The Gods of Mars Revoked (11 page)

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.