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On The River Iss







From: Warlord Of Mars

In the shadows of the forest that flanks the crimson plain by the
side of the Lost Sea of Korus in the Valley Dor, beneath the hurtling
moons of Mars, speeding their meteoric way close above the bosom of
the dying planet, I crept stealthily along the trail of a shadowy
form that hugged the darker places with a persistency that proclaimed
the sinister nature of its errand.

For six long Martian months I had haunted the vicinity of the
hateful Temple of the Sun, within whose slow-revolving shaft, far
beneath the surface of Mars, my princess lay entombed--but whether
alive or dead I knew not. Had Phaidor's slim blade found that
beloved heart? Time only would reveal the truth.

Six hundred and eighty-seven Martian days must come and go before
the cell's door would again come opposite the tunnel's end where
last I had seen my ever-beautiful Dejah Thoris.

Half of them had passed, or would on the morrow, yet vivid in my
memory, obliterating every event that had come before or after,
there remained the last scene before the gust of smoke blinded my
eyes and the narrow slit that had given me sight of the interior
of her cell closed between me and the Princess of Helium for a long
Martian year.

As if it were yesterday, I still saw the beautiful face of Phaidor,
daughter of Matai Shang, distorted with jealous rage and hatred as
she sprang forward with raised dagger upon the woman I loved.

I saw the red girl, Thuvia of Ptarth, leap forward to prevent the
hideous deed.

The smoke from the burning temple had come then to blot out the
tragedy, but in my ears rang the single shriek as the knife fell.
Then silence, and when the smoke had cleared, the revolving temple
had shut off all sight or sound from the chamber in which the three
beautiful women were imprisoned.

Much there had been to occupy my attention since that terrible moment;
but never for an instant had the memory of the thing faded, and
all the time that I could spare from the numerous duties that had
devolved upon me in the reconstruction of the government of the
First Born since our victorious fleet and land forces had overwhelmed
them, had been spent close to the grim shaft that held the mother
of my boy, Carthoris of Helium.

The race of blacks that for ages had worshiped Issus, the false
deity of Mars, had been left in a state of chaos by my revealment
of her as naught more than a wicked old woman. In their rage they
had torn her to pieces.

From the high pinnacle of their egotism the First Born had been
plunged to the depths of humiliation. Their deity was gone, and
with her the whole false fabric of their religion. Their vaunted
navy had fallen in defeat before the superior ships and fighting
men of the red men of Helium.

Fierce green warriors from the ocher sea bottoms of outer Mars had
ridden their wild thoats across the sacred gardens of the Temple
of Issus, and Tars Tarkas, Jeddak of Thark, fiercest of them all,
had sat upon the throne of Issus and ruled the First Born while
the allies were deciding the conquered nation's fate.

Almost unanimous was the request that I ascend the ancient throne
of the black men, even the First Born themselves concurring in it;
but I would have none of it. My heart could never be with the race
that had heaped indignities upon my princess and my son.

At my suggestion Xodar became Jeddak of the First Born. He had
been a dator, or prince, until Issus had degraded him, so that his
fitness for the high office bestowed was unquestioned.

The peace of the Valley Dor thus assured, the green warriors dispersed
to their desolate sea bottoms, while we of Helium returned to our
own country. Here again was a throne offered me, since no word
had been received from the missing Jeddak of Helium, Tardos Mors,
grandfather of Dejah Thoris, or his son, Mors Kajak, Jed of Helium,
her father.

Over a year had elapsed since they had set out to explore the northern
hemisphere in search of Carthoris, and at last their disheartened
people had accepted as truth the vague rumors of their death that
had filtered in from the frozen region of the pole.

Once again I refused a throne, for I would not believe that the
mighty Tardos Mors, or his no less redoubtable son, was dead.

"Let one of their own blood rule you until they return," I said
to the assembled nobles of Helium, as I addressed them from the
Pedestal of Truth beside the Throne of Righteousness in the Temple
of Reward, from the very spot where I had stood a year before when
Zat Arras pronounced the sentence of death upon me.

As I spoke I stepped forward and laid my hand upon the shoulder of
Carthoris where he stood in the front rank of the circle of nobles
about me.

As one, the nobles and the people lifted their voices in a long
cheer of approbation. Ten thousand swords sprang on high from as
many scabbards, and the glorious fighting men of ancient Helium
hailed Carthoris Jeddak of Helium.

His tenure of office was to be for life or until his great-grandfather,
or grandfather, should return. Having thus satisfactorily arranged
this important duty for Helium, I started the following day for
the Valley Dor that I might remain close to the Temple of the Sun
until the fateful day that should see the opening of the prison
cell where my lost love lay buried.

Hor Vastus and Kantos Kan, with my other noble lieutenants, I left
with Carthoris at Helium, that he might have the benefit of their
wisdom, bravery, and loyalty in the performance of the arduous
duties which had devolved upon him. Only Woola, my Martian hound,
accompanied me.

At my heels tonight the faithful beast moved softly in my tracks.
As large as a Shetland pony, with hideous head and frightful fangs,
he was indeed an awesome spectacle, as he crept after me on his
ten short, muscular legs; but to me he was the embodiment of love
and loyalty.

The figure ahead was that of the black dator of the First Born,
Thurid, whose undying enmity I had earned that time I laid him low
with my bare hands in the courtyard of the Temple of Issus, and
bound him with his own harness before the noble men and women who
had but a moment before been extolling his prowess.

Like many of his fellows, he had apparently accepted the new order
of things with good grace, and had sworn fealty to Xodar, his new
ruler; but I knew that he hated me, and I was sure that in his heart
he envied and hated Xodar, so I had kept a watch upon his comings
and goings, to the end that of late I had become convinced that he
was occupied with some manner of intrigue.

Several times I had observed him leaving the walled city of the
First Born after dark, taking his way out into the cruel and horrible
Valley Dor, where no honest business could lead any man.

Tonight he moved quickly along the edge of the forest until well
beyond sight or sound of the city, then he turned across the crimson
sward toward the shore of the Lost Sea of Korus.

The rays of the nearer moon, swinging low across the valley, touched
his jewel-incrusted harness with a thousand changing lights and
glanced from the glossy ebony of his smooth hide. Twice he turned
his head back toward the forest, after the manner of one who is upon
an evil errand, though he must have felt quite safe from pursuit.

I did not dare follow him there beneath the moonlight, since it
best suited my plans not to interrupt his--I wished him to reach
his destination unsuspecting, that I might learn just where that
destination lay and the business that awaited the night prowler
there.

So it was that I remained hidden until after Thurid had disappeared
over the edge of the steep bank beside the sea a quarter of a mile
away. Then, with Woola following, I hastened across the open after
the black dator.

The quiet of the tomb lay upon the mysterious valley of death,
crouching deep in its warm nest within the sunken area at the south
pole of the dying planet. In the far distance the Golden Cliffs
raised their mighty barrier faces far into the starlit heavens,
the precious metals and scintillating jewels that composed them
sparkling in the brilliant light of Mars's two gorgeous moons.

At my back was the forest, pruned and trimmed like the sward to
parklike symmetry by the browsing of the ghoulish plant men.

Before me lay the Lost Sea of Korus, while farther on I caught the
shimmering ribbon of Iss, the River of Mystery, where it wound out
from beneath the Golden Cliffs to empty into Korus, to which for
countless ages had been borne the deluded and unhappy Martians of
the outer world upon the voluntary pilgrimage to this false heaven.

The plant men, with their blood-sucking hands, and the monstrous
white apes that make Dor hideous by day, were hidden in their lairs
for the night.

There was no longer a Holy Thern upon the balcony in the Golden
Cliffs above the Iss to summon them with weird cry to the victims
floating down to their maws upon the cold, broad bosom of ancient
Iss.

The navies of Helium and the First Born had cleared the fortresses
and the temples of the therns when they had refused to surrender and
accept the new order of things that had swept their false religion
from long-suffering Mars.

In a few isolated countries they still retained their age-old power;
but Matai Shang, their hekkador, Father of Therns, had been driven
from his temple. Strenuous had been our endeavors to capture
him; but with a few of the faithful he had escaped, and was in
hiding--where we knew not.

As I came cautiously to the edge of the low cliff overlooking the
Lost Sea of Korus I saw Thurid pushing out upon the bosom of the
shimmering water in a small skiff--one of those strangely wrought craft
of unthinkable age which the Holy Therns, with their organization
of priests and lesser therns, were wont to distribute along the
banks of the Iss, that the long journey of their victims might be
facilitated.

Drawn up on the beach below me were a score of similar boats, each
with its long pole, at one end of which was a pike, at the other
a paddle. Thurid was hugging the shore, and as he passed out of
sight round a near-by promontory I shoved one of the boats into
the water and, calling Woola into it, pushed out from shore.

The pursuit of Thurid carried me along the edge of the sea toward
the mouth of the Iss. The farther moon lay close to the horizon,
casting a dense shadow beneath the cliffs that fringed the water.
Thuria, the nearer moon, had set, nor would it rise again for near
four hours, so that I was ensured concealing darkness for that
length of time at least.

On and on went the black warrior. Now he was opposite the mouth
of the Iss. Without an instant's hesitation he turned up the grim
river, paddling hard against the strong current.

After him came Woola and I, closer now, for the man was too intent
upon forcing his craft up the river to have any eyes for what might
be transpiring behind him. He hugged the shore where the current
was less strong.

Presently he came to the dark cavernous portal in the face of the
Golden Cliffs, through which the river poured. On into the Stygian
darkness beyond he urged his craft.

It seemed hopeless to attempt to follow him here where I could not
see my hand before my face, and I was almost on the point of giving
up the pursuit and drifting back to the mouth of the river, there
to await his return, when a sudden bend showed a faint luminosity
ahead.

My quarry was plainly visible again, and in the increasing light
from the phosphorescent rock that lay embedded in great patches
in the roughly arched roof of the cavern I had no difficulty in
following him.

It was my first trip upon the bosom of Iss, and the things I saw
there will live forever in my memory.

Terrible as they were, they could not have commenced to approximate
the horrible conditions which must have obtained before Tars Tarkas,
the great green warrior, Xodar, the black dator, and I brought
the light of truth to the outer world and stopped the mad rush of
millions upon the voluntary pilgrimage to what they believed would
end in a beautiful valley of peace and happiness and love.

Even now the low islands which dotted the broad stream were choked
with the skeletons and half devoured carcasses of those who, through
fear or a sudden awakening to the truth, had halted almost at the
completion of their journey.

In the awful stench of these frightful charnel isles haggard maniacs
screamed and gibbered and fought among the torn remnants of their
grisly feasts; while on those which contained but clean-picked
bones they battled with one another, the weaker furnishing sustenance
for the stronger; or with clawlike hands clutched at the bloated
bodies that drifted down with the current.

Thurid paid not the slightest attention to the screaming things
that either menaced or pleaded with him as the mood directed
them--evidently he was familiar with the horrid sights that
surrounded him. He continued up the river for perhaps a mile; and
then, crossing over to the left bank, drew his craft up on a low
ledge that lay almost on a level with the water.

I dared not follow across the stream, for he most surely would have
seen me. Instead I stopped close to the opposite wall beneath an
overhanging mass of rock that cast a dense shadow beneath it. Here
I could watch Thurid without danger of discovery.

The black was standing upon the ledge beside his boat, looking up
the river, as though he were awaiting one whom he expected from
that direction.

As I lay there beneath the dark rocks I noticed that a strong
current seemed to flow directly toward the center of the river, so
that it was difficult to hold my craft in its position. I edged
farther into the shadow that I might find a hold upon the bank;
but, though I proceeded several yards, I touched nothing; and
then, finding that I would soon reach a point from where I could
no longer see the black man, I was compelled to remain where I was,
holding my position as best I could by paddling strongly against
the current which flowed from beneath the rocky mass behind me.

I could not imagine what might cause this strong lateral flow, for
the main channel of the river was plainly visible to me from where
I sat, and I could see the rippling junction of it and the mysterious
current which had aroused my curiosity.

While I was still speculating upon the phenomenon, my attention
was suddenly riveted upon Thurid, who had raised both palms forward
above his head in the universal salute of Martians, and a moment
later his "Kaor!" the Barsoomian word of greeting, came in low but
distinct tones.

I turned my eyes up the river in the direction that his were bent,
and presently there came within my limited range of vision a long
boat, in which were six men. Five were at the paddles, while the
sixth sat in the seat of honor.

The white skins, the flowing yellow wigs which covered their bald
pates, and the gorgeous diadems set in circlets of gold about their
heads marked them as Holy Therns.

As they drew up beside the ledge upon which Thurid awaited them,
he in the bow of the boat arose to step ashore, and then I saw that
it was none other than Matai Shang, Father of Therns.

The evident cordiality with which the two men exchanged greetings
filled me with wonder, for the black and white men of Barsoom were
hereditary enemies--nor ever before had I known of two meeting
other than in battle.

Evidently the reverses that had recently overtaken both peoples had
resulted in an alliance between these two individuals--at least
against the common enemy--and now I saw why Thurid had come so
often out into the Valley Dor by night, and that the nature of his
conspiring might be such as to strike very close to me or to my
friends.

I wished that I might have found a point closer to the two men
from which to have heard their conversation; but it was out of the
question now to attempt to cross the river, and so I lay quietly
watching them, who would have given so much to have known how close
I lay to them, and how easily they might have overcome and killed
me with their superior force.

Several times Thurid pointed across the river in my direction, but
that his gestures had any reference to me I did not for a moment
believe. Presently he and Matai Shang entered the latter's boat,
which turned out into the river and, swinging round, forged steadily
across in my direction.

As they advanced I moved my boat farther and farther in beneath the
overhanging wall, but at last it became evident that their craft
was holding the same course. The five paddlers sent the larger
boat ahead at a speed that taxed my energies to equal.

Every instant I expected to feel my prow crash against solid rock.
The light from the river was no longer visible, but ahead I saw
the faint tinge of a distant radiance, and still the water before
me was open.

At last the truth dawned upon me--I was following a subterranean
river which emptied into the Iss at the very point where I had
hidden.

The rowers were now quite close to me. The noise of their
own paddles drowned the sound of mine, but in another instant the
growing light ahead would reveal me to them.

There was no time to be lost. Whatever action I was to take must
be taken at once. Swinging the prow of my boat toward the right,
I sought the river's rocky side, and there I lay while Matai Shang
and Thurid approached up the center of the stream, which was much
narrower than the Iss.

As they came nearer I heard the voices of Thurid and the Father of
Therns raised in argument.

"I tell you, Thern," the black dator was saying, "that I wish only
vengeance upon John Carter, Prince of Helium. I am leading you
into no trap. What could I gain by betraying you to those who have
ruined my nation and my house?"

"Let us stop here a moment that I may hear your plans," replied the
hekkador, "and then we may proceed with a better understanding of
our duties and obligations."

To the rowers he issued the command that brought their boat in
toward the bank not a dozen paces beyond the spot where I lay.

Had they pulled in below me they must surely have seen me against
the faint glow of light ahead, but from where they finally came to
rest I was as secure from detection as though miles separated us.

The few words I had already overheard whetted my curiosity, and I
was anxious to learn what manner of vengeance Thurid was planning
against me. Nor had I long to wait. I listened intently.

"There are no obligations, Father of Therns," continued the First
Born. "Thurid, Dator of Issus, has no price. When the thing has
been accomplished I shall be glad if you will see to it that I am
well received, as is befitting my ancient lineage and noble rank,
at some court that is yet loyal to thy ancient faith, for I cannot
return to the Valley Dor or elsewhere within the power of the Prince
of Helium; but even that I do not demand--it shall be as your own
desire in the matter directs."

"It shall be as you wish, Dator," replied Matai Shang; "nor is that
all--power and riches shall be yours if you restore my daughter,
Phaidor, to me, and place within my power Dejah Thoris, Princess
of Helium.

"Ah," he continued with a malicious snarl, "but the Earth man shall
suffer for the indignities he has put upon the holy of holies, nor
shall any vileness be too vile to inflict upon his princess. Would
that it were in my power to force him to witness the humiliation
and degradation of the red woman."

"You shall have your way with her before another day has passed,
Matai Shang," said Thurid, "if you but say the word."

"I have heard of the Temple of the Sun, Dator," replied Matai Shang,
"but never have I heard that its prisoners could be released before
the allotted year of their incarceration had elapsed. How, then,
may you accomplish the impossible?"

"Access may be had to any cell of the temple at any time," replied
Thurid. "Only Issus knew this; nor was it ever Issus' way to
divulge more of her secrets than were necessary. By chance, after
her death, I came upon an ancient plan of the temple, and there I
found, plainly writ, the most minute directions for reaching the
cells at any time.

"And more I learned--that many men had gone thither for Issus in the
past, always on errands of death and torture to the prisoners; but
those who thus learned the secret way were wont to die mysteriously
immediately they had returned and made their reports to cruel
Issus."

"Let us proceed, then," said Matai Shang at last. "I must trust
you, yet at the same time you must trust me, for we are six to your
one."

"I do not fear," replied Thurid, "nor need you. Our hatred of
the common enemy is sufficient bond to insure our loyalty to each
other, and after we have defiled the Princess of Helium there will
be still greater reason for the maintenance of our allegiance--unless
I greatly mistake the temper of her lord."

Matai Shang spoke to the paddlers. The boat moved on up the
tributary.

It was with difficulty that I restrained myself from rushing upon
them and slaying the two vile plotters; but quickly I saw the mad
rashness of such an act, which would cut down the only man who could
lead the way to Dejah Thoris' prison before the long Martian year
had swung its interminable circle.

If he should lead Matai Shang to that hollowed spot, then, too,
should he lead John Carter, Prince of Helium.

With silent paddle I swung slowly into the wake of the larger craft.





Next: Under The Mountains

Previous: A Glossary Of Names And Terms Used In The Martian Books



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