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06 - The God's of Mars - Edgar Rice Burroughs · Daily Sci-Fi Books

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Chapter six, The Black Pirates of Barsoom, What is it? I asked
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of the girl. For answer, she pointed to the sky. I looked,
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and there above us I saw shadowy bodies flitting hither and thither, high
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over temple, court and garden. Almost immediately flashes of light broke from these
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strange objects. There was a roar of musketry. Then answering flashes and roars
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from temple and rampart the Black Pirates of Barsoom, O Prince said Thuvia.
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In great circles. The aircraft of the marauders swept lower and lower toward the
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defending forces of the Thurns. Volley after volley they vomited upon the temple guards.
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Volley on volley crashed through the thin air toward the fleeting and elusive fliers.
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As the pirates stooped closer toward the ground, thurn soldiery poured from the
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temples into the gardens and courts. The sight of them in the open brought
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a score of fliers darting toward us from all directions. The Thens fired upon
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them through shields affixed to their rifle, But on steadily on came the grim
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black craft. They were small fliers, for the most part, built for
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two to three men. A few larger ones there were, but these kept
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high aloft, dropping bombs upon the temples from their keel batteries at length.
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With a concerted rush, evidently in response to a signal of command, the
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pirates in our immediate vicinity dashed recklessly to the ground in the very midst of
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the thern soldiery, scarcely waiting for their craft to touch the creatures manning them,
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leaped among the theurns with the fury of demons. Such fighting never had
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I witnessed its like. Before. I had thought the Green Martians the most
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ferocious warriors in the universe. But the awful abandon with which the Black Pirates
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threw themselves upon their foes transcended everything I ever before had seen. Beneath the
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brilliant light of Mars's two glorious moons, the whole scene presented itself in vivid
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distinctness. The golden haired, white skinned throat turns battling with desperate courage in
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hand to hand conflict with their ebony skinned foemen. Here a little knot of
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struggling warriors trampled a bed of gorgeous Pomalia. There the curved sword of a
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black man found the heart of a thern and left its dead foemen at the
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foot of a wondrous statue carved from a living ruby. Yonder, a dozen
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thrns pressed a single pirate back upon a bench of emerald, upon whose iridescent
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surface a strangely beautiful barsomium design was traced out in inlaid diamonds. A little
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to one side stood Thuvia the thark and Eye. The tide of battle had
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not reached us, but the fighters, from time to time swung close enough
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that we might distinctly note them. The Black pirates interest me immensely. I
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had heard vague rumors, little more than legends they were during my former life
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on Mars, but never had I seen them, nor talked with one who
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had. They were popularly supposed to inhabit the Lesser Moon, from which they
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descended upon Barsoom at long intervals. Where they visited, they wrought the most
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horrible atrocities, and when they left, carried away with them firearms and ammunition
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and young girls as prisoners. These later, the rumor had it, they
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sacrificed to some terrible god in an orgy, which ended in the eating of
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their victims. I had an excellent opportunity to examine them, as the strife
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occasionally brought now one and now another close to where I stood. They were
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large men, possibly six feet and over in height. Their features were clear
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cut and handsome in the extreme. Their eyes were well set and large,
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though a slight narrowness lent them a crafty appearance. The iris, as well
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as I could determine by moonlight, was of extreme blackness, while the eyeball
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itself was quite white and clear. The physical structure of their bodies seemed identical
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with those of the Theurns, the red men, and my own. Only
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in the color of their skin did they differ materially from us. That is,
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of the appearance of polished ebony and odd. As it may seem for
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a Southerner to say, it adds to rather than detracts from, their marvelous
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beauty. But if their bodies are divine, their hearts apparently are quite the
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reverse. Never did I witness such maligned lust for blood as these demons of
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the outer air evind in their mad battle with the Therns. All about us
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in the garden lay their sinister craft, which the Therns, for some reason
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then unaccountable to me, made no effort to injure. Now and again,
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a Black warrior would rush from a nearby temple, bearing a young woman in
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his arms, straight for his flier, he would leap, while those of
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his comrades who fought near by would rush to cover his escape. The Therns
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on their side would hasten to rescue the girl, and in an instant the
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two would be swallowed in the vortex of a moustrom of yelling devils, hacking
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and hewing at one another, like fiends incarnate. But always, it seemed,
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were the Black Pirates of Barsoom victorious, and the girl brought miraculously unharmed
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through the conflict, borne away into the outer darkness upon the deck of a
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swift flier. Fighting similar to that which surrounded us could be heard in both
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directions as far as sound carried, and Thuvia told me that the attacks of
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the Black Pirates were usually made simultaneously along the entire ribbon like domain of the
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Thurns which circles the valley door on the outer slopes of the mountains of Ortz.
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As the fighting receded from our position, for a moment. Thuvia turned
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towards me with a question. Do you understand now, o prince? She
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said, why a million warriors guard the domains of the Holy Theurns by day
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and by night. The scene you are witnessing now is but a repetition of
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what I have seen enacted a score of times during the fifteen years I have
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been prisoner here. From time immemorial, the Black pirates of Barsoom have preyed
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upon the Holy Theurns. Yet they never carry their expeditions to a point,
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as one might readily believe it was in their power to do, where the
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extermination of the Race of Thorns is threatened. It is as though they but
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utilized the race as playthings with which they satisfy their ferocious lust for fighting,
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and from whom they collect toll in arms and ammunition and imprisoners. Why don't
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they jump in and destroy these fliers, I asked, that would soon put
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a stop to the attacks, or at least the Blacks would scarce be so
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bold. Why see how perfectly unguarded they leave their craft, as though they
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were lying safe in their own hangars at home. The Theurns do not dare
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they tried it once ages ago. But the next night, and for a
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whole moon thereafter, a thousand great black battleships circled the mountains of Ortz,
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pouring tons of projectiles upon the temples, the gardens, and the courts,
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until every Thurn who was not killed was driven for safety into the subterranean galleries.
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The Thens know that they live at all only by the sufferance of the
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black men. They were near to extermination that once, and they will not
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venture risking it again. As she ceased talking, a new element was instilled
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into the conflict. It came from a source equally unlooked for by either Thurn
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or Pirate. The great bans, which we had liberated in the garden had
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evidently been awed at first by the sound of the battle, the yelling of
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the warriors, and the loud report of rifle and bomb. But now they
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must have become angered by the continuous noise and excited by the smell of new
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blood. For all of a sudden, a great form shot from a clump
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of low shrubbery into the midst of a struggling mass of humanity. A horrid
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scream of bestial rage broke from the banth as he felt warm flesh beneath his
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powerful talons. As though his cry was but a signal to the others,
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the entire great pack hurled themselves among the fighters. Panic reigned in an instant.
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Thurn and black man turned alike against the common enemy, For the bans
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showed no partiality toward either. The awful beasts bore down a hundred men by
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the mere weight of their great bodies as they hurled themselves into the thick of
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the fight. Leaping and clawing, they mowed down the warriors with their powerful
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paws, turning for an instant to rend their victims with frightful fangs. The
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scene was fascinating in its terribleness. But suddenly it came to me that we
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were wasting valuable time watching this conflict, which in itself might prove a means
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of our escape. The Terns were so engaged with their terrible assailants that now,
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if ever, escape should be comparatively easy. I turned to search for
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an opening through the contending hordes. If we could but reach the ramparts,
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we might find that the pirates somewhere had thinned the guarding forces and left a
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way open to us. To the world without. As my eyes wandered about
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the garden, the sight of the hundreds of aircraft lying unguarded around us suggested
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the simplest avenue to freedom. Why it had not occurred to me before?
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I was thoroughly familiar with the mechanism of every known make of flier on Barsoom.
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For nine years, I had sailed and fought with the navy of Helium.
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I had raced through space on the tiny one man air scout, and
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I had commanded the greatest battleship that ever had floated in the thin air of
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dying Mars. To think with me is to act. Grasping Thuvia by the
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arm, I whispered to tars Tarkas to follow me. Quickly we glided toward
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a small flier which lay furthest from the battling warriors. Another instant found us
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huddled on the tiny deck. My hand was on the starting lever. I
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pressed my thumb upon the button which controls the ray of repulsion, that splendid
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discovery of the Martians, which permits them to navigate the thin atmosphere of their
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planet in huge ships that dwarfed the dreadnoughts of our earthly navies into pitiful significance.
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The craft swayed slightly, but she did not move. Then a new
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cry of warning broke upon our ears. Turning, I saw a dozen black
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pirates dashing toward us from the melee we had been discovered. With shrieks of
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rage. The demon sprang for us with friends zi to insistence. I continued
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to press the little button, which should have sent us racing out into space,
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But still the vessel refused to budge. Then it came to me the
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reason that she would not rise. We had stumbled upon a two man flier.
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Its ray tanks were charged only with sufficient repulsive energy to lift two ordinary
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men. The Thark's great weight was anchoring us to our doom. The Blacks
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were nearly upon us. There was not an instant to be lost in hesitation
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or doubt. I pressed the button far in and locked it. Then I
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set the lever at high speed, and as the Blacks came yelling upon us,
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I slipped from the craft's deck and with drawn long sword, met the
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attack. At the same moment, a girl's shriek rang out behind me,
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and an instant later, as the blacks fell upon me, I heard far
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above my head and faintly Enthuviau's voice, My prince O, my prince,
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I would rather remain and die with. But the rest was lost in the
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noise of my assailants. I knew, though, that my ruse had worked,
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and that temporarily at least Thuvia and Tars Tarkas were safe, and the
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means of escape was theirs. For a moment, it seemed that I could
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not withstand the weight of numbers that confronted me. But again, as on
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so many other occasions when I had been called upon to face fearful odds upon
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this planet of warriors and fierce beasts, I found that my earthly strength so
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far transcended that of my opponents, that the odds were not so greatly against
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me as they appeared. My seething blade wove a net of death about me.
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For an instant. The Blacks pressed close to reach me with their shorter
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swords, but presently they gave back, and the esteem in which they suddenly
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had learned to hold my sword arm was writ large upon each countenance. I
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knew, though, that it was but a question of minutes before their greater
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numbers would wear me down or get around my guard I must go down eventually
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to certain death before them. I shuddered at the thought of it. Dying
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thus in this terrible place, where no word of my end ever could reach,
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my dejah Thoris, dying at the hands of nameless black men in the
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gardens of the cruel thurns. Then my old time spirit reasserted itself. The
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fighting blood of my Virginian sires coursed hot through my veins. The fierce blood
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lust and the joy of battle surged over me. The fighting smile that has
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brought consternation to a thousand foemen touched my lips. I put the thought of
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death out of my mind and fell upon my antagonists with fury. That those
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who escaped were remember to their dying day, that others would press to the
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support of those who faced me. I knew so. Even as I fought,
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I kept my wits at work, searching for an avenue of escape.
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It came from an unexpected quarter, out of the black night. Behind me.
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I had just disarmed a huge fellow who had given me a desperate struggle,
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and for a moment the black stood back for a breathing spell. They
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eyed me with malignant fury, yet withal there was a touch of respect in
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their demeanor. Thurne said, one, you fight like a tor but for
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your detestable yellow hair and your white skin, you would be an honor to
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the first born of Barsoom. I am no thern, I said, and
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was about to explain that I was from another world, thinking that by patching
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a truce with these fellows and fighting with them against the Thurns, I might
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enlist their aid in regaining my liberty. But just at that moment, a
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heavy object smote me, a resounding whack between my shoulders that nearly felled me
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to the ground. As I turned to meet this new enemy, an object
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passed over my shoulder, striking one of my assailants squarely in the face and
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knocking him senseless to the sward. At the same instant, I saw that
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the thing that had struck us was the trailing anchor of a rather fair sized
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air vessel, possibly a ten man cruiser. The ship was floating slowly above
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us, not more than fifty feet over our heads. Instantly, the one
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chance for escape that it offered presented itself to me. The vessel was slowly
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rising, and now the anchor was beyond the block who faced me, and
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several feet above their heads. With a bound that left them gaping in wide
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eyed astonishment, I sprang completely over them. A second leap carried me just
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high enough to grasp the now rapidly receding anchor. But I was successful,
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and there I hung by one hand, dragging through the branches of the higher
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vegetation of the gardens, while my late Foemen shrieked and howled beneath me.
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Presently the vessel veered toward the west, and then swung gracefully to the south.
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In another instant, I was carried beyond the crest of the golden cliffs,
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out over the valley door, where six thousand feet below me the lossy,
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of course, lay shimmering in the moonlight. Carefully, I climbed to
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a sitting posture across the anchor's arms. I wondered if, by chance the
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vessel might be deserted, I hoped so, or possibly it might belong to
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a friendly people and have wandered by accident almost within the clutches of the pirates
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and the theerns. The fact that it was retreating from the scene of battle
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lent color to the hypothesis. But I decided to know positively and at once,
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so with the greatest caution, I commenced to climb slowly up the anchor
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chain towards the deck above me. One hand had just reached for the vessel's
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rail and found it when a fierce black face was thrust over the side,
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and eyes filled with triumphant hate looked into mine. End of Chapter six