Warlord of Mars

  REWARDS

  With the realization that Dejah Thoris was no longer within thethroneroom came the belated recollection of the dark face that I hadglimpsed peering from behind the draperies that backed the throneof Salensus Oll at the moment that I had first come so unexpectedlyupon the strange scene being enacted within the chamber.

  Why had the sight of that evil countenance not warned me to greatercaution? Why had I permitted the rapid development of new situationsto efface the recollection of that menacing danger? But, alas,vain regret would not erase the calamity that had befallen.

  Once again had Dejah Thoris fallen into the clutches of thatarchfiend, Thurid, the black dator of the First Born. Again wasall my arduous labor gone for naught. Now I realized the causeof the rage that had been writ so large upon the features of MataiShang and the cruel pleasure that I had seen upon the face ofPhaidor.

  They had known or guessed the truth, and the hekkador of theHoly Therns, who had evidently come to the chamber in the hope ofthwarting Salensus Oll in his contemplated perfidy against the highpriest who coveted Dejah Thoris for himself, realized that Thuridhad stolen the prize from beneath his very nose.

  Phaidor's pleasure had been due to her realization of what this lastcruel blow would mean to me, as well as to a partial satisfactionof her jealous hatred for the Princess of Helium.

  My first thought was to look beyond the draperies at the back ofthe throne, for there it was that I had seen Thurid. With a singlejerk I tore the priceless stuff from its fastenings, and therebefore me was revealed a narrow doorway behind the throne.

  No question entered my mind but that here lay the opening of theavenue of escape which Thurid had followed, and had there been itwould have been dissipated by the sight of a tiny, jeweled ornamentwhich lay a few steps within the corridor beyond.

  As I snatched up the bauble I saw that it bore the device of thePrincess of Helium, and then pressing it to my lips I dashed madlyalong the winding way that led gently downward toward the lowergalleries of the palace.

  I had followed but a short distance when I came upon the room inwhich Solan formerly had held sway. His dead body still lay whereI had left it, nor was there any sign that another had passedthrough the room since I had been there; but I knew that two haddone so--Thurid, the black dator, and Dejah Thoris.

  For a moment I paused uncertain as to which of the several exitsfrom the apartment would lead me upon the right path. I tried torecollect the directions which I had heard Thurid repeat to Solan,and at last, slowly, as though through a heavy fog, the memory ofthe words of the First Born came to me:

  "Follow a corridor, passing three diverging corridors upon the right;then into the fourth right-hand corridor to where three corridorsmeet; here again follow to the right, hugging the left wall closelyto avoid the pit. At the end of this corridor I shall come to aspiral runway which I must follow down instead of up; after thatthe way is along but a single branchless corridor."

  And I recalled the exit at which he had pointed as he spoke.

  It did not take me long to start upon that unknown way, nor did Igo with caution, although I knew that there might be grave dangersbefore me.

  Part of the way was black as sin, but for the most it was fairlywell lighted. The stretch where I must hug the left wall to avoidthe pits was darkest of them all, and I was nearly over the edge ofthe abyss before I knew that I was near the danger spot. A narrowledge, scarce a foot wide, was all that had been left to carrythe initiated past that frightful cavity into which the unknowingmust surely have toppled at the first step. But at last I had wonsafely beyond it, and then a feeble light made the balance of theway plain, until, at the end of the last corridor, I came suddenlyout into the glare of day upon a field of snow and ice.

  Clad for the warm atmosphere of the hothouse city of Kadabra, thesudden change to arctic frigidity was anything but pleasant; butthe worst of it was that I knew I could not endure the bitter cold,almost naked as I was, and that I would perish before ever I couldovertake Thurid and Dejah Thoris.

  To be thus blocked by nature, who had had all the arts and wilesof cunning man pitted against him, seemed a cruel fate, and as Istaggered back into the warmth of the tunnel's end I was as nearhopelessness as I ever have been.

  I had by no means given up my intention of continuing the pursuit,for if needs be I would go ahead though I perished ere ever Ireached my goal, but if there were a safer way it were well worththe delay to attempt to discover it, that I might come again tothe side of Dejah Thoris in fit condition to do battle for her.

  Scarce had I returned to the tunnel than I stumbled over a portionof a fur garment that seemed fastened to the floor of the corridorclose to the wall. In the darkness I could not see what held it,but by groping with my hands I discovered that it was wedged beneaththe bottom of a closed door.

  Pushing the portal aside, I found myself upon the threshold of asmall chamber, the walls of which were lined with hooks from whichdepended suits of the complete outdoor apparel of the yellow men.

  Situated as it was at the mouth of a tunnel leading from the palace,it was quite evident that this was the dressing-room used by thenobles leaving and entering the hothouse city, and that Thurid,having knowledge of it, had stopped here to outfit himself andDejah Thoris before venturing into the bitter cold of the arcticworld beyond.

  In his haste he had dropped several garments upon the floor, andthe telltale fur that had fallen partly within the corridor hadproved the means of guiding me to the very spot he would least havewished me to have knowledge of.

  It required but the matter of a few seconds to don the necessaryorluk-skin clothing, with the heavy, fur-lined boots that are soessential a part of the garmenture of one who would successfullycontend with the frozen trails and the icy winds of the bleaknorthland.

  Once more I stepped beyond the tunnel's mouth to find the freshtracks of Thurid and Dejah Thoris in the new-fallen snow. Now, atlast, was my task an easy one, for though the going was rough inthe extreme, I was no longer vexed by doubts as to the directionI should follow, or harassed by darkness or hidden dangers.

  Through a snow-covered canyon the way led up toward the summit oflow hills. Beyond these it dipped again into another canyon, onlyto rise a quarter-mile farther on toward a pass which skirted theflank of a rocky hill.

  I could see by the signs of those who had gone before that when DejahThoris had walked she had been continually holding back, and thatthe black man had been compelled to drag her. For other stretchesonly his foot-prints were visible, deep and close together inthe heavy snow, and I knew from these signs that then he had beenforced to carry her, and I could well imagine that she had foughthim fiercely every step of the way.

  As I came round the jutting promontory of the hill's shoulder I sawthat which quickened my pulses and set my heart to beating high,for within a tiny basin between the crest of this hill and the nextstood four people before the mouth of a great cave, and beside themupon the gleaming snow rested a flier which had evidently but justbeen dragged from its hiding place.

  The four were Dejah Thoris, Phaidor, Thurid, and Matai Shang. Thetwo men were engaged in a heated argument--the Father of Thernsthreatening, while the black scoffed at him as he went about thework at which he was engaged.

  As I crept toward them cautiously that I might come as near aspossible before being discovered, I saw that finally the men appearedto have reached some sort of a compromise, for with Phaidor'sassistance they both set about dragging the resisting Dejah Thoristo the flier's deck.

  Here they made her fast, and then both again descended to the groundto complete the preparations for departure. Phaidor entered thesmall cabin upon the vessel's deck.

  I had come to within a quarter of a mile of them when Matai Shangespied me. I saw him seize Thurid by the shoulder, wheeling himaround in my direction as he pointed to where I was now plainlyvisible, for the moment that I knew I had been perceived I castaside every attempt at stealth and broke into a ma
d race for theflier.

  The two redoubled their efforts at the propeller at which they wereworking, and which very evidently was being replaced after havingbeen removed for some purpose of repair.

  They had the thing completed before I had covered half the distancethat lay between me and them, and then both made a rush for theboarding-ladder.

  Thurid was the first to reach it, and with the agility of a monkeyclambered swiftly to the boat's deck, where a touch of the buttoncontrolling the buoyancy tanks sent the craft slowly upward, thoughnot with the speed that marks the well-conditioned flier.

  I was still some hundred yards away as I saw them rising from mygrasp.

  Back by the city of Kadabra lay a great fleet of mighty fliers--theships of Helium and Ptarth that I had saved from destruction earlierin the day; but before ever I could reach them Thurid could easilymake good his escape.

  As I ran I saw Matai Shang clambering up the swaying, swingingladder toward the deck, while above him leaned the evil face of theFirst Born. A trailing rope from the vessel's stern put new hopein me, for if I could but reach it before it whipped too high abovemy head there was yet a chance to gain the deck by its slender aid.

  That there was something radically wrong with the flier was evidentfrom its lack of buoyancy, and the further fact that though Thuridhad turned twice to the starting lever the boat still hung motionlessin the air, except for a slight drifting with a low breeze fromthe north.

  Now Matai Shang was close to the gunwale. A long, claw-like handwas reaching up to grasp the metal rail.

  Thurid leaned farther down toward his co-conspirator.

  Suddenly a raised dagger gleamed in the upflung hand of the black.Down it drove toward the white face of the Father of Therns. Witha loud shriek of fear the Holy Hekkador grasped frantically at thatmenacing arm.

  I was almost to the trailing rope by now. The craft was stillrising slowly, the while it drifted from me. Then I stumbled onthe icy way, striking my head upon a rock as I fell sprawling butan arm's length from the rope, the end of which was now just leavingthe ground.

  With the blow upon my head came unconsciousness.

  It could not have been more than a few seconds that I lay senselessthere upon the northern ice, while all that was dearest to medrifted farther from my reach in the clutches of that black fiend,for when I opened my eyes Thurid and Matai Shang yet battled at theladder's top, and the flier drifted but a hundred yards farther tothe south--but the end of the trailing rope was now a good thirtyfeet above the ground.

  Goaded to madness by the cruel misfortune that had tripped me whensuccess was almost within my grasp, I tore frantically across theintervening space, and just beneath the rope's dangling end I putmy earthly muscles to the supreme test.

  With a mighty, catlike bound I sprang upward toward that slenderstrand--the only avenue which yet remained that could carry me tomy vanishing love.

  A foot above its lowest end my fingers closed. Tightly as I clungI felt the rope slipping, slipping through my grasp. I tried toraise my free hand to take a second hold above my first, but thechange of position that resulted caused me to slip more rapidlytoward the end of the rope.

  Slowly I felt the tantalizing thing escaping me. In a moment allthat I had gained would be lost--then my fingers reached a knot atthe very end of the rope and slipped no more.

  With a prayer of gratitude upon my lips I scrambled upward towardthe boat's deck. I could not see Thurid and Matai Shang now,but I heard the sounds of conflict and thus knew that they stillfought--the thern for his life and the black for the increasedbuoyancy that relief from the weight of even a single body wouldgive the craft.

  Should Matai Shang die before I reached the deck my chances of everreaching it would be slender indeed, for the black dator need butcut the rope above me to be freed from me forever, for the vesselhad drifted across the brink of a chasm into whose yawning depthsmy body would drop to be crushed to a shapeless pulp should Thuridreach the rope now.

  At last my hand closed upon the ship's rail and that very instanta horrid shriek rang out below me that sent my blood cold and turnedmy horrified eyes downward to a shrieking, hurtling, twisting thingthat shot downward into the awful chasm beneath me.

  It was Matai Shang, Holy Hekkador, Father of Therns, gone to hislast accounting.

  Then my head came above the deck and I saw Thurid, dagger in hand,leaping toward me. He was opposite the forward end of the cabin,while I was attempting to clamber aboard near the vessel's stern.But a few paces lay between us. No power on earth could raise meto that deck before the infuriated black would be upon me.

  My end had come. I knew it; but had there been a doubt in my mindthe nasty leer of triumph upon that wicked face would have convincedme. Beyond Thurid I could see my Dejah Thoris, wide-eyed andhorrified, struggling at her bonds. That she should be forced towitness my awful death made my bitter fate seem doubly cruel.

  I ceased my efforts to climb across the gunwale. Instead I tooka firm grasp upon the rail with my left hand and drew my dagger.

  I should at least die as I had lived--fighting.

  As Thurid came opposite the cabin's doorway a new element projecteditself into the grim tragedy of the air that was being enacted uponthe deck of Matai Shang's disabled flier.

  It was Phaidor.

  With flushed face and disheveled hair, and eyes that betrayed therecent presence of mortal tears--above which this proud goddess hadalways held herself--she leaped to the deck directly before me.

  In her hand was a long, slim dagger. I cast a last look uponmy beloved princess, smiling, as men should who are about to die.Then I turned my face up toward Phaidor--waiting for the blow.

  Never have I seen that beautiful face more beautiful than it wasat that moment. It seemed incredible that one so lovely couldyet harbor within her fair bosom a heart so cruel and relentless,and today there was a new expression in her wondrous eyes that Inever before had seen there--an unfamiliar softness, and a look ofsuffering.

  Thurid was beside her now--pushing past to reach me first, andthen what happened happened so quickly that it was all over beforeI could realize the truth of it.

  Phaidor's slim hand shot out to close upon the black's dagger wrist.Her right hand went high with its gleaming blade.

  "That for Matai Shang!" she cried, and she buried her blade deepin the dator's breast. "That for the wrong you would have doneDejah Thoris!" and again the sharp steel sank into the bloody flesh.

  "And that, and that, and that!" she shrieked, "for John Carter,Prince of Helium," and with each word her sharp point pierced thevile heart of the great villain. Then, with a vindictive shove shecast the carcass of the First Born from the deck to fall in awfulsilence after the body of his victim.

  I had been so paralyzed by surprise that I had made no move to reachthe deck during the awe-inspiring scene which I had just witnessed,and now I was to be still further amazed by her next act, forPhaidor extended her hand to me and assisted me to the deck, whereI stood gazing at her in unconcealed and stupefied wonderment.

  A wan smile touched her lips--it was not the cruel and haughtysmile of the goddess with which I was familiar. "You wonder, JohnCarter," she said, "what strange thing has wrought this change inme? I will tell you. It is love--love of you," and when I darkenedmy brows in disapproval of her words she raised an appealing hand.

  "Wait," she said. "It is a different love from mine--it is thelove of your princess, Dejah Thoris, for you that has taught mewhat true love may be--what it should be, and how far from reallove was my selfish and jealous passion for you.

  "Now I am different. Now could I love as Dejah Thoris loves, andso my only happiness can be to know that you and she are once moreunited, for in her alone can you find true happiness.

  "But I am unhappy because of the wickedness that I have wrought. Ihave many sins to expiate, and though I be deathless, life is alltoo short for the atonement.

  "But there is another way, and if Phaid
or, daughter of the HolyHekkador of the Holy Therns, has sinned she has this day alreadymade partial reparation, and lest you doubt the sincerity of herprotestations and her avowal of a new love that embraces DejahThoris also, she will prove her sincerity in the only way thatlies open--having saved you for another, Phaidor leaves you to herembraces."

  With her last word she turned and leaped from the vessel's deckinto the abyss below.

  With a cry of horror I sprang forward in a vain attempt to save thelife that for two years I would so gladly have seen extinguished.I was too late.

  With tear-dimmed eyes I turned away that I might not see the awfulsight beneath.

  A moment later I had struck the bonds from Dejah Thoris, and as herdear arms went about my neck and her perfect lips pressed to mineI forgot the horrors that I had witnessed and the suffering thatI had endured in the rapture of my reward.