The Project Gutenberg eBook of Thuvia, Maid of Mars, by Edgar Rice Burroughs

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Contents

THUVIA, MAID OF MARS

CHAPTER I.
CARTHORIS AND THUVIA

Upon a massive bench of polished ersite beneath the gorgeous blooms of a giantpimalia a woman sat. Her shapely, sandalled foot tapped impatiently upon thejewel-strewn walk that wound beneath the stately sorapus trees across thescarlet sward of the royal gardens of Thuvan Dihn, Jeddak of Ptarth, as adark-haired, red-skinned warrior bent low toward her, whispering heated wordsclose to her ear.

“Ah, Thuvia of Ptarth,” he cried, “you are cold even beforethe fiery blasts of my consuming love! No harder than your heart, nor colder isthe hard, cold ersite of this thrice happy bench which supports your divine andfadeless form! Tell me, O Thuvia of Ptarth, that I may still hope—thatthough you do not love me now, yet some day, some day, my princess,I—”

The girl sprang to her feet with an exclamation of surprise and displeasure.Her queenly head was poised haughtily upon her smooth red shoulders. Her darkeyes looked angrily into those of the man.

“You forget yourself, and the customs of Barsoom, Astok,” she said.“I have given you no right thus to address the daughter of Thuvan Dihn,nor have you won such a right.”

The man reached suddenly forth and grasped her by the arm.

“You shall be my princess!” he cried. “By the breast ofIssus, thou shalt, nor shall any other come between Astok, Prince of Dusar, andhis heart’s desire. Tell me that there is another, and I shall cut outhis foul heart and fling it to the wild calots of the dead sea-bottoms!”

At touch of the man’s hand upon her flesh the girl went pallid beneathher coppery skin, for the persons of the royal women of the courts of Mars areheld but little less than sacred. The act of Astok, Prince of Dusar, wasprofanation. There was no terror in the eyes of Thuvia of Ptarth—onlyhorror for the thing the man had done and for its possible consequences.

“Release me.” Her voice was level—frigid.

The man muttered incoherently and drew her roughly toward him.

“Release me!” she repeated sharply, “or I call the guard, andthe Prince of Dusar knows what that will mean.”

Quickly he threw his right arm about her shoulders and strove to draw her faceto his lips. With a little cry she struck him full in the mouth with themassive bracelets that circled her free arm.

“Calot!” she exclaimed, and then: “The guard! The guard!Hasten in protection of the Princess of Ptarth!”

In answer to her call a dozen guardsmen came racing across the scarlet sward,their gleaming long-swords naked in the sun, the metal of their accoutrementsclanking against that of their leathern harness, and in their throats hoarseshouts of rage at the sight which met their eyes.

But before they had passed half across the royal garden to where Astok of Dusarstill held the struggling girl in his grasp, another figure sprang from acluster of dense foliage that half hid a golden fountain close at hand. A tall,straight youth he was, with black hair and keen grey eyes; broad of shoulderand narrow of hip; a clean-limbed fighting man. His skin was but faintly tingedwith the copper colour that marks the red men of Mars from the other races ofthe dying planet—he was like them, and yet there was a subtle differencegreater even than that which lay in his lighter skin and his grey eyes.

There was a difference, too, in his movements. He came on in great leaps thatcarried him so swiftly over the ground that the speed of the guardsmen was asnothing by comparison.

Astok still clutched Thuvia’s wrist as the young warrior confronted him.The new-comer wasted no time and he spoke but a single word.

“Calot!” he snapped, and then his clenched fist landed beneath theother’s chin, lifting him high into the air and depositing him in acrumpled heap within the centre of the pimalia bush beside the ersite bench.

Her champion turned toward the girl. “Kaor, Thuvia of Ptarth!” hecried. “It seems that fate timed my visit well.”

“Kaor, Carthoris of Helium!” the princess returned the youngman’s greeting, “and what less could one expect of the son of sucha sire?”

He bowed his acknowledgment of the compliment to his father, John Carter,Warlord of Mars. And then the guardsmen, panting from their charge, came upjust as the Prince of Dusar, bleeding at the mouth, and with drawn sword,crawled from the entanglement of the pimalia.

Astok would have leaped to mortal combat with the son of Dejah Thoris, but theguardsmen pressed about him, preventing, though it was clearly evident thatnaught would have better pleased Carthoris of Helium.

“But say the word, Thuvia of Ptarth,” he begged, “and naughtwill give me greater pleasure than meting to this fellow the punishment he hasearned.”

“It cannot be, Carthoris,” she replied. “Even though he hasforfeited all claim upon my consideration, yet is he the guest of the jeddak,my father, and to him alone may he account for the unpardonable act he hascommitted.”

“As you say, Thuvia,” replied the Heliumite. “But afterwardhe shall account to Carthoris, Prince of Helium, for this affront to thedaughter of my father’s friend.” As he spoke, though, there burnedin his eyes a fire that proclaimed a nearer, dearer cause for his championshipof this glorious daughter of Barsoom.

The maid’s cheek darkened beneath the satin of her transparent skin, andthe eyes of Astok, Prince of Dusar, darkened, too, as he read that which passedunspoken between the two in the royal gardens of the jeddak.

“And thou to me,” he snapped at Carthoris, answering the youngman’s challenge.

The guard still surrounded Astok. It was a difficult position for the youngofficer who commanded it. His prisoner was the son of a mighty jeddak; he wasthe guest of Thuvan Dihn—until but now an honoured guest upon whom everyroyal dignity had been showered. To arrest him forcibly could mean naught elsethan war, and yet he had done that which in the eyes of the Ptarth warriormerited death.

The young man hesitated. He looked toward his princess. She, too, guessed allthat hung upon the action of the coming moment. For many years Dusar and Ptarthhad been at peace with each other. Their great merchant ships plied back andforth between the larger cities of the two nations. Even now, far above thegold-shot scarlet dome of the jeddak’s palace, she could see the hugebulk of a giant freighter taking its majestic way through the thin Barsoomianair toward the west and Dusar.

By a word she might plunge these two mighty nations into a bloody conflict thatwould drain them of their bravest blood and their incalculable riches, leavingthem all helpless against the inroads of their envious and less powerfulneighbors, and at last a prey to the savage green hordes of the deadsea-bottoms.

No sense of fear influenced her decision, for fear is seldom known to thechildren of Mars. It was rather a sense of the responsibility that she, thedaughter of their jeddak, felt for the welfare of her father’s people.

“I called you, Padwar,” she said to the lieutenant of the guard,“to protect the person of your princess, and to keep the peace that mustnot be violated within the royal gardens of the jeddak. That is all. You willescort me to the palace, and the Prince of Helium will accompany me.”

Without another glance in the direction of Astok she turned, and takingCarthoris’ proffered hand, moved slowly toward the massive marble pilethat housed the ruler of Ptarth and his glittering court. On either sidemarched a file of guardsmen. Thus Thuvia of Ptarth found a way out of adilemma, escaping the necessity of placing her father’s royal guest underforcible restraint, and at the same time separating the two princes, whootherwise would have been at each other’s throat the moment she and theguard had departed.

Beside the pimalia stood Astok, his dark eyes narrowed to mere slits of hatebeneath his lowering brows as he watched the retreating forms of the woman whohad aroused the fiercest passions of his nature and the man whom he nowbelieved to be the one who stood between his love and its consummation.

As they disappeared within the structure Astok shrugged his shoulders, and witha murmured oath crossed the gardens toward another wing of the building wherehe and his retinue were housed.

That night he took formal leave of Thuvan Dihn, and though no mention was madeof the happening within the garden, it was plain to see through the cold maskof the jeddak’s courtesy that only the customs of royal hospitalityrestrained him from voicing the contempt he felt for the Prince of Dusar.

Carthoris was not present at the leave-taking, nor was Thuvia. The ceremony wasas stiff and formal as court etiquette could make it, and when the last of theDusarians clambered over the rail of the battleship that had brought them uponthis fateful visit to the court of Ptarth, and the mighty engine of destructionhad risen slowly from the ways of the landing stage, a note of relief wasapparent in the voice of Thuvan Dihn as he turned to one of his officers with aword of comment upon a subject foreign to that which had been uppermost in theminds of all for hours.

But, after all, was it so foreign?

“Inform Prince Sovan,” he directed, “that it is our wish thatthe fleet which departed for Kaol this morning be recalled to cruise to thewest of Ptarth.”

As the warship, bearing Astok back to the court of his father, turned towardthe west, Thuvia of Ptarth, sitting upon the same bench where the Prince ofDusar had affronted her, watched the twinkling lights of the craft growingsmaller in the distance. Beside her, in the brilliant light of the nearer moon,sat Carthoris. His eyes were not upon the dim bulk of the battleship, but onthe profile of the girl’s upturned face.

“Thuvia,” he whispered.

The girl turned her eyes toward his. His hand stole out to find hers, but shedrew her own gently away.

“Thuvia of Ptarth, I love you!” cried the young warrior.“Tell me that it does not offend.”

She shook her head sadly. “The love of Carthoris of Helium,” shesaid simply, “could be naught but an honour to any woman; but you mustnot speak, my friend, of bestowing upon me that which I may notreciprocate.”

The young man got slowly to his feet. His eyes were wide in astonishment. Itnever had occurred to the Prince of Helium that Thuvia of Ptarth might loveanother.

“But at Kadabra!” he exclaimed. “And later here at yourfather’s court, what did you do, Thuvia of Ptarth, that might have warnedme that you could not return my love?”

“And what did I do, Carthoris of Helium,” she returned, “thatmight lead you to believe that I didreturn it?”

He paused in thought, and then shook his head. “Nothing, Thuvia, that istrue; yet I could have sworn you loved me. Indeed, you well knew how near toworship has been my love for you.”

“And how might I know it, Carthoris?” she asked innocently.“Did you ever tell me as much? Ever before have words of love for mefallen from your lips?”

“But you musthave known it!” he exclaimed. “I am likemy father—witless in matters of the heart, and of a poor way with women;yet the jewels that strew these royal garden paths—the trees, theflowers, the sward—all must have read the love that has filled my heartsince first my eyes were made new by imaging your perfect face and form; so howcould you alone have been blind to it?”

“Do the maids of Helium pay court to their men?” asked Thuvia.

“You are playing with me!” exclaimed Carthoris. “Say that youare but playing, and that after all you love me, Thuvia!”

“I cannot tell you that, Carthoris, for I am promised to another.”

Her tone was level, but was there not within it the hint of an infinite depthof sadness? Who may say?

“Promised to another?” Carthoris scarcely breathed the words. Hisface went almost white, and then his head came up as befitted him in whoseveins flowed the blood of the overlord of a world.

“Carthoris of Helium wishes you every happiness with the man of yourchoice,” he said. “With—” and then he hesitated,waiting for her to fill in the name.

“Kulan Tith, Jeddak of Kaol,” she replied. “My father’sfriend and Ptarth’s most puissant ally.”

The young man looked at her intently for a moment before he spoke again.

“You love him, Thuvia of Ptarth?” he asked.

“I am promised to him,” she replied simply.

He did not press her. “He is of Barsoom’s noblest blood andmightiest fighters,” mused Carthoris. “My father’s friend andmine—would that it might have been another!” he muttered almostsavagely. What the girl thought was hidden by the mask of her expression, whichwas tinged only by a little shadow of sadness that might have been forCarthoris, herself, or for them both.

Carthoris of Helium did not ask, though he noted it, for his loyalty to KulanTith was the loyalty of the blood of John Carter of Virginia for a friend,greater than which could be no loyalty.

He raised a jewel-encrusted bit of the girl’s magnificent trappings tohis lips.

“To the honour and happiness of Kulan Tith and the priceless jewel thathas been bestowed upon him,” he said, and though his voice was huskythere was the true ring of sincerity in it. “I told you that I loved you,Thuvia, before I knew that you were promised to another. I may not tell you itagain, but I am glad that you know it, for there is no dishonour in it eitherto you or to Kulan Tith or to myself. My love is such that it may embrace aswell Kulan Tith—if you love him.” There was almost a question inthe statement.

“I am promised to him,” she replied.

Carthoris backed slowly away. He laid one hand upon his heart, the other uponthe pommel of his long-sword.

“These are yours—always,” he said. A moment later he hadentered the palace, and was gone from the girl’s sight.

Had he returned at once he would have found her prone upon the ersite bench,her face buried in her arms. Was she weeping? There was none to see.

Carthoris of Helium had come all unannounced to the court of his father’sfriend that day. He had come alone in a small flier, sure of the same welcomethat always awaited him at Ptarth. As there had been no formality in his comingthere was no need of formality in his going.

To Thuvan Dihn he explained that he had been but testing an invention of hisown with which his flier was equipped—a clever improvement of theordinary Martian air compass, which, when set for a certain destination, willremain constantly fixed thereon, making it only necessary to keep avessel’s prow always in the direction of the compass needle to reach anygiven point upon Barsoom by the shortest route.

Carthoris’ improvement upon this consisted of an auxiliary device whichsteered the craft mechanically in the direction of the compass, and uponarrival directly over the point for which the compass was set, brought thecraft to a standstill and lowered it, also automatically, to the ground.

“You readily discern the advantages of this invention,” he wassaying to Thuvan Dihn, who had accompanied him to the landing stage upon thepalace roof to inspect the compass and bid his young friend farewell.

A dozen officers of the court with several body servants were grouped behindthe jeddak and his guest, eager listeners to the conversation—so eager onthe part of one of the servants that he was twice rebuked by a noble for hisforwardness in pushing himself ahead of his betters to view the intricatemechanism of the wonderful “controlling destination compass,” asthe thing was called.

“For example,” continued Carthoris, “I have an all-night tripbefore me, as to-night. I set the pointer here upon the right-hand dial whichrepresents the eastern hemisphere of Barsoom, so that the point rests upon theexact latitude and longitude of Helium. Then I start the engine, roll up in mysleeping silks and furs, and with lights burning, race through the air towardHelium, confident that at the appointed hour I shall drop gently toward thelanding stage upon my own palace, whether I am still asleep or no.”

“Provided,” suggested Thuvan Dihn, “you do not chance tocollide with some other night wanderer in the meanwhile.”

Carthoris smiled. “No danger of that,” he replied. “Seehere,” and he indicated a device at the right of the destination compass.“This is my ‘obstruction evader,’ as I call it. This visibledevice is the switch which throws the mechanism on or off. The instrumentitself is below deck, geared both to the steering apparatus and the controllevers.

“It is quite simple, being nothing more than a radium generator diffusingradio-activity in all directions to a distance of a hundred yards or so fromthe flier. Should this enveloping force be interrupted in any direction adelicate instrument immediately apprehends the irregularity, at the same timeimparting an impulse to a magnetic device which in turn actuates the steeringmechanism, diverting the bow of the flier away from the obstacle until thecraft’s radio-activity sphere is no longer in contact with theobstruction, then she falls once more into her normal course. Should thedisturbance approach from the rear, as in case of a faster-moving craftoverhauling me, the mechanism actuates the speed control as well as thesteering gear, and the flier shoots ahead and either up or down, as theoncoming vessel is upon a lower or higher plane than herself.

“In aggravated cases, that is when the obstructions are many, or of sucha nature as to deflect the bow more than forty-five degrees in any direction,or when the craft has reached its destination and dropped to within a hundredyards of the ground, the mechanism brings her to a full stop, at the same timesounding a loud alarm which will instantly awaken the pilot. You see I haveanticipated almost every contingency.”

Thuvan Dihn smiled his appreciation of the marvellous device. The forwardservant pushed almost to the flier’s side. His eyes were narrowed toslits.

“All but one,” he said.

The nobles looked at him in astonishment, and one of them grasped the fellownone too gently by the shoulder to push him back to his proper place. Carthorisraised his hand.

“Wait,” he urged. “Let us hear what the man has tosay—no creation of mortal mind is perfect. Perchance he has detected aweakness that it will be well to know at once. Come, my good fellow, and whatmay be the one contingency I have overlooked?”

As he spoke Carthoris observed the servant closely for the first time. He saw aman of giant stature and handsome, as are all those of the race of Martian redmen; but the fellow’s lips were thin and cruel, and across one cheek wasthe faint, white line of a sword-cut from the right temple to the corner of themouth.

“Come,” urged the Prince of Helium. “Speak!”

The man hesitated. It was evident that he regretted the temerity that had madehim the centre of interested observation. But at last, seeing no alternative,he spoke.

“It might be tampered with,” he said, “by an enemy.”

Carthoris drew a small key from his leathern pocket-pouch.

“Look at this,” he said, handing it to the man. “If you knowaught of locks, you will know that the mechanism which this unlooses is beyondthe cunning of a picker of locks. It guards the vitals of the instrument fromcrafty tampering. Without it an enemy must half wreck the device to reach itsheart, leaving his handiwork apparent to the most casual observer.”

The servant took the key, glanced at it shrewdly, and then as he made to returnit to Carthoris dropped it upon the marble flagging. Turning to look for it heplanted the sole of his sandal full upon the glittering object. For an instanthe bore all his weight upon the foot that covered the key, then he stepped backand with an exclamation as of pleasure that he had found it, stooped, recoveredit, and returned it to the Heliumite. Then he dropped back to his stationbehind the nobles and was forgotten.

A moment later Carthoris had made his adieux to Thuvan Dihn and his nobles, andwith lights twinkling had risen into the star-shot void of the Martian night.

CHAPTER II.
SLAVERY

As the ruler of Ptarth, followed by his courtiers, descended from thelanding stage above the palace, the servants dropped into their places in therear of their royal or noble masters, and behind the others one lingered to thelast. Then quickly stooping he snatched the sandal from his right foot,slipping it into his pocket-pouch.

When the party had come to the lower levels, and the jeddak had dispersed themby a sign, none noticed that the forward fellow who had drawn so much attentionto himself before the Prince of Helium departed, was no longer among the otherservants.

To whose retinue he had been attached none had thought to inquire, for thefollowers of a Martian noble are many, coming and going at the whim of theirmaster, so that a new face is scarcely ever questioned, as the fact that a manhas passed within the palace walls is considered proof positive that hisloyalty to the jeddak is beyond question, so rigid is the examination of eachwho seeks service with the nobles of the court.

A good rule that, and only relaxed by courtesy in favour of the retinue ofvisiting royalty from a friendly foreign power.

It was late in the morning of the next day that a giant serving man in theharness of the house of a great Ptarth noble passed out into the city from thepalace gates. Along one broad avenue and then another he strode briskly untilhe had passed beyond the district of the nobles and had come to the place ofshops. Here he sought a pretentious building that rose spire-like toward theheavens, its outer walls elaborately wrought with delicate carvings andintricate mosaics.

It was the Palace of Peace in which were housed the representatives of theforeign powers, or rather in which were located their embassies; for theministers themselves dwelt in gorgeous palaces within the district occupied bythe nobles.

Here the man sought the embassy of Dusar. A clerk arose questioningly as heentered, and at his request to have a word with the minister asked hiscredentials. The visitor slipped a plain metal armlet from above his elbow, andpointing to an inscription upon its inner surface, whispered a word or two tothe clerk.

The latter’s eyes went wide, and his attitude turned at once to one ofdeference. He bowed the stranger to a seat, and hastened to an inner room withthe armlet in his hand. A moment later he reappeared and conducted the callerinto the presence of the minister.

For a long time the two were closeted together, and when at last the giantserving man emerged from the inner office his expression was cast in a smile ofsinister satisfaction. From the Palace of Peace he hurried directly to thepalace of the Dusarian minister.

That night two swift fliers left the same palace top. One sped its rapid coursetoward Helium; the other—

Thuvia of Ptarth strolled in the gardens of her father’s palace, as washer nightly custom before retiring. Her silks and furs were drawn about her,for the air of Mars is chill after the sun has taken his quick plunge beneaththe planet’s western verge.

The girl’s thoughts wandered from her impending nuptials, that would makeher empress of Kaol, to the person of the trim young Heliumite who had laid hisheart at her feet the preceding day.

Whether it was pity or regret that saddened her expression as she gazed towardthe southern heavens where she had watched the lights of his flier disappearthe previous night, it would be difficult to say.

So, too, is it impossible to conjecture just what her emotions may have been asshe discerned the lights of a flier speeding rapidly out of the distance fromthat very direction, as though impelled toward her garden by the very intensityof the princess’ thoughts.

She saw it circle lower above the palace until she was positive that it buthovered in preparation for a landing.

Presently the powerful rays of its searchlight shot downward from the bow. Theyfell upon the landing stage for a brief instant, revealing the figures of thePtarthian guard, picking into brilliant points of fire the gems upon theirgorgeous harnesses.

Then the blazing eye swept onward across the burnished domes and gracefulminarets, down into court and park and garden to pause at last upon the ersitebench and the girl standing there beside it, her face upturned full toward theflier.

For but an instant the searchlight halted upon Thuvia of Ptarth, then it wasextinguished as suddenly as it had come to life. The flier passed on above herto disappear beyond a grove of lofty skeel trees that grew within the palacegrounds.

The girl stood for some time as it had left her, except that her head was bentand her eyes downcast in thought.

Who but Carthoris could it have been? She tried to feel anger that he shouldhave returned thus, spying upon her; but she found it difficult to be angrywith the young prince of Helium.

What mad caprice could have induced him so to transgress the etiquette ofnations? For lesser things great powers had gone to war.

The princess in her was shocked and angered—but what of the girl!

And the guard—what of them? Evidently they, too, had been so muchsurprised by the unprecedented action of the stranger that they had not evenchallenged; but that they had no thought to let the thing go unnoticed wasquickly evidenced by the skirring of motors upon the landing stage and thequick shooting airward of a long-lined patrol boat.

Thuvia watched it dart swiftly eastward. So, too, did other eyes watch.

Within the dense shadows of the skeel grove, in a wide avenue beneatho’erspreading foliage, a flier hung a dozen feet above the ground. Fromits deck keen eyes watched the far-fanning searchlight of the patrol boat. Nolight shone from the enshadowed craft. Upon its deck was the silence of thetomb. Its crew of a half-dozen red warriors watched the lights of the patrolboat diminishing in the distance.

“The intellects of our ancestors are with us to-night,” said one ina low tone.

“No plan ever carried better,” returned another. “They didprecisely as the prince foretold.”

He who had first spoken turned toward the man who squatted before the controlboard.

“Now!” he whispered. There was no other order given. Every man uponthe craft had evidently been well schooled in each detail of that night’swork. Silently the dark hull crept beneath the cathedral arches of the dark andsilent grove.

Thuvia of Ptarth, gazing toward the east, saw the blacker blot against theblackness of the trees as the craft topped the buttressed garden wall. She sawthe dim bulk incline gently downward toward the scarlet sward of the garden.

She knew that men came not thus with honourable intent. Yet she did not cryaloud to alarm the near-by guardsmen, nor did she flee to the safety of thepalace.

Why?

I can see her shrug her shapely shoulders in reply as she voices the age-old,universal answer of the woman: Because!

Scarce had the flier touched the ground when four men leaped from its deck.They ran forward toward the girl.

Still she made no sign of alarm, standing as though hypnotized. Or could ithave been as one who awaited a welcome visitor?

Not until they were quite close to her did she move. Then the nearer moon,rising above the surrounding foliage, touched their faces, lighting all withthe brilliancy of her silver rays.

Thuvia of Ptarth saw only strangers—warriors in the harness of Dusar. Nowshe took fright, but too late!

Before she could voice but a single cry, rough hands seized her. A heavy silkenscarf was wound about her head. She was lifted in strong arms and borne to thedeck of the flier. There was the sudden whirl of propellers, the rushing of airagainst her body, and, from far beneath the shouting and the challenge from theguard.

Racing toward the south another flier sped toward Helium. In its cabin a tallred man bent over the soft sole of an upturned sandal. With delicateinstruments he measured the faint imprint of a small object which appearedthere. Upon a pad beside him was the outline of a key, and here he noted theresults of his measurements.

A smile played upon his lips as he completed his task and turned to one whowaited at the opposite side of the table.

“The man is a genius,” he remarked.

“Only a genius could have evolved such a lock as this is designed tospring. Here, take the sketch, Larok, and give all thine own genius full andunfettered freedom in reproducing it in metal.”

The warrior-artificer bowed. “Man builds naught,” he said,“that man may not destroy.” Then he left the cabin with the sketch.

As dawn broke upon the lofty towers which mark the twin cities ofHelium—the scarlet tower of one and the yellow tower of itssister—a flier floated lazily out of the north.

Upon its bow was emblazoned the signia of a lesser noble of a far city of theempire of Helium. Its leisurely approach and the evident confidence with whichit moved across the city aroused no suspicion in the minds of the sleepy guard.Their round of duty nearly done, they had little thought beyond the coming ofthose who were to relieve them.

Peace reigned throughout Helium. Stagnant, emasculating peace. Helium had noenemies. There was naught to fear.

Without haste the nearest air patrol swung sluggishly about and approached thestranger. At easy speaking distance the officer upon her deck hailed theincoming craft.

The cheery “Kaor!” and the plausible explanation that the owner hadcome from distant parts for a few days of pleasure in gay Helium sufficed. Theair-patrol boat sheered off, passing again upon its way. The stranger continuedtoward a public landing stage, where she dropped into the ways and came torest.

At about the same time a warrior entered her cabin.

“It is done, Vas Kor,” he said, handing a small metal key to thetall noble who had just risen from his sleeping silks and furs.

“Good!” exclaimed the latter. “You must have worked upon itall during the night, Larok.”

The warrior nodded.

“Now fetch me the Heliumetic metal you wrought some days since,”commanded Vas Kor.

This done, the warrior assisted his master to replace the handsome jewelledmetal of his harness with the plainer ornaments of an ordinary fighting man ofHelium, and with the insignia of the same house that appeared upon the bow ofthe flier.

Vas Kor breakfasted on board. Then he emerged upon the aerial dock, entered anelevator, and was borne quickly to the street below, where he was soon engulfedby the early morning throng of workers hastening to their daily duties.

Among them his warrior trappings were no more remarkable than is a pair oftrousers upon Broadway. All Martian men are warriors, save those physicallyunable to bear arms. The tradesman and his clerk clank with their martialtrappings as they pursue their vocations. The schoolboy, coming into the world,as he does, almost adult from the snowy shell that has encompassed hisdevelopment for five long years, knows so little of life without a sword at hiship that he would feel the same discomfiture at going abroad unarmed that anEarth boy would experience in walking the streets knicker-bockerless.

Vas Kor’s destination lay in Greater Helium, which lies some seventy-fivemiles across the level plain from Lesser Helium. He had landed at the lattercity because the air patrol is less suspicious and alert than that above thelarger metropolis where lies the palace of the jeddak.

As he moved with the throng in the parklike canyon of the thoroughfare the lifeof an awakening Martian city was in evidence about him. Houses, raised highupon their slender metal columns for the night were dropping gently toward theground. Among the flowers upon the scarlet sward which lies about the buildingschildren were already playing, and comely women laughing and chatting withtheir neighbours as they culled gorgeous blossoms for the vases within doors.

The pleasant “kaor” of the Barsoomian greeting fell continuallyupon the ears of the stranger as friends and neighbours took up the duties of anew day.

The district in which he had landed was residential—a district ofmerchants of the more prosperous sort. Everywhere were evidences of luxury andwealth. Slaves appeared upon every housetop with gorgeous silks and costlyfurs, laying them in the sun for airing. Jewel-encrusted women lolled even thusearly upon the carven balconies before their sleeping apartments. Later in theday they would repair to the roofs when the slaves had arranged couches andpitched silken canopies to shade them from the sun.

Strains of inspiring music broke pleasantly from open windows, for the Martianshave solved the problem of attuning the nerves pleasantly to the suddentransition from sleep to waking that proves so difficult a thing for most Earthfolk.

Above him raced the long, light passenger fliers, plying, each in its properplane, between the numerous landing stages for internal passenger traffic.Landing stages that tower high into the heavens are for the great internationalpassenger liners. Freighters have other landing stages at various lower levels,to within a couple of hundred feet of the ground; nor dare any flier rise ordrop from one plane to another except in certain restricted districts wherehorizontal traffic is forbidden.

Along the close-cropped sward which paves the avenue ground fliers were movingin continuous lines in opposite directions. For the greater part they skimmedalong the surface of the sward, soaring gracefully into the air at times topass over a slower-going driver ahead, or at intersections, where the north andsouth traffic has the right of way and the east and west must rise above it.

From private hangars upon many a roof top fliers were darting into the line oftraffic. Gay farewells and parting admonitions mingled with the whirring ofmotors and the subdued noises of the city.

Yet with all the swift movement and the countless thousands rushing hither andthither, the predominant suggestion was that of luxurious ease and softnoiselessness.

Martians dislike harsh, discordant clamour. The only loud noises they can abideare the martial sounds of war, the clash of arms, the collision of two mightydreadnoughts of the air. To them there is no sweeter music than this.

At the intersection of two broad avenues Vas Kor descended from the streetlevel to one of the great pneumatic stations of the city. Here he paid before alittle wicket the fare to his destination with a couple of the dull, oval coinsof Helium.

Beyond the gatekeeper he came to a slowly moving line of what to Earthly eyeswould have appeared to be conical-nosed, eight-foot projectiles for some giantgun. In slow procession the things moved in single file along a grooved track.A half dozen attendants assisted passengers to enter, or directed thesecarriers to their proper destination.

Vas Kor approached one that was empty. Upon its nose was a dial and a pointer.He set the pointer for a certain station in Greater Helium, raised the archedlid of the thing, stepped in and lay down upon the upholstered bottom. Anattendant closed the lid, which locked with a little click, and the carriercontinued its slow way.

Presently it switched itself automatically to another track, to enter, a momentlater, one of the series of dark-mouthed tubes.

The instant that its entire length was within the black aperture it sprangforward with the speed of a rifle ball. There was an instant ofwhizzing—a soft, though sudden, stop, and slowly the carrier emerged uponanother platform, another attendant raised the lid and Vas Kor stepped out atthe station beneath the centre of Greater Helium, seventy-five miles from thepoint at which he had embarked.

Here he sought the street level, stepping immediately into a waiting groundflier. He spoke no word to the slave sitting in the driver’s seat. It wasevident that he had been expected, and that the fellow had received hisinstructions before his coming.

Scarcely had Vas Kor taken his seat when the flier went quickly into thefast-moving procession, turning presently from the broad and crowded avenueinto a less congested street. Presently it left the thronged district behind toenter a section of small shops, where it stopped before the entrance to onewhich bore the sign of a dealer in foreign silks.

Vas Kor entered the low-ceiling room. A man at the far end motioned him towardan inner apartment, giving no further sign of recognition until he had passedin after the caller and closed the door.

Then he faced his visitor, saluting deferentially.

“Most noble—” he commenced, but Vas Kor silenced him with agesture.

“No formalities,” he said. “We must forget that I am aughtother than your slave. If all has been as carefully carried out as it has beenplanned, we have no time to waste. Instead we should be upon our way to theslave market. Are you ready?”

The merchant nodded, and, turning to a great chest, produced the unemblazonedtrappings of a slave. These Vas Kor immediately donned. Then the two passedfrom the shop through a rear door, traversed a winding alley to an avenuebeyond, where they entered a flier which awaited them.

Five minutes later the merchant was leading his slave to the public market,where a great concourse of people filled the great open space in the centre ofwhich stood the slave block.

The crowds were enormous to-day, for Carthoris, Prince of Helium, was to be theprincipal bidder.

One by one the masters mounted the rostrum beside the slave block upon whichstood their chattels. Briefly and clearly each recounted the virtues of hisparticular offering.

When all were done, the major-domo of the Prince of Helium recalled to theblock such as had favourably impressed him. For such he had made a fair offer.

There was little haggling as to price, and none at all when Vas Kor was placedupon the block. His merchant-master accepted the first offer that was made forhim, and thus a Dusarian noble entered the household of Carthoris.

CHAPTER III.
TREACHERY

The day following the coming of Vas Kor to the palace of the Prince of Heliumgreat excitement reigned throughout the twin cities, reaching its climax in thepalace of Carthoris. Word had come of the abduction of Thuvia of Ptarth fromher father’s court, and with it the veiled hint that the Prince of Heliummight be suspected of considerable knowledge of the act and the whereabouts ofthe princess.

In the council chamber of John Carter, Warlord of Mars, was Tardos Mors, Jeddakof Helium; Mors Kajak, his son, Jed of Lesser Helium; Carthoris, and a score ofthe great nobles of the empire.

“There must be no war between Ptarth and Helium, my son,” said JohnCarter. “That you are innocent of the charge that has been placed againstyou by insinuation, we well know; but Thuvan Dihn must know it well, too.

“There is but one who may convince him, and that one be you. You musthasten at once to the court of Ptarth, and by your presence there as well as byyour words assure him that his suspicions are groundless. Bear with you theauthority of the Warlord of Barsoom, and of the Jeddak of Helium to offer everyresource of the allied powers to assist Thuvan Dihn to recover his daughter andpunish her abductors, whomsoever they may be.

“Go! I know that I do not need to urge upon you the necessity forhaste.”

Carthoris left the council chamber, and hastened to his palace.

Here slaves were busy in a moment setting things to rights for the departure oftheir master. Several worked about the swift flier that would bear the Princeof Helium rapidly toward Ptarth.

At last all was done. But two armed slaves remained on guard. The setting sunhung low above the horizon. In a moment darkness would envelop all.

One of the guardsmen, a giant of a fellow across whose right cheek there ran athin scar from temple to mouth, approached his companion. His gaze was directedbeyond and above his comrade. When he had come quite close he spoke.

“What strange craft is that?” he asked.

The other turned about quickly to gaze heavenward. Scarce was his back turnedtoward the giant than the short-sword of the latter was plunged beneath hisleft shoulder blade, straight through his heart.

Voiceless, the soldier sank in his tracks—stone dead. Quickly themurderer dragged the corpse into the black shadows within the hangar. Then hereturned to the flier.

Drawing a cunningly wrought key from his pocket-pouch, he removed the cover ofthe right-hand dial of the controlling destination compass. For a moment hestudied the construction of the mechanism beneath. Then he returned the dial toits place, set the pointer, and removed it again to note the resultant changein the position of the parts affected by the act.

A smile crossed his lips. With a pair of cutters he snipped off the projectionwhich extended through the dial from the external pointer—now the lattermight be moved to any point upon the dial without affecting the mechanismbelow. In other words, the eastern hemisphere dial was useless.

Now he turned his attention to the western dial. This he set upon a certainpoint. Afterward he removed the cover of this dial also, and with keen tool cutthe steel finger from the under side of the pointer.

As quickly as possible he replaced the second dial cover, and resumed his placeon guard. To all intents and purposes the compass was as efficient as before;but, as a matter of fact, the moving of the pointers upon the dials resultednow in no corresponding shift of the mechanism beneath—and the device wasset, immovably, upon a destination of the slave’s own choosing.

Presently came Carthoris, accompanied by but a handful of his gentlemen. Hecast but a casual glance upon the single slave who stood guard. Thefellow’s thin, cruel lips, and the sword-cut that ran from temple tomouth aroused the suggestion of an unpleasant memory within him. He wonderedwhere Saran Tal had found the man— then the matter faded from histhoughts, and in another moment the Prince of Helium was laughing and chattingwith his companions, though below the surface his heart was cold with dread,for what contingencies confronted Thuvia of Ptarth he could not even guess.

First to his mind, naturally, had sprung the thought that Astok of Dusar hadstolen the fair Ptarthian; but almost simultaneously with the report of theabduction had come news of the great fetes at Dusar in honour of the return ofthe jeddak’s son to the court of his father.

It could not have been he, thought Carthoris, for on the very night that Thuviawas taken Astok had been in Dusar, and yet—

He entered the flier, exchanging casual remarks with his companions as heunlocked the mechanism of the compass and set the pointer upon the capital cityof Ptarth.

With a word of farewell he touched the button which controlled the repulsiverays, and as the flier rose lightly into the air, the engine purred in answerto the touch of his finger upon a second button, the propellers whirred as hishand drew back the speed lever, and Carthoris, Prince of Helium, was off intothe gorgeous Martian night beneath the hurtling moons and the million stars.

Scarce had the flier found its speed ere the man, wrapping his sleeping silksand furs about him, stretched at full length upon the narrow deck to sleep.

But sleep did not come at once at his bidding.

Instead, his thoughts ran riot in his brain, driving sleep away. He recalledthe words of Thuvia of Ptarth, words that had half assured him that she lovedhim; for when he had asked her if she loved Kulan Tith, she had answered onlythat she was promised to him.

Now he saw that her reply was open to more than a single construction. Itmight, of course, mean that she did not love Kulan Tith; and so, by inference,be taken to mean that she loved another.

But what assurance was there that the other was Carthoris of Helium?

The more he thought upon it the more positive he became that not only was thereno assurance in her words that she loved him, but none either in any act ofhers. No, the fact was, she did not love him. She loved another. She had notbeen abducted—she had fled willingly with her lover.

With such pleasant thoughts filling him alternately with despair and rage,Carthoris at last dropped into the sleep of utter mental exhaustion.

The breaking of the sudden dawn found him still asleep. His flier was rushingswiftly above a barren, ochre plain—the world-old bottom of a long-deadMartian sea.

In the distance rose low hills. Toward these the craft was headed. As itapproached them, a great promontory might have been seen from its deck,stretching out into what had once been a mighty ocean, and circling back oncemore to enclose the forgotten harbour of a forgotten city, which stillstretched back from its deserted quays, an imposing pile of wondrousarchitecture of a long-dead past.

The countless dismal windows, vacant and forlorn, stared, sightless, from theirmarble walls; the whole sad city taking on the semblance of scattered mounds ofdead men’s sun-bleached skulls—the casements having the appearanceof eyeless sockets, the portals, grinning jaws.

Closer came the flier, but now its speed was diminishing—yet this was notPtarth.

Above the central plaza it stopped, slowly settling Marsward. Within a hundredyards of the ground it came to rest, floating gently in the light air, and atthe same instant an alarm sounded at the sleeper’s ear.

Carthoris sprang to his feet. Below him he looked to see the teeming metropolisof Ptarth. Beside him, already, there should have been an air patrol.

He gazed about in bewildered astonishment. There indeed was a great city, butit was not Ptarth. No multitudes surged through its broad avenues. No signs oflife broke the dead monotony of its deserted roof tops. No gorgeous silks, nopriceless furs lent life and colour to the cold marble and the gleaming ersite.

No patrol boat lay ready with its familiar challenge. Silent and empty lay thegreat city—empty and silent the surrounding air.

What had happened?

Carthoris examined the dial of his compass. The pointer was set upon Ptarth.Could the creature of his genius have thus betrayed him? He would not believeit.

Quickly he unlocked the cover, turning it back upon its hinge. A single glanceshowed him the truth, or at least a part of it—the steel projection thatcommunicated the movement of the pointer upon the dial to the heart of themechanism beneath had been severed.

Who could have done the thing—and why?

Carthoris could not hazard even a faint guess. But the thing now was to learnin what portion of the world he was, and then take up his interrupted journeyonce more.

If it had been the purpose of some enemy to delay him, he had succeeded well,thought Carthoris, as he unlocked the cover of the second dial, the firsthaving shown that its pointer had not been set at all.

Beneath the second dial he found the steel pin severed as in the other, but thecontrolling mechanism had first been set for a point upon the westernhemisphere.

He had just time to judge his location roughly at some place south-west ofHelium, and at a considerable distance from the twin cities, when he wasstartled by a woman’s scream beneath him.

Leaning over the side of the flier, he saw what appeared to be a red womanbeing dragged across the plaza by a huge green warrior—one of thosefierce, cruel denizens of the dead sea-bottoms and deserted cities of dyingMars.

Carthoris waited to see no more. Reaching for the control board, he sent hiscraft racing plummet-like toward the ground.

The green man was hurrying his captive toward a huge thoat that browsed uponthe ochre vegetation of the once scarlet-gorgeous plaza. At the same instant adozen red warriors leaped from the entrance of a nearby ersite palace, pursuingthe abductor with naked swords and shouts of rageful warning.

Once the woman turned her face upward toward the falling flier, and in thesingle swift glance Carthoris saw that it was Thuvia of Ptarth!

CHAPTER IV.
A GREEN MAN’S CAPTIVE

When the light of day broke upon the little craft to whose deck the Princess ofPtarth had been snatched from her father’s garden, Thuvia saw that thenight had wrought a change in her abductors.

No longer did their trappings gleam with the metal of Dusar, but instead therewas emblazoned there the insignia of the Prince of Helium.

The girl felt renewed hope, for she could not believe that in the heart ofCarthoris could lie intent to harm her.

She spoke to the warrior squatting before the control board.

“Last night you wore the trappings of a Dusarian,” she said.“Now your metal is that of Helium. What means it?”

The man looked at her with a grin.

“The Prince of Helium is no fool,” he said.

Just then an officer emerged from the tiny cabin. He reprimanded the warriorfor conversing with the prisoner, nor would he himself reply to any of herinquiries.

No harm was offered her during the journey, and so they came at last to theirdestination with the girl no wiser as to her abductors or their purpose than atfirst.

Here the flier settled slowly into the plaza of one of those mute monuments ofMars’ dead and forgotten past—the deserted cities that fringe thesad ochre sea-bottoms where once rolled the mighty floods upon whose bosomsmoved the maritime commerce of the peoples that are gone for ever.

Thuvia of Ptarth was no stranger to such places. During her wanderings insearch of the River Iss, that time she had set out upon what, for countlessages, had been the last, long pilgrimage of Martians, toward the Valley Dor,where lies the Lost Sea of Korus, she had encountered several of these sadreminders of the greatness and the glory of ancient Barsoom.

And again, during her flight from the temples of the Holy Therns with TarsTarkas, Jeddak of Thark, she had seen them, with their weird and ghostlyinmates, the great white apes of Barsoom.

She knew, too, that many of them were used now by the nomadic tribes of greenmen, but that among them all was no city that the red men did not shun, forwithout exception they stood amidst vast, waterless tracts, unsuited for thecontinued sustenance of the dominant race of Martians.

Why, then, should they be bringing her to such a place? There was but a singleanswer. Such was the nature of their work that they must needs seek theseclusion that a dead city afforded. The girl trembled at thought of herplight.

For two days her captors kept her within a huge palace that even in decayreflected the splendour of the age which its youth had known.

Just before dawn on the third day she had been aroused by the voices of two ofher abductors.

“He should be here by dawn,” one was saying. “Have her inreadiness upon the plaza—else he will never land. The moment he findsthat he is in a strange country he will turn about—methinks theprince’s plan is weak in this one spot.”

“There was no other way,” replied the other. “It is wondrouswork to get them both here at all, and even if we do not succeed in luring himto the ground, we shall have accomplished much.”

Just then the speaker caught the eyes of Thuvia upon him, revealed by thequick-moving patch of light cast by Thuriain her mad race through theheavens.

With a quick sign to the other, he ceased speaking, and advancing toward thegirl, motioned her to rise. Then he led her out into the night toward thecentre of the great plaza.

“Stand here,” he commanded, “until we come for you. We shallbe watching, and should you attempt to escape it will go ill withyou—much worse than death. Such are the prince’s orders.”

Then he turned and retraced his steps toward the palace, leaving her alone inthe midst of the unseen terrors of the haunted city, for in truth these placesare haunted in the belief of many Martians who still cling to an ancientsuperstition which teaches that the spirits of Holy Therns who die before theirallotted one thousand years, pass, on occasions, into the bodies of the greatwhite apes.

To Thuvia, however, the real danger of attack by one of these ferocious,manlike beasts was quite sufficient. She no longer believed in the weird soultransmigration that the therns had taught her before she was rescued from theirclutches by John Carter; but she well knew the horrid fate that awaited hershould one of the terrible beasts chance to spy her during its nocturnalprowlings.

What was that?

Surely she could not be mistaken. Something had moved, stealthily, in theshadow of one of the great monoliths that line the avenue where it entered theplaza opposite her!

Thar Ban, jed among the hordes of Torquas, rode swiftly across the ochrevegetation of the dead sea-bottom toward the ruins of ancient Aaanthor.

He had ridden far that night, and fast, for he had but come from the despoilingof the incubator of a neighbouring green horde with which the hordes of Torquaswere perpetually warring.

His giant thoat was far from jaded, yet it would be well, thought Thar Ban, topermit him to graze upon the ochre moss which grows to greater height withinthe protected courtyards of deserted cities, where the soil is richer than onthe sea-bottoms, and the plants partly shaded from the sun during the cloudlessMartian day.

Within the tiny stems of this dry-seeming plant is sufficient moisture for theneeds of the huge bodies of the mighty thoats, which can exist for monthswithout water, and for days without even the slight moisture which the ochremoss contains.

As Thar Ban rode noiselessly up the broad avenue which leads from the quays ofAaanthor to the great central plaza, he and his mount might have been mistakenfor spectres from a world of dreams, so grotesque the man and beast, sosoundless the great thoat’s padded, nailless feet upon the moss-grownflagging of the ancient pavement.

The man was a splendid specimen of his race. Fully fifteen feet towered hisgreat height from sole to pate. The moonlight glistened against his glossygreen hide, sparkling the jewels of his heavy harness and the ornaments thatweighted his four muscular arms, while the upcurving tusks that protruded fromhis lower jaw gleamed white and terrible.

At the side of his thoat were slung his long radium rifle and his great,forty-foot, metal-shod spear, while from his own harness depended hislong-sword and his short-sword, as well as his lesser weapons.

His protruding eyes and antennae-like ears were turning constantly hither andthither, for Thar Ban was yet in the country of the enemy, and, too, there wasalways the menace of the great white apes, which, John Carter was wont to say,are the only creatures that can arouse in the breasts of these fierce denizensof the dead sea-bottoms even the remotest semblance of fear.

As the rider neared the plaza, he reined suddenly in. His slender, tubular earspointed rigidly forward. An unwonted sound had reached them. Voices! And wherethere were voices, outside of Torquas, there, too, were enemies. All the worldof wide Barsoom contained naught but enemies for the fierce Torquasians.

Thar Ban dismounted. Keeping in the shadows of the great monoliths that linethe Avenue of Quays of sleeping Aaanthor, he approached the plaza. Directlybehind him, as a hound at heel, came the slate-grey thoat, his white bellyshadowed by his barrel, his vivid yellow feet merging into the yellow of themoss beneath them.

In the centre of the plaza Thar Ban saw the figure of a red woman. A redwarrior was conversing with her. Now the man turned and retraced his stepstoward the palace at the opposite side of the plaza.

Thar Ban watched until he had disappeared within the yawning portal. Here was acaptive worth having! Seldom did a female of their hereditary enemies fall tothe lot of a green man. Thar Ban licked his thin lips.

Thuvia of Ptarth watched the shadow behind the monolith at the opening to theavenue opposite her. She hoped that it might be but the figment of anoverwrought imagination.

But no! Now, clearly and distinctly, she saw it move. It came from behind thescreening shelter of the ersite shaft.

The sudden light of the rising sun fell upon it. The girl trembled. Thethingwas a huge green warrior!

Swiftly it sprang toward her. She screamed and tried to flee; but she hadscarce turned toward the palace when a giant hand fell upon her arm, she waswhirled about, and half dragged, half carried toward a huge thoat that wasslowly grazing out of the avenue’s mouth onto the ochre moss of theplaza.

At the same instant she turned her face upward toward the whirring sound ofsomething above her, and there she saw a swift flier dropping toward her, thehead and shoulders of a man leaning far over the side; but the man’sfeatures were deeply shadowed, so that she did not recognize them.

Now from behind her came the shouts of her red abductors. They were racingmadly after him who dared to steal what they already had stolen.

As Thar Ban reached the side of his mount he snatched his long radium riflefrom its boot, and, wheeling, poured three shots into the oncoming red men.

Such is the uncanny marksmanship of these Martian savages that three redwarriors dropped in their tracks as three projectiles exploded in their vitals.

The others halted, nor did they dare return the fire for fear of wounding thegirl.

Then Thar Ban vaulted to the back of his thoat, Thuvia of Ptarth still in hisarms, and with a savage cry of triumph disappeared down the black canyon of theAvenue of Quays between the sullen palaces of forgotten Aaanthor.

Carthoris’ flier had not touched the ground before he had sprung from itsdeck to race after the swift thoat, whose eight long legs were sending it downthe avenue at the rate of an express train; but the men of Dusar who stillremained alive had no mind to permit so valuable a capture to escape them.

They had lost the girl. That would be a difficult thing to explain to Astok;but some leniency might be expected could they carry the Prince of Helium totheir master instead.

So the three who remained set upon Carthoris with their long-swords, crying tohim to surrender; but they might as successfully have cried aloud toThuriato cease her mad hurtling through the Barsoomian sky, forCarthoris of Helium was a true son of the Warlord of Mars and his incomparableDejah Thoris.

Carthoris’ long-sword had been already in his hand as he leaped from thedeck of the flier, so the instant that he realized the menace of the three redwarriors, he wheeled to face them, meeting their onslaught as only John Carterhimself might have done.

So swift his sword, so mighty and agile his half-earthly muscles, that one ofhis opponents was down, crimsoning the ochre moss with his life-blood, when hehad scarce made a single pass at Carthoris.

Now the two remaining Dusarians rushed simultaneously upon the Heliumite. Threelong-swords clashed and sparkled in the moonlight, until the great white apes,roused from their slumbers, crept to the lowering windows of the dead city toview the bloody scene beneath them.

Thrice was Carthoris touched, so that the red blood ran down his face, blindinghim and dyeing his broad chest. With his free hand he wiped the gore from hiseyes, and with the fighting smile of his father touching his lips, leaped uponhis antagonists with renewed fury.

A single cut of his heavy sword severed the head of one of them, and then theother, backing away clear of that point of death, turned and fled toward thepalace at his back.

Carthoris made no step to pursue. He had other concern than the meting of evenwell-deserved punishment to strange men who masqueraded in the metal of his ownhouse, for he had seen that these men were tricked out in the insignia thatmarked his personal followers.

Turning quickly toward his flier, he was soon rising from the plaza in pursuitof Thar Ban.

The red warrior whom he had put to flight turned in the entrance to the palace,and, seeing Carthoris’ intent, snatched a rifle from those that he andhis fellows had left leaning against the wall as they had rushed out with drawnswords to prevent the theft of their prisoner.

Few red men are good shots, for the sword is their chosen weapon; so now as theDusarian drew bead upon the rising flier, and touched the button upon hisrifle’s stock, it was more to chance than proficiency that he owed thepartial success of his aim.

The projectile grazed the flier’s side, the opaque coating breakingsufficiently to permit daylight to strike in upon the powder phial within thebullet’s nose. There was a sharp explosion. Carthoris felt his craft reeldrunkenly beneath him, and the engine stopped.

The momentum the air boat had gained carried her on over the city toward thesea-bottom beyond.

The red warrior in the plaza fired several more shots, none of which scored.Then a lofty minaret shut the drifting quarry from his view.

In the distance before him Carthoris could see the green warrior bearing Thuviaof Ptarth away upon his mighty thoat. The direction of his flight was towardthe north-west of Aaanthor, where lay a mountainous country little known to redmen.

The Heliumite now gave his attention to his injured craft. A close examinationrevealed the fact that one of the buoyancy tanks had been punctured, but theengine itself was uninjured.

A splinter from the projectile had damaged one of the control levers beyond thepossibility of repair outside a machine shop; but after considerable tinkering,Carthoris was able to propel his wounded flier at low speed, a rate which couldnot approach the rapid gait of the thoat, whose eight long, powerful legscarried it over the ochre vegetation of the dead sea-bottom at terrific speed.

The Prince of Helium chafed and fretted at the slowness of his pursuit, yet hewas thankful that the damage was no worse, for now he could at least move morerapidly than on foot.

But even this meagre satisfaction was soon to be denied him, for presently theflier commenced to sag toward the port and by the bow. The damage to thebuoyancy tanks had evidently been more grievous than he had at first believed.

All the balance of that long day Carthoris crawled erratically through thestill air, the bow of the flier sinking lower and lower, and the list to portbecoming more and more alarming, until at last, near dark, he was floatingalmost bow-down, his harness buckled to a heavy deck ring to keep him frombeing precipitated to the ground below.

His forward movement was now confined to a slow drifting with the gentle breezethat blew out of the south-east, and when this died down with the setting ofthe sun, he let the flier sink gently to the mossy carpet beneath.

Far before him loomed the mountains toward which the green man had been fleeingwhen last he had seen him, and with dogged resolution the son of John Carter,endowed with the indomitable will of his mighty sire, took up the pursuit onfoot.

All that night he forged ahead until, with the dawning of a new day, he enteredthe low foothills that guard the approach to the fastness of the mountains ofTorquas.

Rugged, granitic walls towered before him. Nowhere could he discern an openingthrough the formidable barrier; yet somewhere into this inhospitable world ofstone the green warrior had borne the woman of the red man’sheart’s desire.

Across the yielding moss of the sea-bottom there had been no spoor to follow,for the soft pads of the thoat but pressed down in his swift passage theresilient vegetation which sprang up again behind his fleeting feet, leaving nosign.

But here in the hills, where loose rock occasionally strewed the way; whereblack loam and wild flowers partially replaced the sombre monotony of the wasteplaces of the lowlands, Carthoris hoped to find some sign that would lead himin the right direction.

Yet, search as he would, the baffling mystery of the trail seemed likely toremain for ever unsolved.

It was drawing toward the day’s close once more when the keen eyes of theHeliumite discerned the tawny yellow of a sleek hide moving among the bouldersseveral hundred yards to his left.

Crouching quickly behind a large rock, Carthoris watched the thing before him.It was a huge banth, one of those savage Barsoomian lions that roam thedesolate hills of the dying planet.

The creature’s nose was close to the ground. It was evident that he wasfollowing the spoor of meat by scent.

As Carthoris watched him, a great hope leaped into the man’s heart. Here,possibly, might lie the solution to the mystery he had been endeavouring tosolve. This hungry carnivore, keen always for the flesh of man, might even nowbe trailing the two whom Carthoris sought.

Cautiously the youth crept out upon the trail of the man-eater. Along the footof the perpendicular cliff the creature moved, sniffing at the invisible spoor,and now and then emitting the low moan of the hunting banth.

Carthoris had followed the creature for but a few minutes when it disappearedas suddenly and mysteriously as though dissolved into thin air.

The man leaped to his feet. Not again was he to be cheated as the man hadcheated him. He sprang forward at a reckless pace to the spot at which he lasthad seen the great, skulking brute.

Before him loomed the sheer cliff, its face unbroken by any aperture into whichthe huge banth might have wormed its great carcass. Beside him was a small,flat boulder, not larger than the deck of a ten-man flier, nor standing to agreater height than twice his own stature.

Perhaps the banth was in hiding behind this? The brute might have discoveredthe man upon his trail, and even now be lying in wait for his easy prey.

Cautiously, with drawn long-sword, Carthoris crept around the corner of therock. There was no banth there, but something which surprised him infinitelymore than would the presence of twenty banths.

Before him yawned the mouth of a dark cave leading downward into the ground.Through this the banth must have disappeared. Was it his lair? Within its darkand forbidding interior might there not lurk not one but many of the fearsomecreatures?

Carthoris did not know, nor, with the thought that had been spurring him onwardupon the trail of the creature uppermost in his mind, did he much care; forinto this gloomy cavern he was sure the banth had trailed the green man and hiscaptive, and into it he, too, would follow, content to give his life in theservice of the woman he loved.

Not an instant did he hesitate, nor yet did he advance rashly; but with readysword and cautious steps, for the way was dark, he stole on. As he advanced,the obscurity became impenetrable blackness.

CHAPTER V.
THE FAIR RACE

Downward along a smooth, broad floor led the strange tunnel, for such Carthoriswas now convinced was the nature of the shaft he at first had thought but acave.

Before him he could hear the occasional low moans of the banth, and presentlyfrom behind came a similar uncanny note. Another banth had entered thepassageway on histrail!

His position was anything but pleasant. His eyes could not penetrate thedarkness even to the distinguishing of his hand before his face, while thebanths, he knew, could see quite well, though absence of light were utter.

No other sounds came to his ears than the dismal, bloodthirsty moanings of thebeast ahead and the beast behind.

The tunnel had led straight, from where he had entered it beneath the side ofthe rock furthest from the unscaleable cliffs, toward the mighty barrier thathad baffled him so long.

Now it was running almost level, and presently he noted a gradual ascent.

The beast behind him was gaining upon him, crowding him perilously close uponthe heels of the beast in front. Presently he should have to do battle withone, or both. More firmly he gripped his weapon.

Now he could hear the breathing of the banth at his heels. Not for much longercould he delay the encounter.

Long since he had become assured that the tunnel led beneath the cliffs to theopposite side of the barrier, and he had hoped that he might reach the moonlitopen before being compelled to grapple with either of the monsters.

The sun had been setting as he entered the tunnel, and the way had beensufficiently long to assure him that darkness now reigned upon the worldwithout. He glanced behind him. Blazing out of the darkness, seemingly not tenpaces behind, glared two flaming points of fire. As the savage eyes met his,the beast emitted a frightful roar and then he charged.

To face that savage mountain of onrushing ferocity, to stand unshaken beforethe hideous fangs that he knew were bared in slavering blood-thirstiness,though he could not see them, required nerves of steel; but of such were thenerves of Carthoris of Helium.

He had the brute’s eyes to guide his point, and, as true as the swordhand of his mighty sire, his guided the keen point to one of those blazingorbs, even as he leaped lightly to one side.

With a hideous scream of pain and rage, the wounded banth hurtled, clawing,past him. Then it turned to charge once more; but this time Carthoris saw but asingle gleaming point of fiery hate directed upon him.

Again the needle point met its flashing target. Again the horrid cry of thestricken beast reverberated through the rocky tunnel, shocking in itstorture-laden shrillness, deafening in its terrific volume.

But now, as it turned to charge again, the man had no guide whereby to directhis point. He heard the scraping of the padded feet upon the rocky floor. Heknew the thing was charging down upon him once again, but he could see nothing.

Yet, if he could not see his antagonist, neither could his antagonist now seehim.

Leaping, as he thought, to the exact centre of the tunnel, he held his swordpoint ready on a line with the beast’s chest. It was all that he coulddo, hoping that chance might send the point into the savage heart as he wentdown beneath the great body.

So quickly was the thing over that Carthoris could scarce believe his senses asthe mighty body rushed madly past him. Either he had not placed himself in thecentre of the tunnel, or else the blinded banth had erred in its calculations.

However, the huge body missed him by a foot, and the creature continued on downthe tunnel as though in pursuit of the prey that had eluded him.

Carthoris, too, followed the same direction, nor was it long before his heartwas gladdened by the sight of the moonlit exit from the long, dark passage.

Before him lay a deep hollow, entirely surrounded by gigantic cliffs. Thesurface of the valley was dotted with enormous trees, a strange sight so farfrom a Martian waterway. The ground itself was clothed in brilliant scarletsward, picked out with innumerable patches of gorgeous wild flowers.

Beneath the glorious effulgence of the two moons the scene was one ofindescribable loveliness, tinged with the weirdness of strange enchantment.

For only an instant, however, did his gaze rest upon the natural beautiesoutspread before him. Almost immediately they were riveted upon the figure of agreat banth standing across the carcass of a new-killed thoat.

The huge beast, his tawny mane bristling around his hideous head, kept his eyesfixed upon another banth that charged erratically hither and thither, withshrill screams of pain, and horrid roars of hate and rage.

Carthoris quickly guessed that the second brute was the one he had blindedduring the fight in the tunnel, but it was the dead thoat that centred hisinterest more than either of the savage carnivores.

The harness was still upon the body of the huge Martian mount, and Carthoriscould not doubt but that this was the very animal upon which the green warriorhad borne away Thuvia of Ptarth.

But where were the rider and his prisoner? The Prince of Helium shuddered as hethought upon the probability of the fate that had overtaken them.

Human flesh is the food most craved by the fierce Barsoomian lion, whose greatcarcass and giant thews require enormous quantities of meat to sustain them.

Two human bodies would have but whetted the creature’s appetite, and thathe had killed and eaten the green man and the red girl seemed only too likelyto Carthoris. He had left the carcass of the mighty thoat to be devoured afterhaving consumed the more tooth-some portion of his banquet.

Now the sightless banth, in its savage, aimless charging and counter-charging,had passed beyond the kill of its fellow, and there the light breeze that wasblowing wafted the scent of new blood to its nostrils.

No longer were its movements erratic. With outstretched tail and foaming jawsit charged straight as an arrow, for the body of the thoat and the mightycreature of destruction that stood with forepaws upon the slate-grey side,waiting to defend its meat.

When the charging banth was twenty paces from the dead thoat the killer gavevent to its hideous challenge, and with a mighty spring leaped forward to meetit.

The battle that ensued awed even the warlike Barsoomian. The mad rending, thehideous and deafening roaring, the implacable savagery of the blood-stainedbeasts held him in the paralysis of fascination, and when it was over and thetwo creatures, their heads and shoulders torn to ribbons, lay with their deadjaws still buried in each other’s bodies, Carthoris tore himself from thespell only by an effort of the will.

Hurrying to the side of the dead thoat, he searched for traces of the girl hefeared had shared the thoat’s fate, but nowhere could he discoveranything to confirm his fears.

With slightly lightened heart he started out to explore the valley, but scarcea dozen steps had he taken when the glistening of a jewelled bauble lying onthe sward caught his eye.

As he picked it up his first glance showed him that it was a woman’s hairornament, and emblazoned upon it was the insignia of the royal house of Ptarth.

But, sinister discovery, blood, still wet, splotched the magnificent jewels ofthe setting.

Carthoris half choked as the dire possibilities which the thing suggestedpresented themselves to his imagination. Yet he could not, would not believeit.

It was impossible that that radiant creature could have met so hideous an end.It was incredible that the glorious Thuvia should ever cease to be.

Upon his already jewel-encrusted harness, to the strap that crossed his greatchest beneath which beat his loyal heart, Carthoris, Prince of Helium, fastenedthe gleaming thing that Thuvia of Ptarth had worn, and wearing, had made holyto the Heliumite.

Then he proceeded upon his way into the heart of the unknown valley.

For the most part the giant trees shut off his view to any but the most limiteddistances. Occasionally he caught glimpses of the towering hills that boundedthe valley upon every side, and though they stood out clear beneath the lightof the two moons, he knew that they were far off, and that the extent of thevalley was immense.

For half the night he continued his search, until presently he was brought to asudden halt by the distant sound of squealing thoats.

Guided by the noise of these habitually angry beasts, he stole forward throughthe trees until at last he came upon a level, treeless plain, in the centre ofwhich a mighty city reared its burnished domes and vividly coloured towers.

About the walled city the red man saw a huge encampment of the green warriorsof the dead sea-bottoms, and as he let his eyes rove carefully over the city herealized that here was no deserted metropolis of a dead past.

But what city could it be? His studies had taught him that in thislittle-explored portion of Barsoom the fierce tribe of Torquasian green menruled supreme, and that as yet no red man had succeeded in piercing to theheart of their domain to return again to the world of civilization.

The men of Torquas had perfected huge guns with which their uncannymarksmanship had permitted them to repulse the few determined efforts thatnear-by red nations had made to explore their country by means of battle fleetsof airships.

That he was within the boundary of Torquas, Carthoris was sure, but that thereexisted there such a wondrous city he never had dreamed, nor had the chroniclesof the past even hinted at such a possibility, for the Torquasians were knownto live, as did the other green men of Mars, within the deserted cities thatdotted the dying planet, nor ever had any green horde built so much as a singleedifice, other than the low-walled incubators where their young are hatched bythe sun’s heat.

The encircling camp of green warriors lay about five hundred yards from thecity’s walls. Between it and the city was no semblance of breastwork orother protection against rifle or cannon fire; yet distinctly now in the lightof the rising sun Carthoris could see many figures moving along the summit ofthe high wall, and upon the roof tops beyond.

That they were beings like himself he was sure, though they were at too greatdistance from him for him to be positive that they were red men.

Almost immediately after sunrise the green warriors commenced firing upon thelittle figures upon the wall. To Carthoris’ surprise the fire was notreturned, but presently the last of the city’s inhabitants had soughtshelter from the weird marksmanship of the green men, and no further sign oflife was visible beyond the wall.

Then Carthoris, keeping within the shelter of the trees that fringed the plain,began circling the rear of the besiegers’ line, hoping against hope thatsomewhere he would obtain sight of Thuvia of Ptarth, for even now he could notbelieve that she was dead.

That he was not discovered was a miracle, for mounted warriors were constantlyriding back and forth from the camp into the forest; but the long day wore onand still he continued his seemingly fruitless quest, until, near sunset, hecame opposite a mighty gate in the city’s western wall.

Here seemed to be the principal force of the attacking horde. Here a greatplatform had been erected whereon Carthoris could see squatting a huge greenwarrior, surrounded by others of his kind.

This, then, must be the notorious Hortan Gur, Jeddak of Torquas, the fierce oldogre of the south-western hemisphere, as only for a jeddak are platforms raisedin temporary camps or upon the march by the green hordes of Barsoom.

As the Heliumite watched he saw another green warrior push his way forwardtoward the rostrum. Beside him he dragged a captive, and as the surroundingwarriors parted to let the two pass, Carthoris caught a fleeting glimpse of theprisoner.

His heart leaped in rejoicing. Thuvia of Ptarth still lived!

It was with difficulty that Carthoris restrained the impulse to rush forward tothe side of the Ptarthian princess; but in the end his better judgmentprevailed, for in the face of such odds he knew that he should have been butthrowing away, uselessly, any future opportunity he might have to succour her.

He saw her dragged to the foot of the rostrum. He saw Hortan Gur address her.He could not hear the creature’s words, nor Thuvia’s reply; but itmust have angered the green monster, for Carthoris saw him leap toward theprisoner, striking her a cruel blow across the face with his metal-banded arm.

Then the son of John Carter, Jeddak of Jeddaks, Warlord of Barsoom, went mad.The old, blood-red haze through which his sire had glared at countless foes,floated before his eyes.

His half-Earthly muscles, responding quickly to his will, sent him in enormousleaps and bounds toward the green monster that had struck the woman he loved.

The Torquasians were not looking in the direction of the forest. All eyes hadbeen upon the figures of the girl and their jeddak, and loud was the hideouslaughter that rang out in appreciation of the wit of the green emperor’sreply to his prisoner’s appeal for liberty.

Carthoris had covered about half the distance between the forest and the greenwarriors, when a new factor succeeded in still further directing the attentionof the latter from him.

Upon a high tower within the beleaguered city a man appeared. From his upturnedmouth there issued a series of frightful shrieks; uncanny shrieks that swept,shrill and terrifying, across the city’s walls, over the heads of thebesiegers, and out across the forest to the uttermost confines of the valley.

Once, twice, thrice the fearsome sound smote upon the ears of the listeninggreen men and then far, far off across the broad woods came sharp and clearfrom the distance an answering shriek.

It was but the first. From every point rose similar savage cries, until theworld seemed to tremble to their reverberations.

The green warriors looked nervously this way and that. They knew not fear, asEarth men may know it; but in the face of the unusual their wontedself-assurance deserted them.

And then the great gate in the city wall opposite the platform of Hortan Gurswung suddenly wide. From it issued as strange a sight as Carthoris ever hadwitnessed, though at the moment he had time to cast but a single fleetingglance at the tall bowmen emerging through the portal behind their long, ovalshields; to note their flowing auburn hair; and to realize that the growlingthings at their side were fierce Barsoomian lions.

Then he was in the midst of the astonished Torquasians. With drawn long-swordhe was among them, and to Thuvia of Ptarth, whose startled eyes were the firstto fall upon him, it seemed that she was looking upon John Carter himself, sostrangely similar to the fighting of the father was that of the son.

Even to the famous fighting smile of the Virginian was the resemblance true.And the sword arm! Ah, the subtleness of it, and the speed!

All about was turmoil and confusion. Green warriors were leaping to the backsof their restive, squealing thoats. Calots were growling out their savagegutturals, whining to be at the throats of the oncoming foemen.

Thar Ban and another by the side of the rostrum had been the first to note thecoming of Carthoris, and it was with them he battled for possession of the redgirl, while the others hastened to meet the host advancing from the beleagueredcity.

Carthoris sought both to defend Thuvia of Ptarth and reach the side of thehideous Hortan Gur that he might avenge the blow the creature had struck thegirl.

He succeeded in reaching the rostrum, over the dead bodies of two warriors whohad turned to join Thar Ban and his companion in repulsing this adventurous redman, just as Hortan Gur was about to leap from it to the back of his thoat.

The attention of the green warriors turned principally upon the bowmenadvancing upon them from the city, and upon the savage banths that paced besidethem—cruel beasts of war, infinitely more terrible than their own savagecalots.

As Carthoris leaped to the rostrum he drew Thuvia up beside him, and then heturned upon the departing jeddak with an angry challenge and a sword thrust.

As the Heliumite’s point pricked his green hide, Hortan Gur turned uponhis adversary with a snarl, but at the same instant two of his chieftainscalled to him to hasten, for the charge of the fair-skinned inhabitants of thecity was developing into a more serious matter than the Torquasians hadanticipated.

Instead of remaining to battle with the red man, Hortan Gur promised him hisattention after he had disposed of the presumptuous citizens of the walledcity, and, leaping astride his thoat, galloped off to meet the rapidlyadvancing bowmen.

The other warriors quickly followed their jeddak, leaving Thuvia and Carthorisalone upon the platform.

Between them and the city raged a terrific battle. The fair-skinned warriors,armed only with their long bows and a kind of short-handled war-axe, werealmost helpless beneath the savage mounted green men at close quarters; but ata distance their sharp arrows did fully as much execution as the radiumprojectiles of the green men.

But if the warriors themselves were outclassed, not so their savage companions,the fierce banths. Scarce had the two lines come together when hundreds ofthese appalling creatures had leaped among the Torquasians, dragging warriorsfrom their thoats—dragging down the huge thoats themselves, and bringingconsternation to all before them.

The numbers of the citizenry, too, was to their advantage, for it seemed thatscarce a warrior fell but his place was taken by a score more, in such aconstant stream did they pour from the city’s great gate.

And so it came, what with the ferocity of the banths and the numbers of thebowmen, that at last the Torquasians fell back, until presently the platformupon which stood Carthoris and Thuvia lay directly in the centre of the fight.

That neither was struck by a bullet or an arrow seemed a miracle to both; butat last the tide had rolled completely past them, so that they were alonebetween the fighters and the city, except for the dying and the dead, and ascore or so of growling banths, less well trained than their fellows, whoprowled among the corpses seeking meat.

To Carthoris the strangest part of the battle had been the terrific toll takenby the bowmen with their relatively puny weapons. Nowhere that he could see wasthere a single wounded green man, but the corpses of their dead lay thick uponthe field of battle.

Death seemed to follow instantly the slightest pinprick of a bowman’sarrow, nor apparently did one ever miss its goal. There could be but oneexplanation: the missiles were poison-tipped.

Presently the sounds of conflict died in the distant forest. Quiet reigned,broken only by the growling of the devouring banths. Carthoris turned towardThuvia of Ptarth. As yet neither had spoken.

“Where are we, Thuvia?” he asked.

The girl looked at him questioningly. His very presence had seemed to proclaima guilty knowledge of her abduction. How else might he have known thedestination of the flier that brought her!

“Who should know better than the Prince of Helium?” she asked inreturn. “Did he not come hither of his own free will?”

“From Aaanthor I came voluntarily upon the trail of the green man who hadstolen you, Thuvia,” he replied; “but from the time I left Heliumuntil I awoke above Aaanthor I thought myself bound for Ptarth.

“It had been intimated that I had guilty knowledge of yourabduction,” he explained simply, “and I was hastening to thejeddak, your father, to convince him of the falsity of the charge, and to givemy service to your recovery. Before I left Helium some one tampered with mycompass, so that it bore me to Aaanthor instead of to Ptarth. That is all. Youbelieve me?”

“But the warriors who stole me from the garden!” she exclaimed.“After we arrived at Aaanthor they wore the metal of the Prince ofHelium. When they took me they were trapped in Dusarian harness. There seemedbut a single explanation. Whoever dared the outrage wished to put the onus uponanother, should he be detected in the act; but once safely away from Ptarth hefelt safe in having his minions return to their own harness.”

“You believe that I did this thing, Thuvia?” he asked.

“Ah, Carthoris,” she replied sadly, “I did not wish tobelieve it; but when everything pointed to you—even then I would notbelieve it.”

“I did not do it, Thuvia,” he said. “But let me be entirelyhonest with you. As much as I love your father, as much as I respect KulanTith, to whom you are betrothed, as well as I know the frightful consequencesthat must have followed such an act of mine, hurling into war, as it would,three of the greatest nations of Barsoom—yet, notwithstanding all this, Ishould not have hesitated to take you thus, Thuvia of Ptarth, had you evenhinted that it would not have displeased you.

“But you did nothing of the kind, and so I am here, not in my ownservice, but in yours, and in the service of the man to whom you are promised,to save you for him, if it lies within the power of man to do so,” heconcluded, almost bitterly.

Thuvia of Ptarth looked into his face for several moments. Her breast wasrising and falling as though to some resistless emotion. She half took a steptoward him. Her lips parted as though to speak—swiftly and impetuously.

And then she conquered whatever had moved her.

“The future acts of the Prince of Helium,” she said coldly,“must constitute the proof of his past honesty of purpose.”

Carthoris was hurt by the girl’s tone, as much as by the doubt as to hisintegrity which her words implied.

He had half hoped that she might hint that his love would beacceptable—certainly there was due him at least a little gratitude forhis recent acts in her behalf; but the best he received was cold skepticism.

The Prince of Helium shrugged his broad shoulders. The girl noted it, and thelittle smile that touched his lips, so that it became her turn to be hurt.

Of course she had not meant to hurt him. He might have known that after what hehad said she could not do anything to encourage him! But he need not have madehis indifference quite so palpable. The men of Helium were noted for theirgallantry—not for boorishness. Possibly it was the Earth blood thatflowed in his veins.

How could she know that the shrug was but Carthoris’ way of attempting,by physical effort, to cast blighting sorrow from his heart, or that the smileupon his lips was the fighting smile of his father with which the son gaveoutward evidence of the determination he had reached to submerge his own greatlove in his efforts to save Thuvia of Ptarth for another, because he believedthat she loved this other!

He reverted to his original question.

“Where are we?” he asked. “I do not know.”

“Nor I,” replied the girl. “Those who stole me from Ptarthspoke among themselves of Aaanthor, so that I thought it possible that theancient city to which they took me was that famous ruin; but where we may benow I have no idea.”

“When the bowmen return we shall doubtless learn all that there is toknow,” said Carthoris. “Let us hope that they prove friendly. Whatrace may they be? Only in the most ancient of our legends and in the muralpaintings of the deserted cities of the dead sea-bottoms are depicted such arace of auburn-haired, fair-skinned people. Can it be that we have stumbledupon a surviving city of the past which all Barsoom believes buried beneath theages?”

Thuvia was looking toward the forest into which the green men and the pursuingbowmen had disappeared. From a great distance came the hideous cries of banths,and an occasional shot.

“It is strange that they do not return,” said the girl.

“One would expect to see the wounded limping or being carried back to thecity,” replied Carthoris, with a puzzled frown. “But how about thewounded nearer the city? Have they carried them within?”

Both turned their eyes toward the field between them and the walled city, wherethe fighting had been most furious.

There were the banths, still growling about their hideous feast.

Carthoris looked at Thuvia in astonishment. Then he pointed toward the field.

“Where are they?” he whispered. “What has become of theirdead and wounded?”

CHAPTER VI.
THE JEDDAK OF LOTHAR

The girl looked her incredulity.

“They lay in piles,” she murmured. “There were thousands ofthem but a minute ago.”

“And now,” continued Carthoris, “there remain but the banthsand the carcasses of the green men.”

“They must have sent forth and carried the dead bowmen away while we weretalking,” said the girl.

“It is impossible!” replied Carthoris. “Thousands of dead laythere upon the field but a moment since. It would have required many hours tohave removed them. The thing is uncanny.”

“I had hoped,” said Thuvia, “that we might find an asylumwith these fair-skinned people. Notwithstanding their valour upon the field ofbattle, they did not strike me as a ferocious or warlike people. I had beenabout to suggest that we seek entrance to the city, but now I scarce know if Icare to venture among people whose dead vanish into thin air.”

“Let us chance it,” replied Carthoris. “We can be no worseoff within their walls than without. Here we may fall prey to the banths or theno less fierce Torquasians. There, at least, we shall find beings moulded afterour own images.

“All that causes me to hesitate,” he added, “is the danger oftaking you past so many banths. A single sword would scarce prevail were even acouple of them to charge simultaneously.”

“Do not fear on that score,” replied the girl, smiling. “Thebanths will not harm us.”

As she spoke she descended from the platform, and with Carthoris at her sidestepped fearlessly out upon the bloody field in the direction of the walledcity of mystery.

They had advanced but a short distance when a banth, looking up from its goryfeast, descried them. With an angry roar the beast walked quickly in theirdirection, and at the sound of its voice a score of others followed itsexample.

Carthoris drew his long-sword. The girl stole a quick glance at his face. Shesaw the smile upon his lips, and it was as wine to sick nerves; for even uponwarlike Barsoom where all men are brave, woman reacts quickly to quietindifference to danger—to dare-deviltry that is without bombast.

“You may return your sword,” she said. “I told you that thebanths would not harm us. Look!” and as she spoke she stepped quicklytoward the nearest animal.

Carthoris would have leaped after her to protect her, but with a gesture shemotioned him back. He heard her calling to the banths in a low, singsong voicethat was half purr.

Instantly the great heads went up and all the wicked eyes were riveted upon thefigure of the girl. Then, stealthily, they commenced moving toward her. She hadstopped now and was standing waiting them.

One, closer to her than the others, hesitated. She spoke to him imperiously, asa master might speak to a refractory hound.

The great carnivore let its head droop, and with tail between its legs cameslinking to the girl’s feet, and after it came the others until she wasentirely surrounded by the savage man-eaters.

Turning she led them to where Carthoris stood. They growled a little as theyneared the man, but a few sharp words of command put them in their places.

“How do you do it?” exclaimed Carthoris.

“Your father once asked me that same question in the galleries of theGolden Cliffs within the Otz Mountains, beneath the temples of the therns. Icould not answer him, nor can I answer you. I do not know whence comes my powerover them, but ever since the day that Sator Throg threw me among them in thebanth pit of the Holy Therns, and the great creatures fawned upon instead ofdevouring me, I ever have had the same strange power over them. They come at mycall and do my bidding, even as the faithful Woola does the bidding of yourmighty sire.”

With a word the girl dispersed the fierce pack. Roaring, they returned to theirinterrupted feast, while Carthoris and Thuvia passed among them toward thewalled city.

As they advanced the man looked with wonder upon the dead bodies of those ofthe green men that had not been devoured or mauled by the banths.

He called the girl’s attention to them. No arrows protruded from thegreat carcasses. Nowhere upon any of them was the sign of mortal wound, noreven slightest scratch or abrasion.

Before the bowmen’s dead had disappeared the corpses of the Torquasianshad bristled with the deadly arrows of their foes. Where had the slendermessengers of death departed? What unseen hand had plucked them from the bodiesof the slain?

Despite himself Carthoris could scarce repress a shudder of apprehension as heglanced toward the silent city before them. No longer was sign of life visibleupon wall or roof top. All was quiet—brooding, ominous quiet.

Yet he was sure that eyes watched them from somewhere behind that blank wall.

He glanced at Thuvia. She was advancing with wide eyes fixed upon the citygate. He looked in the direction of her gaze, but saw nothing.

His gaze upon her seemed to arouse her as from a lethargy. She glanced up athim, a quick, brave smile touching her lips, and then, as though the act wasinvoluntary, she came close to his side and placed one of her hands in his.

He guessed that something within her that was beyond her conscious control wasappealing to him for protection. He threw an arm about her, and thus theycrossed the field. She did not draw away from him. It is doubtful that sherealized that his arm was there, so engrossed was she in the mystery of thestrange city before them.

They stopped before the gate. It was a mighty thing. From its constructionCarthoris could but dimly speculate upon its unthinkable antiquity.

It was circular, closing a circular aperture, and the Heliumite knew from hisstudy of ancient Barsoomian architecture that it rolled to one side, like ahuge wheel, into an aperture in the wall.

Even such world-old cities as ancient Aaanthor were as yet undreamed of whenthe races lived that built such gates as these.

As he stood speculating upon the identity of this forgotten city, a voice spoketo them from above. Both looked up. There, leaning over the edge of the highwall, was a man.

His hair was auburn, his skin fair—fairer even than that of John Carter,the Virginian. His forehead was high, his eyes large and intelligent.

The language that he used was intelligible to the two below, yet there was amarked difference between it and their Barsoomian tongue.

“Who are you?” he asked. “And what do you here before thegate of Lothar?”

“We are friends,” replied Carthoris. “This be the princess,Thuvia of Ptarth, who was captured by the Torquasian horde. I am Carthoris ofHelium, Prince of the house of Tardos Mors, Jeddak of Helium, and son of JohnCarter, Warlord of Mars, and of his wife, Dejah Thoris.”

“‘Ptarth’?” repeated the man.“‘Helium’?” He shook his head. “I never haveheard of these places, nor did I know that there dwelt upon Barsoom a race ofthy strange colour. Where may these cities lie, of which you speak? From ourloftiest tower we have never seen another city than Lothar.”

Carthoris pointed toward the north-east.

“In that direction lie Helium and Ptarth,” he said. “Heliumis over eight thousand haads from Lothar, while Ptarth lies nine thousand fivehundred haads north-east of Helium.”^[1]

Still the man shook his head.

“I know of nothing beyond the Lotharian hills,” he said.“Naught may live there beside the hideous green hordes of Torquas. Theyhave conquered all Barsoom except this single valley and the city of Lothar.Here we have defied them for countless ages, though periodically they renewtheir attempts to destroy us. From whence you come I cannot guess unless you bedescended from the slaves the Torquasians captured in early times when theyreduced the outer world to their vassalage; but we had heard that theydestroyed all other races but their own.”

Carthoris tried to explain that the Torquasians ruled but a relatively tinypart of the surface of Barsoom, and even this only because their domain heldnothing to attract the red race; but the Lotharian could not seem to conceiveof anything beyond the valley of Lothar other than a trackless waste peopled bythe ferocious green hordes of Torquas.

After considerable parleying he consented to admit them to the city, and amoment later the wheel-like gate rolled back within its niche, and Thuvia andCarthoris entered the city of Lothar.

All about them were evidences of fabulous wealth. The facades of the buildingsfronting upon the avenue within the wall were richly carven, and about thewindows and doors were ofttimes set foot-wide borders of precious stones,intricate mosaics, or tablets of beaten gold bearing bas-reliefs depicting whatmay have been bits of the history of this forgotten people.

He with whom they had conversed across the wall was in the avenue to receivethem. About him were a hundred or more men of the same race. All were clothedin flowing robes and all were beardless.

Their attitude was more of fearful suspicion than antagonism. They followed thenew-comers with their eyes; but spoke no word to them.

Carthoris could not but notice the fact that though the city had been but ashort time before surrounded by a horde of bloodthirsty demons yet none of thecitizens appeared to be armed, nor was there sign of soldiery about.

He wondered if all the fighting men had sallied forth in one supreme effort torout the foe, leaving the city all unguarded. He asked their host.

The man smiled.

“No creature other than a score or so of our sacred banths has leftLothar to-day,” he replied.

“But the soldiers—the bowmen!” exclaimed Carthoris. “Wesaw thousands emerge from this very gate, overwhelming the hordes of Torquasand putting them to rout with their deadly arrows and their fiercebanths.”

Still the man smiled his knowing smile.

“Look!” he cried, and pointed down a broad avenue before him.

Carthoris and Thuvia followed the direction indicated, and there, marchingbravely in the sunlight, they saw advancing toward them a great army of bowmen.

“Ah!” exclaimed Thuvia. “They have returned through anothergate, or perchance these be the troops that remained to defend the city?”

Again the fellow smiled his uncanny smile.

“There are no soldiers in Lothar,” he said. “Look!”

Both Carthoris and Thuvia had turned toward him while he spoke, and now as theyturned back again toward the advancing regiments their eyes went wide inastonishment, for the broad avenue before them was as deserted as the tomb.

“And those who marched out upon the hordes to-day?” whisperedCarthoris. “They, too, were unreal?”

The man nodded.

“But their arrows slew the green warriors,” insisted Thuvia.

“Let us go before Tario,” replied the Lotharian. “He willtell you that which he deems it best you know. I might tell you toomuch.”

“Who is Tario?” asked Carthoris.

“Jeddak of Lothar,” replied the guide, leading them up the broadavenue down which they had but a moment since seen the phantom army marching.

For half an hour they walked along lovely avenues between the most gorgeousbuildings that the two had ever seen. Few people were in evidence. Carthoriscould not but note the deserted appearance of the mighty city.

At last they came to the royal palace. Carthoris saw it from a distance, andguessing the nature of the magnificent pile wondered that even here thereshould be so little sign of activity and life.

Not even a single guard was visible before the great entrance gate, nor in thegardens beyond, into which he could see, was there sign of the myriad life thatpulses within the precincts of the royal estates of the red jeddaks.

“Here,” said their guide, “is the palace of Tario.”

As he spoke Carthoris again let his gaze rest upon the wondrous palace. With astartled exclamation he rubbed his eyes and looked again. No! He could not bemistaken. Before the massive gate stood a score of sentries. Within, the avenueleading to the main building was lined on either side by ranks of bowmen. Thegardens were dotted with officers and soldiers moving quickly to and fro, asthough bent upon the duties of the minute.

What manner of people were these who could conjure an army out of thin air? Heglanced toward Thuvia. She, too, evidently had witnessed the transformation.

With a little shudder she pressed more closely toward him.

“What do you make of it?” she whispered. “It is mostuncanny.”

“I cannot account for it,” replied Carthoris, “unless we havegone mad.”

Carthoris turned quickly toward the Lotharian. The fellow was smiling broadly.

“I thought that you just said that there were no soldiers inLothar,” said the Heliumite, with a gesture toward the guardsmen.“What are these?”

“Ask Tario,” replied the other. “We shall soon be beforehim.”

Nor was it long before they entered a lofty chamber at one end of which a manreclined upon a rich couch that stood upon a high dais.

As the trio approached, the man turned dreamy eyes sleepily upon them. Twentyfeet from the dais their conductor halted, and, whispering to Thuvia andCarthoris to follow his example, threw himself headlong to the floor. Thenrising to hands and knees, he commenced crawling toward the foot of the throne,swinging his head to and fro and wiggling his body as you have seen a hound dowhen approaching its master.

Thuvia glanced quickly toward Carthoris. He was standing erect, with high-heldhead and arms folded across his broad chest. A haughty smile curved his lips.

The man upon the dais was eyeing him intently, and Carthoris of Helium waslooking straight in the other’s face.

“Who be these, Jav?” asked the man of him who crawled upon hisbelly along the floor.

“O Tario, most glorious Jeddak,” replied Jav, “these bestrangers who came with the hordes of Torquas to our gates, saying that theywere prisoners of the green men. They tell strange tales of cities far beyondLothar.”

“Arise, Jav,” commanded Tario, “and ask these two why theyshow not to Tario the respect that is his due.”

Jav arose and faced the strangers. At sight of their erect positions his facewent livid. He leaped toward them.

“Creatures!” he screamed. “Down! Down upon your belliesbefore the last of the jeddaks of Barsoom!”

[1]On Barsoom the adis the basis of linear measurement. It is theequivalent of an Earthly foot, measuring about 11.694 Earth inches. As has beenmy custom in the past, I have generally translated Barsoomian symbols of time,distance, etc., into their Earthly equivalent, as being more easily understoodby Earth readers. For those of a more studious turn of mind it may beinteresting to know the Martian table of linear measurement, and so I give ithere:

10 sofads = 1 ad
200 ads = 1 haad
100 haads = 1 karad
360 karads = 1 circumference of Mars at equator.

A haad, or Barsoomian mile, contains about 2,339 Earth feet. A karad is onedegree. A sofad about 1.17 Earth inches.

CHAPTER VII.
THE PHANTOM BOWMEN

As Jav leaped toward him Carthoris laid his hand upon the hilt of hislong-sword. The Lotharian halted. The great apartment was empty save for thefour at the dais, yet as Jav stepped back from the menace of theHeliumite’s threatening attitude the latter found himself surrounded by ascore of bowmen.

From whence had they sprung? Both Carthoris and Thuvia looked theirastonishment.

Now the former’s sword leaped from its scabbard, and at the same instantthe bowmen drew back their slim shafts.

Tario had half raised himself upon one elbow. For the first time he saw thefull figure of Thuvia, who had been concealed behind the person of Carthoris.

“Enough!” cried the jeddak, raising a protesting hand, but at thatvery instant the sword of the Heliumite cut viciously at its nearestantagonist.

As the keen edge reached its goal Carthoris let the point fall to the floor, aswith wide eyes he stepped backward in consternation, throwing the back of hisleft hand across his brow. His steel had cut but empty air—his antagonisthad vanished—there were no bowmen in the room!

“It is evident that these are strangers,” said Tario to Jav.“Let us first determine that they knowingly affronted us before we takemeasures for punishment.”

Then he turned to Carthoris, but ever his gaze wandered to the perfect lines ofThuvia’s glorious figure, which the harness of a Barsoomian princessaccentuated rather than concealed.

“Who are you,” he asked, “who knows not the etiquette of thecourt of the last of jeddaks?”

“I am Carthoris, Prince of Helium,” replied the Heliumite.“And this is Thuvia, Princess of Ptarth. In the courts of our fathers mendo not prostrate themselves before royalty. Not since the First Born tore theirimmortal goddess limb from limb have men crawled upon their bellies to anythrone upon Barsoom. Now think you that the daughter of one mighty jeddak andthe son of another would so humiliate themselves?”

Tario looked at Carthoris for a long time. At last he spoke.

“There is no other jeddak upon Barsoom than Tario,” he said.“There is no other race than that of Lothar, unless the hordes of Torquasmay be dignified by such an appellation. Lotharians are white; your skins arered. There are no women left upon Barsoom. Your companion is a woman.”

He half rose from the couch, leaning far forward and pointing an accusingfinger at Carthoris.

“You are a lie!” he shrieked. “You are both lies, and youdare to come before Tario, last and mightiest of the jeddaks of Barsoom, andassert your reality. Some one shall pay well for this, Jav, and unless Imistake it is yourself who has dared thus flippantly to trifle with the goodnature of your jeddak.

“Remove the man. Leave the woman. We shall see if both be lies. Andlater, Jav, you shall suffer for your temerity. There be few of us left,but—Komal must be fed. Go!”

Carthoris could see that Jav trembled as he prostrated himself once more beforehis ruler, and then, rising, turned toward the Prince of Helium.

“Come!” he said.

“And leave the Princess of Ptarth here alone?” cried Carthoris.

Jav brushed closely past him, whispering:

“Follow me—he cannot harm her, except to kill; and that he can dowhether you remain or not. We had best go now—trust me.”

Carthoris did not understand, but something in the urgency of the other’stone assured him, and so he turned away, but not without a glance toward Thuviain which he attempted to make her understand that it was in her own interestthat he left her.

For answer she turned her back full upon him, but not without first throwinghim such a look of contempt that brought the scarlet to his cheek.

Then he hesitated, but Jav seized him by the wrist.

“Come!” he whispered. “Or he will have the bowmen upon you,and this time there will be no escape. Did you not see how futile is your steelagainst thin air!”

Carthoris turned unwillingly to follow. As the two left the room he turned tohis companion.

“If I may not kill thin air,” he asked, “how, then, shall Ifear that thin air may kill me?”

“You saw the Torquasians fall before the bowmen?” asked Jav.

Carthoris nodded.

“So would you fall before them, and without one single chance forself-defence or revenge.”

As they talked Jav led Carthoris to a small room in one of the numerous towersof the palace. Here were couches, and Jav bid the Heliumite be seated.

For several minutes the Lotharian eyed his prisoner, for such Carthoris nowrealized himself to be.

“I am half convinced that you are real,” he said at last.

Carthoris laughed.

“Of course I am real,” he said. “What caused you to doubt it?Can you not see me, feel me?”

“So may I see and feel the bowmen,” replied Jav, “and yet weall know that they, at least, are not real.”

Carthoris showed by the expression of his face his puzzlement at each newreference to the mysterious bowmen—the vanishing soldiery of Lothar.

“What, then, may they be?” he asked.

“You really do not know?” asked Jav.

Carthoris shook his head negatively.

“I can almost believe that you have told us the truth and that you arereally from another part of Barsoom, or from another world. But tell me, inyour own country have you no bowmen to strike terror to the hearts of the greenhordesmen as they slay in company with the fierce banths of war?”

“We have soldiers,” replied Carthoris. “We of the red raceare all soldiers, but we have no bowmen to defend us, such as yours. We defendourselves.”

“You go out and get killed by your enemies!” cried Javincredulously.

“Certainly,” replied Carthoris. “How do theLotharians?”

“You have seen,” replied the other. “We send out ourdeathless archers—deathless because they are lifeless, existing only inthe imaginations of our enemies. It is really our giant minds that defend us,sending out legions of imaginary warriors to materialize before themind’s eye of the foe.

“They see them—they see their bows drawn back—they see theirslender arrows speed with unerring precision toward their hearts. And theydie—killed by the power of suggestion.”

“But the archers that are slain?” exclaimed Carthoris. “Youcall them deathless, and yet I saw their dead bodies piled high upon thebattlefield. How may that be?”

“It is but to lend reality to the scene,” replied Jav. “Wepicture many of our own defenders killed that the Torquasians may not guessthat there are really no flesh and blood creatures opposing them.

“Once that truth became implanted in their minds, it is the theory ofmany of us, no longer would they fall prey to the suggestion of the deadlyarrows, for greater would be the suggestion of the truth, and the more powerfulsuggestion would prevail—it is law.”

“And the banths?” questioned Carthoris. “They, too, were butcreatures of suggestion?”

“Some of them were real,” replied Jav. “Those thataccompanied the archers in pursuit of the Torquasians were unreal. Like thearchers, they never returned, but, having served their purpose, vanished withthe bowmen when the rout of the enemy was assured.

“Those that remained about the field were real. Those we loosed asscavengers to devour the bodies of the dead of Torquas. This thing is demandedby the realists among us. I am a realist. Tario is an etherealist.

“The etherealists maintain that there is no such thing asmatter—that all is mind. They say that none of us exists, except in theimagination of his fellows, other than as an intangible, invisible mentality.

“According to Tario, it is but necessary that we all unite in imaginingthat there are no dead Torquasians beneath our walls, and there will be none,nor any need of scavenging banths.”

“You, then, do not hold Tario’s beliefs?” asked Carthoris.

“In part only,” replied the Lotharian. “I believe, in fact Iknow, that there are some truly ethereal creatures. Tario is one, I amconvinced. He has no existence except in the imaginations of his people.

“Of course, it is the contention of all us realists that all etherealistsare but figments of the imagination. They contend that no food is necessary,nor do they eat; but any one of the most rudimentary intelligence must realizethat food is a necessity to creatures having actual existence.”

“Yes,” agreed Carthoris, “not having eaten to-day I canreadily agree with you.”

“Ah, pardon me,” exclaimed Jav. “Pray be seated and satisfyyour hunger,” and with a wave of his hand he indicated a bountifullyladen table that had not been there an instant before he spoke. Of thatCarthoris was positive, for he had searched the room diligently with his eyesseveral times.

“It is well,” continued Jav, “that you did not fall into thehands of an etherealist. Then, indeed, would you have gone hungry.”

“But,” exclaimed Carthoris, “this is not real food—itwas not here an instant since, and real food does not materialize out of thinair.”

Jav looked hurt.

“There is no real food or water in Lothar,” he said; “nor hasthere been for countless ages. Upon such as you now see before you have weexisted since the dawn of history. Upon such, then, may you exist.”

“But I thought you were a realist,” exclaimed Carthoris.

“Indeed,” cried Jav, “what more realistic than this bounteousfeast? It is just here that we differ most from the etherealists. They claimthat it is unnecessary to imagine food; but we have found that for themaintenance of life we must thrice daily sit down to hearty meals.

“The food that one eats is supposed to undergo certain chemical changesduring the process of digestion and assimilation, the result, of course, beingthe rebuilding of wasted tissue.

“Now we all know that mind is all, though we may differ in theinterpretation of its various manifestations. Tario maintains that there is nosuch thing as substance, all being created from the substanceless matter of thebrain.

“We realists, however, know better. We know that mind has the power tomaintain substance even though it may not be able to create substance—thelatter is still an open question. And so we know that in order to maintain ourphysical bodies we must cause all our organs properly to function.

“This we accomplish by materializing food-thoughts, and by partaking ofthe food thus created. We chew, we swallow, we digest. All our organs functionprecisely as if we had partaken of material food. And what is the result? Whatmust be the result? The chemical changes take place through both direct andindirect suggestion, and we live and thrive.”

Carthoris eyed the food before him. It seemed real enough. He lifted a morselto his lips. There was substance indeed. And flavour as well. Yes, even hispalate was deceived.

Jav watched him, smiling, as he ate.

“Is it not entirely satisfying?” he asked.

“I must admit that it is,” replied Carthoris. “But tell me,how does Tario live, and the other etherealists who maintain that food isunnecessary?”

Jav scratched his head.

“That is a question we often discuss,” he replied. “It is thestrongest evidence we have of the non-existence of the etherealists; but whomay know other than Komal?”

“Who is Komal?” asked Carthoris. “I heard your jeddak speakof him.”

Jav bent low toward the ear of the Heliumite, looking fearfully about before hespoke.

“Komal is the essence,” he whispered. “Even the etherealistsadmit that mind itself must have substance in order to transmit to imaginingsthe appearance of substance. For if there really was no such thing as substanceit could not be suggested—what never has been cannot be imagined. Do youfollow me?”

“I am groping,” replied Carthoris dryly.

“So the essence must be substance,” continued Jav. “Komal isthe essence of the All, as it were. He is maintained by substance. He eats. Heeats the real. To be explicit, he eats the realists. That is Tario’swork.

“He says that inasmuch as we maintain that we alone are real we should,to be consistent, admit that we alone are proper food for Komal. Sometimes, asto-day, we find other food for him. He is very fond of Torquasians.”

“And Komal is a man?” asked Carthoris.

“He is All, I told you,” replied Jav. “I know not how toexplain him in words that you will understand. He is the beginning and the end.All life emanates from Komal, since the substance which feeds the brain withimaginings radiates from the body of Komal.

“Should Komal cease to eat, all life upon Barsoom would cease to be. Hecannot die, but he might cease to eat, and, thus, to radiate.”

“And he feeds upon the men and women of your belief?” criedCarthoris.

“Women!” exclaimed Jav. “There are no women in Lothar. Thelast of the Lotharian females perished ages since, upon that cruel and terriblejourney across the muddy plains that fringed the half-dried seas, when thegreen hordes scourged us across the world to this our lasthiding-place—our impregnable fortress of Lothar.

“Scarce twenty thousand men of all the countless millions of our racelived to reach Lothar. Among us were no women and no children. All these hadperished by the way.

“As time went on, we, too, were dying and the race fast approachingextinction, when the Great Truth was revealed to us, that mind is all. Manymore died before we perfected our powers, but at last we were able to defydeath when we fully understood that death was merely a state of mind.

“Then came the creation of mind-people, or rather the materialization ofimaginings. We first put these to practical use when the Torquasians discoveredour retreat, and fortunate for us it was that it required ages of search upontheir part before they found the single tiny entrance to the valley of Lothar.

“That day we threw our first bowmen against them. The intention waspurely to frighten them away by the vast numbers of bowmen which we couldmuster upon our walls. All Lothar bristled with the bows and arrows of ourethereal host.

“But the Torquasians did not frighten. They are lower than thebeasts—they know no fear. They rushed upon our walls, and standing uponthe shoulders of others they built human approaches to the wall tops, and wereon the very point of surging in upon us and overwhelming us.

“Not an arrow had been discharged by our bowmen—we did but causethem to run to and fro along the wall top, screaming taunts and threats at theenemy.

“Presently I thought to attempt the thing—the great thing. Icentred all my mighty intellect upon the bowmen of my own creation—eachof us produces and directs as many bowmen as his mentality and imagination iscapable of.

“I caused them to fit arrows to their bows for the first time. I madethem take aim at the hearts of the green men. I made the green men see allthis, and then I made them see the arrows fly, and I made them think that thepoints pierced their hearts.

“It was all that was necessary. By hundreds they toppled from our walls,and when my fellows saw what I had done they were quick to follow my example,so that presently the hordes of Torquas had retreated beyond the range of ourarrows.

“We might have killed them at any distance, but one rule of war we havemaintained from the first—the rule of realism. We do nothing, or ratherwe cause our bowmen to do nothing within sight of the enemy that is beyond theunderstanding of the foe. Otherwise they might guess the truth, and that wouldbe the end of us.

“But after the Torquasians had retreated beyond bowshot, they turned uponus with their terrible rifles, and by constant popping at us made lifemiserable within our walls.

“So then I bethought the scheme to hurl our bowmen through the gates uponthem. You have seen this day how well it works. For ages they have come downupon us at intervals, but always with the same results.”

“And all this is due to your intellect, Jav?” asked Carthoris.“I should think that you would be high in the councils of yourpeople.”

“I am,” replied Jav, proudly. “I am next to Tario.”

“But why, then, your cringing manner of approaching the throne?”

“Tario demands it. He is jealous of me. He only awaits the slightestexcuse to feed me to Komal. He fears that I may some day usurp hispower.”

Carthoris suddenly sprang from the table.

“Jav!” he exclaimed. “I am a beast! Here I have been eatingmy fill, while the Princess of Ptarth may perchance be still without food. Letus return and find some means of furnishing her with nourishment.”

The Lotharian shook his head.

“Tario would not permit it,” he said. “He will, doubtless,make an etherealist of her.”

“But I must go to her,” insisted Carthoris. “You say thatthere are no women in Lothar. Then she must be among men, and if this be so Iintend to be near where I may defend her if the need arises.”

“Tario will have his way,” insisted Jav. “He sent you awayand you may not return until he sends for you.”

“Then I shall go without waiting to be sent for.”

“Do not forget the bowmen,” cautioned Jav.

“I do not forget them,” replied Carthoris, but he did not tell Javthat he remembered something else that the Lotharian had letdrop—something that was but a conjecture, possibly, and yet one wellworth pinning a forlorn hope to, should necessity arise.

Carthoris started to leave the room. Jav stepped before him, barring his way.

“I have learned to like you, red man,” he said; “but do notforget that Tario is still my jeddak, and that Tario has commanded that youremain here.”

Carthoris was about to reply, when there came faintly to the ears of both awoman’s cry for help.

With a sweep of his arm the Prince of Helium brushed the Lotharian aside, andwith drawn sword sprang into the corridor without.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE HALL OF DOOM

As Thuvia of Ptarth saw Carthoris depart from the presence of Tario, leavingher alone with the man, a sudden qualm of terror seized her.

There was an air of mystery pervading the stately chamber. Its furnishings andappointments bespoke wealth and culture, and carried the suggestion that theroom was often the scene of royal functions which filled it to its capacity.

And yet nowhere about her, in antechamber or corridor, was there sign of anyother being than herself and the recumbent figure of Tario, the jeddak, whowatched her through half-closed eyes from the gorgeous trappings of his regalcouch.

For a time after the departure of Jav and Carthoris the man eyed her intently.Then he spoke.

“Come nearer,” he said, and, as she approached: “Whosecreature are you? Who has dared materialize his imaginings of woman? It iscontrary to the customs and the royal edicts of Lothar. Tell me, woman, fromwhose brain have you sprung? Jav’s? No, do not deny it. I know that itcould be no other than that envious realist. He seeks to tempt me. He would seeme fall beneath the spell of your charms, and then he, your master, woulddirect my destiny and—my end. I see it all! I see it all!”

The blood of indignation and anger had been rising to Thuvia’s face. Herchin was up, a haughty curve upon her perfect lips.

“I know naught,” she cried, “of what you are prating! I amThuvia, Princess of Ptarth. I am no man’s ‘creature.’ Neverbefore to-day did I lay eyes upon him you call Jav, nor upon your ridiculouscity, of which even the greatest nations of Barsoom have never dreamed.

“My charms are not for you, nor such as you. They are not for sale orbarter, even though the price were a real throne. And as for using them to winyour worse than futile power—” She ended her sentence with a shrugof her shapely shoulders, and a little scornful laugh.

When she had finished Tario was sitting upon the edge of his couch, his feetupon the floor. He was leaning forward with eyes no longer half closed, butwide with a startled expression in them.

He did not seem to note the lèse majestéof her words and manner. Therewas evidently something more startling and compelling about her speech thanthat.

Slowly he came to his feet.

“By the fangs of Komal!” he muttered. “But you arereal!A realwoman! No dream! No vain and foolish figment of themind!”

He took a step toward her, with hands outstretched.

“Come!” he whispered. “Come, woman! For countless ages have Idreamed that some day you would come. And now that you are here I can scarcebelieve the testimony of my eyes. Even now, knowing that you are real, I stillhalf dread that you may be a lie.”

Thuvia shrank back. She thought the man mad. Her hand stole to the jewelledhilt of her dagger. The man saw the move, and stopped. A cunning expressionentered his eyes. Then they became at once dreamy and penetrating as theyfairly bored into the girl’s brain.

Thuvia suddenly felt a change coming over her. What the cause of it she did notguess; but somehow the man before her began to assume a new relationship withinher heart.

No longer was he a strange and mysterious enemy, but an old and trusted friend.Her hand slipped from the dagger’s hilt. Tario came closer. He spokegentle, friendly words, and she answered him in a voice that seemed hers andyet another’s.

He was beside her now. His hand was upon her shoulder. His eyes were down-benttoward hers. She looked up into his face. His gaze seemed to bore straightthrough her to some hidden spring of sentiment within her.

Her lips parted in sudden awe and wonder at the strange revealment of her innerself that was being laid bare before her consciousness. She had known Tario forever. He was more than friend to her. She moved a little closer to him. In oneswift flood of light she knew the truth. She loved Tario, Jeddak of Lothar! Shehad always loved him.

The man, seeing the success of his strategy, could not restrain a faint smileof satisfaction. Whether there was something in the expression of his face, orwhether from Carthoris of Helium in a far chamber of the palace came a morepowerful suggestion, who may say? But something there was that suddenlydispelled the strange, hypnotic influence of the man.

As though a mask had been torn from her eyes, Thuvia suddenly saw Tario as shehad formerly seen him, and, accustomed as she was to the strange manifestationsof highly developed mentality which are common upon Barsoom, she quicklyguessed enough of the truth to know that she was in grave danger.

Quickly she took a step backward, tearing herself from his grasp. But themomentary contact had aroused within Tario all the long-buried passions of hisloveless existence.

With a muffled cry he sprang upon her, throwing his arms about her andattempting to drag her lips to his.

“Woman!” he cried. “Lovely woman! Tario would make you queenof Lothar. Listen to me! Listen to the love of the last of the jeddaks ofBarsoom.”

Thuvia struggled to free herself from his embrace.

“Stop, creature!” she cried. “Stop! I do not love you. Stop,or I shall scream for help!”

Tario laughed in her face.

“‘Scream for help,’” he mimicked. “And who withinthe halls of Lothar is there who might come in answer to your call? Who woulddare enter the presence of Tario, unsummoned?”

“There is one,” she replied, “who would come, and, coming,dare to cut you down upon your own throne, if he thought that you had offeredaffront to Thuvia of Ptarth!”

“Who, Jav?” asked Tario.

“Not Jav, nor any other soft-skinned Lotharian,” she replied;“but a real man, a real warrior—Carthoris of Helium!”

Again the man laughed at her.

“You forget the bowmen,” he reminded her. “What could yourred warrior accomplish against my fearless legions?”

Again he caught her roughly to him, dragging her towards his couch.

“If you will not be my queen,” he said, “you shall be myslave.”

“Neither!” cried the girl.

As she spoke the single word there was a quick move of her right hand; Tario,releasing her, staggered back, both hands pressed to his side. At the sameinstant the room filled with bowmen, and then the jeddak of Lothar sanksenseless to the marble floor.

At the instant that he lost consciousness the bowmen were about to releasetheir arrows into Thuvia’s heart. Involuntarily she gave a single cry forhelp, though she knew that not even Carthoris of Helium could save her now.

Then she closed her eyes and waited for the end. No slender shafts pierced hertender side. She raised her lids to see what stayed the hand of herexecutioners.

The room was empty save for herself and the still form of the jeddak of Lotharlying at her feet, a little pool of crimson staining the white marble of thefloor beside him. Tario was unconscious.

Thuvia was amazed. Where were the bowmen? Why had they not loosed their shafts?What could it all mean?

An instant before the room had been mysteriously filled with armed men,evidently called to protect their jeddak; yet now, with the evidence of herdeed plain before them, they had vanished as mysteriously as they had come,leaving her alone with the body of their ruler, into whose side she had slippedher long, keen blade.

The girl glanced apprehensively about, first for signs of the return of thebowmen, and then for some means of escape.

The wall behind the dais was pierced by two small doorways, hidden by heavyhangings. Thuvia was running quickly towards one of these when she heard theclank of a warrior’s metal at the end of the apartment behind her.

Ah, if she had but an instant more of time she could have reached thatscreening arras and, perchance, have found some avenue of escape behind it; butnow it was too late—she had been discovered!

With a feeling that was akin to apathy she turned to meet her fate, and there,before her, running swiftly across the broad chamber to her side, wasCarthoris, his naked long-sword gleaming in his hand.

For days she had doubted the intentions of the Heliumite. She had thought him aparty to her abduction. Since Fate had thrown them together she had scarcefavoured him with more than the most perfunctory replies to his remarks, unlessat such times as the weird and uncanny happenings at Lothar had surprised herout of her reserve.

She knew that Carthoris of Helium would fight for her; but whether to save herfor himself or another, she was in doubt.

He knew that she was promised to Kulan Tith, Jeddak of Kaol, but if he had beeninstrumental in her abduction, his motives could not be prompted by loyalty tohis friend, or regard for her honour.

And yet, as she saw him coming across the marble floor of the audience chamberof Tario of Lothar, his fine eyes filled with apprehension for her safety, hissplendid figure personifying all that is finest in the fighting men of martialMars, she could not believe that any faintest trace of perfidy lurked beneathso glorious an exterior.

Never, she thought, in all her life had the sight of any man been so welcome toher. It was with difficulty that she refrained from rushing forward to meethim.

She knew that he loved her; but, in time, she recalled that she was promised toKulan Tith. Not even might she trust herself to show too great gratitude to theHeliumite, lest he misunderstand.

Carthoris was by her side now. His quick glance had taken in the scene withinthe room—the still figure of the jeddak sprawled upon the floor—thegirl hastening toward a shrouded exit.

“Did he harm you, Thuvia?” he asked.

She held up her crimsoned blade that he might see it.

“No,” she said, “he did not harm me.”

A grim smile lighted Carthoris’ face.

“Praised be our first ancestor!” he murmured. “And now let ussee if we may not make good our escape from this accursed city before theLotharians discover that their jeddak is no more.”

With the firm authority that sat so well upon him in whose veins flowed theblood of John Carter of Virginia and Dejah Thoris of Helium, he grasped herhand and, turning back across the hall, strode toward the great doorway throughwhich Jav had brought them into the presence of the jeddak earlier in the day.

They had almost reached the threshold when a figure sprang into the apartmentthrough another entrance. It was Jav. He, too, took in the scene within at aglance.

Carthoris turned to face him, his sword ready in his hand, and his great bodyshielding the slender figure of the girl.

“Come, Jav of Lothar!” he cried. “Let us face the issue atonce, for only one of us may leave this chamber alive with Thuvia ofPtarth.” Then, seeing that the man wore no sword, he exclaimed:“Bring on your bowmen, then, or come with us as my prisoner until we havesafely passed the outer portals of thy ghostly city.”

“You have killed Tario!” exclaimed Jav, ignoring the other’schallenge. “You have killed Tario! I see his blood upon thefloor—real blood—real death. Tario was, after all, as real as I.Yet he was an etherealist. He would not materialize his sustenance. Can it bethat they are right? Well, we, too, are right. And all these ages we have beenquarrelling—each saying that the other was wrong!

“However, he is dead now. Of that I am glad. Now shall Jav come into hisown. Now shall Jav be Jeddak of Lothar!”

As he finished, Tario opened his eyes and then quickly sat up.

“Traitor! Assassin!” he screamed, and then: “Kadar!Kadar!” which is the Barsoomian for guard.

Jav went sickly white. He fell upon his belly, wriggling toward Tario.

“Oh, my Jeddak, my Jeddak!” he whimpered. “Jav had no hand inthis. Jav, your faithful Jav, but just this instant entered the apartment tofind you lying prone upon the floor and these two strangers about to leave. Howit happened I know not. Believe me, most glorious Jeddak!”

“Cease, knave!” cried Tario. “I heard your words:‘However, he is dead now. Of that I am glad. Now shall Jav come into hisown. Now shall Jav be Jeddak of Lothar.’

“At last, traitor, I have found you out. Your own words have condemnedyou as surely as the acts of these red creatures have sealed theirfates—unless—” He paused. “Unless thewoman—”

But he got no further. Carthoris guessed what he would have said, and beforethe words could be uttered he had sprung forward and struck the man across themouth with his open palm.

Tario frothed in rage and mortification.

“And should you again affront the Princess of Ptarth,” warned theHeliumite, “I shall forget that you wear no sword—not for ever mayI control my itching sword hand.”

Tario shrank back toward the little doorways behind the dais. He was trying tospeak, but so hideously were the muscles of his face working that he couldutter no word for several minutes. At last he managed to articulateintelligibly.

“Die!” he shrieked. “Die!” and then he turned towardthe exit at his back.

Jav leaped forward, screaming in terror.

“Have pity, Tario! Have pity! Remember the long ages that I have servedyou faithfully. Remember all that I have done for Lothar. Do not condemn me nowto the death hideous. Save me! Save me!”

But Tario only laughed a mocking laugh and continued to back toward thehangings that hid the little doorway.

Jav turned toward Carthoris.

“Stop him!” he screamed. “Stop him! If you love life, let himnot leave this room,” and as he spoke he leaped in pursuit of his jeddak.

Carthoris followed Jav’s example, but the “last of the jeddaks ofBarsoom” was too quick for them. By the time they reached the arrasbehind which he had disappeared, they found a heavy stone door blocking theirfurther progress.

Jav sank to the floor in a spasm of terror.

“Come, man!” cried Carthoris. “We are not dead yet. Let ushasten to the avenues and make an attempt to leave the city. We are stillalive, and while we live we may yet endeavour to direct our own destinies. Ofwhat avail, to sink spineless to the floor? Come, be a man!”

Jav but shook his head.

“Did you not hear him call the guards?” he moaned. “Ah, if wecould have but intercepted him! Then there might have been hope; but, alas, hewas too quick for us.”

“Well, well,” exclaimed Carthoris impatiently. “What if hedid call the guards? There will be time enough to worry about that after theycome—at present I see no indication that they have any idea ofover-exerting themselves to obey their jeddak’s summons.”

Jav shook his head mournfully.

“You do not understand,” he said. “The guards have alreadycome—and gone. They have done their work and we are lost. Look to thevarious exits.”

Carthoris and Thuvia turned their eyes in the direction of the several doorwayswhich pierced the walls of the great chamber. Each was tightly closed by hugestone doors.

“Well?” asked Carthoris.

“We are to die the death,” whispered Jav faintly.

Further than that he would not say. He just sat upon the edge of thejeddak’s couch and waited.

Carthoris moved to Thuvia’s side, and, standing there with naked sword,he let his brave eyes roam ceaselessly about the great chamber, that no foemight spring upon them unseen.

For what seemed hours no sound broke the silence of their living tomb. No signgave their executioners of the time or manner of their death. The suspense wasterrible. Even Carthoris of Helium began to feel the terrible strain upon hisnerves. If he could but know how and whence the hand of death was to strike, hecould meet it unafraid, but to suffer longer the hideous tension of thisblighting ignorance of the plans of their assassins was telling upon himgrievously.

Thuvia of Ptarth drew quite close to him. She felt safer with the feel of hisarm against hers, and with the contact of her the man took a new grip uponhimself. With his old-time smile he turned toward her.

“It would seem that they are trying to frighten us to death,” hesaid, laughing; “and, shame be upon me that I should confess it, I thinkthey were close to accomplishing their designs upon me.”

She was about to make some reply when a fearful shriek broke from the lips ofthe Lotharian.

“The end is coming!” he cried. “The end is coming! The floor!The floor! Oh, Komal, be merciful!”

Thuvia and Carthoris did not need to look at the floor to be aware of thestrange movement that was taking place.

Slowly the marble flagging was sinking in all directions toward the centre. Atfirst the movement, being gradual, was scarce noticeable; but presently theangle of the floor became such that one might stand easily only by bending oneknee considerably.

Jav was shrieking still, and clawing at the royal couch that had alreadycommenced to slide toward the centre of the room, where both Thuvia andCarthoris suddenly noted a small orifice which grew in diameter as the floorassumed more closely a funnel-like contour.

Now it became more and more difficult to cling to the dizzy inclination of thesmooth and polished marble.

Carthoris tried to support Thuvia, but himself commenced to slide and sliptoward the ever-enlarging aperture.

Better to cling to the smooth stone he kicked off his sandals of zitidar hideand with his bare feet braced himself against the sickening tilt, at the sametime throwing his arms supportingly about the girl.

In her terror her own hands clasped about the man’s neck. Her cheek wasclose to his. Death, unseen and of unknown form, seemed close upon them, andbecause unseen and unknowable infinitely more terrifying.

“Courage, my princess,” he whispered.

She looked up into his face to see smiling lips above hers and brave eyes,untouched by terror, drinking deeply of her own.

Then the floor sagged and tilted more swiftly. There was a sudden slipping rushas they were precipitated toward the aperture.

Jav’s screams rose weird and horrible in their ears, and then the threefound themselves piled upon the royal couch of Tario, which had stuck withinthe aperture at the base of the marble funnel.

For a moment they breathed more freely, but presently they discovered that theaperture was continuing to enlarge. The couch slipped downward. Jav shriekedagain. There was a sickening sensation as they felt all let go beneath them, asthey fell through darkness to an unknown death.

CHAPTER IX.
THE BATTLE IN THE PLAIN

The distance from the bottom of the funnel to the floor of the chamber beneathit could not have been great, for all three of the victims of Tario’swrath alighted unscathed.

Carthoris, still clasping Thuvia tightly to his breast, came to the groundcatlike, upon his feet, breaking the shock for the girl. Scarce had his feettouched the rough stone flagging of this new chamber than his sword flashed outready for instant use. But though the room was lighted, there was no sign ofenemy about.

Carthoris looked toward Jav. The man was pasty white with fear.

“What is to be our fate?” asked the Heliumite. “Tell me, man!Shake off your terror long enough to tell me, so I may be prepared to sell mylife and that of the Princess of Ptarth as dearly as possible.”

“Komal!” whispered Jav. “We are to be devoured byKomal!”

“Your deity?” asked Carthoris.

The Lotharian nodded his head. Then he pointed toward a low doorway at one endof the chamber.

“From thence will he come upon us. Lay aside your puny sword, fool. Itwill but enrage him the more and make our sufferings the worse.”

Carthoris smiled, gripping his long-sword the more firmly.

Presently Jav gave a horrified moan, at the same time pointing toward the door.

“He has come,” he whimpered.

Carthoris and Thuvia looked in the direction the Lotharian had indicated,expecting to see some strange and fearful creature in human form; but to theirastonishment they saw the broad head and great-maned shoulders of a huge banth,the largest that either ever had seen.

Slowly and with dignity the mighty beast advanced into the room. Jav had fallento the floor, and was wriggling his body in the same servile manner that he hadadopted toward Tario. He spoke to the fierce beast as he would have spoken to ahuman being, pleading with it for mercy.

Carthoris stepped between Thuvia and the banth, his sword ready to contest thebeast’s victory over them. Thuvia turned toward Jav.

“Is this Komal, your god?” she asked.

Jav nodded affirmatively. The girl smiled, and then, brushing past Carthoris,she stepped swiftly toward the growling carnivore.

In low, firm tones she spoke to it as she had spoken to the banths of theGolden Cliffs and the scavengers before the walls of Lothar.

The beast ceased its growling. With lowered head and catlike purr, it cameslinking to the girl’s feet. Thuvia turned toward Carthoris.

“It is but a banth,” she said. “We have nothing to fear fromit.”

Carthoris smiled.

“I did not fear it,” he replied, “for I, too, believed it tobe only a banth, and I have my long-sword.”

Jav sat up and gazed at the spectacle before him—the slender girl weavingher fingers in the tawny mane of the huge creature that he had thought divine,while Komal rubbed his hideous snout against her side.

“So this is your god!” laughed Thuvia.

Jav looked bewildered. He scarce knew whether he dare chance offending Komal ornot, for so strong is the power of superstition that even though we know thatwe have been reverencing a sham, yet still we hesitate to admit the validity ofour new-found convictions.

“Yes,” he said, “this is Komal. For ages the enemies of Tariohave been hurled to this pit to fill his maw, for Komal must be fed.”

“Is there any way out of this chamber to the avenues of the city?”asked Carthoris.

Jav shrugged.

“I do not know,” he replied. “Never have I been here before,nor ever have I cared to do so.”

“Come,” suggested Thuvia, “let us explore. There must be away out.”

Together the three approached the doorway through which Komal had entered theapartment that was to have witnessed their deaths. Beyond was a low-roofedlair, with a small door at the far end.

This, to their delight, opened to the lifting of an ordinary latch, lettingthem into a circular arena, surrounded by tiers of seats.

“Here is where Komal is fed in public,” explained Jav. “HadTario dared it would have been here that our fates had been sealed; but hefeared too much thy keen blade, red man, and so he hurled us all downward tothe pit. I did not know how closely connected were the two chambers. Now we mayeasily reach the avenues and the city gates. Only the bowmen may dispute theright of way, and, knowing their secret, I doubt that they have power to harmus.”

Another door led to a flight of steps that rose from the arena level upwardthrough the seats to an exit at the back of the hall. Beyond this was astraight, broad corridor, running directly through the palace to the gardens atthe side.

No one appeared to question them as they advanced, mighty Komal pacing by thegirl’s side.

“Where are the people of the palace—the jeddak’sretinue?” asked Carthoris. “Even in the city streets as we camethrough I scarce saw sign of a human being, yet all about are evidences of amighty population.”

Jav sighed.

“Poor Lothar,” he said. “It is indeed a city of ghosts. Thereare scarce a thousand of us left, who once were numbered in the millions. Ourgreat city is peopled by the creatures of our own imaginings. For our own needswe do not take the trouble to materialize these peoples of our brain, yet theyare apparent to us.

“Even now I see great throngs lining the avenue, hastening to and fro inthe round of their duties. I see women and children laughing on thebalconies—these we are forbidden to materialize; but yet I seethem—they are here. . . . But why not?” he mused. “No longerneed I fear Tario—he has done his worst, and failed. Why not indeed?

“Stay, friends,” he continued. “Would you see Lothar in allher glory?”

Carthoris and Thuvia nodded their assent, more out of courtesy than becausethey fully grasped the import of his mutterings.

Jav gazed at them penetratingly for an instant, then, with a wave of his hand,cried: “Look!”

The sight that met them was awe-inspiring. Where before there had been naughtbut deserted pavements and scarlet swards, yawning windows and tenantlessdoors, now swarmed a countless multitude of happy, laughing people.

“It is the past,” said Jav in a low voice. “They do not seeus—they but live the old dead past of ancient Lothar—the dead andcrumbled Lothar of antiquity, which stood upon the shore of Throxus, mightiestof the five oceans.

“See those fine, upstanding men swinging along the broad avenue? See theyoung girls and the women smile upon them? See the men greet them with love andrespect? Those be seafarers coming up from their ships which lie at the quaysat the city’s edge.

“Brave men, they—ah, but the glory of Lothar has faded! See theirweapons. They alone bore arms, for they crossed the five seas to strange placeswhere dangers were. With their passing passed the martial spirit of theLotharians, leaving, as the ages rolled by, a race of spineless cowards.

“We hated war, and so we trained not our youth in warlike ways. Thusfollowed our undoing, for when the seas dried and the green hordes encroachedupon us we could do naught but flee. But we remembered the seafaring bowmen ofthe days of our glory—it is the memory of these which we hurl upon ourenemies.”

As Jav ceased speaking, the picture faded, and once more, the three took uptheir way toward the distant gates, along deserted avenues.

Twice they sighted Lotharians of flesh and blood. At sight of them and the hugebanth which they must have recognized as Komal, the citizens turned and fled.

“They will carry word of our flight to Tario,” cried Jav,“and soon he will send his bowmen after us. Let us hope that our theoryis correct, and that their shafts are powerless against minds cognizant oftheir unreality. Otherwise we are doomed.

“Explain, red man, to the woman the truths that I have explained to you,that she may meet the arrows with a stronger counter-suggestion ofimmunity.”

Carthoris did as Jav bid him; but they came to the great gates without sign ofpursuit developing. Here Jav set in motion the mechanism that rolled the huge,wheel-like gate aside, and a moment later the three, accompanied by the banth,stepped out into the plain before Lothar.

Scarce had they covered a hundred yards when the sound of many men shoutingarose behind them. As they turned they saw a company of bowmen debouching uponthe plain from the gate through which they had but just passed.

Upon the wall above the gate were a number of Lotharians, among whom Javrecognized Tario. The jeddak stood glaring at them, evidently concentrating allthe forces of his trained mind upon them. That he was making a supreme effortto render his imaginary creatures deadly was apparent.

Jav turned white, and commenced to tremble. At the crucial moment he appearedto lose the courage of his conviction. The great banth turned back toward theadvancing bowmen and growled. Carthoris placed himself between Thuvia and theenemy and, facing them, awaited the outcome of their charge.

Suddenly an inspiration came to Carthoris.

“Hurl your own bowmen against Tario’s!” he cried to Jav.“Let us see a materialized battle between two mentalities.”

The suggestion seemed to hearten the Lotharian, and in another moment the threestood behind solid ranks of huge bowmen who hurled taunts and menaces at theadvancing company emerging from the walled city.

Jav was a new man the moment his battalions stood between him and Tario. Onecould almost have sworn the man believed these creatures of his strangehypnotic power to be real flesh and blood.

With hoarse battle cries they charged the bowmen of Tario. Barbed shafts flewthick and fast. Men fell, and the ground was red with gore.

Carthoris and Thuvia had difficulty in reconciling the reality of it all withtheir knowledge of the truth. They saw utan after utan march from the gate inperfect step to reinforce the outnumbered company which Tario had first sentforth to arrest them.

They saw Jav’s forces grow correspondingly until all about them rolled asea of fighting, cursing warriors, and the dead lay in heaps about the field.

Jav and Tario seemed to have forgotten all else beside the struggling bowmenthat surged to and fro, filling the broad field between the forest and thecity.

The wood loomed close behind Thuvia and Carthoris. The latter cast a glancetoward Jav.

“Come!” he whispered to the girl. “Let them fight out theirempty battle—neither, evidently, has power to harm the other. They arelike two controversialists hurling words at one another. While they are engagedwe may as well be devoting our energies to an attempt to find the passagethrough the cliffs to the plain beyond.”

As he spoke, Jav, turning from the battle for an instant, caught his words. Hesaw the girl move to accompany the Heliumite. A cunning look leaped to theLotharian’s eyes.

The thing that lay beyond that look had been deep in his heart since first hehad laid eyes upon Thuvia of Ptarth. He had not recognized it, however, untilnow that she seemed about to pass out of his existence.

He centred his mind upon the Heliumite and the girl for an instant.

Carthoris saw Thuvia of Ptarth step forward with outstretched hand. He wassurprised at this sudden softening toward him, and it was with a full heartthat he let his fingers close upon hers, as together they turned away fromforgotten Lothar, into the woods, and bent their steps toward the distantmountains.

As the Lotharian had turned toward them, Thuvia had been surprised to hearCarthoris suddenly voice a new plan.

“Remain here with Jav,” she had heard him say, “while I go tosearch for the passage through the cliffs.”

She had dropped back in surprise and disappointment, for she knew that therewas no reason why she should not have accompanied him. Certainly she shouldhave been safer with him than left here alone with the Lotharian.

And Jav watched the two and smiled his cunning smile.

When Carthoris had disappeared within the wood, Thuvia seated herselfapathetically upon the scarlet sward to watch the seemingly interminablestruggles of the bowmen.

The long afternoon dragged its weary way toward darkness, and still theimaginary legions charged and retreated. The sun was about to set when Tariocommenced to withdraw his troops slowly toward the city.

His plan for cessation of hostilities through the night evidently met withJav’s entire approval, for he caused his forces to form themselves inorderly utans and march just within the edge of the wood, where they were soonbusily engaged in preparing their evening meal, and spreading down theirsleeping silks and furs for the night.

Thuvia could scarce repress a smile as she noted the scrupulous care with whichJav’s imaginary men attended to each tiny detail of deportment as trulyas if they had been real flesh and blood.

Sentries were posted between the camp and the city. Officers clanked hither andthither issuing commands and seeing to it that they were properly carried out.

Thuvia turned toward Jav.

“Why is it,” she asked, “that you observe such careful nicetyin the regulation of your creatures when Tario knows quite as well as you thatthey are but figments of your brain? Why not permit them simply to dissolveinto thin air until you again require their futile service?”

“You do not understand them,” replied Jav. “While they existthey are real. I do but call them into being now, and in a way direct theirgeneral actions. But thereafter, until I dissolve them, they are as actual asyou or I. Their officers command them, under my guidance. I am thegeneral—that is all. And the psychological effect upon the enemy is fargreater than were I to treat them merely as substanceless vagaries.

“Then, too,” continued the Lotharian, “there is always thehope, which with us is little short of belief, that some day thesematerializations will merge into the real—that they will remain, some ofthem, after we have dissolved their fellows, and that thus we shall havediscovered a means for perpetuating our dying race.

“Some there are who claim already to have accomplished the thing. It isgenerally supposed that the etherealists have quite a few among their numberwho are permanent materializations. It is even said that such is Tario, butthat cannot be, for he existed before we had discovered the full possibilitiesof suggestion.

“There are others among us who insist that none of us is real. That wecould not have existed all these ages without material food and water had weourselves been material. Although I am a realist, I rather incline toward thisbelief myself.

“It seems well and sensibly based upon the belief that our ancientforbears developed before their extinction such wondrous mentalities that someof the stronger minds among them lived after the death of theirbodies—that we are but the deathless minds of individuals long dead.

“It would appear possible, and yet in so far as I am concerned I have allthe attributes of corporeal existence. I eat, I sleep”—he paused,casting a meaning look upon the girl—“I love!”

Thuvia could not mistake the palpable meaning of his words and expression. Sheturned away with a little shrug of disgust that was not lost upon theLotharian.

He came close to her and seized her arm.

“Why not Jav?” he cried. “Who more honourable than the secondof the world’s most ancient race? Your Heliumite? He has gone. He hasdeserted you to your fate to save himself. Come, be Jav’s!”

Thuvia of Ptarth rose to her full height, her lifted shoulder turned toward theman, her haughty chin upraised, a scornful twist to her lips.

“You lie!” she said quietly, “the Heliumite knows less ofdisloyalty than he knows of fear, and of fear he is as ignorant as theunhatched young.”

“Then where is he?” taunted the Lotharian. “I tell you he hasfled the valley. He has left you to your fate. But Jav will see that it is apleasant one. To-morrow we shall return into Lothar at the head of myvictorious army, and I shall be jeddak and you shall be my consort.Come!” And he attempted to crush her to his breast.

The girl struggled to free herself, striking at the man with her metal armlets.Yet still he drew her toward him, until both were suddenly startled by ahideous growl that rumbled from the dark wood close behind them.

CHAPTER X.
KAR KOMAK, THE BOWMAN

As Carthoris moved through the forest toward the distant cliffs withThuvia’s hand still tight pressed in his, he wondered a little at thegirl’s continued silence, yet the contact of her cool palm against hiswas so pleasant that he feared to break the spell of her new-found reliance inhim by speaking.

Onward through the dim wood they passed until the shadows of the quick comingMartian night commenced to close down upon them. Then it was that Carthoristurned to speak to the girl at his side.

They must plan together for the future. It was his idea to pass through thecliffs at once if they could locate the passage, and he was quite positive thatthey were now close to it; but he wanted her assent to the proposition.

As his eyes rested upon her, he was struck by her strangely etherealappearance. She seemed suddenly to have dissolved into the tenuous substance ofa dream, and as he continued to gaze upon her, she faded slowly from his sight.

For an instant he was dumbfounded, and then the whole truth flashed suddenlyupon him. Jav had caused him to believe that Thuvia was accompanying himthrough the wood while, as a matter of fact, he had detained the girl forhimself!

Carthoris was horrified. He cursed himself for his stupidity, and yet he knewthat the fiendish power which the Lotharian had invoked to confuse him mighthave deceived any.

Scarce had he realized the truth than he had started to retrace his stepstoward Lothar, but now he moved at a trot, the Earthly thews that he hadinherited from his father carrying him swiftly over the soft carpet of fallenleaves and rank grass.

Thuria’s brilliant light flooded the plain before the walled cityof Lothar as Carthoris broke from the wood opposite the great gate that hadgiven the fugitives egress from the city earlier in the day.

At first he saw no indication that there was another than himself anywhereabout. The plain was deserted. No myriad bowmen camped now beneath theoverhanging verdure of the giant trees. No gory heaps of tortured dead defacedthe beauty of the scarlet sward. All was silence. All was peace.

The Heliumite, scarce pausing at the forest’s verge, pushed on across theplain toward the city, when presently he descried a huddled form in the grassat his feet.

It was the body of a man, lying prone. Carthoris turned the figure over uponits back. It was Jav, but torn and mangled almost beyond recognition.

The prince bent low to note if any spark of life remained, and as he did so thelids raised and dull, suffering eyes looked up into his.

“The Princess of Ptarth!” cried Carthoris. “Where is she?Answer me, man, or I complete the work that another has so well begun.”

“Komal,” muttered Jav. “He sprang upon me . . . and wouldhave devoured me but for the girl. Then they went away together into thewood—the girl and the great banth . . . her fingers twined in his tawnymane.”

“Which way went they?” asked Carthoris.

“There,” replied Jav faintly, “toward the passage through thecliffs.”

The Prince of Helium waited to hear no more, but springing to his feet, racedback again into the forest.

It was dawn when he reached the mouth of the dark tunnel that would lead him tothe other world beyond this valley of ghostly memories and strange hypnoticinfluences and menaces.

Within the long, dark passages he met with no accident or obstacle, coming atlast into the light of day beyond the mountains, and no great distance from thesouthern verge of the domains of the Torquasians, not more than one hundred andfifty haad at the most.

From the boundary of Torquas to the city of Aaanthor is a distance of some twohundred haads, so that the Heliumite had before him a journey of more than onehundred and fifty Earth miles between him and Aaanthor.

He could at best but hazard a chance guess that toward Aaanthor Thuvia wouldtake her flight. There lay the nearest water, and there might be expected someday a rescuing party from her father’s empire; for Carthoris knew ThuvanDihn well enough to know that he would leave no stone unturned until he hadtracked down the truth as to his daughter’s abduction, and learned allthat there might be to learn of her whereabouts.

He realized, of course, that the trick which had laid suspicion upon him wouldgreatly delay the discovery of the truth, but little did he guess to what vastproportions had the results of the villainy of Astok of Dusar already grown.

Even as he emerged from the mouth of the passage to look across the foothillsin the direction of Aaanthor, a Ptarth battle fleet was winging its majesticway slowly toward the twin cities of Helium, while from far distant Kaol racedanother mighty armada to join forces with its ally.

He did not know that in the face of the circumstantial evidence against himeven his own people had commenced to entertain suspicions that he might havestolen the Ptarthian princess.

He did not know of the lengths to which the Dusarians had gone to disrupt thefriendship and alliance which existed between the three great powers of theeastern hemisphere—Helium, Ptarth and Kaol.

How Dusarian emissaries had found employment in important posts in the foreignoffices of the three great nations, and how, through these men, messages fromone jeddak to another were altered and garbled until the patience and pride ofthe three rulers and former friends could no longer endure the humiliations andinsults contained in these falsified papers—not any of this he knew.

Nor did he know how even to the last John Carter, Warlord of Mars, had refusedto permit the jeddak of Helium to declare war against either Ptarth or Kaol,because of his implicit belief in his son, and that eventually all would besatisfactorily explained.

And now two great fleets were moving upon Helium, while the Dusarian spies atthe court of Tardos Mors saw to it that the twin cities remained in ignoranceof their danger.

War had been declared by Thuvan Dihn, but the messenger who had been dispatchedwith the proclamation had been a Dusarian who had seen to it that no word ofwarning reached the twin cities of the approach of a hostile fleet.

For several days diplomatic relations had been severed between Helium and hertwo most powerful neighbors, and with the departure of the ministers had come atotal cessation of wireless communication between the disputants, as is usualupon Barsoom.

But of all this Carthoris was ignorant. All that interested him at present wasthe finding of Thuvia of Ptarth. Her trail beside that of the huge banth hadbeen well marked to the tunnel, and was once more visible leading southwardinto the foothills.

As he followed rapidly downward toward the dead sea-bottom, where he knew hemust lose the spoor in the resilient ochre vegetation, he was suddenlysurprised to see a naked man approaching him from the north-east.

As the fellow drew closer, Carthoris halted to await his coming. He knew thatthe man was unarmed, and that he was apparently a Lotharian, for his skin waswhite and his hair auburn.

He approached the Heliumite without sign of fear, and when quite close calledout the cheery Barsoomian “kaor” of greeting.

“Who are you?” asked Carthoris.

“I am Kar Komak, odwar of the bowmen,” replied the other. “Astrange thing has happened to me. For ages Tario has been bringing me intoexistence as he needed the services of the army of his mind. Of all the bowmenit has been Kar Komak who has been oftenest materialized.

“For a long time Tario has been concentrating his mind upon my permanentmaterialization. It has been an obsession with him that some day this thingcould be accomplished and the future of Lothar assured. He asserted that matterwas nonexistent except in the imagination of man—that all was mental, andso he believed that by persisting in his suggestion he could eventually make ofme a permanent suggestion in the minds of all creatures.

“Yesterday he succeeded, but at such a time! It must have come allunknown to him, as it came to me without my knowledge, as, with my horde ofyelling bowmen, I pursued the fleeing Torquasians back to their ochre plains.

“As darkness settled and the time came for us to fade once more into thinair, I suddenly found myself alone upon the edge of the great plain which liesyonder at the foot of the low hills.

“My men were gone back to the nothingness from which they had sprung, butI remained—naked and unarmed.

“At first I could not understand, but at last came a realization of whathad occurred. Tario’s long suggestions had at last prevailed, and KarKomak had become a reality in the world of men; but my harness and my weaponshad faded away with my fellows, leaving me naked and unarmed in a hostilecountry far from Lothar.”

“You wish to return to Lothar?” asked Carthoris.

“No!” replied Kar Komak quickly. “I have no love for Tario.Being a creature of his mind, I know him too well. He is cruel andtyrannical—a master I have no desire to serve. Now that he has succeededin accomplishing my permanent materialization, he will be unbearable, and hewill go on until he has filled Lothar with his creatures. I wonder if he hassucceeded as well with the maid of Lothar.”

“I thought there were no women there,” said Carthoris.

“In a hidden apartment in the palace of Tario,” replied Kar Komak,“the jeddak has maintained the suggestion of a beautiful girl, hopingthat some day she would become permanent. I have seen her there. She iswonderful! But for her sake I hope that Tario succeeds not so well with her ashe has with me.

“Now, red man, I have told you of myself—what of you?”

Carthoris liked the face and manner of the bowman. There had been no sign ofdoubt or fear in his expression as he had approached the heavily-armedHeliumite, and he had spoken directly and to the point.

So the Prince of Helium told the bowman of Lothar who he was and what adventurehad brought him to this far country.

“Good!” exclaimed the other, when he had done. “Kar Komakwill accompany you. Together we shall find the Princess of Ptarth and with youKar Komak will return to the world of men—such a world as he knew in thelong-gone past when the ships of mighty Lothar ploughed angry Throxus, and theroaring surf beat against the barrier of these parched and dreary hills.”

“What mean you?” asked Carthoris. “Had you really a formeractual existence?”

“Most assuredly,” replied Kar Komak. “In my day I commandedthe fleets of Lothar—mightiest of all the fleets that sailed the fivesalt seas.

“Wherever men lived upon Barsoom there was the name of Kar Komak knownand respected. Peaceful were the land races in those distant days—onlythe seafarers were warriors; but now has the glory of the past faded, nor did Ithink until I met you that there remained upon Barsoom a single person of ourown mould who lived and loved and fought as did the ancient seafarers of mytime.

“Ah, but it will seem good to see men once again—real men! Neverhad I much respect for the landsmen of my day. They remained in their walledcities wasting their time in play, depending for their protection entirely uponthe sea race. And the poor creatures who remain, the Tarios and Javs of Lothar,are even worse than their ancient forbears.”

Carthoris was a trifle skeptical as to the wisdom of permitting the stranger toattach himself to him. There was always the chance that he was but the essenceof some hypnotic treachery which Tario or Jav was attempting to exert upon theHeliumite; and yet, so sincere had been the manner and the words of the bowman,so much the fighting man did he seem, but Carthoris could not find it in hisheart to doubt him.

The outcome of the matter was that he gave the naked odwar leave to accompanyhim, and together they set out upon the spoor of Thuvia and Komal.

Down to the ochre sea-bottom the trail led. There it disappeared, as Carthorishad known that it would; but where it entered the plain its direction had beentoward Aaanthor and so toward Aaanthor the two turned their faces.

It was a long and tedious journey, fraught with many dangers. The bowman couldnot travel at the pace set by Carthoris, whose muscles carried him with greatrapidity over the face of the small planet, the force of gravity of whichexerts so much less retarding power than that of the Earth. Fifty miles a dayis a fair average for a Barsoomian, but the son of John Carter might easilyhave covered a hundred or more miles had he cared to desert his new-foundcomrade.

All the way they were in constant danger of discovery by roving bands ofTorquasians, and especially was this true before they reached the boundary ofTorquas.

Good fortune was with them, however, and although they sighted two detachmentsof the savage green men, they were not themselves seen.

And so they came, upon the morning of the third day, within sight of theglistening domes of distant Aaanthor. Throughout the journey Carthoris had everstrained his eyes ahead in search of Thuvia and the great banth; but not tillnow had he seen aught to give him hope.

This morning, far ahead, half-way between themselves and Aaanthor, the men sawtwo tiny figures moving toward the city. For a moment they watched themintently. Then Carthoris, convinced, leaped forward at a rapid run, Kar Komakfollowing as swiftly as he could.

The Heliumite shouted to attract the girl’s attention, and presently hewas rewarded by seeing her turn and stand looking toward him. At her side thegreat banth stood with up-pricked ears, watching the approaching man.

Not yet could Thuvia of Ptarth have recognized Carthoris, though that it was heshe must have been convinced, for she waited there for him without sign offear.

Presently he saw her point toward the northwest, beyond him. Without slackeninghis pace, he turned his eyes in the direction she indicated.

Racing silently over the thick vegetation, not half a mile behind, came a scoreof fierce green warriors, charging him upon their mighty thoats.

To their right was Kar Komak, naked and unarmed, yet running valiantly towardCarthoris and shouting warning as though he, too, had but just discovered thesilent, menacing company that moved so swiftly forward with couched spears andready long-swords.

Carthoris shouted to the Lotharian, warning him back, for he knew that he couldbut uselessly sacrifice his life by placing himself, all unarmed, in the pathof the cruel and relentless savages.

But Kar Komak never hesitated. With shouts of encouragement to his new friend,he hurried onward toward the Prince of Helium. The red man’s heart leapedin response to this exhibition of courage and self-sacrifice. He regretted nowthat he had not thought to give Kar Komak one of his swords; but it was toolate to attempt it, for should he wait for the Lotharian to overtake him orreturn to meet him, the Torquasians would reach Thuvia of Ptarth before hecould do so.

Even as it was, it would be nip and tuck as to who came first to her side.

Again he turned his face in her direction, and now, from Aaanthor way, he saw anew force hastening toward them—two medium-sized war craft—and evenat the distance they still were from him he discerned the device of Dusar upontheir bows.

Now, indeed, seemed little hope for Thuvia of Ptarth. With savage warriors ofthe hordes of Torquas charging toward her from one direction, and no lessimplacable enemies, in the form of the creatures of Astok, Prince of Dusar,bearing down upon her from another, while only a banth, a red warrior, and anunarmed bowman were near to defend her, her plight was quite hopeless and hercause already lost ere ever it was contested.

As Thuvia saw Carthoris approaching, she felt again that unaccountablesensation of entire relief from responsibility and fear that she hadexperienced upon a former occasion. Nor could she account for it while her mindstill tried to convince her heart that the Prince of Helium had beeninstrumental in her abduction from her father’s court. She only knew thatshe was glad when he was by her side, and that with him there all things seemedpossible—even such impossible things as escape from her presentpredicament.

Now had he stopped, panting, before her. A brave smile of encouragement lit hisface.

“Courage, my princess,” he whispered.

To the girl’s memory flashed the occasion upon which he had used thosesame words—in the throne-room of Tario of Lothar as they had commenced toslip down the sinking marble floor toward an unknown fate.

Then she had not chidden him for the use of that familiar salutation, nor didshe chide him now, though she was promised to another. She wondered atherself—flushing at her own turpitude; for upon Barsoom it is a shamefulthing for a woman to listen to those two words from another than her husband orher betrothed.

Carthoris saw her flush of mortification, and in an instant regretted hiswords. There was but a moment before the green warriors would be upon them.

“Forgive me!” said the man in a low voice. “Let my great lovebe my excuse—that, and the belief that I have but a moment more oflife,” and with the words he turned to meet the foremost of the greenwarriors.

The fellow was charging with couched spear, but Carthoris leaped to one side,and as the great thoat and its rider hurtled harmlessly past him he swung hislong-sword in a mighty cut that clove the green carcass in twain.

At the same moment Kar Komak leaped with bare hands clawing at the leg ofanother of the huge riders; the balance of the horde raced in to closequarters, dismounting the better to wield their favourite long-swords; theDusarian fliers touched the soft carpet of the ochre-clad sea-bottom,disgorging fifty fighting men from their bowels; and into the swirling sea ofcutting, slashing swords sprang Komal, the great banth.

CHAPTER XI.
GREEN MEN AND WHITE APES

A Torquasian sword smote a glancing blow across the forehead of Carthoris. Hehad a fleeting vision of soft arms about his neck, and warm lips close to hisbefore he lost consciousness.

How long he lay there senseless he could not guess; but when he opened his eyesagain he was alone, except for the bodies of the dead green men and Dusarians,and the carcass of a great banth that lay half across his own.

Thuvia was gone, nor was the body of Kar Komak among the dead.

Weak from loss of blood, Carthoris made his way slowly toward Aaanthor,reaching its outskirts at dark.

He wanted water more than any other thing, and so he kept on up a broad avenuetoward the great central plaza, where he knew the precious fluid was to befound in a half-ruined building opposite the great palace of the ancientjeddak, who once had ruled this mighty city.

Disheartened and discouraged by the strange sequence of events that seemedfore-ordained to thwart his every attempt to serve the Princess of Ptarth, hepaid little or no attention to his surroundings, moving through the desertedcity as though no great white apes lurked in the black shadows of themystery-haunted piles that flanked the broad avenues and the great plaza.

But if Carthoris was careless of his surroundings, not so other eyes thatwatched his entrance into the plaza, and followed his slow footsteps toward themarble pile that housed the tiny, half-choked spring whose water one might gainonly by scratching a deep hole in the red sand that covered it.

And as the Heliumite entered the small building a dozen mighty, grotesquefigures emerged from the doorway of the palace to speed noiselessly across theplaza toward him.

For half an hour Carthoris remained in the building, digging for water andgaining the few much-needed drops which were the fruits of his labour. Then herose and slowly left the structure. Scarce had he stepped beyond the thresholdthan twelve Torquasian warriors leaped upon him.

No time then to draw long-sword; but swift from his harness flew his long, slimdagger, and as he went down beneath them more than a single green heart ceasedbeating at the bite of that keen point.

Then they overpowered him and took his weapons away; but only nine of thetwelve warriors who had crossed the plaza returned with their prize.

They dragged their prisoner roughly to the palace pits, where in utter darknessthey chained him with rusty links to the solid masonry of the wall.

“To-morrow Thar Ban will speak with you,” they said. “Now hesleeps. But great will be his pleasure when he learns who has wandered amongstus—and great will be the pleasure of Hortan Gur when Thar Ban dragsbefore him the mad fool who dared prick the great jeddak with his sword.”

Then they left him to the silence and the darkness.

For what seemed hours Carthoris squatted upon the stone floor of his prison,his back against the wall in which was sunk the heavy eye-bolt that secured thechain which held him.

Then, from out of the mysterious blackness before him, there came to his earsthe sound of naked feet moving stealthily upon stone—approaching nearerand nearer to where he lay, unarmed and defenceless.

Minutes passed—minutes that seemed hours—during which time periodsof sepulchral silence would be followed by a repetition of the uncanny scrapingof naked feet slinking warily upon him.

At last he heard a sudden rush of unshod soles across the empty blackness, andat a little distance a scuffling sound, heavy breathing, and once what hethought the muttered imprecation of a man battling against great odds. Then theclanging of a chain, and a noise as of the snapping back against stone of abroken link.

Again came silence. But for a moment only. Now he heard once more the soft feetapproaching him. He thought that he discerned wicked eyes gleaming fearfully athim through the darkness. He knew that he could hear the heavy breathing ofpowerful lungs.

Then came the rush of many feet toward him, and the thingswere uponhim.

Hands terminating in manlike fingers clutched at his throat and arms and legs.Hairy bodies strained and struggled against his own smooth hide as he battledin grim silence against these horrid foemen in the darkness of the pits ofancient Aaanthor.

Thewed like some giant god was Carthoris of Helium, yet in the clutches ofthese unseen creatures of the pit’s Stygian night he was helpless as afrail woman.

Yet he battled on, striking futile blows against great, hispid breasts he couldnot see; feeling thick, squat throats beneath his fingers; the drool of salivaupon his cheek, and hot, foul breath in his nostrils.

Fangs, too, mighty fangs, he knew were close, and why they did not sink intohis flesh he could not guess.

At last he became aware of the mighty surging of a number of his antagonistsback and forth upon the great chain that held him, and presently came the samesound that he had heard at a little distance from him a short time before hehad been attacked—his chain had parted and the broken end snapped backagainst the stone wall.

Now he was seized upon either side and dragged at a rapid pace through the darkcorridors—toward what fate he could not even guess.

At first he had thought his foes might be of the tribe of Torquas, but theirhairy bodies belied that belief. Now he was at last quite sure of theiridentity, though why they had not killed and devoured him at once he could notimagine.

After half an hour or more of rapid racing through the underground passagesthat are a distinguishing feature of all Barsoomian cities, modern as well asancient, his captors suddenly emerged into the moonlight of a courtyard, farfrom the central plaza.

Immediately Carthoris saw that he was in the power of a tribe of the greatwhite apes of Barsoom. All that had caused him doubt before as to the identityof his attackers was the hairiness of their breasts, for the white apes areentirely hairless except for a great shock bristling from their heads.

Now he saw the cause of that which had deceived him—across the chest ofeach of them were strips of hairy hide, usually of banth, in imitation of theharness of the green warriors who so often camped at their deserted city.

Carthoris had read of the existence of tribes of apes that seemed to beprogressing slowly toward higher standards of intelligence. Into the hands ofsuch, he realized, he had fallen; but—what were their intentions towardhim?

As he glanced about the courtyard, he saw fully fifty of the hideous beasts,squatting on their haunches, and at a little distance from him another humanbeing, closely guarded.

As his eyes met those of his fellow-captive a smile lit the other’s face,and: “Kaor, red man!” burst from his lips. It was Kar Komak, thebowman.

“Kaor!” cried Carthoris, in response. “How came you here, andwhat befell the princess?”

“Red men like yourself descended in mighty ships that sailed the air,even as the great ships of my distant day sailed the five seas,” repliedKar Komak. “They fought with the green men of Torquas. They slew Komal,god of Lothar. I thought they were your friends, and I was glad when finallythose of them who survived the battle carried the red girl to one of the shipsand sailed away with her into the safety of the high air.

“Then the green men seized me, and carried me to a great, empty city,where they chained me to a wall in a black pit. Afterward came these anddragged me hither. And what of you, red man?”

Carthoris related all that had befallen him, and as the two men talked thegreat apes squatted about them watching them intently.

“What are we to do now?” asked the bowman.

“Our case looks rather hopeless,” replied Carthoris ruefully.“These creatures are born man-eaters. Why they have not already devouredus I cannot imagine—there!” he whispered. “See? The end iscoming.”

Kar Komak looked in the direction Carthoris indicated to see a huge apeadvancing with a mighty bludgeon.

“It is thus they like best to kill their prey,” said Carthoris.

“Must we die without a struggle?” asked Kar Komak.

“Not I,” replied Carthoris, “though I know how futile ourbest defence must be against these mighty brutes! Oh, for a long-sword!”

“Or a good bow,” added Kar Komak, “and a utan ofbowmen.”

At the words Carthoris half sprang to his feet, only to be dragged roughly downby his guard.

“Kar Komak!” he cried. “Why cannot you do what Tario and Javdid? They had no bowmen other than those of their own creation. You must knowthe secret of their power. Call forth your own utan, Kar Komak!”

The Lotharian looked at Carthoris in wide-eyed astonishment as the full purportof the suggestion bore in upon his understanding.

“Why not?” he murmured.

The savage ape bearing the mighty bludgeon was slinking toward Carthoris. TheHeliumite’s fingers were working as he kept his eyes upon hisexecutioner. Kar Komak bent his gaze penetratingly upon the apes. The effort ofhis mind was evidenced in the sweat upon his contracted brows.

The creature that was to slay the red man was almost within arm’s reachof his prey when Carthoris heard a hoarse shout from the opposite side of thecourtyard. In common with the squatting apes and the demon with the club heturned in the direction of the sound, to see a company of sturdy bowmen rushingfrom the doorway of a near-by building.

With screams of rage the apes leaped to their feet to meet the charge. A volleyof arrows met them half-way, sending a dozen rolling lifeless to the ground.Then the apes closed with their adversaries. All their attention was occupiedby the attackers—even the guard had deserted the prisoners to join in thebattle.

“Come!” whispered Kar Komak. “Now may we escape while theirattention is diverted from us by my bowmen.”

“And leave those brave fellows leaderless?” cried Carthoris, whoseloyal nature revolted at the merest suggestion of such a thing.

Kar Komak laughed.

“You forget,” he said, “that they are but thinair—figments of my brain. They will vanish, unscathed, when we have nofurther need for them. Praised be your first ancestor, redman, that you thoughtof this chance in time! It would never have occurred to me to imagine that Imight wield the same power that brought me into existence.”

“You are right,” said Carthoris. “Still, I hate to leavethem, though there is naught else to do,” and so the two turned from thecourtyard, and making their way into one of the broad avenues, crept stealthilyin the shadows of the building toward the great central plaza upon which werethe buildings occupied by the green warriors when they visited the desertedcity.

When they had come to the plaza’s edge Carthoris halted.

“Wait here,” he whispered. “I go to fetch thoats, since onfoot we may never hope to escape the clutches of these green fiends.”

To reach the courtyard where the thoats were kept it was necessary forCarthoris to pass through one of the buildings which surrounded the square.Which were occupied and which not he could not even guess, so he was compelledto take considerable chances to gain the enclosure in which he could hear therestless beasts squealing and quarrelling among themselves.

Chance carried him through a dark doorway into a large chamber in which lay ascore or more green warriors wrapped in their sleeping silks and furs. Scarcehad Carthoris passed through the short hallway that connected the door of thebuilding and the great room beyond it than he became aware of the presence ofsomething or some one in the hallway through which he had but just passed.

He heard a man yawn, and then, behind him, he saw the figure of a sentry risefrom where the fellow had been dozing, and stretching himself resume hiswakeful watchfulness.

Carthoris realized that he must have passed within a foot of the warrior,doubtless rousing him from his slumber. To retreat now would be impossible. Yetto cross through that roomful of sleeping warriors seemed almost equally beyondthe pale of possibility.

Carthoris shrugged his broad shoulders and chose the lesser evil. Warily heentered the room. At his right, against the wall, leaned several swords andrifles and spears—extra weapons which the warriors had stacked here readyto their hands should there be a night alarm calling them suddenly fromslumber. Beside each sleeper lay his weapon—these were never far fromtheir owners from childhood to death.

The sight of the swords made the young man’s palm itch. He steppedquickly to them, selecting two short-swords—one for Kar Komak, the otherfor himself; also some trappings for his naked comrade.

Then he started directly across the centre of the apartment among the sleepingTorquasians.

Not a man of them moved until Carthoris had completed more than half of theshort though dangerous journey. Then a fellow directly in his path turnedrestlessly upon his sleeping silks and furs.

The Heliumite paused above him, one of the short-swords in readiness should thewarrior awaken. For what seemed an eternity to the young prince the green mancontinued to move uneasily upon his couch, then, as though actuated by springs,he leaped to his feet and faced the red man.

Instantly Carthoris struck, but not before a savage grunt escaped theother’s lips. In an instant the room was in turmoil. Warriors leaped totheir feet, grasping their weapons as they rose, and shouting to one anotherfor an explanation of the disturbance.

To Carthoris all within the room was plainly visible in the dim light reflectedfrom without, for the further moon stood directly at zenith; but to the eyes ofthe newly-awakened green men objects as yet had not taken on familiarforms—they but saw vaguely the figures of warriors moving about theirapartment.

Now one stumbled against the corpse of him whom Carthoris had slain. The fellowstooped and his hand came in contact with the cleft skull. He saw about him thegiant figures of other green men, and so he jumped to the only conclusion thatwas open to him.

“The Thurds!” he cried. “The Thurds are upon us! Rise,warriors of Torquas, and drive home your swords within the hearts ofTorquas’ ancient enemies!”

Instantly the green men began to fall upon one another with naked swords. Theirsavage lust of battle was aroused. To fight, to kill, to die with cold steelburied in their vitals! Ah, that to them was Nirvana.

Carthoris was quick to guess their error and take advantage of it. He knew thatin the pleasure of killing they might fight on long after they had discoveredtheir mistake, unless their attention was distracted by sight of the real causeof the altercation, and so he lost no time in continuing across the room to thedoorway upon the opposite side, which opened into the inner court, where thesavage thoats were squealing and fighting among themselves.

Once here he had no easy task before him. To catch and mount one of thesehabitually rageful and intractable beasts was no child’s play under thebest of conditions; but now, when silence and time were such importantconsiderations, it might well have seemed quite hopeless to a less resourcefuland optimistic man than the son of the great warlord.

From his father he had learned much concerning the traits of these mightybeasts, and from Tars Tarkas, also, when he had visited that great green jeddakamong his horde at Thark. So now he centred upon the work in hand all that hehad ever learned about them from others and from his own experience, for he,too, had ridden and handled them many times.

The temper of the thoats of Torquas appeared even shorter than their viciouscousins among the Tharks and Warhoons, and for a time it seemed unlikely thathe should escape a savage charge on the part of a couple of old bulls thatcircled, squealing, about him; but at last he managed to get close enough toone of them to touch the beast. With the feel of his hand upon the sleek hidethe creature quieted, and in answer to the telepathic command of the red mansank to its knees.

In a moment Carthoris was upon its back, guiding it toward the great gate thatleads from the courtyard through a large building at one end into an avenuebeyond.

The other bull, still squealing and enraged, followed after his fellow. Therewas no bridle upon either, for these strange creatures are controlled entirelyby suggestion—when they are controlled at all.

Even in the hands of the giant green men bridle reins would be hopelesslyfutile against the mad savagery and mastodonic strength of the thoat, and sothey are guided by that strange telepathic power with which the men of Marshave learned to communicate in a crude way with the lower orders of theirplanet.

With difficulty Carthoris urged the two beasts to the gate, where, leaningdown, he raised the latch. Then the thoat that he was riding placed his greatshoulder to the skeel-wood planking, pushed through, and a moment later the manand the two beasts were swinging silently down the avenue to the edge of theplaza, where Kar Komak hid.

Here Carthoris found considerable difficulty in subduing the second thoat, andas Kar Komak had never before ridden one of the beasts, it seemed a mosthopeless job; but at last the bowman managed to scramble to the sleek back, andagain the two beasts fled softly down the moss-grown avenues toward the opensea-bottom beyond the city.

All that night and the following day and the second night they rode toward thenorth-east. No indication of pursuit developed, and at dawn of the second dayCarthoris saw in the distance the waving ribbon of great trees that marked oneof the long Barsoomian water-ways.

Immediately they abandoned their thoats and approached the cultivated districton foot. Carthoris also discarded the metal from his harness, or such of it asmight serve to identify him as a Heliumite, or of royal blood, for he did notknow to what nation belonged this waterway, and upon Mars it is always well toassume every man and nation your enemy until you have learned the contrary.

It was mid-forenoon when the two at last entered one of the roads that cutthrough the cultivated districts at regular intervals, joining the arid wasteson either side with the great, white, central highway that follows through thecentre from end to end of the far-reaching, threadlike farm lands.

The high wall surrounding the fields served as a protection against surprise byraiding green hordes, as well as keeping the savage banths and other carnivorafrom the domestic animals and the human beings upon the farms.

Carthoris stopped before the first gate he came to, pounding for admission. Theyoung man who answered his summons greeted the two hospitably, though he lookedwith considerable wonder upon the white skin and auburn hair of the bowman.

After he had listened for a moment to a partial narration of their escape fromthe Torquasians, he invited them within, took them to his house and bade theservants there prepare food for them.

As they waited in the low-ceiled, pleasant living room of the farmhouse untilthe meal should be ready, Carthoris drew his host into conversation that hemight learn his nationality, and thus the nation under whose dominion lay thewaterway where circumstance had placed him.

“I am Hal Vas,” said the young man, “son of Vas Kor, ofDusar, a noble in the retinue of Astok, Prince of Dusar. At present I am Dwarof the Road for this district.”

Carthoris was very glad that he had not disclosed his identity, for though hehad no idea of anything that had transpired since he had left Helium, or thatAstok was at the bottom of all his misfortunes, he well knew that the Dusarianhad no love for him, and that he could hope for no assistance within thedominions of Dusar.

“And who are you?” asked Hal Vas. “By your appearance I takeyou for a fighting man, but I see no insignia upon your harness. Can it be thatyou are a panthan?”

Now, these wandering soldiers of fortune are common upon Barsoom, where mostmen love to fight. They sell their services wherever war exists, and in theoccasional brief intervals when there is no organized warfare between the rednations, they join one of the numerous expeditions that are constantly beingdispatched against the green men in protection of the waterways that traversethe wilder portions of the globe.

When their service is over they discard the metal of the nation they have beenserving until they shall have found a new master. In the intervals they wear noinsignia, their war-worn harness and grim weapons being sufficient to attesttheir calling.

The suggestion was a happy one, and Carthoris embraced the chance it affordedto account satisfactorily for himself. There was, however, a single drawback.In times of war such panthans as happened to be within the domain of abelligerent nation were compelled to don the insignia of that nation and fightwith her warriors.

As far as Carthoris knew Dusar was not at war with any other nation, but therewas never any telling when one red nation would be flying at the throat of aneighbour, even though the great and powerful alliance at the head of which washis father, John Carter, had managed to maintain a long peace upon the greaterportion of Barsoom.

A pleasant smile lighted Hal Vas’ face as Carthoris admitted hisvocation.

“It is well,” exclaimed the young man, “that you chanced tocome hither, for here you will find the means of obtaining service in shortorder. My father, Vas Kor, is even now with me, having come hither to recruit aforce for the new war against Helium.”

CHAPTER XII.
TO SAVE DUSAR

Thuvia of Ptarth, battling for more than life against the lust of Jav, cast aquick glance over her shoulder toward the forest from which had rumbled thefierce growl. Jav looked, too.

What they saw filled each with apprehension. It was Komal, the banth-god,rushing wide-jawed upon them!

Which had he chosen for his prey? Or was it to be both?

They had not long to wait, for though the Lotharian attempted to hold the girlbetween himself and the terrible fangs, the great beast found him at last.

Then, shrieking, he attempted to fly toward Lothar, after pushing Thuvia bodilyinto the face of the man-eater. But his flight was of short duration. In amoment Komal was upon him, rending his throat and chest with demoniacal fury.

The girl reached their side a moment later, but it was with difficulty that shetore the mad beast from its prey. Still growling and casting hungry glancesback upon Jav, the banth at last permitted itself to be led away into the wood.

With her giant protector by her side Thuvia set forth to find the passagethrough the cliffs, that she might attempt the seemingly impossible feat ofreaching far-distant Ptarth across the more than seventeen thousand haads ofsavage Barsoom.

She could not believe that Carthoris had deliberately deserted her, and so shekept a constant watch for him; but as she bore too far to the north in hersearch for the tunnel she passed the Heliumite as he was returning to Lothar insearch of her.

Thuvia of Ptarth was having difficulty in determining the exact status of thePrince of Helium in her heart. She could not admit even to herself that sheloved him, and yet she had permitted him to apply to her that term ofendearment and possession to which a Barsoomian maid should turn deaf ears whenvoiced by other lips than those of her husband or fiancé—“myprincess.”

Kulan Tith, Jeddak of Kaol, to whom she was affianced, commanded her respectand admiration. Had it been that she had surrendered to her father’swishes because of pique that the handsome Heliumite had not taken advantage ofhis visits to her father’s court to push the suit for her hand that shehad been quite sure he had contemplated since that distant day the two had sattogether upon the carved seat within the gorgeous Garden of the Jeddaks thatgraced the inner courtyard of the palace of Salensus Oll at Kadabra?

Did she love Kulan Tith? Bravely she tried to believe that she did; but all thewhile her eyes wandered through the coming darkness for the figure of aclean-limbed fighting man—black-haired and grey-eyed. Black was the hairof Kulan Tith; but his eyes were brown.

It was almost dark when she found the entrance to the tunnel. Safely she passedthrough to the hills beyond, and here, under the bright light of Mars’two moons, she halted to plan her future action.

Should she wait here in the hope that Carthoris would return in search of her?Or should she continue her way north-east toward Ptarth? Where, first, wouldCarthoris have gone after leaving the valley of Lothar?

Her parched throat and dry tongue gave her the answer—toward Aaanthor andwater. Well, she, too, would go first to Aaanthor, where she might find morethan the water she needed.

With Komal by her side she felt little fear, for he would protect her from allother savage beasts. Even the great white apes would flee the mighty banth interror. Men only need she fear, but she must take this and many other chancesbefore she could hope to reach her father’s court again.

When at last Carthoris found her, only to be struck down by the long-sword of agreen man, Thuvia prayed that the same fate might overtake her.

The sight of the red warriors leaping from their fliers had, for a moment,filled her with renewed hope—hope that Carthoris of Helium might be onlystunned and that they would rescue him; but when she saw the Dusarian metalupon their harness, and that they sought only to escape with her alone from thecharging Torquasians, she gave up.

Komal, too, was dead—dead across the body of the Heliumite. She was,indeed, alone now. There was none to protect her.

The Dusarian warriors dragged her to the deck of the nearest flier. All aboutthem the green warriors surged in an attempt to wrest her from the red.

At last those who had not died in the conflict gained the decks of the twocraft. The engines throbbed and purred—the propellers whirred. Quicklythe swift boats shot heavenward.

Thuvia of Ptarth glanced about her. A man stood near, smiling down into herface. With a gasp of recognition she looked full into his eyes, and then with alittle moan of terror and understanding she buried her face in her hands andsank to the polished skeel-wood deck. It was Astok, Prince of Dusar, who bentabove her.

Swift were the fliers of Astok of Dusar, and great the need for reaching hisfather’s court as quickly as possible, for the fleets of war of Heliumand Ptarth and Kaol were scattered far and wide above Barsoom. Nor would it gowell with Astok of Dusar should any one of them discover Thuvia of Ptarth aprisoner upon his own vessel.

Aaanthor lies in fifty south latitude, and forty east of Horz, the desertedseat of ancient Barsoomian culture and learning, while Dusar lies fifteendegrees north of the equator and twenty degrees east from Horz.

Great though the distance is, the fliers covered it without a stop. Long beforethey had reached their destination Thuvia of Ptarth had learned several thingsthat cleared up the doubts that had assailed her mind for many days. Scarce hadthey risen above Aaanthor than she recognized one of the crew as a member ofthe crew of that other flier that had borne her from her father’s gardensto Aaanthor. The presence of Astok upon the craft settled the whole question.She had been stolen by emissaries of the Dusarian prince—Carthoris ofHelium had had nothing to do with it.

Nor did Astok deny the charge when she accused him. He only smiled and pleadedhis love for her.

“I would sooner mate with a white ape!” she cried, when he wouldhave urged his suit.

Astok glowered sullenly upon her.

“You shall mate with me, Thuvia of Ptarth,” he growled, “or,by your first ancestor, you shall have your preference—and mate with awhite ape.”

The girl made no reply, nor could he draw her into conversation during thebalance of the journey.

As a matter of fact Astok was a trifle awed by the proportions of the conflictwhich his abduction of the Ptarthian princess had induced, nor was he overcomfortable with the weight of responsibility which the possession of such aprisoner entailed.

His one thought was to get her to Dusar, and there let his father assume theresponsibility. In the meantime he would be as careful as possible to donothing to affront her, lest they all might be captured and he have to accountfor his treatment of the girl to one of the great jeddaks whose interestcentred in her.

And so at last they came to Dusar, where Astok hid his prisoner in a secretroom high in the east tower of his own palace. He had sworn his men to silencein the matter of the identity of the girl, for until he had seen his father,Nutus, Jeddak of Dusar, he dared not let any one know whom he had brought withhim from the south.

But when he appeared in the great audience chamber before the cruel-lipped manwho was his sire, he found his courage oozing, and he dared not speak of theprincess hid within his palace. It occurred to him to test his father’ssentiments upon the subject, and so he told a tale of capturing one who claimedto know the whereabouts of Thuvia of Ptarth.

“And if you command it, Sire,” he said, “I will go andcapture her—fetching her here to Dusar.”

Nutus frowned and shook his head.

“You have done enough already to set Ptarth and Kaol and Helium all threeupon us at once should they learn your part in the theft of the Ptarthprincess. That you succeeded in shifting the guilt upon the Prince of Heliumwas fortunate, and a masterly move of strategy; but were the girl to know thetruth and ever return to her father’s court, all Dusar would have to paythe penalty, and to have her here a prisoner amongst us would be an admissionof guilt from the consequences of which naught could save us. It would cost memy throne, Astok, and that I have no mind to lose.

“If we had her here—” the elder man suddenly commenced tomuse, repeating the phrase again and again. “If we had her here,Astok,” he exclaimed fiercely. “Ah, if we but had her here and noneknew that she was here! Can you not guess, man? The guilt of Dusar might be forever buried with her bones,” he concluded in a low, savage whisper.

Astok, Prince of Dusar, shuddered.

Weak he was; yes, and wicked, too; but the suggestion that his father’swords implied turned him cold with horror.

Cruel to their enemies are the men of Mars; but the word “enemies”is commonly interpreted to mean men only. Assassination runs riot in the greatBarsoomian cities; yet to murder a woman is a crime so unthinkable that eventhe most hardened of the paid assassins would shrink from you in horror shouldyou suggest such a thing to him.

Nutus was apparently oblivious to his son’s all-too-patent terror at hissuggestion. Presently he continued:

“You say that you know where the girl lies hid, since she was stolen fromyour people at Aaanthor. Should she be found by any one of the three powers,her unsupported story would be sufficient to turn them all against us.

“There is but one way, Astok,” cried the older man. “You mustreturn at once to her hiding-place and fetch her hither in all secrecy. And,look you here! Return not to Dusar without her, upon pain of death!”

Astok, Prince of Dusar, well knew his royal father’s temper. He knew thatin the tyrant’s heart there pulsed no single throb of love for anycreature.

Astok’s mother had been a slave woman. Nutus had never loved her. He hadnever loved another. In youth he had tried to find a bride at the courts ofseveral of his powerful neighbours, but their women would have none of him.

After a dozen daughters of his own nobility had sought self-destruction ratherthan wed him he had given up. And then it had been that he had legally wed oneof his slaves that he might have a son to stand among the jeds when Nutus diedand a new jeddak was chosen.

Slowly Astok withdrew from the presence of his father. With white face andshaking limbs he made his way to his own palace. As he crossed the courtyardhis glance chanced to wander to the great east tower looming high against theazure of the sky.

At sight of it beads of sweat broke out upon his brow.

Issus! No other hand than his could be trusted to do the horrid thing. With hisown fingers he must crush the life from that perfect throat, or plunge thesilent blade into the red, red heart.

Her heart! The heart that he had hoped would brim with love for him!

But had it done so? He recalled the haughty contempt with which hisprotestations of love had been received. He went cold and then hot to thememory of it. His compunctions cooled as the self-satisfaction of a nearrevenge crowded out the finer instincts that had for a moment assertedthemselves—the good that he had inherited from the slave woman was onceagain submerged in the bad blood that had come down to him from his royal sire;as, in the end, it always was.

A cold smile supplanted the terror that had dilated his eyes. He turned hissteps toward the tower. He would see her before he set out upon the journeythat was to blind his father to the fact that the girl was already in Dusar.

Quietly he passed in through the secret way, ascending a spiral runway to theapartment in which the Princess of Ptarth was immured.

As he entered the room he saw the girl leaning upon the sill of the eastcasement, gazing out across the roof tops of Dusar toward distant Ptarth. Hehated Ptarth. The thought of it filled him with rage. Why not finish her nowand have it done with?

At the sound of his step she turned quickly toward him. Ah, how beautiful shewas! His sudden determination faded beneath the glorious light of her wondrousbeauty. He would wait until he had returned from his little journey ofdeception—maybe there might be some other way then. Some other hand tostrike the blow—with that face, with those eyes before him, he couldnever do it. Of that he was positive. He had always gloried in the cruelty ofhis nature, but, Issus! he was not that cruel. No, another must befound—one whom he could trust.

He was still looking at her as she stood there before him meeting his gazesteadily and unafraid. He felt the hot passion of his love mounting higher andhigher.

Why not sue once more? If she would relent, all might yet be well. Even if hisfather could not be persuaded, they could fly to Ptarth, laying all the blameof the knavery and intrigue that had thrown four great nations into war, uponthe shoulders of Nutus. And who was there that would doubt the justice of thecharge?

“Thuvia,” he said, “I come once again, for the last time, tolay my heart at your feet. Ptarth and Kaol and Dusar are battling with Heliumbecause of you. Wed me, Thuvia, and all may yet be as it should be.”

The girl shook her head.

“Wait!” he commanded, before she could speak. “Know the truthbefore you speak words that may seal, not only your own fate, but that of thethousands of warriors who battle because of you.

“Refuse to wed me willingly, and Dusar would be laid waste should everthe truth be known to Ptarth and Kaol and Helium. They would raze our cities,leaving not one stone upon another. They would scatter our peoples across theface of Barsoom from the frozen north to the frozen south, hunting them downand slaying them, until this great nation remained only as a hated memory inthe minds of men.

“But while they are exterminating the Dusarians, countless thousands oftheir own warriors must perish—and all because of the stubbornness of asingle woman who would not wed the prince who loves her.

“Refuse, Thuvia of Ptarth, and there remains but a singlealternative—no man must ever know your fate. Only a handful of loyalservitors besides my royal father and myself know that you were stolen from thegardens of Thuvan Dihn by Astok, Prince of Dusar, or that to-day you beimprisoned in my palace.

“Refuse, Thuvia of Ptarth, and you must die to save Dusar—there isno other way. Nutus, the jeddak, has so decreed. I have spoken.”

For a long moment the girl let her level gaze rest full upon the face of Astokof Dusar. Then she spoke, and though the words were few, the unimpassioned tonecarried unfathomable depths of cold contempt.

“Better all that you have threatened,” she said, “thanyou.”

Then she turned her back upon him and went to stand once more before the eastwindow, gazing with sad eyes toward distant Ptarth.

Astok wheeled and left the room, returning after a short interval of time withfood and drink.

“Here,” he said, “is sustenance until I return again. Thenext to enter this apartment will be your executioner. Commend yourself to yourancestors, Thuvia of Ptarth, for within a few days you shall be withthem.”

Then he was gone.

Half an hour later he was interviewing an officer high in the navy of Dusar.

“Whither went Vas Kor?” he asked. “He is not at hispalace.”

“South, to the great waterway that skirts Torquas,” replied theother. “His son, Hal Vas, is Dwar of the Road there, and thither has VasKor gone to enlist recruits among the workers on the farms.”

“Good,” said Astok, and a half-hour more found him rising aboveDusar in his swiftest flier.

CHAPTER XIII.
TURJUN, THE PANTHAN

The face of Carthoris of Helium gave no token of the emotions that convulsedhim inwardly as he heard from the lips of Hal Vas that Helium was at war withDusar, and that fate had thrown him into the service of the enemy.

That he might utilize this opportunity to the good of Helium scarce sufficed tooutweigh the chagrin he felt that he was not fighting in the open at the headof his own loyal troops.

To escape the Dusarians might prove an easy matter; and then again it mightnot. Should they suspect his loyalty (and the loyalty of an impressed panthanwas always open to suspicion), he might not find an opportunity to elude theirvigilance until after the termination of the war, which might occur withindays, or, again, only after long and weary years of bloodshed.

He recalled that history recorded wars in which actual military operations hadbeen carried on without cessation for five or six hundred years, and even nowthere were nations upon Barsoom with which Helium had made no peace within thehistory of man.

The outlook was not cheering. He could not guess that within a few hours hewould be blessing the fate that had thrown him into the service of Dusar.

“Ah!” exclaimed Hal Vas. “Here is my father now. Kaor! VasKor. Here is one you will be glad to meet—a doughty panthan—”He hesitated.

“Turjun,” interjected Carthoris, seizing upon the first appellationthat occurred to him.

As he spoke his eyes crossed quickly to the tall warrior who was entering theroom. Where before had he seen that giant figure, that taciturn countenance,and the livid sword-cut from temple to mouth?

“Vas Kor,” repeated Carthoris mentally. “Vas Kor!”Where had he seen the man before?

And then the noble spoke, and like a flash it all came back toCarthoris—the forward servant upon the landing stage at Ptarth that timethat he had been explaining the intricacies of his new compass to Thuvan Dihn;the lone slave that had guarded his own hangar that night he had left upon hisill-fated journey for Ptarth—the journey that had brought him somysteriously to far Aaanthor.

“Vas Kor,” he repeated aloud, “blessed be your ancestors forthis meeting,” nor did the Dusarian guess the wealth of meaning that laybeneath that hackneyed phrase with which a Barsoomian acknowledges anintroduction.

“And blessed be yours, Turjun,” replied Vas Kor.

Now came the introduction of Kar Komak to Vas Kor, and as Carthoris wentthrough the little ceremony there came to him the only explanation he mightmake to account for the white skin and auburn hair of the bowman; for he fearedthat the truth might not be believed and thus suspicion be cast upon them bothfrom the beginning.

“Kar Komak,” he explained, “is, as you can see, a thern. Hehas wandered far from his icebound southern temples in search of adventure. Icame upon him in the pits of Aaanthor; but though I have known him so short atime, I can vouch for his bravery and loyalty.”

Since the destruction of the fabric of their false religion by John Carter, themajority of the therns had gladly accepted the new order of things, so that itwas now no longer uncommon to see them mingling with the multitudes of red menin any of the great cities of the outer world, so Vas Kor neither felt norexpressed any great astonishment.

All during the interview Carthoris watched, catlike, for some indication thatVas Kor recognized in the battered panthan the erstwhile gorgeous Prince ofHelium; but the sleepless nights, the long days of marching and fighting, thewounds and the dried blood had evidently sufficed to obliterate the lastremnant of his likeness to his former self; and then Vas Kor had seen him buttwice in all his life. Little wonder that he did not know him.

During the evening Vas Kor announced that on the morrow they should departnorth toward Dusar, picking up recruits at various stations along the way.

In a great field behind the house a flier lay—a fair-sizedcruiser-transport that would accommodate many men, yet swift and well armedalso. Here Carthoris slept, and Kar Komak, too, with the other recruits, underguard of the regular Dusarian warriors that manned the craft.

Toward midnight Vas Kor returned to the vessel from his son’s house,repairing at once to his cabin. Carthoris, with one of the Dusarians, was onwatch. It was with difficulty that the Heliumite repressed a cold smile as thenoble passed within a foot of him—within a foot of the long, slim,Heliumitic blade that swung in his harness.

How easy it would have been! How easy to avenge the cowardly trick that hadbeen played upon him—to avenge Helium and Ptarth and Thuvia!

But his hand moved not toward the dagger’s hilt, for first Vas Kor mustserve a better purpose—he might know where Thuvia of Ptarth lay hiddennow, if it had truly been Dusarians that had spirited her away during the fightbefore Aaanthor.

And then, too, there was the instigator of the entire foul plot. HE must paythe penalty; and who better than Vas Kor could lead the Prince of Helium toAstok of Dusar?

Faintly out of the night there came to Carthoris’s ears the purring of adistant motor. He scanned the heavens.

Yes, there it was far in the north, dimly outlined against the dark void ofspace that stretched illimitably beyond it, the faint suggestion of a flierpassing, unlighted, through the Barsoomian night.

Carthoris, knowing not whether the craft might be friend or foe of Dusar, gaveno sign that he had seen, but turned his eyes in another direction, leaving thematter to the Dusarian who stood watch with him.

Presently the fellow discovered the oncoming craft, and sounded the low alarmwhich brought the balance of the watch and an officer from their sleeping silksand furs upon the deck near by.

The cruiser-transport lay without lights, and, resting as she was upon theground, must have been entirely invisible to the oncoming flier, which allpresently recognized as a small craft.

It soon became evident that the stranger intended making a landing, for she wasnow spiraling slowly above them, dropping lower and lower in each gracefulcurve.

“It is the Thuria,” whispered one of the Dusarian warriors.“I would know her in the blackness of the pits among ten thousand othercraft.”

“Right you are!” exclaimed Vas Kor, who had come on deck. And thenhe hailed:

“Kaor, Thuria!”

“Kaor!” came presently from above after a brief silence. Then:“What ship?”

“Cruiser-transport Kalksus, Vas Kor of Dusar.”

“Good!” came from above. “Is there safe landingalongside?”

“Yes, close in to starboard. Wait, we will show our lights,” and amoment later the smaller craft settled close beside the Kalksus, and the lightsof the latter were immediately extinguished once more.

Several figures could be seen slipping over the side of the Thuriaandadvancing toward the Kalksus. Ever suspicious, the Dusarians stood ready toreceive the visitors as friends or foes as closer inspection might prove them.Carthoris stood quite near the rail, ready to take sides with the new-comersshould chance have it that they were Heliumites playing a bold stroke ofstrategy upon this lone Dusarian ship. He had led like parties himself, andknew that such a contingency was quite possible.

But the face of the first man to cross the rail undeceived him with a shockthat was not at all unpleasurable—it was the face of Astok, Prince ofDusar.

Scarce noticing the others upon the deck of the Kalksus, Astok strode forwardto accept Vas Kor’s greeting, then he summoned the noble below. Thewarriors and officers returned to their sleeping silks and furs, and once morethe deck was deserted except for the Dusarian warrior and Turjun, the panthan,who stood guard.

The latter walked quietly to and fro. The former leaned across the rail,wishing for the hour that would bring him relief. He did not see his companionapproach the lights of the cabin of Vas Kor. He did not see him stoop with earclose pressed to a tiny ventilator.

“May the white apes take us all,” cried Astok ruefully, “ifwe are not in as ugly a snarl as you have ever seen! Nutus thinks that we haveher in hiding far away from Dusar. He has bidden me bring her here.”

He paused. No man should have heard from his lips the thing he was trying totell. It should have been for ever the secret of Nutus and Astok, for upon itrested the safety of a throne. With that knowledge any man could wrest from theJeddak of Dusar whatever he listed.

But Astok was afraid, and he wanted from this older man the suggestion of analternative. He went on.

“I am to kill her,” he whispered, looking fearfully around.“Nutus merely wishes to see the body that he may know his commands havebeen executed. I am now supposed to be gone to the spot where we have herhidden that I may fetch her in secrecy to Dusar. None is to know that she hasever been in the keeping of a Dusarian. I do not need to tell you what wouldbefall Dusar should Ptarth and Helium and Kaol ever learn the truth.”

The jaws of the listener at the ventilator clicked together with a vicioussnap. Before he had but guessed at the identity of the subject of thisconversation. Now he knew. And they were to kill her! His muscular fingersclenched until the nails bit into the palms.

“And you wish me to go with you while you fetch her to Dusar,” VasKor was saying. “Where is she?”

Astok bent close and whispered into the other’s ear. The suggestion of asmile crossed the cruel features of Vas Kor. He realized the power that laywithin his grasp. He should be a jed at least.

“And how may I help you, my Prince?” asked the older man suavely.

“I cannot kill her,” said Astok. “Issus! I cannot do it! Whenshe turns those eyes upon me my heart becomes water.”

Vas Kor’s eyes narrowed.

“And you wish—” He paused, the interrogation unfinished, yetcomplete.

Astok nodded.

“Youdo not love her,” he said.

“But I love my life—though I am only a lesser noble,” heconcluded meaningly.

“You shall be a greater noble—a noble of the first rank!”exclaimed Astok.

“I would be a jed,” said Vas Kor bluntly.

Astok hesitated.

“A jed must die before there can be another jed,” he pleaded.

“Jeds have died before,” snapped Vas Kor. “It would doubtlessbe not difficult for you to find a jed you do not love, Astok—there aremany who do not love you.”

Already Vas Kor was commencing to presume upon his power over the young prince.Astok was quick to note and appreciate the subtle change in his lieutenant. Acunning scheme entered his weak and wicked brain.

“As you say, Vas Kor!” he exclaimed. “You shall be a jed whenthe thing is done,” and then, to himself: “Nor will it then bedifficult for me to find a jed I do not love.”

“When shall we return to Dusar?” asked the noble.

“At once,” replied Astok. “Let us get under waynow—there is naught to keep you here?”

“I had intended sailing on the morrow, picking up such recruits as thevarious Dwars of the Roads might have collected for me, as we returned toDusar.”

“Let the recruits wait,” said Astok. “Or, better still, comeyou to Dusar upon the Thuria, leaving the Kalksus to follow and pick upthe recruits.”

“Yes,” acquiesced Vas Kor; “that is the better plan. Come; Iam ready,” and he rose to accompany Astok to the latter’s flier.

The listener at the ventilator came to his feet slowly, like an old man. Hisface was drawn and pinched and very white beneath the light copper of his skin.She was to die! And he helpless to avert the tragedy. He did not even knowwhere she was imprisoned.

The two men were ascending from the cabin to the deck. Turjun, the panthan,crept close to the companionway, his sinuous fingers closing tightly upon thehilt of his dagger. Could he despatch them both before he was overpowered? Hesmiled. He could slay an entire utan of her enemies in his present state ofmind.

They were almost abreast of him now. Astok was speaking.

“Bring a couple of your men along, Vas Kor,” he said. “We areshort-handed upon the Thuria, so quickly did we depart.”

The panthan’s fingers dropped from the dagger’s hilt. His quickmind had grasped here a chance for succouring Thuvia of Ptarth. He might bechosen as one to accompany the assassins, and once he had learned where thecaptive lay he could dispatch Astok and Vas Kor as well as now. To kill thembefore he knew where Thuvia was hid was simply to leave her to death at thehands of others; for sooner or later Nutus would learn her whereabouts, andNutus, Jeddak of Dusar, could not afford to let her live.

Turjun put himself in the path of Vas Kor that he might not be overlooked. Thenoble aroused the men sleeping upon the deck, but always before him the strangepanthan whom he had recruited that same day found means for keeping himself tothe fore.

Vas Kor turned to his lieutenant, giving instruction for the bringing of theKalksus to Dusar, and the gathering up of the recruits; then he signed to twowarriors who stood close behind the padwar.

“You two accompany us to the Thuria,” he said, “andput yourselves at the disposal of her dwar.”

It was dark upon the deck of the Kalksus, so Vas Kor had not a good look at thefaces of the two he chose; but that was of no moment, for they were but commonwarriors to assist with the ordinary duties upon a flier, and to fight if needbe.

One of the two was Kar Komak, the bowman. The other was not Carthoris.

The Heliumite was mad with disappointment. He snatched his dagger from hisharness; but already Astok had left the deck of the Kalksus, and he knew thatbefore he could overtake him, should he dispatch Vas Kor, he would be killed bythe Dusarian warriors, who now were thick upon the deck. With either one of thetwo alive Thuvia was in as great danger as though both lived—it must beboth!

As Vas Kor descended to the ground Carthoris boldly followed him, nor did anyattempt to halt him, thinking, doubtless, that he was one of the party.

After him came Kar Komak and the Dusarian warrior who had been detailed to dutyupon the Thuria. Carthoris walked close to the left side of the latter.Now they came to the dense shadow under the side of the Thuria. It wasvery dark there, so that they had to grope for the ladder.

Kar Komak preceded the Dusarian. The latter reached upward for the swingingrounds, and as he did so steel fingers closed upon his windpipe and a steelblade pierced the very centre of his heart.

Turjun, the panthan, was the last to clamber over the rail of theThuria, drawing the rope ladder in after him.

A moment later the flier was rising rapidly, headed for the north.

At the rail Kar Komak turned to speak to the warrior who had been detailed toaccompany him. His eyes went wide as they rested upon the face of the young manwhom he had met beside the granite cliffs that guard mysterious Lothar. How hadhe come in place of the Dusarian?

A quick sign, and Kar Komak turned once more to find the Thuria’sdwar that he might report himself for duty. Behind him followed the panthan.

Carthoris blessed the chance that had caused Vas Kor to choose the bowman ofall others, for had it been another Dusarian there would have been questions toanswer as to the whereabouts of the warrior who lay so quietly in the fieldbeyond the residence of Hal Vas, Dwar of the Southern Road; and Carthoris hadno answer to that question other than his sword point, which alone was scarceadequate to convince the entire crew of the Thuria.

The journey to Dusar seemed interminable to the impatient Carthoris, though asa matter of fact it was quickly accomplished. Some time before they reachedtheir destination they met and spoke with another Dusarian war flier. From itthey learned that a great battle was soon to be fought south-east of Dusar.

The combined navies of Dusar, Ptarth and Kaol had been intercepted in theiradvance toward Helium by the mighty Heliumitic navy—the most formidableupon Barsoom, not alone in numbers and armament, but in the training andcourage of its officers and warriors, and the zitidaric proportions of many ofits monster battleships.

Not for many a day had there been the promise of such a battle. Four jeddakswere in direct command of their own fleets—Kulan Tith of Kaol, ThuvanDihn of Ptarth, and Nutus of Dusar upon one side; while upon the other wasTardos Mors, Jeddak of Helium. With the latter was John Carter, Warlord ofMars.

From the far north another force was moving south across the barriercliffs—the new navy of Talu, Jeddak of Okar, coming in response to thecall from the warlord. Upon the decks of the sullen ships of war black-beardedyellow men looked over eagerly toward the south. Gorgeous were they in theirsplendid cloaks of orluk and apt. Fierce, formidable fighters from the hothousecities of the frozen north.

And from the distant south, from the sea of Omean and the cliffs of gold, fromthe temples of the therns and the garden of Issus, other thousands sailed intothe north at the call of the great man they all had learned to respect, and,respecting, love. Pacing the flagship of this mighty fleet, second only to thenavy of Helium, was the ebon Xodar, Jeddak of the First Born, his heart beatingstrong in anticipation of the coming moment when he should hurl his savagecrews and the weight of his mighty ships upon the enemies of the warlord.

But would these allies reach the theatre of war in time to be of avail toHelium? Or, would Helium need them?

Carthoris, with the other members of the crew of the Thuria, heard thegossip and the rumours. None knew of the two fleets, the one from the south andthe other from the north, that were coming to support the ships of Helium, andall of Dusar were convinced that nothing now could save the ancient power ofHelium from being wiped for ever from the upper air of Barsoom.

Carthoris, too, loyal son of Helium that he was, felt that even his belovednavy might not be able to cope successfully with the combined forces of threegreat powers.

Now the Thuriatouched the landing stage above the palace of Astok.Hurriedly the prince and Vas Kor disembarked and entered the drop that wouldcarry them to the lower levels of the palace.

Close beside it was another drop that was utilized by common warriors.Carthoris touched Kar Komak upon the arm.

“Come!” he whispered. “You are my only friend among a nationof enemies. Will you stand by me?”

“To the death,” replied Kar Komak.

The two approached the drop. A slave operated it.

“Where are your passes?” he asked.

Carthoris fumbled in his pocket pouch as though in search of them, at the sametime entering the cage. Kar Komak followed him, closing the door. The slave didnot start the cage downward. Every second counted. They must reach the lowerlevel as soon as possible after Astok and Vas Kor if they would know whitherthe two went.

Carthoris turned suddenly upon the slave, hurling him to the opposite side ofthe cage.

“Bind and gag him, Kar Komak!” he cried.

Then he grasped the control lever, and as the cage shot downward at sickeningspeed, the bowman grappled with the slave. Carthoris could not leave thecontrol to assist his companion, for should they touch the lowest level at thespeed at which they were going, all would be dashed to instant death.

Below him he could now see the top of Astok’s cage in the parallel shaft,and he reduced the speed of his to that of the other. The slave commenced toscream.

“Silence him!” cried Carthoris.

A moment later a limp form crumpled to the floor of the cage.

“He is silenced,” said Kar Komak.

Carthoris brought the cage to a sudden stop at one of the higher levels of thepalace. Opening the door, he grasped the still form of the slave and pushed itout upon the floor. Then he banged the gate and resumed the downward drop.

Once more he sighted the top of the cage that held Astok and Vas Kor. Aninstant later it had stopped, and as he brought his car to a halt, he saw thetwo men disappear through one of the exits of the corridor beyond.

CHAPTER XIV.
KULAN TITH’S SACRIFICE

The morning of the second day of her incarceration in the east tower of thepalace of Astok, Prince of Dusar, found Thuvia of Ptarth waiting in dull apathythe coming of the assassin.

She had exhausted every possibility of escape, going over and over again thedoor and the windows, the floor and the walls.

The solid ersite slabs she could not even scratch; the tough Barsoomian glassof the windows would have shattered to nothing less than a heavy sledge in thehands of a strong man. The door and the lock were impregnable. There was noescape. And they had stripped her of her weapons so that she could not evenanticipate the hour of her doom, thus robbing them of the satisfaction ofwitnessing her last moments.

When would they come? Would Astok do the deed with his own hands? She doubtedthat he had the courage for it. At heart he was a coward—she had known itsince first she had heard him brag as, a visitor at the court of her father, hehad sought to impress her with his valour.

She could not help but compare him with another. And with whom would anaffianced bride compare an unsuccessful suitor? With her betrothed? And didThuvia of Ptarth now measure Astok of Dusar by the standards of Kulan Tith,Jeddak of Kaol?

She was about to die; her thoughts were her own to do with as she pleased; yetfurthest from them was Kulan Tith. Instead the figure of the tall and comelyHeliumite filled her mind, crowding therefrom all other images.

She dreamed of his noble face, the quiet dignity of his bearing, the smile thatlit his eyes as he conversed with his friends, and the smile that touched hislips as he fought with his enemies—the fighting smile of his Virginiansire.

And Thuvia of Ptarth, true daughter of Barsoom, found her breath quickening andheart leaping to the memory of this other smile—the smile that she wouldnever see again. With a little half-sob the girl sank to the pile of silks andfurs that were tumbled in confusion beneath the east windows, burying her facein her arms.

In the corridor outside her prison-room two men had paused in heated argument.

“I tell you again, Astok,” one was saying, “that I shall notdo this thing unless you be present in the room.”

There was little of the respect due royalty in the tone of the speaker’svoice. The other, noting it, flushed.

“Do not impose too far upon my friendship for you, Vas Kor,” hesnapped. “There is a limit to my patience.”

“There is no question of royal prerogative here,” returned Vas Kor.“You ask me to become an assassin in your stead, and against yourjeddak’s strict injunctions. You are in no position, Astok, to dictate tome; but rather should you be glad to accede to my reasonable request that yoube present, thus sharing the guilt with me. Why should I bear it all?”

The younger man scowled, but he advanced toward the locked door, and as itswung in upon its hinges, he entered the room beyond at the side of Vas Kor.

Across the chamber the girl, hearing them enter, rose to her feet and facedthem. Under the soft copper of her skin she blanched just a trifle; but hereyes were brave and level, and the haughty tilt of her firm little chin waseloquent of loathing and contempt.

“You still prefer death?” asked Astok.

“To you, yes,” replied the girl coldly.

The Prince of Dusar turned to Vas Kor and nodded. The noble drew hisshort-sword and crossed the room toward Thuvia.

“Kneel!” he commanded.

“I prefer to die standing,” she replied.

“As you will,” said Vas Kor, feeling the point of his blade withhis left thumb. “In the name of Nutus, Jeddak of Dusar!” he cried,and ran quickly toward her.

“In the name of Carthoris, Prince of Helium!” came in low tonesfrom the doorway.

Vas Kor turned to see the panthan he had recruited at his son’s houseleaping across the floor toward him. The fellow brushed past Astok with an:“After him, you—calot!”

Vas Kor wheeled to meet the charging man.

“What means this treason?” he cried.

Astok, with bared sword, leaped to Vas Kor’s assistance. Thepanthan’s sword clashed against that of the noble, and in the firstencounter Vas Kor knew that he faced a master swordsman.

Before he half realized the stranger’s purpose he found the man betweenhimself and Thuvia of Ptarth, at bay facing the two swords of the Dusarians.But he fought not like a man at bay. Ever was he the aggressor, and thoughalways he kept his flashing blade between the girl and her enemies, yet hemanaged to force them hither and thither about the room, calling to the girl tofollow close behind him.

Until it was too late neither Vas Kor nor Astok dreamed of that which lay inthe panthan’s mind; but at last as the fellow stood with his back towardthe door, both understood—they were penned in their own prison, and nowthe intruder could slay them at his will, for Thuvia of Ptarth was bolting thedoor at the man’s direction, first taking the key from the opposite side,where Astok had left it when they had entered.

Astok, as was his way, finding that the enemy did not fall immediately beforetheir swords, was leaving the brunt of the fighting to Vas Kor, and now as hiseyes appraised the panthan carefully they presently went wider and wider, forslowly he had come to recognize the features of the Prince of Helium.

The Heliumite was pressing close upon Vas Kor. The noble was bleeding from adozen wounds. Astok saw that he could not for long withstand the cunning craftof that terrible sword hand.

“Courage, Vas Kor!” he whispered in the other’s ear. “Ihave a plan. Hold him but a moment longer and all will be well,” but thebalance of the sentence, “with Astok, Prince of Dusar,” he did notvoice aloud.

Vas Kor, dreaming no treachery, nodded his head, and for a moment succeeded inholding Carthoris at bay. Then the Heliumite and the girl saw the Dusarianprince run swiftly to the opposite side of the chamber, touch something in thewall that sent a great panel swinging inward, and disappear into the blackvault beyond.

It was done so quickly that by no possibility could they have intercepted him.Carthoris, fearful lest Vas Kor might similarly elude him, or Astok returnimmediately with reinforcements, sprang viciously in upon his antagonist, and amoment later the headless body of the Dusarian noble rolled upon the ersitefloor.

“Come!” cried Carthoris. “There is no time to be lost. Astokwill be back in a moment with enough warriors to overpower me.”

But Astok had no such plan in mind, for such a move would have meant thespreading of the fact among the palace gossips that the Ptarthian princess wasa prisoner in the east tower. Quickly would the word have come to his father,and no amount of falsifying could have explained away the facts that thejeddak’s investigation would have brought to light.

Instead Astok was racing madly through a long corridor to reach the door of thetower-room before Carthoris and Thuvia left the apartment. He had seen the girlremove the key and place it in her pocket-pouch, and he knew that a daggerpoint driven into the keyhole from the opposite side would imprison them in thesecret chamber till eight dead worlds circled a cold, dead sun.

As fast as he could run Astok entered the main corridor that led to the towerchamber. Would he reach the door in time? What if the Heliumite should havealready emerged and he should run upon him in the passageway? Astok felt a coldchill run up his spine. He had no stomach to face that uncanny blade.

He was almost at the door. Around the next turn of the corridor it stood. No,they had not left the apartment. Evidently Vas Kor was still holding theHeliumite!

Astok could scarce repress a grin at the clever manner in which he hadoutwitted the noble and disposed of him at the same time. And then he roundedthe turn and came face to face with an auburn-haired, white giant.

The fellow did not wait to ask the reason for his coming; instead he leapedupon him with a long-sword, so that Astok had to parry a dozen vicious cutsbefore he could disengage himself and flee back down the runway.

A moment later Carthoris and Thuvia entered the corridor from the secretchamber.

“Well, Kar Komak?” asked the Heliumite.

“It is fortunate that you left me here, red man,” said the bowman.“I but just now intercepted one who seemed over-anxious to reach thisdoor—it was he whom they call Astok, Prince of Dusar.”

Carthoris smiled.

“Where is he now?” he asked.

“He escaped my blade, and ran down this corridor,” replied KarKomak.

“We must lose no time, then!” exclaimed Carthoris. “He willhave the guard upon us yet!”

Together the three hastened along the winding passages through which Carthorisand Kar Komak had tracked the Dusarians by the marks of the latter’ssandals in the thin dust that overspread the floors of these seldom-usedpassage-ways.

They had come to the chamber at the entrances to the lifts before they met withopposition. Here they found a handful of guardsmen, and an officer, who, seeingthat they were strangers, questioned their presence in the palace of Astok.

Once more Carthoris and Kar Komak had recourse to their blades, and before theyhad won their way to one of the lifts the noise of the conflict must havearoused the entire palace, for they heard men shouting, and as they passed themany levels on their quick passage to the landing stage they saw armed menrunning hither and thither in search of the cause of the commotion.

Beside the stage lay the Thuria, with three warriors on guard. Again theHeliumite and the Lotharian fought shoulder to shoulder, but the battle wassoon over, for the Prince of Helium alone would have been a match for any threethat Dusar could produce.

Scarce had the Thuriarisen from the ways ere a hundred or more fightingmen leaped to view upon the landing stage. At their head was Astok of Dusar,and as he saw the two he had thought so safely in his power slipping from hisgrasp, he danced with rage and chagrin, shaking his fists and hurling abuse andvile insults at them.

With her bow inclined upward at a dizzy angle, the Thuriashotmeteor-like into the sky. From a dozen points swift patrol boats darted afterher, for the scene upon the landing stage above the palace of the Prince ofDusar had not gone unnoticed.

A dozen times shots grazed the Thuria’s side, and as Carthoriscould not leave the control levers, Thuvia of Ptarth turned the muzzles of thecraft’s rapid-fire guns upon the enemy as she clung to the steep andslippery surface of the deck.

It was a noble race and a noble fight. One against a score now, for otherDusarian craft had joined in the pursuit; but Astok, Prince of Dusar, had builtwell when he built the Thuria. None in the navy of his sire possessed aswifter flier; no other craft so well armoured or so well armed.

One by one the pursuers were distanced, and as the last of them fell out ofrange behind, Carthoris dropped the Thuria’s nose to a horizontalplane, as with lever drawn to the last notch, she tore through the thin air ofdying Mars toward the east and Ptarth.

Thirteen and a half thousand haads away lay Ptarth—a stiff thirty-hourjourney for the swiftest of fliers, and between Dusar and Ptarth might lie halfthe navy of Dusar, for in this direction was the reported seat of the greatnaval battle that even now might be in progress.

Could Carthoris have known precisely where the great fleets of the contendingnations lay, he would have hastened to them without delay, for in the return ofThuvia to her sire lay the greatest hope of peace.

Half the distance they covered without sighting a single warship, and then KarKomak called Carthoris’ attention to a distant craft that rested upon theochre vegetation of the great dead sea-bottom, above which theThuriawas speeding.

About the vessel many figures could be seen swarming. With the aid of powerfulglasses, the Heliumite saw that they were green warriors, and that they wererepeatedly charging down upon the crew of the stranded airship. The nationalityof the latter he could not make out at so great a distance.

It was not necessary to change the course of the Thuriato permit ofpassing directly above the scene of battle, but Carthoris dropped his craft afew hundred feet that he might have a better and closer view.

If the ship was of a friendly power, he could do no less than stop and directhis guns upon her enemies, though with the precious freight he carried hescarcely felt justified in landing, for he could offer but two swords inreinforcement—scarce enough to warrant jeopardizing the safety of thePrincess of Ptarth.

As they came close above the stricken ship, they could see that it would be buta question of minutes before the green horde would swarm across the armouredbulwarks to glut the ferocity of their bloodlust upon the defenders.

“It would be futile to descend,” said Carthoris to Thuvia.“The craft may even be of Dusar—she shows no insignia. All that wemay do is fire upon the hordesmen”; and as he spoke he stepped to one ofthe guns and deflected its muzzle toward the green warriors at the ship’sside.

At the first shot from the Thuriathose upon the vessel below evidentlydiscovered her for the first time. Immediately a device fluttered from the bowof the warship on the ground. Thuvia of Ptarth caught her breath quickly,glancing at Carthoris.

The device was that of Kulan Tith, Jeddak of Kaol—the man to whom thePrincess of Ptarth was betrothed!

How easy for the Heliumite to pass on, leaving his rival to the fate that couldnot for long be averted! No man could accuse him of cowardice or treachery, forKulan Tith was in arms against Helium, and, further, upon the Thuriawere not enough swords to delay even temporarily the outcome that already was aforegone conclusion in the minds of the watchers.

What would Carthoris, Prince of Helium, do?

Scarce had the device broken to the faint breeze ere the bow of theThuriadropped at a sharp angle toward the ground.

“Can you navigate her?” asked Carthoris of Thuvia.

The girl nodded.

“I am going to try to take the survivors aboard,” he continued.“It will need both Kar Komak and myself to man the guns while theKaolians take to the boarding tackle. Keep her bow depressed against the riflefire. She can bear it better in her forward armour, and at the same time thepropellers will be protected.”

He hurried to the cabin as Thuvia took the control. A moment later the boardingtackle dropped from the keel of the Thuria, and from a dozen pointsalong either side stout, knotted leathern lines trailed downward. At the sametime a signal broke from her bow:

“Prepare to board us.”

A shout arose from the deck of the Kaolian warship. Carthoris, who by this timehad returned from the cabin, smiled sadly. He was about to snatch from the jawsof death the man who stood between himself and the woman he loved.

“Take the port bow gun, Kar Komak,” he called to the bowman, andhimself stepped to the gun upon the starboard bow.

They could now feel the sharp shock of the explosions of the greenwarriors’ projectiles against the armoured sides of the staunchThuria.

It was a forlorn hope at best. At any moment the repulsive ray tanks might bepierced. The men upon the Kaolian ship were battling with renewed hope. In thebow stood Kulan Tith, a brave figure fighting beside his brave warriors,beating back the ferocious green men.

The Thuriacame low above the other craft. The Kaolians were formingunder their officers in readiness to board, and then a sudden fierce fusilladefrom the rifles of the green warriors vomited their hail of death anddestruction into the side of the brave flier.

Like a wounded bird she dived suddenly Marsward careening drunkenly. Thuviaturned the bow upward in an effort to avert the imminent tragedy, but shesucceeded only in lessening the shock of the flier’s impact as she struckthe ground beside the Kaolian ship.

When the green men saw only two warriors and a woman upon the deck of theThuria, a savage shout of triumph arose from their ranks, while ananswering groan broke from the lips of the Kaolians.

The former now turned their attention upon the new arrival, for they saw herdefenders could soon be overcome and that from her deck they could command thedeck of the better-manned ship.

As they charged a shout of warning came from Kulan Tith, upon the bridge of hisown ship, and with it an appreciation of the valour of the act that had put thesmaller vessel in these sore straits.

“Who is it,” he cried, “that offers his life in the serviceof Kulan Tith? Never was wrought a nobler deed of self-sacrifice uponBarsoom!”

The green horde was scrambling over the Thuria’s side as therebroke from the bow the device of Carthoris, Prince of Helium, in reply to thequery of the jeddak of Kaol. None upon the smaller flier had opportunity tonote the effect of this announcement upon the Kaolians, for their attention wasclaimed slowly now by that which was transpiring upon their own deck.

Kar Komak stood behind the gun he had been operating, staring with wide eyes atthe onrushing hideous green warriors. Carthoris, seeing him thus, felt a pangof regret that, after all, this man that he had thought so valorous shouldprove, in the hour of need, as spineless as Jav or Tario.

“Kar Komak—the man!” he shouted. “Grip yourself!Remember the days of the glory of the seafarers of Lothar. Fight! Fight, man!Fight as never man fought before. All that remains to us is to diefighting.”

Kar Komak turned toward the Heliumite, a grim smile upon his lips.

“Why should we fight,” he asked. “Against such fearful odds?There is another way—a better way. Look!” He pointed toward thecompanion-way that led below deck.

The green men, a handful of them, had already reached the Thuria’sdeck, as Carthoris glanced in the direction the Lotharian had indicated. Thesight that met his eyes set his heart to thumping in joy andrelief—Thuvia of Ptarth might yet be saved? For from below there poured astream of giant bowmen, grim and terrible. Not the bowmen of Tario or Jav, butthe bowmen of an odwar of bowmen—savage fighting men, eager for the fray.

The green warriors paused in momentary surprise and consternation, but only fora moment. Then with horrid war-cries they leaped forward to meet these strange,new foemen.

A volley of arrows stopped them in their tracks. In a moment the only greenwarriors upon the deck of the Thuriawere dead warriors, and the bowmenof Kar Komak were leaping over the vessel’s sides to charge the hordesmenupon the ground.

Utan after utan tumbled from the bowels of the Thuriato launchthemselves upon the unfortunate green men. Kulan Tith and his Kaolians stoodwide-eyed and speechless with amazement as they saw thousands of these strange,fierce warriors emerge from the companion-way of the small craft that could notcomfortably have accommodated more than fifty.

At last the green men could withstand the onslaught of overwhelming numbers nolonger. Slowly, at first, they fell back across the ochre plain. The bowmenpursued them. Kar Komak, standing upon the deck of the Thuria, trembledwith excitement.

At the top of his lungs he voiced the savage war-cry of his forgotten day. Heroared encouragement and commands at his battling utans, and then, as theycharged further and further from the Thuria, he could no longerwithstand the lure of battle.

Leaping over the ship’s side to the ground, he joined the last of hisbowmen as they raced off over the dead sea-bottom in pursuit of the fleeinggreen horde.

Beyond a low promontory of what once had been an island the green men weredisappearing toward the west. Close upon their heels raced the fleet bowmen ofa bygone day, and forging steadily ahead among them Carthoris and Thuvia couldsee the mighty figure of Kar Komak, brandishing aloft the Torquasianshort-sword with which he was armed, as he urged his creatures after theretreating enemy.

As the last of them disappeared behind the promontory, Carthoris turned towardThuvia of Ptarth.

“They have taught me a lesson, these vanishing bowmen of Lothar,”he said. “When they have served their purpose they remain not toembarrass their masters by their presence. Kulan Tith and his warriors are hereto protect you. My acts have constituted the proof of my honesty of purpose.Good-bye,” and he knelt at her feet, raising a bit of her harness to hislips.

The girl reached out a hand and laid it upon the thick black hair of the headbent before her. Softly she asked:

“Where are you going, Carthoris?”

“With Kar Komak, the bowman,” he replied. “There will befighting and forgetfulness.”

The girl put her hands before her eyes, as though to shut out some mightytemptation from her sight.

“May my ancestors have mercy upon me,” she cried, “if I saythe thing I have no right to say; but I cannot see you cast your life away,Carthoris, Prince of Helium! Stay, my chieftain. Stay—I love you!”

A cough behind them brought both about, and there they saw standing, not twopaces from them Kulan Tith, Jeddak of Kaol.

For a long moment none spoke. Then Kulan Tith cleared his throat.

“I could not help hearing all that passed,” he said. “I am nofool, to be blind to the love that lies between you. Nor am I blind to thelofty honour that has caused you, Carthoris, to risk your life and hers to savemine, though you thought that that very act would rob you of the chance to keepher for your own.

“Nor can I fail to appreciate the virtue that has kept your lips sealedagainst words of love for this Heliumite, Thuvia, for I know that I have butjust heard the first declaration of your passion for him. I do not condemn you.Rather should I have condemned you had you entered a loveless marriage with me.

“Take back your liberty, Thuvia of Ptarth,” he cried, “andbestow it where your heart already lies enchained, and when the golden collarsare clasped about your necks you will see that Kulan Tith’s is the firstsword to be raised in declaration of eternal friendship for the new Princess ofHelium and her royal mate!”

A GLOSSARY OF NAMES AND TERMS USED IN THE MARTIAN BOOKS

Aaanthor. A dead city of ancient Mars.

Aisle of Hope. An aisle leading to the court-room in Helium.

Apt. An Arctic monster. A huge, white-furred creature with six limbs, four ofwhich, short and heavy, carry it over the snow and ice; the other two, whichgrow forward from its shoulders on either side of its long, powerful neck,terminate in white, hairless hands with which it seizes and holds its prey. Itshead and mouth are similar in appearance to those of a hippopotamus, exceptthat from the sides of the lower jawbone two mighty horns curve slightlydownward toward the front. Its two huge eyes extend in two vast oval patchesfrom the centre of the top of the cranium down either side of the head to belowthe roots of the horns, so that these weapons really grow out from the lowerpart of the eyes, which are composed of several thousand ocelli each. Eachocellus is furnished with its own lid, and the apt can, at will, close as manyof the facets of his huge eyes as he chooses. (See THE WARLORD OF MARS.)

Astok. Prince of Dusar.

Avenue of Ancestors. A street in Helium.

Banth. Barsoomian lion. A fierce beast of prey that roams the low hillssurrounding the dead seas of ancient Mars. It is almost hairless, having only agreat, bristly mane about its thick neck. Its long, lithe body is supported byten powerful legs, its enormous jaws are equipped with several rows of longneedle-like fangs, and its mouth reaches to a point far back of its tiny ears.It has enormous protruding eyes of green. (See THE GODS OF MARS.)

Bar Comas. Jeddak of Warhoon. (See A PRINCESS OF MARS.)

Barsoom. MARS.

Black pirates of Barsoom. Men six feet and over in height. Have clear-cut andhandsome features; their eyes are well set and large, though a slightnarrowness lends them a crafty appearance. The iris is extremely black whilethe eyeball itself is quite white and clear. Their skin has the appearance ofpolished ebony. (See THE GODS OF MARS.)

Calot. A dog. About the size of a Shetland pony and has ten short legs. Thehead bears a slight resemblance to that of a frog, except that the jaws areequipped with three rows of long, sharp tusks. (See A PRINCESS OF MARS.)

Carter, John. Warlord of Mars.

Carthoris of Helium. Son of John Carter and Dejah Thoris.

Dak Kova. Jed among the Warhoons (later jeddak).

Darseen. Chameleon-like reptile.

Dator. Chief or prince among the First Born.

Dejah Thoris. Princess of Helium.

Djor Kantos. Son of Kantos Kan; padwar of the Fifth Utan.

Dor. Valley of Heaven.

Dotar Sojat. John Carter’s Martian name, from the surnames of the firsttwo warrior chieftains he killed.

Dusar. A Martian kingdom.

Dwar. Captain.

Ersite. A kind of stone.

Father of Therns. High Priest of religious cult.

First Born. Black race; black pirates.

Kar Komak. Odwar of Lotharian bowmen.

Gate of Jeddaks. A gate in Helium.

Gozava. Tars Tarkas’ dead wife.

Gur Tus. Dwar of the Tenth Utan.

Haad. Martian mile.

Hal Vas. Son of Vas Kor the Dusarian noble.

Hastor. A city of Helium.

Hekkador. Title of Father of Therns.

Helium. The empire of the grandfather of Dejah Thoris.

Holy Therns. A Martian religious cult.

Hortan Gur. Jeddak of Torquas.

Hor Vastus. Padwar in the navy of Helium.

Horz. Deserted city; Barsoomian Greenwich.

Illall. A city of Okar.

Iss. River of Death. (See A PRINCESS OF MARS.)

Issus. Goddess of Death, whose abode is upon the banks of the Lost Sea ofKorus. (See THE GODS OF MARS.)

Jav. A Lotharian.

Jed. King.

Jeddak. Emperor.

Kab Kadja. Jeddak of the Warhoons of the south.

Kadabra. Capital of Okar.

Kadar. Guard.

Kalksus. Cruiser; transport under Vas Kor.

Kantos Kan. Padwar in the Helium navy.

Kaol. A Martian kingdom in the eastern hemisphere.

Kaor. Greeting.

Karad. Martian degree.

Komal. The Lotharian god; a huge banth.

Korad. A dead city of ancient Mars. (See A PRINCESS OF MARS.)

Korus. The Lost Sea of Dor.

Kulan Tith. Jeddak of Kaol. (See THE WARLORD OF MARS.)

Lakor. A thern.

Larok. A Dusarian warrior; artificer.

Lorquas Ptomel. Jed among the Tharks. (See A PRINCESS OF MARS.)

Lothar. The forgotten city.

Marentina. A principality of Okar.

Matai Shang. Father of Therns. (See THE GODS OF MARS.)

Mors Kajak. A jed of lesser Helium.

Notan. Royal Psychologist of Zodanga.

Nutus. Jeddak of Dusar.

Od. Martian foot.

Odwar. A commander, or general.

Okar. Land of the yellow men.

Old Ben (or Uncle Ben). The writer’s body-servant (coloured).

Omad. Man with one name.

Omean. The buried sea.

Orluk. A black and yellow striped Arctic monster.

Otz Mountains. Surrounding the Valley Dor and the Lost Sea of Korus.

Padwar. Lieutenant.

Panthan. A soldier of fortune.

Parthak. The Zodangan who brought food to John Carter in the pits of Zat Arras.(See THE GODS OF MARS.)

Pedestal of Truth. Within the courtroom of Helium.

Phaidor. Daughter of Matai Shang. (See THE GODS OF MARS.)

Pimalia. Gorgeous flowering plant.

Plant men of Barsoom. A race inhabiting the Valley Dor. They are ten or twelvefeet in height when standing erect; their arms are very short and fashionedafter the manner of an elephant’s trunk, being sinuous; the body ishairless and ghoulish blue except for a broad band of white which encircles theprotruding, single eye, the pupil, iris and ball of which are dead white. Thenose is a ragged, inflamed, circular hole in the centre of the blank face,resembling a fresh bullet wound which has not yet commenced to bleed. There isno mouth in the head. With the exception of the face, the head is covered by atangled mass of jet-black hair some eight or ten inches in length. Each hair isabout the thickness of a large angleworm. The body, legs and feet are of humanshape but of monstrous proportions, the feet being fully three feet long andvery flat and broad. The method of feeding consists in running their odd handsover the surface of the turf, cropping off the tender vegetation withrazor-like talons and sucking it up from two mouths, which lie one in the palmof each hand. They are equipped with a massive tail about six feet long, quiteround where it joins the body, but tapering to a flat, thin blade toward theend, which trails at right angles to the ground. (See THE GODS OF MARS.)

Prince Soran. Overlord of the navy of Ptarth.

Ptarth. A Martian kingdom.

Ptor. Family name of three Zodangan brothers.

Sab Than. Prince of Zodanga. (See A PRINCESS OF MARS.)

Safad. A Martian inch.

Sak. Jump.

Salensus Oll. Jeddak of Okar. (See THE WARLORD OF MARS.)

Saran Tal. Carthoris’ major-domo.

Sarkoja. A green Martian woman. (See A PRINCESS OF MARS.)

Sator Throg. A Holy Thern of the Tenth Cycle.

Shador. Island in Omean used as a prison.

Silian. Slimy reptiles inhabiting the Sea of Korus.

Sith. Hornet-like monster. Bald-faced and about the size of a Hereford bull.Has frightful jaws in front and mighty poisoned sting behind. The eyes, ofmyriad facets, cover three-fourths of the head, permitting the creature to seein all directions at one and the same time. (See THE WARLORD OF MARS.)

Skeel. A Martian hardwood.

Sola. A young green Martian woman.

Solan. An official of the palace.

Sompus. A kind of tree.

Sorak. A little pet animal among the red Martian women, about the size of acat.

Sorapus. A Martian hardwood.

Sorav. An officer of Salensus Oll.

Tal. A Martian second.

Tal Hajus. Jeddak of Thark.

Talu. Rebel Prince of Marentina.

Tan Gama. Warhoon warrior.

Tardos Mors. Grandfather of Dejah Thoris and Jeddak of Helium.

Tario. Jeddak of Lothar.

Tars Tarkas. A green man, chieftain of the Tharks.

Temple of Reward. In Helium.

Tenth Cycle. A sphere, or plane of eminence, among the Holy Therns.

Thabis. Issus’ chief.

Than Kosis. Jeddak of Zodanga. (See A PRINCESS OF MARS.)

Thark. City and name of a green Martian horde.

Thoat. A green Martian horse. Ten feet high at the shoulder, with four legs oneither side; a broad, flat tail, larger at the tip than at the root which itholds straight out behind while running; a mouth splitting its head from snoutto the long, massive neck. It is entirely devoid of hair and is of a dark slatecolour and exceedingly smooth and glossy. It has a white belly and the legs areshaded from slate at the shoulders and hips to a vivid yellow at the feet. Thefeet are heavily padded and nailless. (See A PRINCESS OF MARS.)

Thor Ban. Jed among the green men of Torquas.

Thorian. Chief of the lesser Therns.

Throne of Righteousness. In the court-room of Helium.

Throxus. Mightiest of the five oceans.

Thurds. A green horde inimical to Torquas.

Thuria. The nearer moon.

Thurid. A black dator.

Thuvan Dihn. Jeddak of Ptarth.

Thuvia. Princess of Ptarth.

Torith. Officer of the guards at submarine pool.

Torkar Bar. Kaolian noble; dwar of the Kaolian Road.

Torquas. A green horde.

Turjun. Carthoris’ alias.

Utan. A company of one hundred men (military).

Vas Kor. A Dusarian noble.

Warhoon. A community of green men; enemy of Thark.

Woola. A Barsoomian calot.

Xat. A Martian minute.

Xavarian. A Helium warship.

Xodar. Dator among the First Born.

Yersted. Commander of the submarine.

Zad. Tharkian warrior.

Zat Arras. Jed of Zodanga.

Zithad. Dator of the guards of Issus. (See THE GODS OF MARS.)

Zitidars. Mastodonian draught animals.

Zodanga. Martian city of red men at war with Helium.

Zode. A Martian hour.

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