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

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Chapter five. The fair race downward along a smooth, broad floor led the
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strange tunnel. For such Carthoris was now convinced was the nature of the shaft
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he at first had thought but a cave. Before him, he could hear
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the occasional low moans of the banth, and presently, from behind came a
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similar uncanny note. Another banth had entered a passageway on his trail. His
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position was anything but pleasant. His eyes could not penetrate the darkness, even
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to the distinguishing of his hand before his face, while the banths he knew,
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could see quite well, though absence of light were utter. No other
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sounds came to his ears than the dismal, bloodthirsty moanings of the beast ahead
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and the beast behind. The tunnel had led straight from where he had entered
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it, beneath the side of the rock furthest from the unscalable cliffs toward the
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mighty barrier that had baffled him so long. Now it was running almost level,
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and presently he noted a gradual ascent. The beast behind him was gaining
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upon him, crowding him perilously close upon the heels of the beast in front.
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Presently he should have to do battle with one or both. More firmly
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he gripped his weapon. Now he could hear the breathing of the banth at
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his heels. Not for much longer could he delay the encounter. Long since
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he had become assured that the tunnel led beneath the cliffs to the opposite side
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of the barrier, and he had hoped that he might reach the moonlit open
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before being compelled to grapple with either of the monsters. The sun had been
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setting as he entered the tunnel, and the way had been sufficiently long to
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assure him that darkness now reigned upon the world without he glanced behind him,
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Blazing out of the darkness, seemingly not ten paces behind, glared two flaming
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points of fire. As the savage eyes met his, the beast emitted a
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frightful roar, and then he charged to face that savage mountain of onrushing ferocity,
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to stand unshaken before the hideous fangs that he knew were barred in slavering
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bloodthirstiness, though he could not see them, required nerves of steel, But
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of such were the nerves of Carthoris, of helium. He had the brute's
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eyes to guide his point, and as true as the sword hand of his
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mighty sire, he guided the keen point to one of those blazing orbs,
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even as he leaped lightly to one side. With a hideous scream of pain
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and rage, the wounded banth hurtled, clawing past him. Then it turned
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to charge once more, but this time Carthoris saw but a single gleaming point
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of fiery hate directed upon him. Again, the needle point met its flashing
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target again. The horrid cry of the stricken beast reverberated through the rocky tunnel,
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shocking in its torture laden shrillness, deafening in its terrific volume. But
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now as it turned to charge again, the man had no guide whereby to
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direct his point. He heard the scraping of the padded feet upon the rocky
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floor. He knew the thing was charging down upon him once again, but
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he could see nothing. Yet if he could not see his antagonist, neither
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could his antagonist now see him. Leaping as he thought, to the exact
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center of the tunnel, he held his sword point ready on a line with
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the beast's chest. It was all that he could do, hoping that chance
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might send the point into the savage heart as he went down beneath the great
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box. So quickly was the thing over that Carthoris could scarce believe his senses
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as the mighty body rushed madly past him. Either he had not placed himself
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in the center of the tunnel, or else the blinded banth had aired in
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its calculation. However, the huge body missed him by a foot, and
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the creature continued on down the tunnel, as though in pursuit of the prey
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that had eluded him. Carthoris too followed the same direction. Nor was it
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long before his heart was gladdened by the sight of the moonlit exit from the
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long dark passage. Before him lay a deep hollow entirely surrounded by gigantic cliffs.
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The surface of the valley was dotted with enormous trees, a strange sight
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so far away from a Martian waterway. The ground itself was clothed in brilliant
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scarlet sward, picked out with innumerable patches of gorgeous wild flowers. Beneath the
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glorious effulgence of the two moons, the scene was one of indescribable loveliness,
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tinged with the weirdness of strange enchantment. For only an instant, however,
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did his gaze rest upon the natural beauties outspread before him. Almost immediately they
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were riveted upon the figure of a great banth standing across the carcass of a
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new killed thoat. The huge beast, his tawny mane bristling around his hideous
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head, kept his eyes fixed upon another banth that charged erratically hither and thither,
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with shrill screams of pain and horrid roars of hate and rage. Carthoris
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quickly guessed that the second brute was the one he had blinded during the fight
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in the tunnel. But it was the dead thoat that centered his interest more
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than either of these savage carnivores. The harness was still upon the body of
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the huge Martian mount, and Carthoris could not doubt but that this was the
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very animal upon which the Green warrior had borne away Thuvia of Ptarth. But
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where were the rider and his prisoner. The Prince of Helium shuddered as he
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thought upon the probability of the fate that had overtaken them. Human flesh is
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the food most craved by the fierce Barsoomian lion, whose great carcass and giant
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fuse require enormous quantities of meat to sustain them. Two human bodies would have
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but whetted the creature's appetite, and that he had killed and eaten the Green
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Man and the Red Girl seemed only too likely to Carthoris. He had left
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the carcass of the mighty thoat to be devoured after having consumed the more toothsome
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portion of his banquet. Now the sightless banth, in its savage, aimless
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charging and counter charging, had passed beyond the kill of its fellow, and
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there the light breeze that was blowing wafted the scent of new blood to its
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nostrils. No longer were its movements erratic. With outstretched tail and foaming jaws,
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it charged straight as an arrow for the body of the thoat, and
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the mighty creature of destruction that stood with forepaws upon the slate gray side,
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waiting to defend its meat. When the charging band was twenty paces from the
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dead thoat, the killer gave vent to its hideous challenge, and with a
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mighty spring, leaped forward to meet it. The battle that ensued awed.
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Even the warlike Barsoomian, the mad rending, the hideous and deafening roaring,
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the implacable savagery of the blood stained beasts held him in the paralysis of fascination.
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And when it was over, and the two creatures, their heads and
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shoulders torn to ribbons, lay with their dead jaws still buried in each other's
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bodies, Carthoris tore himself from the spell only by an effort of the will.
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Hurrying to the side of the dead Thoat, he searched for traces of
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the girl he feared had shared the Thoat's fate, But nowhere could he discover
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anything to confirm his fears. With slightly lightened heart, he started out to
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explore the valley, but scarce a dozen steps had he taken when the glistening
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of a jeweled babble lying in the sward caught his eye. As he picked
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it up, his first glance showed him that it was a woman's hair ornament,
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and emblazoned upon it was the insignia of the Royal House of Ptarth.
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But sinister discovery, blood still wet splotched the magnificent jewels of the setting Carthoris
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half choked as the dire possibilities which the thing suggested presented themselves to his imagination.
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Yet he could not would not leave it. It was impossible that that
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irradiant creature could have met so hideous an end. It was incredible that the
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glorious Thuvia should ever cease to be upon his already jewel incrusted harness to the
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strap that crossed his great chest, beneath which beat his loyal heart, Carthoris,
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Prince of Helium, fastened the gleaming thing that Thuvia of Ptarth had worn,
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and wearing had made wholly to the Heliumite. Then he proceeded upon his
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way into the heart of the unknown valley. For the most part, the
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giant trees shut off his view to any but the most limited distances. Occasionally
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he caught glimpses of the towering hills that bounded the valley upon every side,
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and though they stood out clear beneath the light of the two moons, he
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knew that they were far off, and that the extent of the valley was
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immense. For half the night he continued his search, until presently he was
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brought to a sudden halt by the distant sound of squealing thoats. Guided by
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the noise of these habitually angry beasts, he stole forward through the trees,
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until at last he came upon a level, treeless plain, in the center
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of which a mighty city reared, its burnished domes and vividly colored towers.
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About the walled city, the red man saw a huge encampment of the green
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warriors of the dead Sea bottoms, and as he let his eyes rove carefully
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over the city, he realized that here was no deserted metropolis of a dead
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past. But what city could it be? His studies had taught him that
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in this little explored portion of Barsoom, the fierce tribe of Torquaesian green men
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ruled supreme, and that as yet no Red man had succeeded in piercing to
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the heart of their domain to return and again to the world of civilization.
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The men of Torcas had perfected huge guns with which their uncanny marksmanship had permitted
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them to repulse the few determined efforts that near by Red nations had made to
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explore their country by means of battle fleets of airships. That he was within
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the boundary of Torcas. Carthoris was sure, but that there existed there such
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a wondrous city. He had never dreamed, nor had the chronicles of the
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past even hinted at such a possibility, For the Torkasians were known to live,
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as did the other green men of Mars, within the deserted cities that
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dotted the dying planet. Nor ever had any green horde built so much as
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a single edifice other than the low walled incubators where their young are hatched by
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the sun's heat. The encircling camp of Green warriors lay about five hundred yards
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from the city's walls. Between it and the city was no semblance of breastwork
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or other protection against rifle or cannon fire. Yet distinctly now in the light
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of the rising sun, Carthoris could see many figures moving along the summit of
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the high wall and upon the rooftops beyond. That they were beings like himself,
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he was sure, though they were at too great a distance for him
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to be positive that they were red men. Almost immediately after sunrise, the
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Green warriors commenced firing upon the little figures upon the wall. To Carthoris's surprise,
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the fire was not returned, but presently the last of the city's inhabitants
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had sought shelter from the weird marksmanship of the green men, and no further
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sign of life was visible beyond the wall. Then Carthoris, keeping within the
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shelter of the trees that fringed the plain, began circling the rear of the
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besiegers line, being against hope that somewhere he would obtain sight of Thuvia of
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Ptarth, for even now he could not believe that she was dead. That
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he was not discovered was a miracle, for mounted warriors were constantly riding back
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and forth from the camp into the forest. But the long day wore on,
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and still he continued his seemingly fruitless quest, until near sunset he came
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opposite a mighty gate in the city's western wall. Here seemed to be the
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principal force of the attacking horde. Here a great platform had been erected,
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whereupon Carthoris could see squatting a huge green warrior, surrounded by others of his
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kind. This, then, must be the notorious Hortan Gur Jeddak of Torquas,
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the fierce old ogre of the southwestern hemisphere, as only for a Jeddak
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are platforms raised in temporary camps or upon the march by the Green hordes of
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Barsoom. As the Heliumite watched, he saw another Green warrior push his way
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toward the rostrum. Beside him, he dragged a captive, and as the
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surrounding warriors parted to let the two pass, Carthoris caught a fleeting glimpse of
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the prisoner. His heart leaped, and rejoicing Thuvia of Ptarth still lived.
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It was with difficulty that Carthoris restrained the impulse to rush forward to the side
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of the Parthian princess. But in the end his better judgment prevailed, for
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in the face of such odds, he knew that he should have been but
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throwing away uselessly any future opportunity he might have to succor her. He saw
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her dragged to the foot of the rostrum. He saw hortan Gur address her.
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He could not hear the creature's words nor Thuvia's reply, but it must
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have angered the Green monster, for Carthoris saw him leap toward the prisoner,
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striking a cruel blow across the face with his metal banded arm. Then,
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the son of John Carter, Jeddak of Jeddak's warlord of Barsoom, went mad.
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The old blood red haze through which his sire had glared at countless foes,
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floated before his eyes. His half earthly muscles, responding quickly to his
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will, sent him in enormous leaps and bounds toward the green monster that had
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struck the woman he loved. The Torquasians were not looking in the direction of
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the forest. All eyes had been upon the figure of the girl and their
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Jeddak. And loud was the hideous laughter that rang out in appreciation of the
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wit of the Green Emperor's reply to his prisoner's appeal for liberty. Carthoris had
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covered about half the distance between the forest and the Green warriors when a new
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factor succeeded in still further directing the attention of the latter from him. Upon
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a high tower within the beleaguered city, a man appeared from his upturned mouth
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there issued a series of frightful shrieks, uncanny shrieks that swept shrill and terrifying
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across the city's walls, over the heads of the besiegers, and out across
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the forest to the uttermost confines of the valley. Once, twice thrice the
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fearsome sound smote upon the ears of the listening green men, and then,
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far far off across the broad woods came sharp and clear from the distance,
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an answering shriek. It was but the first. From every point rose similar
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savage cries, until the world seemed to tremble to their reverberations. The Green
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warriors looked nervously this way, and that they knew not fear as earthmen may
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know it. But in the face of the unusual, their wonted self assurance
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deserted them. And then the great gate in the city wall, opposite the
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platform of hortan Gur, swung suddenly wide from it issued as strange a sight
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as Carthoris ever had witnessed, though at the moment he had time to cast
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but a single fleeting glance at the tall bowmen emerging through the portal behind their
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long oval shields, to note their flowing auburn hair, and to realize that
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the growling things at their side were fierce Barsoomian lions. Then he was in
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the midst of the astonished Torquasians with drawn long sword, he was among them,
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and to Thuvia of Ptarth, whose startled eyes were the first to fall
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upon him, it seemed that she was looking upon John Carter himself. So
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strangely similar to the fighting of the father was that of the son, and
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to the famous fighting smile of the Virginian was the resemblance true, and the
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sword arm Ah the subtle and the speed. All about was turmoil and confusion.
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Green warriors were leaping to the backs of their restive, squealing thoats.
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Calots were growling out their savage gutturals, whining to be at the throats of
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the oncoming foemen. Thar Ban and another by the side of the rostrum had
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been the first to note the coming of Carthoris, and it was with them
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he battled for possession of the red girl, while the others hastened to meet
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the host. Advancing from the beleaguered city, Carthoris sought both to defend Thuvia
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of Ptarth and reached the side of the hideous horton Gur that he might avenge
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the blow the creature had struck the girl. He succeeded in reaching the rostrum
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over the dead bodies of two warriors, who had turned to join thar Ban
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and his companion in repulsing this adventurous red man. Just as Horton Gurr was
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about to leap from it to the back of his thoat, the attention of
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the Green warriors turned principally upon the bowmen advancing upon them from the city,
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and upon the savage banths that paced beside them, cruel beasts of war,
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infinitely more terrible than their own savage calots. As Carthoris leaped to the rostrum,
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he drew Thubia up beside him, and then he turned upon the departing
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Jeddak with an angry challenge and a sword thrust. As the Heliumite's point pricked
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his green hide, Horton Gurr turned upon his adversary with a snarl, but
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at the same instant two of his chieftains called to him to hasten, for
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the charge of the fair skinned inhabitants of the city was developing into a more
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serious matter than the Torcasians had anticipated. Instead of remaining to battle with the
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red Man, Horton gur promised him his attention. After he had disposed of
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the presumptuous citizens of the walled city, and leaping astride his thoat, galloped
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off to meet the rapidly advancing bowmen. The The other warriors quickly followed their
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jeddak, leaving Thuvia and Carthoris alone upon the platform. Between them and the
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city raged a terrific battle. The fair skinned warriors, armed only with their
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long bows and a kind of short handled war acts, or almost helpless beneath
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the savage mounted green men at close quarters, but at a distance their sharp
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arrows did fully as much execution as the radium projectiles of the green men.
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But if the warriors themselves were outclassed, not so their savage companions, the
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fierce banths. Scarce had the two lines come together when hundreds of these appalling
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creatures had leaped among the Torcasians, dragging warriors from their thoats, dragging down
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the huge thoats themselves, and bringing consternation to all before them. The numbers
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of the citizenry, too, was to their advantage, for it seemed that
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Scarce a warrior, fell, but his place was taken by a score more.
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In such a constant stream did they pour from the city's great gait,
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And so it came, what with the ferocity of the baths and the numbers
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of the bowmen, that at last the Torcasians fell back until presently the platform
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upon which stood Carthoris and Thuvia lay directly in the center of the fight.
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That neither was struck by a bullet or an arrow seemed a miracle to both.
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But at last the tide had rolled completely past them, so that they
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were alone between the fighters and the city, except for a dying and the
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dead, and a score or so of growling banths, less well trained than
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their fellows, who prowled along the corpses seeking meat. To Carthoris, the
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strangest part of the battle had been the terrific toll taken by the bowmen with
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their relatively puny weapons. Nowhere that he could see was there a single wounded
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gray man, but the corpses of their dead lay thick upon the field of
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battle. Death seemed to follow instantly the slightest pinprick of a bowman's arrow,
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nor apparently did one ever miss its goal. There could be but one explanation.
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The missiles were poisoned tipped. Presently, the sounds of conflict died in
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the distant forest. Quiet reigned, broken only by the growling of the devouring
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banths. Carthoris turned towards Thuvia of Ptarth, as yet neither had spoken.
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Where are we, Thuvia? He asked. The girl looked at him questioningly.
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His very presence had seemed to proclaim a guilty knowledge of her abduction.
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How else might he have known the destination of the flier that brought her?
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Who should know better than the Prince of Helium, she asked? In return?
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Did he not come hither of his own free will from Anthora? Came
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voluntarily upon the trail of a green man who had stolen you Thubia, he
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replied. But from the time I left Helium until I woke above Anthor,
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I thought myself bound for Ptarth. It had been intimated that I had guilty
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knowledge of your abduction, he explained simply, And I was hastening to the
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Jeddak, your father, to convince him of the falsity of the charge,
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and to give my service to your recovery. Before I left Helium, some
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one tampered with my compass so that it bore me to Anthor instead of to
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Ptarth. That is all you believe me. But the warriors who stole me
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from the garden, she exclaimed. After we arrived at Anthor, they wore
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the metal of the Prince of Helium. When they took me. They were
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trapped into Sorian harness. There seemed but a single explanation. Whoever dared the
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outrage wished to put the onus upon another should he be detected in the act,
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But once safely away from Ptarth, he felt safe in having him as
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minions return to their own harnesses. You believe that I did this thing,
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Thuvia, he asked, ah Carthoris, she replied sadly, I do not
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wish to believe it, but when everything pointed to you, even then I
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would not believe it. I did not do it, Thuvia, he said.
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But let me be entirely honest with you. As much as I love
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your father, as much as I respect Coulon Tith, to whom you are
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betrothed, as well as I know the frightful consequences that must have followed such
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an act of mine, hurling into war as it would three of the greatest
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nations of Barsoom. Yet notwithstanding all this, I should not have hesitated to
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take you thus, Thuvia of Ptarth, had you even hinted that it would
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not have displeased you, But you did nothing of the kind. And so
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I am here not in my own service, but in yours, and in
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the service of the man to whom you are promised to save you for him,
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if it lies within the power of man to do so, he concluded,
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almost bitterly. Thuvia of Ptarth looked into his face. For several moments.
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Her breast was rising and falling, as though to some resistless emotion.
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She half took a step toward him, her lips parted as though to speak
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swiftly and impetuously, and then she conquered whatever had moved her. The future
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acts of the Prince of Helium, she said, coldly, must constitute the
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proof of his past honesty of purpose. Carthoris was hurt by the girl's tone
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as much as by the doubt as to his integrity which her words implied.
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He had half hoped that she might hint that his love would be acceptable.
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Certainly there was due him at least a little gratitude for his recent acts in
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her behalf. But he received was cold skepticism. The Prince of Helium shrugged
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his broad shoulders. The girl noted it, and the little smile that touched
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his lips, so that it became her turn to be hurt. Of course,
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she had not meant to hurt him. He might have known that after
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what he had said, she could not do anything to encourage him. But
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he need not have made his indifference quite so palpable. The men of Helium
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were noted for their gallantry, not for boorishness. Possibly it was the earth
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blood that flowed in his veins. How could she know that the shrug was
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but Carthoris's way of attempting, by physical effort, to cast a blighting sorrow
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from his heart, or that the smile upon his lips was the fighting smile
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of his father, with which the son gave outward evidence of the determination he
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had reached to submerge his own great love in his effort to save Thuvia of
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Ptarth for another. Because he believed that she loved this other, he reverted
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to his original question, Where are we? He asked, I do not
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know, nor, I replied the girl. Those who stole me from Ptarth
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spoke among themselves of Anthor, so that I thought it possible that the ancient
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city to which they took me was the famous ruin. But where we may
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be now? I have no idea. When the bowmen return, we shall
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doubtless learn all that there is to know, said Carthoris. Let us hope
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that they prove friendly. What race may they be? Only in the most
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ancient of our legends, and in the mural paintings of the deserted cities of
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the dead Sea bottoms are depicted such a race of auburn haired, fair skinned
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people. Can it be that we have stumbled upon a surviving city of the
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past, which all Barsoom believes buried beneath the ages. Thuvia was looking toward
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the forest into which the green men and the pursuing bowmen had disappeared. From
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a great distance came the hideous cries of banths, and an occasional shot.
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It is strange that they do not return, said the girl. One would
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expect to see the wounded limping or being carried back to the city, replied
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Carthoris, with a puzzled frown. But how about the wounded nearer the city?
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Had they carried them within? Both turned their eyes toward the field between
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them and the walled city where the fighting had been most furious there were the
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banths, still growling about their hideous feast. Carthoris looked at Thuvia in astonishment.
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Then he pointed toward the field. Where are they? He whispered,
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What has become of their dead and wounded? End of Chapter five.