The Chessmen of Mars
aware that one of these differed from all the others. Even at the
greater distance he noted that the head was smaller and as they
approached, he was confident that the harness of one of them was not as
the harness of its companion or of that of any of those who tilled the
fields.
The two stopped often, apparently in argument, as though one would
proceed in the direction that they were going while the other demurred.
But each time the smaller won reluctant consent from the other, and so
they came closer and closer to the last line of workers toiling between
the enclosure from which they had come and the hill where Gahan of
Gathol lay watching, and then suddenly the smaller figure struck its
companion full in the face. Gahan, horrified, saw the latter's head
topple from its body, saw the body stagger and fall to the ground. The
man half rose from his concealment the better to view the happening in
the valley below. The creature that had felled its companion was
dashing madly in the direction of the hill upon which he was hidden, it
dodged one of the workers that sought to seize it. Gahan hoped that it
would gain its liberty, why he did not know other than at closer range
it had every appearance of being a creature of his own race. Then he
saw it stumble and go down and instantly its pursuers were upon it.
Then it was that Gahan's eyes chanced to return to the figure of the
creature the fugitive had felled.
What horror was this that he was witnessing? Or were his eyes playing
some ghastly joke upon him? No, impossible though it was--it was
true--the head was moving slowly to the fallen body. It placed itself
upon the shoulders, the body rose, and the creature, seemingly as good
as new, ran quickly to where its fellows were dragging the hapless
captive to its feet.
The watcher saw the creature take its prisoner by the arm and lead it
back to the enclosure, and even across the distance that separated them
from him he could note dejection and utter hopelessness in the bearing
of the prisoner, and, too, he was half convinced that it was a woman,
perhaps a red Martian of his own race. Could he be sure that this was
true he must make some effort to rescue her even though the customs of
his strange world required it only in case she was of his own country;
but he was not sure; she might not be a red Martian at all, or, if she
were, it was as possible that she sprang from an enemy people as not.
His first duty was to return to his own people with as little personal
risk as possible, and though the thought of adventure stirred his blood
he put the temptation aside with a sigh and turned away from the
peaceful and beautiful valley that he longed to enter, for it was his
intention to skirt its eastern edge and continue his search for Gathol
beyond.
As Gahan of Gathol turned his steps along the southern slopes of the
hills that bound Bantoom upon the south and east, his attention was
attracted toward a small cluster of trees a short distance to his
right. The low sun was casting long shadows. It would soon be night.
The trees were off the path that he had chosen and he had little mind
to be diverted from his way; but as he looked again he hesitated. There
was something there besides boles of trees, and underbrush. There were
suggestions of familiar lines of the handicraft of man. Gahan stopped
and strained his eyes in the direction of the thing that had arrested
his attention. No, he must be mistaken--the branches of the trees and a
low bush had taken on an unnatural semblance in the horizontal rays of
the setting sun. He turned and continued upon his way; but as he cast
another side glance in the direction of the object of his interest, the
sun's rays were shot back into his eyes from a glistening point of
radiance among the trees.
Gahan shook his head and walked quickly toward the mystery, determined
now to solve it. The shining object still lured him on and when he had
come closer to it his eyes went wide in surprise, for the thing they
saw was naught else than the jewel-encrusted emblem upon the prow of a
small flier. Gahan, his hand upon his short-sword, moved silently
forward, but as he neared the craft he saw that he had naught to fear,
for it was deserted. Then he turned his attention toward the emblem. As
its significance was flashed to his understanding his face paled and
his heart went cold--it was the insignia of the house of The Warlord of
Barsoom. Instantly he saw the dejected figure of the captive being led
back to her prison in the valley just beyond the hills. Tara of Helium!
And he had been so near to deserting her to her fate. The cold sweat
stood in beads upon his brow.
A hasty examination of the deserted craft unfolded to the young jed the
whole tragic story. The same tempest that had proved his undoing had
borne Tara of Helium to this distant country. Here, doubtless, she had
landed in hope of obtaining food and water since, without a propellor,
she could not hope to reach her native city, or any other friendly
port, other than by the merest caprice of Fate. The flier seemed intact
except for the missing propellor and the fact that it had been
carefully moored in the shelter of the clump of trees indicated that
the girl had expected to return to it, while the dust and leaves upon
its deck spoke of the long days, and even weeks, since she had landed.
Mute yet eloquent proofs, these things, that Tara of Helium was a
prisoner, and that she was the very prisoner whose bold dash for
liberty he had so recently witnessed he now had not the slightest doubt.
The question now revolved solely about her rescue. He knew to which
tower she had been taken--that much and no more. Of the number, the
kind, or the disposition of her captors he knew nothing; nor did he
care--for Tara of Helium he would face a hostile world alone. Rapidly
he considered several plans for succoring her; but the one that
appealed most strongly to him was that which offered the greatest
chance of escape for the girl should he be successful in reaching her.
His decision reached he turned his attention quickly toward the flier.
Casting off its lashings he dragged it out from beneath the trees, and,
mounting to the deck tested out the various controls. The motor started
at a touch and purred sweetly, the buoyancy tanks were well stocked,
and the ship answered perfectly to the controls which regulated her
altitude. There was nothing needed but a propellor to make her fit for
the long voyage to Helium. Gahan shrugged impatiently--there must not
be a propellor within a thousand haads. But what mattered it? The craft
even without a propellor would still answer the purpose his plan
required of it--provided the captors of Tara of Helium were a people
without ships, and he had seen nothing to suggest that they had ships.
The architecture of their towers and enclosures assured him that they
had not.
The sudden Barsoomian night had fallen. Cluros rode majestically the
high heavens. The rumbling roar of a banth reverberated among the
hills. Gahan of Gathol let the ship rise a few feet from the ground,
then, seizing a bow rope, he dropped over the side. To tow the little
craft was now a thing of ease, and as Gahan moved rapidly toward the
brow of the hill above Bantoom the flier floated behind him as lightly
as a swan upon a quiet lake. Now down the hill toward the tower dimly
visible in the moonlight the Gatholian turned his steps. Closer behind
him sounded the roar of the hunting banth. He wondered if the beast
sought him or was following some other spoor. He could not be delayed
now by any hungry beast of prey, for what might that very instant be
befalling Tara of Helium he could not guess; and so he hastened his
steps. But closer and closer came the horrid screams of the great
carnivore, and now he heard the swift fall of padded feet upon the
hillside behind him. He glanced back just in time to see the beast
break into a rapid charge. His hand leaped to the hilt of his
long-sword, but he did not draw, for in the same instant he saw the
futility of armed resistance, since behind the first banth came a herd
of at least a dozen others. There was but a single alternative to a
futile stand and that he grasped in the instant that he saw the
overwhelming numbers of his antagonists.
Springing lightly from the ground he swarmed up the rope toward the bow
of the flier. His weight drew the craft slightly lower and at the very
instant that the man drew himself to the deck at the bow of the vessel,
the leading banth sprang for the stern. Gahan leaped to his feet and
rushed toward the great beast in the hope of dislodging it before it
had succeeded in clambering aboard. At the same instant he saw that
others of the banths were racing toward them with the quite evident
intention of following their leader to the ship's deck. Should they
reach it in any numbers he would be lost. There was but a single hope.
Leaping for the altitude control Gahan pulled it wide. Simultaneously
three banths leaped for the deck. The craft rose swiftly. Gahan felt
the impact of a body against the keel, followed by the soft thuds of
the great bodies as they struck the ground beneath. His act had not
been an instant too soon. And now the leader had gained the deck and
stood at the stern with glaring eyes and snarling jaws. Gahan drew his
sword. The beast, possibly disconcerted by the novelty of its position,
did not charge. Instead it crept slowly toward its intended prey. The
craft was rising and Gahan placed a foot upon the control and stopped
the ascent. He did not wish to chance rising to some higher air current
that would bear him away. Already the craft was moving slowly toward
the tower, carried thither by the impetus of the banth's heavy body
leaping upon it from astern.
The man watched the slow approach of the monster, the slavering jowls,
the malignant expression of the devilish face. The creature, finding
the deck stable, appeared to be gaining confidence, and then the man
leaped suddenly to one side of the deck and the tiny flier heeled as
suddenly in response. The banth slipped and clutched frantically at the
deck. Gahan leaped in with his naked sword; the great beast caught
itself and reared upon its hind legs to reach forth and seize this
presumptuous mortal that dared question its right to the flesh it
craved; and then the man sprang to the opposite side of the deck. The
banth toppled sideways at the same instant that it attempted to spring;
a raking talon passed close to Gahan's head at the moment that his
sword lunged through the savage heart, and as the warrior wrenched his
blade from the carcass it slipped silently over the side of the ship.
A glance below showed that the vessel was drifting in the direction of
the tower to which Gahan had seen the prisoner led. In another moment
or two it would be directly over it. The man sprang to the control and
let the craft drop quickly toward the ground where followed the banths,
still hot for their prey. To land outside the enclosure spelled certain
death, while inside he could see many forms huddled upon the ground as
in sleep. The ship floated now but a few feet above the wall of the
enclosure. There was nothing for it but to risk all on a bold bid for
fortune, or drift helplessly past without hope of returning through the
banth-infested valley, from many points of which he could now hear the
roars and growls of these fierce Barsoomian lions.
Slipping over the side Gahan descended by the trailing anchor-rope
until his feet touched the top of the wall, where he had no difficulty
in arresting the slow drifting of the ship. Then he drew up the anchor
and lowered it inside the enclosure. Still there was no movement upon
the part of the sleepers beneath--they lay as dead men. Dull lights