the craft's side.
'I am no murderer,' I said. 'I kill in self-defence only.'
He looked at me narrowly. Then he puckered those divine brows of his, and shook his head. He could not comprehend.
Well, neither had my own Dejar Thoris been able to understand what to his had seemed a foolish and dangerous policy toward enemies. Upon Barsoom, quarter is neither asked
nor given, and each dead woman means so much more of the waning resources of this dying planet to be divided amongst those who survive.
But there seemed a subtle difference here between the manner in which this boy contemplated the dispatching of an enemy and the tender-hearted regret of my own prince for the stern necessity which demanded it.
I think that Phaidor regretted the thrill that the spectacle would have afforded his rather than the fact that my decision left another enemy alive to threaten us.
The woman had now regained full possession of her faculties, and was regarding us intently from where she lay bound upon the deck. She was a handsome fellow, clean limbed and powerful, with an intelligent face and features of such exquisite chiselling that Adonis herself might have envied her.
