Masters of the Pit or Barbarians of Mars

by Michael Moorcock

  I talked at some length with the old cat-man and found the conversation rewarding.

  Then he said: "But all this is fine enough. We must do something to help you.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  "What can we do?"

  I remembered the machines left behind in the beached ship. That would be my first objective, I decided. If the cat-people-could help me it would make things much easier. I told the old cat-man, Slurra, of the reasons for my being here.

  He listened gravely and when I had finished he said: "You have a noble mission, Michael Kane. We should be proud to help you carry it out. As soon as you are ready, there will be a party of my people to come with you to this ship and the machines^can be brought back here."

  "Are you sure you want these fated machines among you?" I asked.

  "Machines are only dangerous, I believe, in the hands of dangerous men. It is such men we must be wary of, not their tools," said Slurra. I had already explained the power and implications of the ancient machines.

  And so it was agreed. In a short time an expedition, led by me, would set off for the coast.

  It was not my intention to engage the cat-folk in battle with the barbarians - or, indeed, to set out to harm the barbarians, who had been led into danger by Rokin. I hoped that a display of strength and some sensible Words, coupled with the information that Rokin was now dead, would encourage them to fall in with us.

  Things were not to happen quite like that, but I did not real"* ize it at the time.

  Chapter Eleven

  THE MACHINES ARE GONE!

  It took us some time to reach the coast, and a little longer to retrace my steps to where I had left the ship.

  As we neared the ship I noticed that something seemed wrong. No guards moved on the deck, all appeared as still as the grave.

  I began to trot faster, the cat-men following me. There were some twenty of them, well armed with bows and swords, and they hardly realized what a tremendous comfort they were to me on this Western continent.

  When I reached the ship I saw signs that some kind of fight had taken place.

  Two dead barbarians were next revealed, savagely beaten to death.

  Zapha, the captain commanding the cat-men, inspected the ground. Then his intelligent cat's face looked up at me thoughtfully.

  "More victims for the First Masters, if I'm not mistaken, Michael Kane," he said. "The men of Hahg have been here -they have taken prisoners."

  "They must be saved," I said grimly.

  He shook his head. "The men of Hahg must have wondered where you came from and followed your trucks back. This happened two days ago. The First Masters will not go back to the Crystal Pit yet, but you were only saved from the sport of the men of Hahg because your appearance coincided with the latest visit of the First Masters."

  "What sport is that?"

  "A grisly one - torture of a dreadful kind. I do not think you will find your friends alive in the mind now - though they'll live until the next visit of the First Masters."

  I felt horrified and then depressed. "Still, we shall have to do what we can," I said firmly.

  I clambered up the side of the ship and walked across the sloping deck towards the hold where I knew the machines were stored.

  I looked down.

  I saw nothing but brackish water.

  "The machines are gone!" I cried, running back to the broken rail and calling to the cat-men.

  "The machines are gone!"

  Zapha looked up at me with surprise in his eyes. "They have taken them? It is not like them to do anything but capture victims for the First Masters."

  "Nonetheless, they are gone," I said, climbing down the side of the ship.

  'Then we must hurry back to the village of the Hahg and see if we can recover them," Zapha said boldly.

  We turned and began to go back the way we had come.

  "We must get additional forces before we do that," I said.

  "Perhaps," said Zapha thoughtfully. "But this number has been enough in the past."

  "You have attacked the Hahg before?"

  "When necessary - to save our own folk usually."

  "I cannot draw you into this fight," I said.

  "Do not worry. This fight is ours and yours - it is linked because the cause is common," said Zapha firmly.

  I respected his words and understood his feelings.

  Thus we set off hurriedly for the Hahg encampment.

  As we neared the encampment, Zapha and his followers began to show more caution and Zapha signed to me to follow him.

  I could not move with the grace of the cat-folk, who now advanced completely silently through the forest, but I did.

  Soon we lay in the undergrowth, peering at the squalid Hahg village, which, I had learned, was built on the ruins left behind by the First Masters when they had gone to the mountains.

  From somewhere we heard mindless cries of agony and I knew what they signified.

  This time Zapha stayed my hand as. Impulsively, I made to rise.

  "Not yet," he said, only just audibly.

  I remembered a similar warning I had given Hool Haji and realized that Zapha was right. Action we would take - but only at the right moment.

  Looking about the camp I suddenly saw the machines. They were surrounded by a group of grunting dog-men, who were poking at them in what appeared to be mystification.

  What impulse had led them to go to the trouble of hauling the machines here? Some atavistic memory? Some association with the First Masters whom they tried, at such pitiful and inhuman cost, to please?

  Perhaps that was half the answer. I did not know.

  The fact remained that here they were and we must somehow recapture them. We must also rescue what remained of the tortured barbarians.

  Suddenly there came a disturbance in the air above us and I was astonished to see the First Masters descending into the village.

  Zapha was as astonished as I was.

  "Why are they here?" I whispered. "Surely they only go to the Crystal Pit to feed every five hundred shatis!"

  "I cannot imagine," Zapha said. "We are witnessing something important, I think, Michael Kane, though I cannot understand at this point what it signifies!"

  With a great noise of leathery, beating wings, the First Masters landed near the machines and the dog-folk withdrew obsequiously.

  Again I got the impression of some atavistic impulse working in the First Masters as they strutted, like stupid birds of prey, among the machines.

  Suddenly one of them reached out and touched part of a machine that seemed to me merely ornamentation. Immediately a weird humming began to fill the air and the machine that had been activated began to shudder.

  The dog-folk cowered back. Then the First Master who had originally touched the activating stud touched it again. The humming ceased.

  As it disturbed by this, the First Masters began to take to the air again, disappearing as rapidly and as mysteriously as they had come.

  We watched as the dog-people slowly returned to sniff at the machines.

  The pack-leader barked out some kind of order. The vines which had been used to haul the machines to the village were picked up and the dog-men began pulling them away in the opposite direction.

  "Where are they taking them?" I whispered to Zapha.

  "I only heard a little of what the leader said," replied Zapha. "I think they are going to the Crystal Pit.”

  "They are taking the machines there? I wonder why."

  "It does not matter at this moment, Michael Kane. What does matter is that they are leaving the village almost undefended. This will give us a chance to rescue your friends first."

  I did not quarrel with his description of the barbarians. They had been no real friends to me, but I felt I owed them something as human beings who had shown their prisoners at least some kind of rough respect.

  We walked boldly into the village when the dog-men hauling the machines had gone. Those who remained saw
that we outnumbered them and allowed their women and children to draw them back into their dark shelters.

  Poor creatures I Cowardice had become their way of life.

  The cat-folk did not bother them, but went to the shelter from where the moans had come earlier. There were none now and I assumed the barbarians had passed out.

  But the two barbarians in the shelter had not passed out.

  They had killed themselves. From the beam of the shelter a rope hung. It had been looped over and a noose formed at either end.

  Hanging, with their necks in the nooses, were the two barbarians.

  I leapt forward with the idea of cutting them down but Zapha shook his head.

  "They are dead," he said. "Perhaps it is best.”

  “I am tempted to avenge them here and now," I said harshly, turning towards the entrance.

  "It was you who told us of the real cause of all this, Michael Kane," Zapha reminded me.

  I controlled my emotions and left the place of death.

  Zapha came out with me.

  "Let us follow the Hahg to the Crystal Pit now," he said. "We might learn something. Perhaps that is where the First Masters have gone, too."

  I agreed, and we left the village and the stench of fear behind us.

  Chapter Twelve

  THE DANCE OF THE FIRST MASTERS

  The long grass hid our approach up to the Crystal Pit and we lay observing the weird sight before us.

  The dog-people had by this time almost dragged the machines up to the brink of the scintillating pit.

  I watched, uncertain what to do, as they heaved them over the edge. I heard them slide down, some of them seeming to protest with a screaming noise created by the friction as they slid into the pit.

  Just as they had done with us, the dog-people began to back away from the edge once the last machine had been deposited. I knew that the Yaksha machines were durable enough not to have been harmed by the way they had been handled.

  Then, in the distance, I saw the First Masters come winging to settle into the pit like vultures upon a corpse.

  For a moment all of them were obscured from our view by the sides of the pit; then they came flapping up again, in some sort of order, until they had formed a circle, hovering again in the air above the Crystal Pit.

  Now they began to perform a weird, aerial dance, following a pattern which I could not at once understand.

  The dance went on, becoming more and more frenetic, and yet keeping its order, no matter how fast the First Masters flew.

  There was something almost pathetic about this dance and, not for the first time, I could sympathize a little with the long forgotten impulses which had driven the First Masters to become the mindless things they now were.

  On and on went the dance of the First Masters; faster and faster they whirled in the air above the Crystal Pit. Whether it was a ritual of homage to the machines or a dance of hatred I shall never know.

  What I do know, however, is that some of their insensate emotion was reflected in me, and I watched in awe as it went on.

  Finally one of their number dived swiftly into the pit. A second followed, then another and yet another, until all were once again hidden from our view.

  I assumed that they must have activated something in the machines.

  Suddenly there came a vast eruption from the Crystal Pit, a pillar of fire that rose hundreds of feet into the air.

  The atmosphere was torn by a great, screaming roar. The dog-people had not had time to retreat to a safe distance. Every one of them was consumed in the blast of energy from the pit.

  For a few moments the pillar of fire continued to rise higher and higher. Then it subsided.

  The air was still.

  Nothing moved.

  Zapha and the other cat-folk said nothing. We simply exchanged glances that showed our deep bewilderment at what we had just witnessed.

  There was no longer any possibility of discovering if one of the machines was the one I needed. I would just have to hope that the one I wanted - if it still existed - survived somewhere else.

  The First Masters were dead, taking most of their servants with them.

  Back in the cat village, we told the folk of Purha what we had seen.

  There was an atmosphere of quiet jubilation about the village then, though the cat-people were contemplative enough to brood on the significance of what we told them - though its true significance was hard to fathom.

  Some death-wish had been tapped in the First Masters, some ancient drive which had taken them to the destruction of themselves as human beings - and now as entities.

  A cycle seemed to have been completed. It would be best to forget it, I felt.

  My next objective must be to find Bagarad.

  There the other stolen machines remained - or so I hoped.

  There I might find what I sought.

  I discussed this with the cat-people and they told me that they felt it their duty to go with me to Bagarad. I told them that their company would be welcome, particularly since I still mourned the loss of Hool Haji. But I did not wish to get them involved in any fighting.

  "Let us decide whether the fighting should involve us or not," said Zapha with a quiet smile.

  Fasa now spoke up. "I would go with you, Michael Kane, but it is hard for me to leave at the moment. Take this, however, and hope it brings you luck."

  She handed to me a needle-thin dagger which could be fitted behind my harness. In some ways it resembled the hidden skinning knife of the Mendishar and it was intended to be used for the same purpose - if danger threatened.

  I accepted it gratefully, commenting on the weapon's precise workmanship.

  "A little rest," I said, "if I may, and we'll be off to seek Bagarad.”

  The wise old cat-man, Slurra, brought out some tablets which he had told me of earlier.

  "Here is the only map we have," he said. "It is probably inexact, but it still show you the general direction to take in order to reach the country of the barbarians."

  I accepted this also with an expression of thanks. He raised his hand.

  "Do not thank us - let us thank you that we can repay all you have done for us, both with your actions and your words," he said. "I only hope that you will return to Purha some day, when the world is tranquil."

  "It will be one of the first things I shall do," I promised, "if I ever accomplish my mission and remain alive."

  "If it is possible, Michael Kane, you will do it - and live." He smiled.

  Next morning, myself, Zapha and a party of cat-men set off for Bagarad, which lay to the south of the land of the cat-people.

  Our journey was a long one, and involved crossing a mountain range where, to our sorrow, we lost one of our number.

  But on the other side of the valley we encountered a land of friendly, farming folk who willingly gave us daharas in exchange for some of the cat-folk's artifacts, which they had brought along for this purpose.

  The cat-folk were not used to riding, but their quick intelligence and sense of balance helped, and soon we were all riding along like old cavalrymen!

  The going was fairly easy for several days until we came to a land of marshes and lowering skies. Here we had difficulty picking our way along the ribbons of firm ground which crisscrossed the marshes.

  It seemed to be drizzling permanently and it was much colder.

  I would be glad when we left this area and found a pleasanter land.

  We spoke little as we rode, concentrating on guiding our daharas through the marshes.

  It was towards evening on the third day of our journey through the marsh when we first discovered we were being watched.

  Zapha, with his quick cat's eyes, noticed it first and rode up to warn me.

  "I have only seen glimpses of them," he said, "but there are a number of men out there in the marsh. We had better be wary of attack."

  Then I began to notice them and began to feel uncomfortable.

  It was not un
til night had fallen that they suddenly rose from all around us and came silently towards us. They were tall men, well-shaped but for their heads, which were smaller than they should have been in proportion to their bodies.

  They bore swords - heavy, wide-bladed affairs which they swung at us and which we met with our lighter weapons.

  We were able to defend ourselves well enough, but in the darkness it was confusing, for these people evidently knew the marsh and we did not.

  I struck about me, keeping them at a distance, my dahara rearing and snorting and becoming difficult to control. These beasts were harder to control than the variety found on Southern Mars and part of my concentration had to be used to quiet my beast as best I could.

  I felt a blade nick my arm, but paid little attention to the wound.

  Through the darkness I caught glimpses of my comrades fighting, and every so often one would go down. So I decided that it would be best if we made a dash for it, hoping to keep firm ground under our beasts' feet.

  I shouted to Zapha and he yelled back his agreement. We urged our daharas forward and began to gallop recklessly away from the men who had attacked us.

  On through the night we rode, praying that the swamp would not take us. The small-headed men behind us appeared to give up the chase quite soon, and at length we were able to slow down. We decided that, since the moons had risen, we should continue rather than make camp and risk a further attack at night.

  By morning we were still safe, although once or twice we had narrowly escaped riding into the marsh, and were very tired.

  My wound was aching a little, but I soon bound it up and forgot about it. We were now near the edge of the marsh and could see firmer ground ahead of us.

  Also we could see the outlines of what appeared to be a series of buildings, but it was hard to decide whether they comprised a city or not.