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The great apes, towering in all their fifteen feet of height,
had gone down before my sword while the charging guards
were still some distance away. Close behind them pursued
the youth. At my back were the young girls, and as it
was in their service that I fought, I remained standing
there to meet my inevitable death, but with the determination
to give such an account of myself as would long be remembered
in the land of the First Born.
I noted the marvellous speed of the young red man as
he raced after the guards. Never had I seen such speed in
any Martian. His leaps and bounds were little short of those
which my earthly muscles had produced to create such awe
and respect on the part of the green Martians into whose
hands I had fallen on that long-gone day that had seen my
first advent upon Mars.
The guards had not reached me when he fell upon them
from the rear, and as they turned, thinking from the
fierceness of his onslaught that a dozen were attacking them,
I rushed them from my side.
In the rapid fighting that followed I had little chance
to note aught else than the movements of my immediate
adversaries, but now and again I caught a fleeting glimpse
of a purring sword and a lightly springing figure of sinewy
steel that filled my heart with a strange yearning and a
mighty but unaccountable pride.
On the handsome face of the boy a grim smile played,
and ever and anon he threw a taunting challenge to the
foes that faced him. In this and other ways his manner of
fighting was similar to that which had always marked me
on the field of combat.
Perhaps it was this vague likeness which made me love
the boy, while the awful havoc that his sword played amongst
the blacks filled my soul with a tremendous respect for him.
For my part, I was fighting as I had fought a thousand
times before--now sidestepping a wicked thrust, now stepping
quickly in to let my sword's point drink deep in a foeman's
heart, before it buried itself in the throat of his companion.
We were having a merry time of it, we two, when a great
body of Issus' own guards were ordered into the arena.
On they came with fierce cries, while from every side the
armed prisoners swarmed upon them.
For half an hour it was as though all hell had broken loose.
In the walled confines of the arena we fought in an
inextricable mass--howling, cursing, blood-streaked
demons; and ever the sword of the young red man flashed
beside me.
Slowly and by repeated commands I had succeeded in drawing
the prisoners into a rough formation about us, so that at
last we fought formed into a rude circle in the centre of
which were the doomed maids.
Many had gone down on both sides, but by far the greater
havoc had been wrought in the ranks of the guards of Issus.
I could see messengers running swiftly through the audience,
and as they passed the nobles there unsheathed their swords
and sprang into the arena. They were going to annihilate
us by force of numbers--that was quite evidently their plan.
I caught a glimpse of Issus leaning far forward upon her
throne, her hideous countenance distorted in a horrid
grimace of hate and rage, in which I thought I could
distinguish an expression of fear. It was that face
that inspired me to the thing that followed.
Quickly I ordered fifty of the prisoners to drop back
behind us and form a new circle about the maidens.
"Remain and protect them until I return," I commanded.
Then, turning to those who formed the outer line, I cried,
"Down with Issus! Follow me to the throne; we will reap
vengeance where vengeance is deserved."
The youth at my side was the first to take up the cry of
"Down with Issus!" and then at my back and from all
sides rose a hoarse shout, "To the throne! To the throne!"
As one man we moved, an irresistible fighting mass, over
the bodies of dead and dying foes toward the gorgeous
throne of the Martian deity. Hordes of the doughtiest
fighting-men of the First Born poured from the audience to
check our progress. We mowed them down before us as they
had been paper men.
"To the seats, some of you!" I cried as we approached
the arena's barrier wall. "Ten of us can take the throne,"
for I had seen that Issus' guards had for the most part
entered the fray within the arena.
On both sides of me the prisoners broke to left and
right for the seats, vaulting the low wall with dripping
swords lusting for the crowded victims who awaited them.
In another moment the entire amphitheatre was filled
with the shrieks of the dying and the wounded, mingled with
the clash of arms and triumphant shouts of the victors.
Side by side the young red man and I, with perhaps a
dozen others, fought our way to the foot of the throne.
The remaining guards, reinforced by the high dignitaries
and nobles of the First Born, closed in between us and
Issus, who sat leaning far forward upon her carved sorapus
bench, now screaming high-pitched commands to her following,
now hurling blighting curses upon those who sought to
desecrate her godhood.
The frightened slaves about her trembled in wide-eyed
expectancy, knowing not whether to pray for our victory
or our defeat. Several among them, proud daughters no
doubt of some of Barsoom's noblest warriors, snatched
swords from the hands of the fallen and fell upon the
guards of Issus, but they were soon cut down; glorious
martyrs to a hopeless cause.
The men with us fought well, but never since Tars Tarkas
and I fought out that long, hot afternoon shoulder to
shoulder against the hordes of Warhoon in the dead sea
bottom before Thark, had I seen two men fight to such
good purpose and with such unconquerable ferocity as
the young red man and I fought that day before the throne
of Issus, Goddess of Death, and of Life Eternal.
Man by man those who stood between us and the carven
sorapus wood bench went down before our blades. Others
swarmed in to fill the breach, but inch by inch, foot by
foot we won nearer and nearer to our goal.
Presently a cry went up from a section of the stands
near by--"Rise slaves!" "Rise slaves!" it rose and fell until
it swelled to a mighty volume of sound that swept in great
billows around the entire amphitheatre.
For an instant, as though by common assent, we ceased
our fighting to look for the meaning of this new note nor
did it take but a moment to translate its significance. In
all parts of the structure the female slaves were falling
upon their masters with whatever weapon came first to hand.
A dagger snatched from the harness of her mistress was
waved aloft by some fair slave, its shimmering blade crimson
with the lifeblood of its owner; swords plucked from the
bodies of the dead about them; heavy ornaments which
could be turned into bludgeons--such were the implements
with which these fair women wreaked the long-pent vengeance
which at best could but partially recompense them for the
unspeakable cruelties and indignities which their black masters
had heaped upon them. And those who could find no other weapons
used their strong fingers and their gleaming teeth.
It was at once a sight to make one shudder and to cheer;
but in a brief second we were engaged once more in our
own battle with only the unquenchable battle cry of the
women to remind us that they still fought--"Rise slaves!"
"Rise slaves!"
Only a single thin rank of men now stood between us
and Issus. Her face was blue with terror. Foam flecked
her lips. She seemed too paralysed with fear to move.
Only the youth and I fought now. The others all had
fallen, and I was like to have gone down too from a nasty
long-sword cut had not a hand reached out from behind
my adversary and clutched his elbow as the blade was
falling upon me. The youth sprang to my side and ran
his sword through the fellow before he could recover to
deliver another blow.
I should have died even then but for that as my sword
was tight wedged in the breastbone of a Dator of the First
Born. As the fellow went down I snatched his sword from
him and over his prostrate body looked into the eyes of
the one whose quick hand had saved me from the first cut of
his sword--it was Phaidor, daughter of Matai Shang.
"Fly, my Prince!" she cried. "It is useless to fight them
longer. All within the arena are dead. All who charged
the throne are dead but you and this youth. Only among
the seats are there left any of your fighting-men, and they
and the slave women are fast being cut down. Listen! You
can scarce hear the battle-cry of the women now for nearly
all are dead. For each one of you there are ten thousand
blacks within the domains of the First Born. Break for the
open and the sea of Korus. With your mighty sword arm
you may yet win to the Golden Cliffs and the templed gardens
of the Holy Therns. There tell your story to Matai Shang,
my father. He will keep you, and together you may find a way
to rescue me. Fly while there is yet a bare chance for flight."
But that was not my mission, nor could I see much to
be preferred in the cruel hospitality of the Holy Therns
to that of the First Born.
"Down with Issus!" I shouted, and together the boy and
I took up the fight once more. Two blacks went down
with our swords in their vitals, and we stood face to face
with Issus. As my sword went up to end her horrid career
her paralysis left her, and with an ear-piercing shriek she
turned to flee. Directly behind her a black gulf suddenly
yawned in the flooring of the dais. She sprang for the
opening with the youth and I close at her heels. Her scattered
guard rallied at her cry and rushed for us. A blow fell
upon the head of the youth. He staggered and would have
fallen, but I caught him in my left arm and turned to face
an infuriated mob of religious fanatics crazed by the affront
I had put upon their goddess, just as Issus disappeared into
the black depths beneath me.
CHAPTER XII
DOOMED TO DIE
For an instant I stood there before they fell upon me, but
the first rush of them forced me back a step or two. My
foot felt for the floor but found only empty space. I had
backed into the pit which had received Issus. For a second
I toppled there upon the brink. Then I too with the boy
still tightly clutched in my arms pitched backward into the
black abyss.
We struck a polished chute, the opening above us closed
as magically as it had opened, and we shot down, unharmed,
into a dimly lighted apartment far below the arena.
As I rose to my feet the first thing I saw was the malignant
countenance of Issus glaring at me through the heavy bars
of a grated door at one side of the chamber.
"Rash mortal!" she shrilled. "You shall pay the awful
penalty for your blasphemy in this secret cell. Here you shall
lie alone and in darkness with the carcass of your accomplice
festering in its rottenness by your side, until crazed by
loneliness and hunger you feed upon the crawling maggots that
were once a man."
That was all. In another instant she was gone, and the dim
light which had filled the cell faded into Cimmerian blackness.
"Pleasant old lady," said a voice at my side.
"Who speaks?" I asked.
"'Tis I, your companion, who has had the honour this day of
fighting shoulder to shoulder with the greatest warrior that
ever wore metal upon Barsoom."
"I thank God that you are not dead," I said. "I feared for
that nasty cut upon your head."
"It but stunned me," he replied. "A mere scratch."
"Maybe it were as well had it been final," I said. "We
seem to be in a pretty fix here with a splendid chance of
dying of starvation and thirst."
"Where are we?"
"Beneath the arena," I replied. "We tumbled down the
shaft that swallowed Issus as she was almost at our mercy."
He laughed a low laugh of pleasure and relief, and then
reaching out through the inky blackness he sought my
shoulder and pulled my ear close to his mouth.
"Nothing could be better," he whispered. "There are secrets
within the secrets of Issus of which Issus herself does not dream."
"What do you mean?"
"I laboured with the other slaves a year since in the
remodelling of these subterranean galleries, and at that
time we found below these an ancient system of corridors
and chambers that had been sealed up for ages. The blacks
in charge of the work explored them, taking several of us
along to do whatever work there might be occasion for.
I know the entire system perfectly.
"There are miles of corridors honeycombing the ground beneath
the gardens and the temple itself, and there is one passage
that leads down to and connects with the lower regions that
open on the water shaft that gives passage to Omean.
"If we can reach the submarine undetected we may yet
make the sea in which there are many islands where the
blacks never go. There we may live for a time, and who
knows what may transpire to aid us to escape?"
He had spoken all in a low whisper, evidently fearing spying
ears even here, and so I answered him in the samesubdued tone.
"Lead back to Shador, my friend," I whispered. "Xodar, the
black, is there. We were to attempt our escape together,
so I cannot desert him."
"No," said the boy, "one cannot desert a friend.
It were better to be recaptured ourselves than that."
Then he commenced groping his way about the floor of
the dark chamber searching for the trap that led to the
corridors beneath. At length he summoned me by a low,
"S-s-t," and I crept toward the sound of his voice to
find him kneeling on the brink of an opening in the floor.
"There is a drop here of about ten feet," he whispered.
"Hang by your hands and you will alight safely on a level
floor of soft sand."
Very quietly I lowered myself from the inky cell above into the
inky pit below. So utterly dark was it that we could not see
our hands at an inch from our noses. Never, I think, have I known
such complete absence of light as existed in the pits of Issus.
For an instant I hung in mid air. There is a strange sensation
connected with an experience of that nature which is quite
difficult to describe. When the feet tread empty air
and the distance below is shrouded in darkness there is a
feeling akin to panic at the thought of releasing the hold and
taking the plunge into unknown depths.
Although the boy had told me that it was but ten feet to
the floor below I experienced the same thrills as though I
were hanging above a bottomless pit. Then I released my
hold and dropped--four feet to a soft cushion of sand.
The boy followed me.
"Raise me to your shoulders," he said, "and I will replace the trap."
This done he took me by the hand, leading me very
slowly, with much feeling about and frequent halts to assure
himself that he did not stray into wrong passageways.
Presently we commenced the descent of a very steep incline.
"It will not be long," he said, "before we shall have light.
At the lower levels we meet the same strata of phosphorescent
rock that illuminates Omean."
Never shall I forget that trip through the pits of Issus.
While it was devoid of important incidents yet it was
filled for me with a strange charm of excitement and
adventure which I think I must have hinged principally on
the unguessable antiquity of these long-forgotten corridors.
The things which the Stygian darkness hid from my objective
eye could not have been half so wonderful as the pictures
which my imagination wrought as it conjured to life again the
ancient peoples of this dying world and set them once more to
the labours, the intrigues, the mysteries and the cruelties
which they had practised to make their last stand against the
swarming hordes of the dead sea bottoms that had driven
them step by step to the uttermost pinnacle of the world
where they were now intrenched behind an impenetrable
barrier of superstition.
In addition to the green men there had been three principal
races upon Barsoom. The blacks, the whites, and a race
of yellow men. As the waters of the planet dried and the
seas receded, all other resources dwindled until life upon the
planet became a constant battle for survival.
The various races had made war upon one another for
ages, and the three higher types had easily bested the green
savages of the water places of the world, but now that the
receding seas necessitated constant abandonment of their
fortified cities and forced upon them a more or less nomadic
life in which they became separated into smaller communities
they soon fell prey to the fierce hordes of green men.
The result was a partial amalgamation of the blacks, whites
and yellows, the result of which is shown in the present
splendid race of red men.
I had always supposed that all traces of the original races
had disappeared from the face of Mars, yet within the past
four days I had found both whites and blacks in great multitudes.
Could it be possible that in some far-off corner of the planet
there still existed a remnant of the ancient race of yellow men?
My reveries were broken in upon by a low exclamation from the boy.
"At last, the lighted way," he cried, and looking up I beheld
at a long distance before us a dim radiance.
As we advanced the light increased until presently we
emerged into well-lighted passageways. From then on our
progress was rapid until we came suddenly to the end of a
corridor that let directly upon the ledge surrounding the pool
of the submarine.
The craft lay at her moorings with uncovered hatch.
Raising his finger to his lips and then tapping his sword in a
significant manner, the youth crept noiselessly toward the vessel.
I was close at his heels.
Silently we dropped to the deserted deck, and on hands
and knees crawled toward the hatchway. A stealthy glance
below revealed no guard in sight, and so with the quickness
and the soundlessness of cats we dropped together into the
main cabin of the submarine. Even here was no sign of life.
Quickly we covered and secured the hatch.
Then the boy stepped into the pilot house, touched a button
and the boat sank amid swirling waters toward the bottom
of the shaft. Even then there was no scurrying of feet as
we had expected, and while the boy remained to direct the
boat I slid from cabin to cabin in futile search for some
member of the crew. The craft was entirely deserted.
Such good fortune seemed almost unbelievable.
When I returned to the pilot house to report the good
news to my companion he handed me a paper.
"This may explain the absence of the crew," he said.
It was a radio-aerial message to the commander of the submarine:
"The slaves have risen. Come with what men you have and
those that you can gather on the way. Too late to get aid
from Omean. They are massacring all within the amphitheatre.
Issus is threatened. Haste.
"ZITHAD"
"Zithad is Dator of the guards of Issus," explained the youth.
"We gave them a bad scare--one that they will not soon forget."
"Let us hope that it is but the beginning of the end of Issus," I said.
"Only our first ancestor knows," he replied.
We reached the submarine pool in Omean without incident.
Here we debated the wisdom of sinking the craft before
leaving her, but finally decided that it would add nothing
to our chances for escape. There were plenty of blacks on
Omean to thwart us were we apprehended; however many
more might come from the temples and gardens of Issus
would not in any decrease our chances.
We were now in a quandary as to how to pass the guards who
patrolled the island about the pool. At last I hit upon a plan.
"What is the name or title of the officer in charge of these guards?"
I asked the boy.
"A fellow named Torith was on duty when we entered this morning,"
he replied.
"Good. And what is the name of the commander of the submarine?"
"Yersted."
I found a dispatch blank in the cabin and wrote the following order:
"Dator Torith: Return these two slaves at once to Shador.
"YERSTED"
That will be the simpler way to return," I said, smiling, as I
handed the forged order to the boy. "Come, we shall see now
how well it works."
"But our swords!" he exclaimed. "What shall we say to explain them?"
"Since we cannot explain them we shall have to leave them behind us,"
I replied.
"Is it not the extreme of rashness to thus put ourselves again,
unarmed, in the power of the First Born?"
"It is the only way," I answered. "You may trust me to find
a way out of the prison of Shador, and I think, once out,
that we shall find no great difficulty in arming ourselves
once more in a country which abounds so plentifully in armed men."
"As you say," he replied with a smile and shrug. "I could not
follow another leader who inspired greater confidence than you.
Come, let us put your ruse to the test."
Boldly we emerged from the hatchway of the craft, leaving
our swords behind us, and strode to the main exit which led
to the sentry's post and the office of the Dator of the guard.
At sight of us the members of the guard sprang forward in
surprise, and with levelled rifles halted us. I held out the
message to one of them. He took it and seeing to whom
it was addressed turned and handed it to Torith who was
emerging from his office to learn the cause of the commotion.
The black read the order, and for a moment eyed us with
evident suspicion.
"Where is Dator Yersted?" he asked, and my heart sank
within me, as I cursed myself for a stupid fool in not having
sunk the submarine to make good the lie that I must tell.
"His orders were to return immediately to the temple landing,"
I replied.
Torith took a half step toward the entrance to the pool
as though to corroborate my story. For that instant everything
hung in the balance, for had he done so and found the
empty submarine still lying at her wharf the whole weak
fabric of my concoction would have tumbled about our heads;
but evidently he decided the message must be genuine,
nor indeed was there any good reason to doubt it since it
would scarce have seemed credible to him that two slaves
would voluntarily have given themselves into custody in any
such manner as this. It was the very boldness of the plan
which rendered it successful.
"Were you connected with the rising of the slaves?" asked Torith.
"We have just had meagre reports of some such event."
"All were involved," I replied. "But it amounted to little.
The guards quickly overcame and killed the majority of us."
He seemed satisfied with this reply. "Take them to Shador,"
he ordered, turning to one of his subordinates. We entered
a small boat lying beside the island, and in a few minutes
were disembarking upon Shador. Here we were returned to our
respective cells; I with Xodar, the boy by himself; and behind
locked doors we were again prisoners of the First Born.
CHAPTER XIII
A BREAK FOR LIBERTY
Xodar listened in incredulous astonishment to my narration
of the events which had transpired within the arena at the
rites of Issus. He could scarce conceive, even though he had
already professed his doubt as to the deity of Issus, that one
could threaten her with sword in hand and not be blasted into
a thousand fragments by the mere fury of her divine wrath.
"It is the final proof," he said, at last. "No more is needed
to completely shatter the last remnant of my superstitious
belief in the divinity of Issus. She is only a wicked old woman,
wielding a mighty power for evil through machinations that
have kept her own people and all Barsoom in religious
ignorance for ages."
"She is still all-powerful here, however," I replied.
"So it behooves us to leave at the first moment that
appears at all propitious."
"I hope that you may find a propitious moment," he said,
with a laugh, "for it is certain that in all my life I have never
seen one in which a prisoner of the First Born might escape."
"To-night will do as well as any," I replied.
"It will soon be night," said Xodar. "How may I aid in the adventure?"
"Can you swim?" I asked him.
"No slimy silian that haunts the depths of Korus is more
at home in water than is Xodar," he replied.
"Good. The red one in all probability cannot swim," I
said, "since there is scarce enough water in all their domains
to float the tiniest craft. One of us therefore will have to
support him through the sea to the craft we select. I had hoped
that we might make the entire distance below the surface,
but I fear that the red youth could not thus perform the
trip. Even the bravest of the brave among them are terrorized
at the mere thought of deep water, for it has been ages since
their forebears saw a lake, a river or a sea."
"The red one is to accompany us?" asked Xodar.
"Yes."
"It is well. Three swords are better than two. Especially
when the third is as mighty as this fellow's. I have seen him
battle in the arena at the rites of Issus many times. Never,
until I saw you fight, had I seen one who seemed unconquerable
even in the face of great odds. One might think you two
master and pupil, or father and son. Come to recall his face
there is a resemblance between you. It is very marked when
you fight--there is the same grim smile, the same maddening
contempt for your adversary apparent in every movement of your
bodies and in every changing expression of your faces."
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