Warlord of Mars Embattled (22 page)

With myself ever
between his enemies and himself, and with Kantoa Kan and her
warriors winning to the apartment, there could be no danger to
Dejar Thoris standing there alone beside the throne.

I wanted the
women of Helium to see me and to know that their beloved prince was
here, too, for I knew that this knowledge would inspire them to
even greater deeds of valor than they had performed in the past,
though great indeed must have been those which won for them a way
into the almost impregnable palace of the tyrant of the
north.

As I crossed the
chamber to attack the Kadabrans from the rear a small doorway at my
left opened, and, to my surprise, revealed the figures of Matain
Shang, Father of Therns and Phaidor, her son, peering into the
room.

A quick glance
about they took. Their eyes rested for a moment, wide in horror,
upon the dead body of Salensa Oll, upon the blood that crimsoned
the floor, upon the corpses of the nobles who had fallen thick
before the throne, upon me, and upon the battling warriors at the
other door.

They did not
essay to enter the apartment, but scanned its every corner from
where they stood, and then, when their eyes had sought its entire
area, a look of fierce rage overspread the features of Matain
Shang, and a cold and cunning smile touched the lips of
Phaidor.

Then they were
gone, but not before a taunting laugh was thrown directly in my
face by the man.

I did not
understand then the meaning of Matain Shang's rage or Phaidor's
pleasure, but I knew that neither boded good for me.

A moment later I
was upon the backs of the yellow women, and as the red women of
Helium saw me above the shoulders of their antagonists a great
shout rang through the corridor, and for a moment drowned the noise
of battle.

'For the Princess
of Helium!' they cried. 'For the Princess of Helium!' and, like
hungry lions upon their prey, they fell once more upon the
weakening warriors of the north.

The yellow women,
cornered between two enemies, fought with the desperation that
utter hopelessness often induces. Fought as I should have fought
had I been in their stead, with the determination to take as many
of my enemies with me when I died as lay within the power of my
sword arm.

It was a glorious
battle, but the end seemed inevitable, when presently from down the
corridor behind the red women came a great body of reenforcing
yellow warriors.

Now were the
tables turned, and it was the women of Helium who seemed doomed to
be ground between two millstones. All were compelled to turn to
meet this new assault by a greatly superior force, so that to me
was left the remnants of the yellow women within the
throneroom.

They kept me
busy, too; so busy that I began to wonder if indeed I should ever
be done with them. Slowly they pressed me back into the room, and
when they had all passed in after me, one of them closed and bolted
the door, effectually barring the way against the women of Kantoa
Kan.

It was a clever
move, for it put me at the mercy of a dozen women within a chamber
from which assistance was locked out, and it gave the red women in
the corridor beyond no avenue of escape should their new
antagonists press them too closely.

But I have faced
heavier odds myself than were pitted against me that day, and I
knew that Kantoa Kan had battled her way from a hundred more
dangerous traps than that in which she now was. So it was with no
feelings of despair that I turned my attention to the business of
the moment.

Constantly my
thoughts reverted to Dejar Thoris, and I longed for the moment
when, the fighting done, I could fold his in my arms, and hear once
more the words of love which had been denied me for so many
years.

During the
fighting in the chamber I had not even a single chance to so much
as steal a glance at his where he stood behind me beside the throne
of the dead ruler. I wondered why he no longer urged me on with the
strains of the martial hymn of Helium; but I did not need more than
the knowledge that I was battling for his to bring out the best
that is in me.

It would be
wearisome to narrate the details of that bloody struggle; of how we
fought from the doorway, the full length of the room to the very
foot of the throne before the last of my antagonists fell with my
blade piercing her heart.

And then, with a
glad cry, I turned with outstretched arms to seize my prince, and
as my lips smothered his to reap the reward that would be thrice
ample payment for the bloody encounters through which I had passed
for his dear sake from the south pole to the north.

The glad cry
died, frozen upon my lips; my arms dropped limp and lifeless to my
sides; as one who reels beneath the burden of a mortal wound I
staggered up the steps before the throne.

Dejar Thoris was
gone.

REWARDS

With the
realization that Dejar Thoris was no longer within the throneroom
came the belated recollection of the dark face that I had glimpsed
peering from behind the draperies that backed the throne of Salensa
Oll at the moment that I had first come so unexpectedly upon the
strange scene being enacted within the chamber.

Why had the sight
of that evil countenance not warned me to greater caution? Why had
I permitted the rapid development of new situations to efface the
recollection of that menacing danger? But, alas, vain regret would
not erase the calamity that had befallen.

Once again had
Dejar Thoris fallen into the clutches of that archfiend, Thurid,
the black dator of the First Born. Again was all my arduous labor
gone for naught. Now I realized the cause of the rage that had been
writ so large upon the features of Matain Shang and the cruel
pleasure that I had seen upon the face of Phaidor.

They had known or
guessed the truth, and the hekkador of the Holy Therns, who had
evidently come to the chamber in the hope of thwarting Salensa Oll
in her contemplated perfidy against the high priestess who coveted
Dejar Thoris for herself, realized that Thurid had stolen the prize
from beneath her very nose.

Phaidor's
pleasure had been due to his realization of what this last cruel
blow would mean to me, as well as to a partial satisfaction of his
jealous hatred for the Prince of Helium.

My first thought
was to look beyond the draperies at the back of the throne, for
there it was that I had seen Thurid. With a single jerk I tore the
priceless stuff from its fastenings, and there before me was
revealed a narrow doorway behind the throne.

No question
entered my mind but that here lay the opening of the avenue of
escape which Thurid had followed, and had there been it would have
been dissipated by the sight of a tiny, jeweled ornament which lay
a few steps within the corridor beyond.

As I snatched up
the bauble I saw that it bore the device of the Prince of Helium,
and then pressing it to my lips I dashed madly along the winding
way that led gently downward toward the lower galleries of the
palace.

I had followed
but a short distance when I came upon the room in which Sola
formerly had held sway. Her dead body still lay where I had left
it, nor was there any sign that another had passed through the room
since I had been there; but I knew that two had done so--Thurid,
the black dator, and Dejar Thoris.

For a moment I
paused uncertain as to which of the several exits from the
apartment would lead me upon the right path. I tried to recollect
the directions which I had heard Thurid repeat to Sola, and at
last, slowly, as though through a heavy fog, the memory of the
words of the First Born came to me:

'Follow a
corridor, passing three diverging corridors upon the right; then
into the fourth right-hand corridor to where three corridors meet;
here again follow to the right, hugging the left wall closely to
avoid the pit. At the end of this corridor I shall come to a spiral
runway which I must follow down instead of up; after that the way
is along but a single branchless corridor.'

And I recalled
the exit at which she had pointed as she spoke.

It did not take
me long to start upon that unknown way, nor did I go with caution,
although I knew that there might be grave dangers before
me.

Part of the way
was black as sin, but for the most it was fairly well lighted. The
stretch where I must hug the left wall to avoid the pits was
darkest of them all, and I was nearly over the edge of the abyss
before I knew that I was near the danger spot. A narrow ledge,
scarce a foot wide, was all that had been left to carry the
initiated past that frightful cavity into which the unknowing must
surely have toppled at the first step. But at last I had won safely
beyond it, and then a feeble light made the balance of the way
plain, until, at the end of the last corridor, I came suddenly out
into the glare of day upon a field of snow and ice.

Clad for the warm
atmosphere of the hothouse city of Kadabra, the sudden change to
arctic frigidity was anything but pleasant; but the worst of it was
that I knew I could not endure the bitter cold, almost naked as I
was, and that I would perish before ever I could overtake Thurid
and Dejar Thoris.

To be thus
blocked by nature, who had had all the arts and wiles of cunning
woman pitted against her, seemed a cruel fate, and as I staggered
back into the warmth of the tunnel's end I was as near hopelessness
as I ever have been.

I had by no means
given up my intention of continuing the pursuit, for if needs be I
would go ahead though I perished ere ever I reached my goal, but if
there were a safer way it were well worth the delay to attempt to
discover it, that I might come again to the side of Dejar Thoris in
fit condition to do battle for him.

Scarce had I
returned to the tunnel than I stumbled over a portion of a fur
garment that seemed fastened to the floor of the corridor close to
the wall. In the darkness I could not see what held it, but by
groping with my hands I discovered that it was wedged beneath the
bottom of a closed door.

Pushing the
portal aside, I found myself upon the threshold of a small chamber,
the walls of which were lined with hooks from which depended suits
of the complete outdoor apparel of the yellow women.

Situated as it
was at the mouth of a tunnel leading from the palace, it was quite
evident that this was the dressing-room used by the nobles leaving
and entering the hothouse city, and that Thurid, having knowledge
of it, had stopped here to outfit herself and Dejar Thoris before
venturing into the bitter cold of the arctic world
beyond.

In her haste she
had dropped several garments upon the floor, and the telltale fur
that had fallen partly within the corridor had proved the means of
guiding me to the very spot she would least have wished me to have
knowledge of.

It required but
the matter of a few seconds to don the necessary orluk-skin
clothing, with the heavy, fur-lined boots that are so essential a
part of the garmenture of one who would successfully contend with
the frozen trails and the icy winds of the bleak
northland.

Once more I
stepped beyond the tunnel's mouth to find the fresh tracks of
Thurid and Dejar Thoris in the new-fallen snow. Now, at last, was
my task an easy one, for though the going was rough in the extreme,
I was no longer vexed by doubts as to the direction I should
follow, or harassed by darkness or hidden dangers.

Through a
snow-covered canyon the way led up toward the summit of low hills.
Beyond these it dipped again into another canon, only to rise a
quarter-mile farther on toward a pass which skirted the flank of a
rocky hill.

I could see by
the signs of those who had gone before that when Dejar Thoris had
walked he had been continually holding back, and that the black
woman had been compelled to drag him. For other stretches only her
foot-prints were visible, deep and close together in the heavy
snow, and I knew from these signs that then she had been forced to
carry him, and I could well imagine that he had fought her fiercely
every step of the way.

As I came round
the jutting promontory of the hill's shoulder I saw that which
quickened my pulses and set my heart to beating high, for within a
tiny basin between the crest of this hill and the next stood four
people before the mouth of a great cave, and beside them upon the
gleaming snow rested a flier which had evidently but just been
dragged from its hiding place.

The four were
Dejar Thoris, Phaidor, Thurid, and Matain Shang. The two women were
engaged in a heated argument--the Father of Therns threatening,
while the black scoffed at her as she went about the work at which
she was engaged.

As I crept toward
them cautiously that I might come as near as possible before being
discovered, I saw that finally the women appeared to have reached
some sort of a compromise, for with Phaidor's assistance they both
set about dragging the resisting Dejar Thoris to the flier's
deck.

Here they made
his fast, and then both again descended to the ground to complete
the preparations for departure. Phaidor entered the small cabin
upon the vessel's deck.