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13 - Thuvia, Maid of Mars - Edgar Rice Burroughs · Classic Science Fiction Books

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Chapter thirteen, Turgon, the Panthon the face of Carthoris of Helium, gave
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no token of the emotions that convulsed him inwardly, as he heard from the
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lips of hal Vas that Helium was at war with Dusar, and that fate
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had thrown him into the service of the enemy. That he might utilize this
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opportunity to the good of Helium scarce sufficed to outweigh the chagrin he felt that
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he was not fighting in the open at the head of his own loyal troops.
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To escape the Dusarians might prove an easy matter, and then again it
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might not, should they suspect his loyalty, and the loyalty of an impressed
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Panthon was always open to suspicion. He might not find an opportunity to elude
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their vigilance until after the termination of the war, which might occur within days,
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or again only after long and weary years of bloodshed. He recalled that
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his re recorded wars in which actual military operations had been carried on without cessation
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for five or six hundred years, and even now there were nations upon Barsoom
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with which Helium had made no peace. Within the history of man. The
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outlook was not cheering. He could not guess that within a few hours he
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would be blessing the fate that had thrown him into the service of dussar Ah.
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Exclaimed, hal vas here is my father, now cow Or vas Kor,
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here is one you will be glad to meet. A dody Panthon He
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hesitated, Turgeon interjected Carthoris, seizing upon the first appellation that occurred to him
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as he spoke, His eyes crossed quickly to the tall warrior who was entering
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the room. Where before had he seen that giant figure, that taciturn countenance
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and the livid sword cut from temple to mouth. Vas Kor repeated Carthoris mentally,
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vast Kor, where had he seen the man before? And then the
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noble spoke, and like a flash at all came back to Carthoris, the
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forward servant upon the landing stage at Ptarth, that time that he had been
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explaining the intricacies of his new compass to thuvon Din, the lone slave that
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had guarded his own hangar. That night he left upon his ill fated journey
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for Ptarth, the journey that had brought him so mysteriously to far Anthor vas
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Kor. He repeated aloud, blessed be your ancestors for this meeting. Nor
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did the Dusarian guess the wealth of meaning that lay beneath that hackneyed phrase with
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which a Barsoomian acknowledges an introduction, and blessed be yours. Turjen repeated Vaskor.
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Now came the introduction of kar Koma to vas Kor. And as Carthoris
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went through the little ceremony, there came to him the only explanation he might
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make to account for the white skin and auburn hair of the bowmen, For
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he feared that the truth might not be believed, and thus suspicion be cast
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upon them both from the beginning car Coomac, he explained, is, as
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you can see, a Thurn, he has wandered far from his ice bound
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southern temples in search of adventure. I came upon him in the pits of
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Anthor. But though I have known him so short a time, I can
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vouch for his bravery and loyalty. Since the destruction of the fabric of their
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false religion by John Carter, the majority of the Thurns had gladly accepted the
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new order of things, so that it was now no longer uncommon to see
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them mingling with the multitudes of red men in any of the great cities of
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the outer world. So vast Kor neither felt nor expressed any great astonishment.
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All during the interview, Carthoris watched catlike for some indication that Vaskort recognized in
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the battered panthan the erstwhile gorgeous Prince of Helium. But the sleepless nights,
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the long days of marching and fighting, the wounds and the dried blood had
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evidently sufficed to obliterate the last remnant of his likeness to his former self.
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And then Vaskor had seen him but twice in all his life, little wonder
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that he did not know him. During the evening, vas Kor announced that
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on the morrow they should depart north toward Dusar, picking up recruits at various
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stations along the way. In a great field behind the house, a flier
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lay a fair sized cruiser transport that would accommodate many men, yet swift and
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well armed. Also here Carthoris slept, and Karkomak too, with the other
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recruits, under guard of the regular Dusarian warriors that manned the craft. Toward
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midnight, vas Kor returned to the vessel from his son's house, repairing at
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once to his cabin. Carthoris, with one of the Dusarians, was on
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watch. It was with difficulty that the Helium might repressed a cold smile as
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the noble passed within a foot of him, within a foot of the long,
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slim heliumitic blade that swung in his harness. How easy it would have
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been, how easy to avenge the cowardly trick that had been played upon him,
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to avenge Helium and Ptarth and Thuvia. But his hand moved not toward
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the dagger's hilt. For first, vas Kor must serve a better purpose.
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He might know where Thuvia of Ptarth lay hidden now if it had truly been
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Dusarians that had spirited her away during the fight before Anthor. And then too,
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there was the instigator of the entire foul plot. He must pay the
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penalty. And who better than vas Kor could lead the Prince of Helium to
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Astok of Dusar. Faintly out of the night, there came to Carthoris's ear
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the purring of a distant motor. He scanned the heavens. Yes, there
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it was, far in the north, dimly outlined against the dark void of
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space that stretched illimitably beyond it, the faint suggestion of a flier passing unlighted
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through the Barsoomian night Carthoris, knowing not whether the craft might be friend or
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foe of Dusar, gave no sign that he had seen, but turned his
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eyes in another direction, leaving the matter to the Dusarian who stood watch with
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him. Presently, the fellow discovered the oncoming craft and sounded the low alarm,
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which brought the balance of the watch and an officer from their sleeping silks
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and furs upon the deck. Near by. The cruiser transport lay without lights,
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and resting as she was upon the ground, must have been into highly
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invisible to the oncoming flyer, which all presently recognized as a small craft.
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It soon became evident that the stranger intended making a landing, for she was
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now spiraling slowly above them, dropping lower and lower in each graceful curve.
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It is the Thuria, whispered one of the Dusarian warriors. I would know
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her in the blackness of the pits among ten thousand other craft. Right you
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are, exclaimed vas Kor, who had come on deck, And then he
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hailed Kowor Thuria. Kowor came presently from above, after a brief silence.
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Then what ship cruiser transport Kalsus vast core of Dusar good came from above?
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Is there safe landing alongside? Yes, close in to starboard. Wait,
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we will show our lights. And a moment later, the smaller craft settled
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close beside the Chalcus, and the lights of the latter were immediately distinguished.
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Once more, several figures could be seen slipping over the side of the Thuria
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and advancing toward the Chalcus. Ever suspicious, the Dusarians stood ready to receive
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the visitors as friends or foes, as closer inspection might prove them. Carthoris
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stood quite near the rail, ready to take sides with the newcomers, should
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chance have it that they were Heliumites playing a bold stroke of strategy upon the
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lone Dusarian ship. He had led like parties himself and knew that such a
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contingency was quite possible. But the face of the first man to cross the
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rail undeceived him with a shock that was not at all unpleasurable. It was
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the face of Astok, Prince of Dusar, scarce. Noticing the others upon
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the deck of the Chalxus, Astok strode forward to accept Vaskor's greeting. Then
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he summoned the noble below. The warriors and officers returned to their sleeping silks
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and furs, and once more the deck was deserted except for the Dusarian warrior
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and Turgen, the Panthon, who stood guard. The latter walked quietly to
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and fro. The former leaned across the rail, wishing for the hour that
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would bring him relief. He did not see his companion approach the lights of
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the cabin of Vaskor. He did not see him stoop with ear close pressed
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to a tiny ventilator. May the white apes take us all, cried Astok
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ruefully. If we are not in as ugly a snarl as you have ever
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seen, Nudis thinks that we have her in hiding far away from Dusar.
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He has bidden me bring her here, he paused. No man should have
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heard from his lips the thing he was trying to tell. It should have
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been forever. The secret of Nudus and Astok, for upon it rested the
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safety of a throne. With that knowledge, any man could wrest from the
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Jadak of Dusar whatever he listed. But Astok was afraid, and he wanted
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from this older man the suggestion of an alternative. He went on. I
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am to kill her, he whispered, looking fearfully around Nudas merely wishes to
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see the body, that he may know his commands have been executed. I
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am now supposed to be gone to the spot where we have her hidden,
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that I may fetch her in secrecy to Dusar. None is to know that
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she has ever been in the keeping of a Dusarian. I do not need
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to tell you what will befall Dusar should Ptarth and Helium and Cowl ever learn
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the truth. The jaws of the listener at the ventilator clicked together with a
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vicious snap. Before he had but guessed at the identity of the subject of
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this conversation. Now he knew, and they were to kill her. His
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muscular fingers clenched until the nails bit into the palms. And you wish me
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to go with you while you fetch her to do Sar Vaskor was saying,
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where is she? Astok bent close and whispered into the other's ear. The
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suggestion of a smile crossed the cruel features of Vaskor. He realized the power
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that lay within his grasp. He should be a jed at last. And
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how may I help you, my prince, asked the older man, suavely.
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I cannot kill her, said Astok, isis, I cannot do it.
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When she turns those eyes upon me, my heart becomes water. Vaskor's
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eyes narrowed, and you wish he paused, the interrogation unfinished yet complete,
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Astok nodded. You do not love her, he said, But I love
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my life. Though I am only a lesser noble, he concluded, meaningfully,
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you shall be a greater noble. A noble of the first rank,
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exclaimed Astok. I would be a Jed, said vas Kor. Bluntly.
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Astok hesitated. A Jed must die before there can be another Jed, he
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pleaded. Jeds have died before, snapped Vaskor. It would doubtless be not
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difficult for you to find a Jed. You do not love, Astok.
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There are many who do not love you already, Vaskor was commencing to presume
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upon his power over the young prince. Astok was quick to note and appreciate
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the subtle change in his lieutenant. A cunning scheme entered his weak and wicked
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brain. As you say, vas Kor, he exclaimed, you shall be
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a jed when the thing is done, and then to himself. Nor will
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it then be difficult for me to find a jed I do not love.
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When shall we return to Dusar, asked the noble at once replied Astok.
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Let us get under way. Now, there is nought to keep you here.
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I had intended sailing on the morrow, picking up such recruits as the
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various dwars of the roads might have collected for me as we returned to Dusar.
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Let the recruits wait, said Astok. Or better still, come you
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to Dussar upon the Thuria, leaving the Kalsis to follow and pick up the
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recruits. Yes, acquiesced Vaskor, that is the better plan. Come,
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I am ready, and he rose to accompany Astok to the latter's flier.
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The listener at the ventilator came to his feet slowly, like an old man.
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His face was drawn and pinched, and very white beneath the light copper
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of his skin. She was to die, and he helpless to avert the
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tragedy. He did not even know where she was imprisoned. The two men
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were ascending from the cabin to the deck. Turgen the Panthon crept close to
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the companionway, his sinuous fingers closing tightly upon the hilt of his dagger.
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Could he dispatch them both before he was overpowered? He smiled, He could
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slay an entire uton of her enemies in his present state of mind. They
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were almost abreast of him. Now Astoc was speaking, Bring a couple of
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your men along, Vaskor, He said, we are short handed upon the
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Thuria. So quickly did we depart. The Panthon's fingers dropped from the dagger's
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hilt. His quick mind had grasped here a chance for succoring Thuvia of Ptarth.
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He might be chosen as one to accompany the assassins, and once he
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had learned where the captive lay, he could dis batch Astok and Vaskor as
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well as now to kill them before he knew where Thuvia was hid, was
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simply to leave her to death at the hands of others, for sooner or
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later Nutus would learn her whereabouts, and Nutus Jeddak of Dusar could not afford
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to let her live. Turgeon put himself in the path of vas Kor,
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that he might not be overlooked. The noble aroused the men sleeping upon the
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deck, but always before him the strange Panthon, whom he had recruited that
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same day, found means for keeping himself to the fore. Vaskor turned to
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his lieutenant, giving instruction for the bringing of the Chalxus to Dusar and the
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gathering up of the recruits. Then he signed to two warriors who stood close
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behind the padwar You two accompany us to the Thuria, he said, and
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put yourselves at the disposal of her Duar. It was dark upon the deck
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of the Chalxus, so Vaskor had not a good look at the faces of
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the two he chose, but that was of no moment, for they were
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but common warriors, to assist with the ordinary duties upon a flier, and
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to fight if need be. One of the two was kar Komak, the
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bowman. The other was not Carthoris. The Heliumite was mad with disappointment.
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He snatched his dagger from his harness, But already Astok had left the deck
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of the Chalcus, and he knew that before he could overtake him, should
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he despatch Vaskor, he would be killed by the Dusarian warriors, who now
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were thick upon the deck. With either one of the two alive, Thuvia
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was in as great danger as though both lived, it must be both.
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As vas Kor descended to the ground, Carthoris boldly followed him, nor did
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any attempt to halt him, thinking doubtless that he was one of the party.
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After him came kar Komak and the Dusarian warrior who had detailed to duty
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upon the Thuria. Carthoris walked close to the left side of the ladder.
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Now they came to the dense shadow under the side of the Thuria. It
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was very dark there, so that they had to grope for the ladder.
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Krkomak preceded the Dusarian. The latter reached upward for the swinging rounds, and
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as he did so, steel fingers closed upon his windpipe, and a steel
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blade pierced the very center of his heart. Turgin, the Panthon, was
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the last to clamber over the rail of the Thuria, drawing the rope ladder
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in after him. A moment later, the flier was rising rapidly, headed
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for the north. At the rail, kar Komak turned to speak to the
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warrior who had been detailed to accompany him. His eyes went wide as they
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rested upon the face of the young man whom he had met beside the granite
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cliffs that guarred mysterious Lothar. How had he come in place of the Dusarian.
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A quick sigh, and Carkomac turned once more to find the Thuria's Duir,
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that he might report himself for duty. Behind him followed the Panthon.
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Carthoris blessed the chance that had caused Vascor to choose the bowmen of all others,
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for had it been another Dusarian, there would have been questions to answer
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as to the whereabouts of the warrior who lay so quietly in the field beyond
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the residence of hal Vas, Duar of the Southern Road, And Carthoris had
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no answer to that question other than his sword point, which alone was scarce
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adequate to convince the entire crew of the Thuria. The journey to Dusar seemed
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interminable to the impatient Carthoris, though as a matter of fact it was quickly
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accomplished. Some time before they reached their destination, they met and spoke with
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another Dusarian war flier. From it they learned that a great battle was soon
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to be fought southeast of Dusar. The combined navies of Dusar, Ptarth,
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and Coool had been intercepted in their advance toward Helium by the mighty Heliumitic Navy,
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the most formidable upon Barsoom, not alone in numbers and armament, but
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in the training and courage of its officers and warriors, and the Zidadaric proportions
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of many of its monster battleships. Not for many a day had there been
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the promise of such a battle. Four Jeddaks were in direct command of their
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own fleets, Kulan Tith of Cowol, Fuvon Din of Ptarth, and Nudus
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of Dusar upon one side, while upon the other was Tardos Moor's Jeddak of
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Helium. With the latter was John Carter, Warlord of Mars. From the
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far north, another force was moving south across the Barrier cliffs. The new
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navy of Talu, Jeddak of Okar, coming in response to the call from
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the war Lord. Upon the decks of the sullen ships of war, black
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bearded yellow men looked over eagerly toward the south. Gorgeous were they in their
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splendid cloaks of oorloc and apt fierce, formidable fighters. From the hot house
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cities of the frozen North, and from the distant South, from the Sea
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of Omean and the cliffs of Gold, from the temples of the Ferns and
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the garden of Isis. Other thousands sailed into the north at the call of
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the great Man that they had all learned to respect and respecting love. Pacing
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the flagship of this mighty fleet, second only to the navy of Helium,
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was the Ebon Zodar Jeddak of the First Born, his heart beating strong in
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anticipation of the coming moment when he should hurl his savage crews and the weight
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of his mighty ships upon the enemies of the war Lord. But would these
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allies reach the theater of war in time to be of avail to Helium,
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or would Helium need them. Carthoris, with the other members of the crew
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of the Thuria heard the gossip in the rumors. None knew of the two
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fleets, the one from the south and the other from the north, that
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were coming to support the ships of Helium, and all of Dusar were convinced
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that nothing now could save the ancient power of Helium from being wiped forever from
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the upper air of Barsoom. Carthoris, too loyal son of Helium that he
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was, felt that even his beloved navy might not be able to cope successfully
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with the combined forces of three great powers. Now, the Thuria touched the
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landing stage above the palace of Astok. Hurriedly, the Prince and Vaskor disembarked
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and entered the drop that would carry them to the lower levels of the palace.
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Close beside it was another drop that was utilized by common warriors. Carthoris
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touched Karkomac upon the arm. Come, he whispered, You are my only
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friend among a nation of enemies. Will you stand by me to the death?
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Replied Krkomac. The two approached the drop, a slave operated it.
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Where are your passes, he asked. Carthoris fumbled in his pocket pouch,
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as though in search of them. At the same time, entering the cage.
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Krkomak followed him, closing the door. The slave did not start the
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cage downward. Every second counted. They must reach the lower level as soon
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as possible after Astok and vas kor if they would know whither the two went.
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Carthoris turned suddenly upon the slave, hurling him to the opposite side of
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the cage. Bind and gag him, Karkomak, he cried. Then he
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grasped the control lever, and as the cage shot downward at sickening speed,
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the bowman grappled with the slave. Carthoris could not leave the control to assist
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his companion, for should they touch the lowest level at the speed at which
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they were going, all would be dashed to instant death. Below him,
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he could see the top of Astok's cage in the parallel shaft, and he
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reduced the speed of his to that of the other. The slave commenced to
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scream. Silence him, cried Carthoris. A moment later, a limp form
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crumpled to the floor of the cage. He is silenced, said Karkomac.
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Carthoris brought the cage to a sudden stop at one of the higher levels of
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the palace. Opening the door, he grasped the still form of the slave
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and pushed it out upon the floor. Then he banged the gate and resumed
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the downward drop. Once more he sighted the top of the cage that held
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Astok in Vaskor. An instant later it had stopped, and as he brought
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his car to a halt, he saw the two men disappear through one of
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the exits of the corridor beyond end of chapter thirteen,