A Princess of Mars Rethroned (18 page)

There was but one
slight chance and that we must take quickly. Raising my strange
Martian rifle to my shoulder I sighted and touched the button which
controlled the trigger; there was a sharp explosion as the missile
reached its goal, and the charging chieftain pitched backward from
her flying mount.

Springing to my
feet I urged the thoat to rise, and directed Solan to take Dejar
Thoris with his upon her and make a mighty effort to reach the
hills before the green warriors were upon us. I knew that in the
ravines and gullies they might find a temporary hiding place, and
even though they died there of hunger and thirst it would be better
so than that they fell into the hands of the Tharks. Forcing my two
revolvers upon them as a slight means of protection, and, as a last
resort, as an escape for themselves from the horrid death which
recapture would surely mean, I lifted Dejar Thoris in my arms and
placed his upon the thoat behind Solan, who had already mounted at
my command.

'Good-bye, my
prince,' I whispered, 'we may meet in Helium yet. I have escaped
from worse plights than this,' and I tried to smile as I
lied.

'What,' he cried,
'are you not coming with us?'

'How may I, Dejar
Thoris? Someone must hold these fellows off for a while, and I can
better escape them alone than could the three of us
together.'

He sprang quickly
from the thoat and, throwing his dear arms about my neck, turned to
Solan, saying with quiet dignity: 'Fly, Solan! Dejar Thoris remains
to die with the woman he loves.'

Those words are
engraved upon my heart. Ah, gladly would I give up my life a
thousand times could I only hear them once again; but I could not
then give even a second to the rapture of his sweet embrace, and
pressing my lips to his for the first time, I picked his up bodily
and tossed his to his seat behind Solan again, commanding the
latter in peremptory tones to hold his there by force, and then,
slapping the thoat upon the flank, I saw them borne away; Dejar
Thoris struggling to the last to free himself from Solan's
grasp.

Turning, I beheld
the green warriors mounting the ridge and looking for their
chieftain. In a moment they saw her, and then me; but scarcely had
they discovered me than I commenced firing, lying flat upon my
belly in the moss. I had an even hundred rounds in the magazine of
my rifle, and another hundred in the belt at my back, and I kept up
a continuous stream of fire until I saw all of the warriors who had
been first to return from behind the ridge either dead or scurrying
to cover.

My respite was
short-lived however, for soon the entire party, numbering some
thousand women, came charging into view, racing madly toward me. I
fired until my rifle was empty and they were almost upon me, and
then a glance showing me that Dejar Thoris and Solan had
disappeared among the hills, I sprang up, throwing down my useless
gun, and started away in the direction opposite to that taken by
Solan and his charge.

If ever Martians
had an exhibition of jumping, it was granted those astonished
warriors on that day long years ago, but while it led them away
from Dejar Thoris it did not distract their attention from
endeavoring to capture me.

They raced wildly
after me until, finally, my foot struck a projecting piece of
quartz, and down I went sprawling upon the moss. As I looked up
they were upon me, and although I drew my long-sword in an attempt
to sell my life as dearly as possible, it was soon over. I reeled
beneath their blows which fell upon me in perfect torrents; my head
swam; all was black, and I went down beneath them to
oblivion.

CHAPTER
XVIII

CHAINED IN
WARHOON

It must have been
several hours before I regained consciousness and I well remember
the feeling of surprise which swept over me as I realized that I
was not dead.

I was lying among
a pile of sleeping silks and furs in the corner of a small room in
which were several green warriors, and bending over me was an
ancient and ugly male.

As I opened my
eyes he turned to one of the warriors, saying,

'She will live, O
Jed.'

''Tis well,'
replied the one so addressed, rising and approaching my couch, 'she
should render rare sport for the great games.'

And now as my
eyes fell upon her, I saw that she was no Thark, for her ornaments
and metal were not of that horde. She was a huge fellow, terribly
scarred about the face and bosom , and with one broken tusk and a
missing ear. Strapped on either breast were human skulls and
depending from these a number of dried human hands.

Her reference to
the great games of which I had heard so much while among the Tharks
convinced me that I had but jumped from purgatory into
gehenna.

After a few more
words with the male, during which he assured her that I was now
fully fit to travel, the jed ordered that we mount and ride after
the main column.

I was strapped
securely to as wild and unmanageable a thoat as I had ever seen,
and, with a mounted warrior on either side to prevent the beast
from bolting, we rode forth at a furious pace in pursuit of the
column. My wounds gave me but little pain, so wonderfully and
rapidly had the applications and injections of the male exercised
their therapeutic powers, and so deftly had he bound and plastered
the injuries.

Just before dark
we reached the main body of troops shortly after they had made camp
for the night. I was immediately taken before the leader, who
proved to be the jeddak of the hordes of Warhoon.

Like the jed who
had brought me, she was frightfully scarred, and also decorated
with the breastplate of human skulls and dried dead hands which
seemed to mark all the greater warriors among the Warhoons, as well
as to indicate their awful ferocity, which greatly transcends even
that of the Tharks.

The jeddak, Bara
Comas, who was comparatively young, was the object of the fierce
and jealous hatred of her old lieutenant, Daka Kova, the jed who
had captured me, and I could not but note the almost studied
efforts which the latter made to affront her superior.

She entirely
omitted the usual formal salutation as we entered the presence of
the jeddak, and as she pushed me roughly before the ruler she
exclaimed in a loud and menacing voice.

'I have brought a
strange creature wearing the metal of a Thark whom it is my
pleasure to have battle with a wild thoat at the great
games.'

'She will die as
Bara Comas, your jeddak, sees fit, if at all,' replied the young
ruler, with emphasis and dignity.

'If at all?'
roared Daka Kova. 'By the dead hands at my throat but she shall
die, Bara Comas. No maudlin weakness on your part shall save her.
O, would that Warhoon were ruled by a real jeddak rather than by a
water-hearted weakling from whom even old Daka Kova could tear the
metal with her bare hands!'

Bara Comas eyed
the defiant and insubordinate chieftain for an instant, her
expression one of haughty, fearless contempt and hate, and then
without drawing a weapon and without uttering a word she hurled
herself at the throat of her defamer.

I never before
had seen two green Martian warriors battle with nature's weapons
and the exhibition of animal ferocity which ensued was as fearful a
thing as the most disordered imagination could picture. They tore
at each others' eyes and ears with their hands and with their
gleaming tusks repeatedly slashed and gored until both were cut
fairly to ribbons from head to foot.

Bara Comas had
much the better of the battle as she was stronger, quicker and more
intelligent. It soon seemed that the encounter was done saving only
the final death thrust when Bara Comas slipped in breaking away
from a clinch. It was the one little opening that Daka Kova needed,
and hurling herself at the body of her adversary she buried her
single mighty tusk in Bara Comas' groin and with a last powerful
effort ripped the young jeddak wide open the full length of her
body, the great tusk finally wedging in the bones of Bara Comas'
jaw. Victor and vanquished rolled limp and lifeless upon the moss,
a huge mass of torn and bloody flesh.

Bara Comas was
stone dead, and only the most herculean efforts on the part of Daka
Kova's females saved her from the fate she deserved. Three days
later she walked without assistance to the body of Bara Comas
which, by custom, had not been moved from where it fell, and
placing her foot upon the neck of her erstwhile ruler she assumed
the title of Jeddak of Warhoon.

The dead jeddak's
hands and head were removed to be added to the ornaments of her
conqueror, and then her men cremated what remained, amid wild and
terrible laughter.

The injuries to
Daka Kova had delayed the march so greatly that it was decided to
give up the expedition, which was a raid upon a small Thark
community in retaliation for the destruction of the incubator,
until after the great games, and the entire body of warriors, ten
thousand in number, turned back toward Warhoon.

My introduction
to these cruel and bloodthirsty people was but an index to the
scenes I witnessed almost daily while with them. They are a smaller
horde than the Tharks but much more ferocious. Not a day passed but
that some members of the various Warhoon communities met in deadly
combat. I have seen as high as eight mortal duels within a single
day.

We reached the
city of Warhoon after some three days march and I was immediately
cast into a dungeon and heavily chained to the floor and walls.
Food was brought me at intervals but owing to the utter darkness of
the place I do not know whether I lay there days, or weeks, or
months. It was the most horrible experience of all my life and that
my mind did not give way to the terrors of that inky blackness has
been a wonder to me ever since. The place was filled with creeping,
crawling things; cold, sinuous bodies passed over me when I lay
down, and in the darkness I occasionally caught glimpses of
gleaming, fiery eyes, fixed in horrible intentness upon me. No
sound reached me from the world above and no word would my jailer
vouchsafe when my food was brought to me, although I at first
bombarded her with questions.

Finally all the
hatred and maniacal loathing for these awful creatures who had
placed me in this horrible place was centered by my tottering
reason upon this single emissary who represented to me the entire
horde of Warhoons.

I had noticed
that she always advanced with her dim torch to where she could
place the food within my reach and as she stooped to place it upon
the floor her head was about on a level with my breast. So, with
the cunning of a madman, I backed into the far corner of my cell
when next I heard her approaching and gathering a little slack of
the great chain which held me in my hand I waited her coming,
crouching like some beast of prey. As she stooped to place my food
upon the ground I swung the chain above my head and crashed the
links with all my strength upon her skull. Without a sound she
slipped to the floor, stone dead.

Laughing and
chattering like the idiot I was fast becoming I fell upon her
prostrate form my fingers feeling for her dead throat. Presently
they came in contact with a small chain at the end of which dangled
a number of keys. The touch of my fingers on these keys brought
back my reason with the suddenness of thought. No longer was I a
jibbering idiot, but a sane, reasoning woman with the means of
escape within my very hands.

As I was groping
to remove the chain from about my victim's neck I glanced up into
the darkness to see six pairs of gleaming eyes fixed, unwinking,
upon me. Slowly they approached and slowly I shrank back from the
awful horror of them. Back into my corner I crouched holding my
hands palms out, before me, and stealthily on came the awful eyes
until they reached the dead body at my feet. Then slowly they
retreated but this time with a strange grating sound and finally
they disappeared in some black and distant recess of my
dungeon.

CHAPTER
XIX

BATTLING IN THE
ARENA

Slowly I regained
my composure and finally essayed again to attempt to remove the
keys from the dead body of my former jailer. But as I reached out
into the darkness to locate it I found to my horror that it was
gone. Then the truth flashed on me; the owners of those gleaming
eyes had dragged my prize away from me to be devoured in their
neighboring lair; as they had been waiting for days, for weeks, for
months, through all this awful eternity of my imprisonment to drag
my dead carcass to their feast.

For two days no
food was brought me, but then a new messenger appeared and my
incarceration went on as before, but not again did I allow my
reason to be submerged by the horror of my position.

Shortly after
this episode another prisoner was brought in and chained near me.
By the dim torch light I saw that she was a red Martian and I could
scarcely await the departure of her guards to address her. As their
retreating footsteps died away in the distance, I called out softly
the Martian word of greeting, kaor.

'Who are you who
speaks out of the darkness?' she answered

'Joan Carter, a
friend of the red women of Helium.'