Thuvia, maid of Mars
“May the white apes take us all,” cried Astok ruefully, “if we are not
in as ugly a snarl as you have ever seen! Nutus thinks that we have her
in hiding far away from Dusar. He has bidden me bring her here.”
He paused. No man should have heard from his lips the thing he was
trying to tell. It should have been for ever the secret of Nutus and
Astok, for upon it rested the safety of a throne. With that knowledge
any man could wrest from the Jeddak of Dusar whatever he listed.
But Astok was afraid, and he wanted from this older man the suggestion
of an alternative. He went on.
“I am to kill her,” he whispered, looking fearfully around. “Nutus
merely wishes to see the body that he may know his commands have been
executed. I am now supposed to be gone to the spot where we have her
hidden that I may fetch her in secrecy to Dusar. None is to know that
she has ever been in the keeping of a Dusarian. I do not need to tell
you what would befall Dusar should Ptarth and Helium and Kaol ever
learn the truth.”
The jaws of the listener at the ventilator clicked together with a
vicious snap. Before he had but guessed at the identity of the subject
of this conversation. Now he knew. And they were to kill her! His
muscular fingers clenched until the nails bit into the palms.
“And you wish me to go with you while you fetch her to Dusar,” Vas Kor
was saying. “Where is she?”
Astok bent close and whispered into the other’s ear. The suggestion of
a smile crossed the cruel features of Vas Kor. He realized the power
that lay within his grasp. He should be a jed at least.
“And how may I help you, my Prince?” asked the older man suavely.
“I cannot kill her,” said Astok. “Issus! I cannot do it! When she turns
those eyes upon me my heart becomes water.”
Vas Kor’s eyes narrowed.
“And you wish—” He paused, the interrogation unfinished, yet complete.
Astok nodded.
“_You_ do not love her,” he said.
“But I love my life—though I am only a lesser noble,” he concluded
meaningly.
“You shall be a greater noble—a noble of the first rank!” exclaimed
Astok.
“I would be a jed,” said Vas Kor bluntly.
Astok hesitated.
“A jed must die before there can be another jed,” he pleaded.
“Jeds have died before,” snapped Vas Kor. “It would doubtless be not
difficult for you to find a jed you do not love, Astok—there are many
who do not love you.”
Already Vas Kor was commencing to presume upon his power over the young
prince. Astok was quick to note and appreciate the subtle change in his
lieutenant. A cunning scheme entered his weak and wicked brain.
“As you say, Vas Kor!” he exclaimed. “You shall be a jed when the thing
is done,” and then, to himself: “Nor will it then be difficult for me
to find a jed I do not love.”
“When shall we return to Dusar?” asked the noble.
“At once,” replied Astok. “Let us get under way now—there is naught to
keep you here?”
“I had intended sailing on the morrow, picking up such recruits as the
various Dwars of the Roads might have collected for me, as we returned
to Dusar.”
“Let the recruits wait,” said Astok. “Or, better still, come you to
Dusar upon the _Thuria_, leaving the Kalksus to follow and pick up the
recruits.”
“Yes,” acquiesced Vas Kor; “that is the better plan. Come; I am ready,”
and he rose to accompany Astok to the latter’s flier.
The listener at the ventilator came to his feet slowly, like an old
man. His face was drawn and pinched and very white beneath the light
copper of his skin. She was to die! And he helpless to avert the
tragedy. He did not even know where she was imprisoned.
The two men were ascending from the cabin to the deck. Turjun, the
panthan, crept close to the companionway, his sinuous fingers closing
tightly upon the hilt of his dagger. Could he despatch them both before
he was overpowered? He smiled. He could slay an entire utan of her
enemies in his present state of mind.
They were almost abreast of him now. Astok was speaking.
“Bring a couple of your men along, Vas Kor,” he said. “We are
short-handed upon the _Thuria_, so quickly did we depart.”
The panthan’s fingers dropped from the dagger’s hilt. His quick mind
had grasped here a chance for succouring Thuvia of Ptarth. He might be
chosen as one to accompany the assassins, and once he had learned where
the captive lay he could dispatch Astok and Vas Kor as well as now. To
kill them before he knew where Thuvia was hid was simply to leave her
to death at the hands of others; for sooner or later Nutus would learn
her whereabouts, and Nutus, Jeddak of Dusar, could not afford to let
her live.
Turjun put himself in the path of Vas Kor that he might not be
overlooked. The noble aroused the men sleeping upon the deck, but
always before him the strange panthan whom he had recruited that same
day found means for keeping himself to the fore.
Vas Kor turned to his lieutenant, giving instruction for the bringing
of the Kalksus to Dusar, and the gathering up of the recruits; then he
signed to two warriors who stood close behind the padwar.
“You two accompany us to the _Thuria_,” he said, “and put yourselves at
the disposal of her dwar.”
It was dark upon the deck of the Kalksus, so Vas Kor had not a good
look at the faces of the two he chose; but that was of no moment, for
they were but common warriors to assist with the ordinary duties upon a
flier, and to fight if need be.
One of the two was Kar Komak, the bowman. The other was not Carthoris.
The Heliumite was mad with disappointment. He snatched his dagger from
his harness; but already Astok had left the deck of the Kalksus, and he
knew that before he could overtake him, should he dispatch Vas Kor, he
would be killed by the Dusarian warriors, who now were thick upon the
deck. With either one of the two alive Thuvia was in as great danger as
though both lived—it must be both!
As Vas Kor descended to the ground Carthoris boldly followed him, nor
did any attempt to halt him, thinking, doubtless, that he was one of
the party.
After him came Kar Komak and the Dusarian warrior who had been detailed
to duty upon the _Thuria_. Carthoris walked close to the left side of
the latter. Now they came to the dense shadow under the side of the
_Thuria_. It was very dark there, so that they had to grope for the
ladder.
Kar Komak preceded the Dusarian. The latter reached upward for the
swinging rounds, and as he did so steel fingers closed upon his
windpipe and a steel blade pierced the very centre of his heart.
Turjun, the panthan, was the last to clamber over the rail of the
_Thuria_, drawing the rope ladder in after him.
A moment later the flier was rising rapidly, headed for the north.
At the rail Kar Komak turned to speak to the warrior who had been
detailed to accompany him. His eyes went wide as they rested upon the
face of the young man whom he had met beside the granite cliffs that
guard mysterious Lothar. How had he come in place of the Dusarian?
A quick sign, and Kar Komak turned once more to find the _Thuria_’s
dwar that he might report himself for duty. Behind him followed the
panthan.
Carthoris blessed the chance that had caused Vas Kor to choose the
bowman of all others, for had it been another Dusarian there would have
been questions to answer as to the whereabouts of the warrior who lay
so quietly in the field beyond the residence of Hal Vas, Dwar of the
Southern Road; and Carthoris had no answer to that question other than
his sword point, which alone was scarce adequate to convince the entire
crew of the _Thuria_.
The journey to Dusar seemed interminable to the impatient Carthoris,
though as a matter of fact it was quickly accomplished. Some time
before they reached their destination they met and spoke with another
Dusarian war flier. From it they learned that a great battle was soon
to be fought south-east of Dusar.
The combined navies of Dusar, Ptarth and Kaol had been intercepted in
their advance toward Helium by the mighty Heliumitic navy—the most
formidable upon Barsoom, not alone in numbers and armament, but in the
training and courage of its officers and warriors, and the zitidaric
proportions of many of its monster battleships.
Not for many a day had there been the promise of such a battle. Four
jeddaks were in direct command of their own fleets—Kulan Tith of Kaol,
Thuvan Dihn of Ptarth, and Nutus of Dusar upon one side; while upon the
other was Tardos Mors, Jeddak of Helium. With the latter was John
Carter, Warlord of Mars.
From the far north another force was moving south across the barrier
cliffs—the new navy of Talu, Jeddak of Okar, coming in response to the
call from the warlord. Upon the decks of the sullen ships of war
black-bearded yellow men looked over eagerly toward the south. Gorgeous
were they in their splendid cloaks of orluk and apt. Fierce, formidable
fighters from the hothouse cities of the frozen north.
And from the distant south, from the sea of Omean and the cliffs of
gold, from the temples of the therns and the garden of Issus, other
thousands sailed into the north at the call of the great man they all
had learned to respect, and, respecting, love. Pacing the flagship of
this mighty fleet, second only to the navy of Helium, was the ebon
Xodar, Jeddak of the First Born, his heart beating strong in
anticipation of the coming moment when he should hurl his savage crews
and the weight of his mighty ships upon the enemies of the warlord.
But would these allies reach the theatre of war in time to be of avail
to Helium? Or, would Helium need them?
Carthoris, with the other members of the crew of the _Thuria_, heard
the gossip and the rumours. None knew of the two fleets, the one from
the south and the other from the north, that were coming to support the
ships of Helium, and all of Dusar were convinced that nothing now could
save the ancient power of Helium from being wiped for ever from the
upper air of Barsoom.
Carthoris, too, loyal son of Helium that he was, felt that even his
beloved navy might not be able to cope successfully with the combined
forces of three great powers.
Now the _Thuria_ touched the landing stage above the palace of Astok.
Hurriedly the prince and Vas Kor disembarked and entered the drop that
would carry them to the lower levels of the palace.
Close beside it was another drop that was utilized by common warriors.
Carthoris touched Kar Komak upon the arm.
“Come!” he whispered. “You are my only friend among a nation of
enemies. Will you stand by me?”
“To the death,” replied Kar Komak.
The two approached the drop. A slave operated it.
“Where are your passes?” he asked.
Carthoris fumbled in his pocket pouch as though in search of them, at
the same time entering the cage. Kar Komak followed him, closing the
door. The slave did not start the cage downward. Every second counted.
They must reach the lower level as soon as possible after Astok and Vas
Kor if they would know whither the two went.
Carthoris turned suddenly upon the slave, hurling him to the opposite
side of the cage.
“Bind and gag him, Kar Komak!” he cried.
Then he grasped the control lever, and as the cage shot downward at
sickening speed, the bowman grappled with the slave. Carthoris could
not leave the control to assist his companion, for should they touch
the lowest level at the speed at which they were going, all would be
dashed to instant death.
Below him he could now see the top of Astok’s cage in the parallel
shaft, and he reduced the speed of his to that of the other. The slave
commenced to scream.
“Silence him!” cried Carthoris.
A moment later a limp form crumpled to the floor of the cage.
“He is silenced,” said Kar Komak.
Carthoris brought the cage to a sudden stop at one of the higher levels