seemed interminable, but they did not. We made ourselves as comfortable
as possible upon the floor, our backs against one of the walls, and,
leaning close together so that we might converse in low whispers, we
found more entertainment than I should have guessed possible, both
in our conversation and in the long silences that broke it, so that
it really did not seem a long time at all before the panel was swung
open and we saw Phao in the subdued light of the apartment beyond. She
motioned us to follow her, and, in silence, we obeyed. The corridor
beyond the chamber of Yo Seno was deserted, as also was the ramp
leading to the level below and the corridor upon which it opened.
Fortune seemed to favor us at every step and there was a prayer of
thanksgiving upon my lips as Phao pushed open the door leading into the
apartment of the prince and motioned us to enter.
But at the same instant my heart sank within me, for, as I entered the
apartment with Tavia, I saw warriors standing upon either side of the
room awaiting us. With an exclamation of warning I drew Tavia behind
me and backed quickly toward the door, but as I did so I heard a rush
of feet and the clank of accoutrements in the corridor behind me, and,
casting a quick glance over my shoulder, I saw other warriors running
from the doorway of an apartment upon the opposite side of the corridor.
We were surrounded. We were lost, and my first thought was that Phao
had betrayed us, leading us into this trap from which there could be no
escape. They hustled us back into the room and surrounded us, and for
the first time I saw Yo Seno. He stood there, a sneering grin upon his
face, and but for the fact that Tavia had assured me that he had not
harmed her I should have leaped upon him there, though a dozen swords
had been at my vitals the next instant.
"So!" sneered Yo Seno. "You thought to fool me, did you? Well, I am not
so easily fooled. I guessed the truth and I followed you through the
corridor and overheard all your plans as you discussed them with the
woman, Tavia. We have you all now," and turning to one of the warriors,
he motioned to the closet upon the opposite side of the chamber. "Fetch
the other," he commanded.
The fellow crossed to the door and, opening it, revealed Nur An lying
bound and gagged upon the floor.
"Cut his bonds and remove the gag," ordered Yo Seno. "It is too late
now for him to thwart my plans by giving the others a warning."
Nur An came toward us, with a firm step, his head high and a glance of
haughty contempt for our captors.
The four of us stood facing Yo Seno, the sneer upon whose face had been
replaced by a glare of hatred.
"You have been sentenced to die The Death," he said. "It is the death
for spies. No more terrible punishment can be inflicted. Could there
be, it would be meted to you two," as he looked first at me and then at
Nur An, "that you might suffer more for the murder of our two comrades."
So they had found the warriors we had dispatched. Well, what of it?
Evidently it had not rendered our position any worse than it had been
before. We were to die The Death and that was the worst that they could
accord us.
"Have you anything to say?" demanded Yo Seno.
"We still live!" I exclaimed, and laughed in his face.
"Before long you will be beseeching your first ancestors for death,"
hissed the keeper of the keys, "but you will not have death too soon,
and remember that no one knows how long it takes to die The Death. We
cannot add to your physical suffering, but for the torment of your mind
let me remind you that we are sending you to The Death without letting
you know what the fate of your accomplices will be," and he nodded
toward Tavia and Phao.
That was a nice point, well chosen. He could not have hit upon any
means more certain to inflict acute torture upon me than this, but I
would not give him the satisfaction of witnessing my true emotion, and
so, once again, I laughed in his face. His patience had about reached
the limit of its endurance, for he turned abruptly to a padwar of the
guard and ordered him to remove us at once.
As we were hustled from the room, Nur An called a brave good-bye to
Phao.
"Good-bye, Tavia!" I cried, "and remember that we still live."
"We still live, Hadron of Hastor!" she called back. "We still live!"
and then she was swept from my view as we were pushed along down the
corridor.
Down ramp after ramp we were conducted to the uttermost depths of the
palace pits and then into a great chamber where I saw Haj Osis sitting
upon a throne, surrounded again by his chiefs and his courtiers as
he had been upon the occasion that he had interviewed me. Opposite
the Jed, and in the middle of the chamber, hung a great iron cage,
suspended from a heavy block set in the ceiling. Into this cage we were
roughly pushed; the door was closed and secured with a large lock. I
wondered what it was all about and what this had to do with The Death,
and while I wondered a dozen men pushed a huge trap door from beneath
the cage. A rush of cold, clammy air enveloped us and I experienced a
chill that seemed to enter my marrow, as though I lay in the cold arms
of death. Hollow moans and groans came faintly to my ears and I knew
that we were above the pits where The Death lay.
No word was spoken within the chamber, but at a signal from Haj Osis
strong men lowered the cage slowly into the aperture beneath us. Here
the cold and the damp were more obvious and penetrating than before,
while the ghastly sounds appeared to redouble in volume.
Down, down we slid into an abyss of darkness. The horror of the silence
in the chamber above was forgotten in the horror of the pandemonium of
uncanny sounds that rose from beneath.
How far we were lowered thus I may not even guess, but to Nur An it
seemed at least a thousand feet and then we commenced to detect a
slight luminosity about us. The moaning and the groaning had become a
constant roar. As we approached, it seemed less like moans and groans
and more like the sound of wind and rushing waters.
Suddenly, without the slightest warning, the bottom of the cage, which
evidently must have been hinged upon one side, and held by a catch that
could be sprung from above, swung downward. It happened so quickly that
we hardly had time for conjecture before we were plunged into rushing
water.
As I rose to the surface I discovered that I could see. Wherever we
were, it was not shrouded in impenetrable darkness, but was lighted
dimly.
Almost immediately Nur An's head bobbed up at arm's length from me. A
strong current was bearing us onward and I realized at once that we
were in the grip of a great underground river, one of those to which
the remaining waters of dying Barsoom have receded. In the distance I
descried a shoreline dimly visible in the subdued light, and, shouting
to Nur An to follow me, I struck out toward it. The water was cold, but
not sufficiently so to alarm me and I had no doubt but that we would
reach the shore.
By the time that we had attained our goal and crawled out upon the
rocky shore, our eyes had become accustomed to the dim light of the
interior, and now, with astonishment, we gazed about us. What a vast
cavern! Far, far above us its ceiling was discernible in the light of
the minute radium particles with which the rock that formed its walls
and ceiling was impregnated, but the opposite bank of the rushing
torrent was beyond the range of our vision.
"So this is The Death!" exclaimed Nur An.
"I doubt if they know what it is themselves," I replied. "From the
roaring of the river and the moaning of the wind, they have conjured
something horrible in their own imaginations."
"Perhaps the greatest suffering that the victim must endure lies in
his anticipation of what awaits him in these seemingly horrid depths,"
suggested Nur An, "whereas the worst that realization might bring would
be death by drowning."
"Or by starvation," I suggested.
Nur An nodded. "Nevertheless," he said, "I wish I might return just
long enough to mock them and witness their disappointment when they
find that The Death is not so horrible after all."
"What a mighty river," he added after a moment's silence. "Could it be
a tributary of Iss?"
"Perhaps it is Iss herself," I said.
"Then we are bound upon the last long pilgrimage down to the lost sea
of Korus in the valley Dor," said Nur An gloomily. "It may be a lovely
place, but I do not wish to go there yet."
"It is a place of horror," I replied.
"Hush," he cautioned; "that is sacrilege."
"It is sacrilege no longer since John Carter and Tars Tarkas snatched
the veil of secrecy from the valley Dor and disposed of the myth of
Issus, Goddess of Life Eternal." Even after I had told him the whole
tragic story of the false gods of Mars, Nur An remained skeptical, so
closely are the superstitions of religion woven into every fiber of our
being.
We were both a trifle fatigued after our battle with the strong current
of the river, and perhaps, too, we were suffering from reaction from
the nervous shock of the ordeal through which we had passed. So we
remained there, resting upon the rocky shore of the river of mystery.
Eventually our conversation turned to what was uppermost in the minds
of both and yet which each hesitated to mention--the fate of Tavia and
Phao.
"I wish that they, too, had been sentenced to The Death," I said, "for
then at least we might be with them and protect them."
"I am afraid that we shall never see them again," said Nur An gloomily.
"What a cruel fate that I should have found Phao only to lose her again
irretrievably so quickly."
"It is indeed a strange trick of fate that after Tul Axtar stole her
from you, he should have lost her too, and then that you should find
her in Tjanath."
He looked at me with a slightly puzzled expression for a moment and
then his face cleared. "Phao is not the woman of whom I told you in
the dungeon at Tjanath," he said. "Phao I loved long before; she was
my first love. After I lost her I thought that I never could care for
a woman again, but this other one came into my life and, knowing that
Phao was gone forever, I found some consolation in my new love, but I
realize now that it was not the same, that no love could ever displace
that which I felt for Phao."
"You lost her irretrievably once before," I reminded him, "but you
found her again; perhaps you will find her once more."
"I wish that I might share your optimism," he said.
"We have little else to buoy us up," I reminded him.
"You are right," he said, and then with a laugh, added, "we still live!"
Presently, feeling rested, we set out along the shore in the direction
that the river ran, for we had decided that that would be our course
if for no other reason than that it would be easier going down hill
than up. Where it would lead, we had not the slightest idea; perhaps
to Korus; perhaps to Omean, the buried sea where lay the ships of the
First Born.
Over tumbled rock masses we clambered and along level stretches of
smooth gravel we pursued our rather aimless course, knowing not whither
we were going, having no goal toward which to strive. There was some
vegetation, weird and grotesque, but almost colorless for want of
sunlight. There were tree-like plants with strange, angular branches
that snapped off at the lightest touch, and as the trees did not look
like trees, there were blossoms that did not look like flowers. It was
a world as unlike the outer world as the figments of imagination are
unlike realities.
But whatever musing upon the flora of this strange land I may have been
indulging in was brought to a sudden termination as we rounded the
shoulder of a jutting promontory and came face to face with as hideous
a creature as ever I had laid my eyes upon. It was a great white lizard
with gaping jaws large enough to engulf a man at a single swallow. At
sight of us it emitted an angry hiss and advanced menacingly toward us.
Being unarmed and absolutely at the mercy of any creature that attacked
us, we pursued the only plan that our intelligence could dictate--we
retreated--and I am not ashamed to admit that we retreated rapidly.
Running quickly around the end of the promontory, we turned sharply up
the bank away from the river. The bottom of the cavern rose sharply
and as I clambered upward I glanced behind me occasionally to note
the actions of our pursuer. He was now in plain sight, having followed
us around the end of the promontory and there he stood looking about
as though in search of us. Though we were not far from him, he did
not seem to see us, and I soon became convinced that his eyesight was
faulty; but not wishing to depend upon this I kept on climbing until
presently we came to the top of the promontory, and, looking down
upon the other side, I saw a considerable stretch of smooth gravel,
stretching out into the dim distance along the river shore. If we could
clamber down the opposite side of the barrier and reach this level
stretch of gravel, I felt that we might escape the attentions of the
huge monster. A final glance at him showed him still standing, peering
first in one direction and then in another as though in search of us.
Nur An had followed close behind me and now together we slipped over
the edge of the escarpment, and, though the rough rocks scratched
us severely, we finally reached the gravel below, whereupon, having
eluded our menacer, we set out upon a brisk run down the river. We had
covered scarcely more than fifty paces when Nur An stumbled over an
obstacle and as I stooped to give him a hand up, I saw that the thing
that had tripped him was the rotting harness of a warrior and a moment
later I saw the hilt of a sword protruding from the gravel. Seizing
it, I wrenched it from the ground. It was a good long sword and I may
tell you that the feel of it in my hand did more to restore my self
confidence than aught else that might have transpired. Being made of
non-corrosive metal, as are all Barsoomian weapons, it remained as
sound today as the moment that it had been abandoned by its owner.
"Look," said Nur An, pointing, and there at a little distance we saw
another harness and another sword. This time there were two, a long
sword and a short sword, and these Nur An took. No longer did we run. I
have always felt that there is little upon Barsoom that two well-armed
warriors need run from.
As we continued along our way across the level stretch of gravel we
sought to solve the mystery of these abandoned weapons, a mystery
that was still further heightened by our discovery of many more. In
some cases the harness had rotted away entirely, leaving nothing but
the metal parts, while in others it was comparatively sound and new.
Presently we discerned a white mound ahead of us, but in the dim light
of the cavern we could not at first determine of what it consisted.
When we did, we were filled with horror, for the white mound was of the
bones and skulls of human beings. Then, at last, I thought I had an
explanation of the abandoned harness and weapons. This was the lair of
the great lizard. Here he took his toll of the unhappy creatures that
passed down the river, but how was it that armed men had come here. We
had been cast into the cavern unarmed, as I was positive all of the
condemned prisoners of Tjanath must have been. From whence came the
others? I do not know, doubtless I shall never know. It was a mystery
from the first. It will remain a mystery to the last.
As we passed on we found harness and weapons scattered all about, but
there was infinitely more harness than weapons.
I had added a good short sword to my equipment, as well as a dagger,
as had also Nur An, and I was stooping to examine another weapon which
we had found--a short sword with a beautifully ornamented hilt and
guard--when Nur An suddenly voiced an exclamation of warning.
"On guard," he cried, "Hadron! It comes!"
Leaping to my feet, I wheeled about, the short sword still in my hand,
and there, bearing down upon us at considerable speed and with wide
distended jaws, came the great white lizard hissing ominously. He was
a hideous sight, a sight such as to make even a brave man turn and
run, which I am now convinced is what practically all of his victims
did; but here were two who did not run. Perhaps he was so close that
we realized the futility of flight without giving the matter conscious
thought, but be that as it may, we stood there--Nur An with his long
sword in his hand, I with the ornately carved short sword that I had
been examining, though instantly I realized that it was not the weapon
with which to defend myself against this great hulking brute.
Yet I could not bear to waste a weapon already in my hand, especially
in view of an accomplishment of mine in which I took considerable pride.
In Helium, both officers and men often wager large amounts upon the
accuracy with which they can hurl daggers and short swords and I have
seen considerable sums change hands within an hour, but so proficient
was I that I had added considerably to my pay through my winning until
my fame had spread to such an extent that I could find no one willing
to pit his skill against mine.
Never had I hurled a weapon with a more fervent prayer for the accuracy
of my throw than now as I launched the short sword swiftly at the mouth
of the oncoming lizard. It was not a good throw. It would have lost
me money in Helium, but in this instance, I think, it saved my life.
The sword, instead of speeding in a straight line, point first, as it
should have, turned slowly upward until it was travelling at an angle
of about forty-five degrees, with the point forward and downward. In
this position the point struck just inside of the lower jaw of the
creature, while the heavy hilt, carried forward by its own momentum,
lodged in the roof of the monster's mouth.
Instantly it was helpless; the point of the sword had passed through
its tongue into the bony substance of its lower jaw, while the hilt was
lodged in its upper jaw behind its mighty fangs. It could not dislodge
the sword, either forward or backward, and for an instant it halted
in hissing dismay, and simultaneously Nur An and I leaped to opposite
sides of its ghastly white body. It tried to defend itself with its
tail and talons, but we were too quick for it and presently it was
lying in a pool of its own purple blood in the final spasmodic muscular
reaction of dissolution.
There was something peculiarly disgusting and loathsome about the
purple blood of the creature, not only in its appearance, but in its
odor, which was almost nauseating, and Nur An and I lost no time in
quitting the scene of our victory. At the river we washed our blades
and then continued on upon our fruitless quest.
As we had washed our blades we had noticed fish in the river and after
we had put sufficient distance between the lair of the lizard and
ourselves, we determined to bend our energies for awhile toward filling
our larder and our stomachs.
Neither one of us had ever caught a fish or eaten one, but we knew
from history that they could be caught and that they were edible.
Being swordsmen, we naturally looked to our swords as the best means
for procuring our flesh and so we waded into the river with drawn long
swords prepared to slaughter fish to our heart's content, but wherever
we went there was no fish. We could see them elsewhere, but not within
reach of our swords.
"Perhaps," said Nur An, "fish are not such fools as they appear. They
may see us approaching and question our motives."
"I can readily believe that you are right," I replied. "Suppose we try
strategy."
"How?" he asked.
"Come with me," I said, "and return to the bank." After a little search
down stream I found a rocky ledge overhanging the river. "We will lie
here at intervals," I said, "with only our eyes and the points of our
swords over the edge of the bank. We must not talk or move, lest we
frighten the fish. Perhaps in this way we shall procure one," for I had
long since given up the idea of a general slaughter.
To my gratification my plan worked and it was not long before we each
had a large fish.
Naturally, like other men, we prefer our flesh cooked, but being
warriors we were accustomed to it either way, and so we broke our long
fast upon raw fish from the river of mystery.
Both Nur An and I felt greatly refreshed and strengthened by our meal,
however unpalatable it might have been. It had been some time since we
had slept and though we had no idea whether it was still night upon
the outer surface of Barsoom, or whether dawn had already broken, we
decided that it would be best for us to sleep and so Nur An stretched
out where we were while I watched. After he awoke, I took my turn. I
think that neither one of us slept more than a single zode, but the
rest did us quite as much good as the food that we had eaten and I am
sure that I have never felt more fit than I did when we set out again
upon our goalless journey.
I do not know how long we had been travelling after our sleep, for by
now the journey was most monotonous, there being little change in the
dimly seen landscape surrounding us and only the ceaseless roar of the
river and the howling of the wind to keep us company.
Nur An was the first to discern the change; he seized my arm and
pointed ahead. I must have been walking with my eyes upon the ground in
front of me, else I must have seen what he saw simultaneously.
"It is daylight," I exclaimed. "It is the sun."
"It can be nothing else," he said.
There, far ahead of us, lay a great archway of light. That was all
that we could see from the point at which we discovered it, but now
we hastened on almost at a run, so anxious were we for a solution, so
hopeful that it was indeed the sunlight and that in some inexplicable
and mysterious way the river had found its way to the surface of
Barsoom. I knew that this could not be true and Nur An knew it, and
yet each knew how great his disappointment would be when the true
explanation of the phenomenon was revealed.
When we approached the great patch of light it became more and more
evident that the river had broken from its dark cavern out into the
light of day, and when we reached the edge of that mighty portal
we looked out upon a scene that filled our hearts with warmth and
gladness, for there, stretching before us, lay a valley--a small valley
it is true--a valley hemmed in, as far as we could see, by mighty
cliffs, but yet a valley of life and fertility and beauty bathed in the
hot light of the sun.
"It is not quite the surface of Barsoom," said Nur An, "but it is the
next best thing."
"And there must be a way out," I said. "There must be. If there is not,
we will make one."
"Right you are, Hadron of Hastor," he cried. "We will make a way. Come!"
Before us the banks of the roaring river were lined with lush
vegetation; great trees raised their leafy branches far above the
waters; the brilliant, scarlet sward was lapped by the little wavelets
and everywhere bloomed gorgeous flowers and shrubs of many hues and
shapes. Here was a vegetation such as I had never seen before upon the
surface of Barsoom. Here were forms similar to those with which I was
familiar and others totally unknown to me, yet all were lovely, though
some were bizarre.
Emerging, as we had, from the dark and gloomy bowels of the earth,
the scene before us presented a view of wondrous beauty, and, while
doubtless enhanced by contrast, it was nevertheless such an aspect
as is seldom given to the eyes of a Barsoomian of today to view. To
me it seemed a little garden spot upon a dying world preserved from
an ancient era when Barsoom was young and meteorological conditions
were such as to favor the growth of vegetation that has long since
become extinct over practically the entire area of the planet. In this
deep valley, surrounded by lofty cliffs, the atmosphere doubtless was
considerably denser than upon the surface of the planet above. The
sun's rays were reflected by the lofty escarpment, which must also hold
the heat during the colder periods of night, and, in addition to this,
there was ample water for irrigation which nature might easily have
achieved through percolation of the waters of the river through and
beneath the top soil of the valley.
For several minutes Nur An and I stood spellbound by the bewitching
view, and then, espying luscious fruit hanging in great clusters from
some of the trees, and bushes loaded with berries, we subordinated the
esthetic to the corporeal and set forth to supplement our meal of raw
fish with the exquisite offerings which hung so temptingly before us.
As we started to move through the vegetation we became aware of thin
threads of a gossamer-like substance festooned from tree to tree and
bush to bush. So fine as to be almost invisible, yet they were so
strong as to impede our progress. It was surprisingly difficult to
break them, and when there were a dozen or more at a time barring our
way, we found it necessary to use our daggers to cut a way through them.