Doomed To Die

: The Gods Of Mars

For an instant I stood there before they fell upon me, but the first

rush of them forced me back a step or two. My foot felt for the floor

but found only empty space. I had backed into the pit which had

received Issus. For a second I toppled there upon the brink. Then I

too with the boy still tightly clutched in my arms pitched backward

into the black abyss.



We struck a polished chute, the opening abo
e us closed as magically as

it had opened, and we shot down, unharmed, into a dimly lighted

apartment far below the arena.



As I rose to my feet the first thing I saw was the malignant

countenance of Issus glaring at me through the heavy bars of a grated

door at one side of the chamber.



"Rash mortal!" she shrilled. "You shall pay the awful penalty for your

blasphemy in this secret cell. Here you shall lie alone and in

darkness with the carcass of your accomplice festering in its

rottenness by your side, until crazed by loneliness and hunger you feed

upon the crawling maggots that were once a man."



That was all. In another instant she was gone, and the dim light which

had filled the cell faded into Cimmerian blackness.



"Pleasant old lady," said a voice at my side.



"Who speaks?" I asked.



"'Tis I, your companion, who has had the honour this day of fighting

shoulder to shoulder with the greatest warrior that ever wore metal

upon Barsoom."



"I thank God that you are not dead," I said. "I feared for that nasty

cut upon your head."



"It but stunned me," he replied. "A mere scratch."



"Maybe it were as well had it been final," I said. "We seem to be in a

pretty fix here with a splendid chance of dying of starvation and

thirst."



"Where are we?"



"Beneath the arena," I replied. "We tumbled down the shaft that

swallowed Issus as she was almost at our mercy."



He laughed a low laugh of pleasure and relief, and then reaching out

through the inky blackness he sought my shoulder and pulled my ear

close to his mouth.



"Nothing could be better," he whispered. "There are secrets within the

secrets of Issus of which Issus herself does not dream."



"What do you mean?"



"I laboured with the other slaves a year since in the remodelling of

these subterranean galleries, and at that time we found below these an

ancient system of corridors and chambers that had been sealed up for

ages. The blacks in charge of the work explored them, taking several

of us along to do whatever work there might be occasion for. I know

the entire system perfectly.



"There are miles of corridors honeycombing the ground beneath the

gardens and the temple itself, and there is one passage that leads down

to and connects with the lower regions that open on the water shaft

that gives passage to Omean.



"If we can reach the submarine undetected we may yet make the sea in

which there are many islands where the blacks never go. There we may

live for a time, and who knows what may transpire to aid us to escape?"



He had spoken all in a low whisper, evidently fearing spying ears even

here, and so I answered him in the same subdued tone.



"Lead back to Shador, my friend," I whispered. "Xodar, the black, is

there. We were to attempt our escape together, so I cannot desert him."



"No," said the boy, "one cannot desert a friend. It were better to be

recaptured ourselves than that."



Then he commenced groping his way about the floor of the dark chamber

searching for the trap that led to the corridors beneath. At length he

summoned me by a low, "S-s-t," and I crept toward the sound of his

voice to find him kneeling on the brink of an opening in the floor.



"There is a drop here of about ten feet," he whispered. "Hang by your

hands and you will alight safely on a level floor of soft sand."



Very quietly I lowered myself from the inky cell above into the inky

pit below. So utterly dark was it that we could not see our hands at

an inch from our noses. Never, I think, have I known such complete

absence of light as existed in the pits of Issus.



For an instant I hung in mid air. There is a strange sensation

connected with an experience of that nature which is quite difficult to

describe. When the feet tread empty air and the distance below is

shrouded in darkness there is a feeling akin to panic at the thought of

releasing the hold and taking the plunge into unknown depths.



Although the boy had told me that it was but ten feet to the floor

below I experienced the same thrills as though I were hanging above a

bottomless pit. Then I released my hold and dropped--four feet to a

soft cushion of sand.



The boy followed me.



"Raise me to your shoulders," he said, "and I will replace the trap."



This done he took me by the hand, leading me very slowly, with much

feeling about and frequent halts to assure himself that he did not

stray into wrong passageways.



Presently we commenced the descent of a very steep incline.



"It will not be long," he said, "before we shall have light. At the

lower levels we meet the same strata of phosphorescent rock that

illuminates Omean."



Never shall I forget that trip through the pits of Issus. While it was

devoid of important incidents yet it was filled for me with a strange

charm of excitement and adventure which I think I must have hinged

principally on the unguessable antiquity of these long-forgotten

corridors. The things which the Stygian darkness hid from my objective

eye could not have been half so wonderful as the pictures which my

imagination wrought as it conjured to life again the ancient peoples of

this dying world and set them once more to the labours, the intrigues,

the mysteries and the cruelties which they had practised to make their

last stand against the swarming hordes of the dead sea bottoms that had

driven them step by step to the uttermost pinnacle of the world where

they were now intrenched behind an impenetrable barrier of superstition.



In addition to the green men there had been three principal races upon

Barsoom. The blacks, the whites, and a race of yellow men. As the

waters of the planet dried and the seas receded, all other resources

dwindled until life upon the planet became a constant battle for

survival.



The various races had made war upon one another for ages, and the three

higher types had easily bested the green savages of the water places of

the world, but now that the receding seas necessitated constant

abandonment of their fortified cities and forced upon them a more or

less nomadic life in which they became separated into smaller

communities they soon fell prey to the fierce hordes of green men. The

result was a partial amalgamation of the blacks, whites and yellows,

the result of which is shown in the present splendid race of red men.



I had always supposed that all traces of the original races had

disappeared from the face of Mars, yet within the past four days I had

found both whites and blacks in great multitudes. Could it be possible

that in some far-off corner of the planet there still existed a remnant

of the ancient race of yellow men?



My reveries were broken in upon by a low exclamation from the boy.



"At last, the lighted way," he cried, and looking up I beheld at a long

distance before us a dim radiance.



As we advanced the light increased until presently we emerged into

well-lighted passageways. From then on our progress was rapid until we

came suddenly to the end of a corridor that let directly upon the ledge

surrounding the pool of the submarine.



The craft lay at her moorings with uncovered hatch. Raising his finger

to his lips and then tapping his sword in a significant manner, the

youth crept noiselessly toward the vessel. I was close at his heels.



Silently we dropped to the deserted deck, and on hands and knees

crawled toward the hatchway. A stealthy glance below revealed no guard

in sight, and so with the quickness and the soundlessness of cats we

dropped together into the main cabin of the submarine. Even here was

no sign of life. Quickly we covered and secured the hatch.



Then the boy stepped into the pilot house, touched a button and the

boat sank amid swirling waters toward the bottom of the shaft. Even

then there was no scurrying of feet as we had expected, and while the

boy remained to direct the boat I slid from cabin to cabin in futile

search for some member of the crew. The craft was entirely deserted.

Such good fortune seemed almost unbelievable.



When I returned to the pilot house to report the good news to my

companion he handed me a paper.



"This may explain the absence of the crew," he said.



It was a radio-aerial message to the commander of the submarine:





"The slaves have risen. Come with what men you have and those that you

can gather on the way. Too late to get aid from Omean. They are

massacring all within the amphitheatre. Issus is threatened. Haste.



"ZITHAD"





"Zithad is Dator of the guards of Issus," explained the youth. "We

gave them a bad scare--one that they will not soon forget."



"Let us hope that it is but the beginning of the end of Issus," I said.



"Only our first ancestor knows," he replied.



We reached the submarine pool in Omean without incident. Here we

debated the wisdom of sinking the craft before leaving her, but finally

decided that it would add nothing to our chances for escape. There

were plenty of blacks on Omean to thwart us were we apprehended;

however many more might come from the temples and gardens of Issus

would not in any decrease our chances.



We were now in a quandary as to how to pass the guards who patrolled

the island about the pool. At last I hit upon a plan.



"What is the name or title of the officer in charge of these guards?" I

asked the boy.



"A fellow named Torith was on duty when we entered this morning," he

replied.



"Good. And what is the name of the commander of the submarine?"



"Yersted."



I found a dispatch blank in the cabin and wrote the following order:





"Dator Torith: Return these two slaves at once to Shador.



"YERSTED"





"That will be the simpler way to return," I said, smiling, as I handed

the forged order to the boy. "Come, we shall see now how well it

works."



"But our swords!" he exclaimed. "What shall we say to explain them?"



"Since we cannot explain them we shall have to leave them behind us," I

replied.



"Is it not the extreme of rashness to thus put ourselves again,

unarmed, in the power of the First Born?"



"It is the only way," I answered. "You may trust me to find a way out

of the prison of Shador, and I think, once out, that we shall find no

great difficulty in arming ourselves once more in a country which

abounds so plentifully in armed men."



"As you say," he replied with a smile and shrug. "I could not follow

another leader who inspired greater confidence than you. Come, let us

put your ruse to the test."



Boldly we emerged from the hatchway of the craft, leaving our swords

behind us, and strode to the main exit which led to the sentry's post

and the office of the Dator of the guard.



At sight of us the members of the guard sprang forward in surprise, and

with levelled rifles halted us. I held out the message to one of them.

He took it and seeing to whom it was addressed turned and handed it to

Torith who was emerging from his office to learn the cause of the

commotion.



The black read the order, and for a moment eyed us with evident

suspicion.



"Where is Dator Yersted?" he asked, and my heart sank within me, as I

cursed myself for a stupid fool in not having sunk the submarine to

make good the lie that I must tell.



"His orders were to return immediately to the temple landing," I

replied.



Torith took a half step toward the entrance to the pool as though to

corroborate my story. For that instant everything hung in the balance,

for had he done so and found the empty submarine still lying at her

wharf the whole weak fabric of my concoction would have tumbled about

our heads; but evidently he decided the message must be genuine, nor

indeed was there any good reason to doubt it since it would scarce have

seemed credible to him that two slaves would voluntarily have given

themselves into custody in any such manner as this. It was the very

boldness of the plan which rendered it successful.



"Were you connected with the rising of the slaves?" asked Torith. "We

have just had meagre reports of some such event."



"All were involved," I replied. "But it amounted to little. The

guards quickly overcame and killed the majority of us."



He seemed satisfied with this reply. "Take them to Shador," he

ordered, turning to one of his subordinates. We entered a small boat

lying beside the island, and in a few minutes were disembarking upon

Shador. Here we were returned to our respective cells; I with Xodar,

the boy by himself; and behind locked doors we were again prisoners of

the First Born.



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