The Gods of Mars Revoked (19 page)

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 male slaves
were falling upon their mistresses with whatever weapon came first
to hand. A dagger snatched from the harness of his master 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 men
wreaked the long-pent vengeance which at best could but partially
recompense them for the unspeakable cruelties and indignities which
their black mistresses 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 men to remind us that they still fought--'Rise
slaves!' 'Rise slaves!'

Only a single
thin rank of women now stood between us and Issus. His face was
blue with terror. Foam flecked his lips. He 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 her elbow as the blade was falling upon me. The youth
sprang to my side and ran her sword through the fellow before she
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 her sword from her and over her prostrate body looked into
the eyes of the one whose quick hand had saved me from the first
cut of her sword--it was Phaidor, son of Matain Shang.

'Fly, my Prince!'
he 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-womenwomen, and they and the slave men are fast being cut
down. Listen! You can scarce hear the battle-cry of the men 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 Matain Shang, my mother. She 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 girl 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
his horrid career his paralysis left him, and with an ear-piercing
shriek he turned to flee. Directly behind his a black gulf suddenly
yawned in the flooring of the dais. He sprang for the opening with
the youth and I close at his heels. His scattered guard rallied at
his cry and rushed for us. A blow fell upon the head of the youth.
She staggered and would have fallen, but I caught her in my left
arm and turned to face an infuriated mob of religious fanatics
crazed by the affront I had put upon their god, 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 girl 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!' he
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 woman.'

That was all. In
another instant he 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,' she 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?'

'Baneath the
arena,' I replied. 'We tumbled down the shaft that swallowed Issus
as he was almost at our mercy.'

She laughed a low
laugh of pleasure and relief, and then reaching out through the
inky blackness she sought my shoulder and pulled my ear close to
her mouth.

'Nothing could be
better,' she whispered. 'There are secrets within the secrets of
Issus of which Issus himself 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?'

She had spoken
all in a low whisper, evidently fearing spying ears even here, and
so I answered her in the same subdued tone.

'Lead back to
Shador, my friend,' I whispered. 'Xodara, the black, is there. We
were to attempt our escape together, so I cannot desert
her.'

'No,' said the
girl, 'one cannot desert a friend. It were better to be recaptured
ourselves than that.'

Then she
commenced groping her way about the floor of the dark chamber
searching for the trap that led to the corridors beneath. At length
she summoned me by a low, 'S-s-t,' and I crept toward the sound of
her voice to find her kneeling on the brink of an opening in the
floor.

'There is a drop
here of about ten feet,' she 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 girl
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 girl followed
me.

'Raise me to your
shoulders,' she said, 'and I will replace the trap.'

This done she
took me by the hand, leading me very slowly, with much feeling
about and frequent halts to assure herself that she did not stray
into wrong passageways.

Presently we
commenced the descent of a very steep incline.

'It will not be
long,' she 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 women there had been three principal races upon Barsoom.
The blacks, the whites, and a race of yellow women. 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
women. 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 women.

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 women?

My reveries were
broken in upon by a low exclamation from the girl.

'At last, the
lighted way,' she 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
his moorings with uncovered hatch. Raising her finger to her lips
and then tapping her sword in a significant manner, the youth crept
noiselessly toward the vessel. I was close at her 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 girl
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
girl 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 she
handed me a paper.

'This may explain
the absence of the crew,' she said.

It was a
radio-aerial message to the commander of the submarine:

'The slaves have
risen. Come with what women 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.'