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The Eyes In The Dark







From: The Gods Of Mars

My son! I could not believe my ears. Slowly I rose and faced the
handsome youth. Now that I looked at him closely I commenced to see
why his face and personality had attracted me so strongly. There was
much of his mother's incomparable beauty in his clear-cut features, but
it was strongly masculine beauty, and his grey eyes and the expression
of them were mine.

The boy stood facing me, half hope and half uncertainty in his look.

"Tell me of your mother," I said. "Tell me all you can of the years
that I have been robbed by a relentless fate of her dear companionship."

With a cry of pleasure he sprang toward me and threw his arms about my
neck, and for a brief moment as I held my boy close to me the tears
welled to my eyes and I was like to have choked after the manner of
some maudlin fool--but I do not regret it, nor am I ashamed. A long
life has taught me that a man may seem weak where women and children
are concerned and yet be anything but a weakling in the sterner avenues
of life.

"Your stature, your manner, the terrible ferocity of your
swordsmanship," said the boy, "are as my mother has described them to
me a thousand times--but even with such evidence I could scarce credit
the truth of what seemed so improbable to me, however much I desired it
to be true. Do you know what thing it was that convinced me more than
all the others?"

"What, my boy?" I asked.

"Your first words to me--they were of my mother. None else but the man
who loved her as she has told me my father did would have thought first
of her."

"For long years, my son, I can scarce recall a moment that the radiant
vision of your mother's face has not been ever before me. Tell me of
her."

"Those who have known her longest say that she has not changed, unless
it be to grow more beautiful--were that possible. Only, when she
thinks I am not about to see her, her face grows very sad, and, oh, so
wistful. She thinks ever of you, my father, and all Helium mourns with
her and for her. Her grandfather's people love her. They loved you
also, and fairly worship your memory as the saviour of Barsoom.

"Each year that brings its anniversary of the day that saw you racing
across a near dead world to unlock the secret of that awful portal
behind which lay the mighty power of life for countless millions a
great festival is held in your honour; but there are tears mingled with
the thanksgiving--tears of real regret that the author of the happiness
is not with them to share the joy of living he died to give them. Upon
all Barsoom there is no greater name than John Carter."

"And by what name has your mother called you, my boy?" I asked.

"The people of Helium asked that I be named with my father's name, but
my mother said no, that you and she had chosen a name for me together,
and that your wish must be honoured before all others, so the name that
she called me is the one that you desired, a combination of hers and
yours--Carthoris."

Xodar had been at the wheel as I talked with my son, and now he called
me.

"She is dropping badly by the head, John Carter," he said. "So long as
we were rising at a stiff angle it was not noticeable, but now that I
am trying to keep a horizontal course it is different. The wound in
her bow has opened one of her forward ray tanks."

It was true, and after I had examined the damage I found it a much
graver matter than I had anticipated. Not only was the forced angle at
which we were compelled to maintain the bow in order to keep a
horizontal course greatly impeding our speed, but at the rate that we
were losing our repulsive rays from the forward tanks it was but a
question of an hour or more when we would be floating stern up and
helpless.

We had slightly reduced our speed with the dawning of a sense of
security, but now I took the helm once more and pulled the noble little
engine wide open, so that again we raced north at terrific velocity.
In the meantime Carthoris and Xodar with tools in hand were puttering
with the great rent in the bow in a hopeless endeavour to stem the tide
of escaping rays.

It was still dark when we passed the northern boundary of the ice cap
and the area of clouds. Below us lay a typical Martian landscape.
Rolling ochre sea bottom of long dead seas, low surrounding hills, with
here and there the grim and silent cities of the dead past; great piles
of mighty architecture tenanted only by age-old memories of a once
powerful race, and by the great white apes of Barsoom.

It was becoming more and more difficult to maintain our little vessel
in a horizontal position. Lower and lower sagged the bow until it
became necessary to stop the engine to prevent our flight terminating
in a swift dive to the ground.

As the sun rose and the light of a new day swept away the darkness of
night our craft gave a final spasmodic plunge, turned half upon her
side, and then with deck tilting at a sickening angle swung in a slow
circle, her bow dropping further below her stern each moment.

To hand-rail and stanchion we clung, and finally as we saw the end
approaching, snapped the buckles of our harness to the rings at her
sides. In another moment the deck reared at an angle of ninety degrees
and we hung in our leather with feet dangling a thousand yards above
the ground.

I was swinging quite close to the controlling devices, so I reached out
to the lever that directed the rays of repulsion. The boat responded
to the touch, and very gently we began to sink toward the ground.

It was fully half an hour before we touched. Directly north of us rose
a rather lofty range of hills, toward which we decided to make our way,
since they afforded greater opportunity for concealment from the
pursuers we were confident might stumble in this direction.

An hour later found us in the time-rounded gullies of the hills, amid
the beautiful flowering plants that abound in the arid waste places of
Barsoom. There we found numbers of huge milk-giving shrubs--that
strange plant which serves in great part as food and drink for the wild
hordes of green men. It was indeed a boon to us, for we all were
nearly famished.

Beneath a cluster of these which afforded perfect concealment from
wandering air scouts, we lay down to sleep--for me the first time in
many hours. This was the beginning of my fifth day upon Barsoom since
I had found myself suddenly translated from my cottage on the Hudson to
Dor, the valley beautiful, the valley hideous. In all this time I had
slept but twice, though once the clock around within the storehouse of
the therns.

It was mid-afternoon when I was awakened by some one seizing my hand
and covering it with kisses. With a start I opened my eyes to look
into the beautiful face of Thuvia.

"My Prince! My Prince!" she cried, in an ecstasy of happiness. "'Tis
you whom I had mourned as dead. My ancestors have been good to me; I
have not lived in vain."

The girl's voice awoke Xodar and Carthoris. The boy gazed upon the
woman in surprise, but she did not seem to realize the presence of
another than I. She would have thrown her arms about my neck and
smothered me with caresses, had I not gently but firmly disengaged
myself.

"Come, come, Thuvia," I said soothingly; "you are overwrought by the
danger and hardships you have passed through. You forget yourself, as
you forget that I am the husband of the Princess of Helium."

"I forget nothing, my Prince," she replied. "You have spoken no word
of love to me, nor do I expect that you ever shall; but nothing can
prevent me loving you. I would not take the place of Dejah Thoris. My
greatest ambition is to serve you, my Prince, for ever as your slave.
No greater boon could I ask, no greater honour could I crave, no
greater happiness could I hope."

As I have before said, I am no ladies' man, and I must admit that I
seldom have felt so uncomfortable and embarrassed as I did that moment.
While I was quite familiar with the Martian custom which allows female
slaves to Martian men, whose high and chivalrous honour is always ample
protection for every woman in his household, yet I had never myself
chosen other than men as my body servants.

"And I ever return to Helium, Thuvia," I said, "you shall go with me,
but as an honoured equal, and not as a slave. There you shall find
plenty of handsome young nobles who would face Issus herself to win a
smile from you, and we shall have you married in short order to one of
the best of them. Forget your foolish gratitude-begotten infatuation,
which your innocence has mistaken for love. I like your friendship
better, Thuvia."

"You are my master; it shall be as you say," she replied simply, but
there was a note of sadness in her voice.

"How came you here, Thuvia?" I asked. "And where is Tars Tarkas?"

"The great Thark, I fear, is dead," she replied sadly. "He was a
mighty fighter, but a multitude of green warriors of another horde than
his overwhelmed him. The last that I saw of him they were bearing him,
wounded and bleeding, to the deserted city from which they had sallied
to attack us."

"You are not sure that he is dead, then?" I asked. "And where is this
city of which you speak?"

"It is just beyond this range of hills. The vessel in which you so
nobly resigned a place that we might find escape defied our small skill
in navigation, with the result that we drifted aimlessly about for two
days. Then we decided to abandon the craft and attempt to make our way
on foot to the nearest waterway. Yesterday we crossed these hills and
came upon the dead city beyond. We had passed within its streets and
were walking toward the central portion, when at an intersecting avenue
we saw a body of green warriors approaching.

"Tars Tarkas was in advance, and they saw him, but me they did not see.
The Thark sprang back to my side and forced me into an adjacent
doorway, where he told me to remain in hiding until I could escape,
making my way to Helium if possible.

"'There will be no escape for me now,' he said, 'for these be the
Warhoon of the South. When they have seen my metal it will be to the
death.'

"Then he stepped out to meet them. Ah, my Prince, such fighting! For
an hour they swarmed about him, until the Warhoon dead formed a hill
where he had stood; but at last they overwhelmed him, those behind
pushing the foremost upon him until there remained no space to swing
his great sword. Then he stumbled and went down and they rolled over
him like a huge wave. When they carried him away toward the heart of
the city, he was dead, I think, for I did not see him move."

"Before we go farther we must be sure," I said. "I cannot leave Tars
Tarkas alive among the Warhoons. To-night I shall enter the city and
make sure."

"And I shall go with you," spoke Carthoris.

"And I," said Xodar.

"Neither one of you shall go," I replied. "It is work that requires
stealth and strategy, not force. One man alone may succeed where more
would invite disaster. I shall go alone. If I need your help, I will
return for you."

They did not like it, but both were good soldiers, and it had been
agreed that I should command. The sun already was low, so that I did
not have long to wait before the sudden darkness of Barsoom engulfed us.

With a parting word of instructions to Carthoris and Xodar, in case I
should not return, I bade them all farewell and set forth at a rapid
dogtrot toward the city.

As I emerged from the hills the nearer moon was winging its wild flight
through the heavens, its bright beams turning to burnished silver the
barbaric splendour of the ancient metropolis. The city had been built
upon the gently rolling foothills that in the dim and distant past had
sloped down to meet the sea. It was due to this fact that I had no
difficulty in entering the streets unobserved.

The green hordes that use these deserted cities seldom occupy more than
a few squares about the central plaza, and as they come and go always
across the dead sea bottoms that the cities face, it is usually a
matter of comparative ease to enter from the hillside.

Once within the streets, I kept close in the dense shadows of the
walls. At intersections I halted a moment to make sure that none was
in sight before I sprang quickly to the shadows of the opposite side.
Thus I made the journey to the vicinity of the plaza without detection.
As I approached the purlieus of the inhabited portion of the city I was
made aware of the proximity of the warriors' quarters by the squealing
and grunting of the thoats and zitidars corralled within the hollow
courtyards formed by the buildings surrounding each square.

These old familiar sounds that are so distinctive of green Martian life
sent a thrill of pleasure surging through me. It was as one might feel
on coming home after a long absence. It was amid such sounds that I
had first courted the incomparable Dejah Thoris in the age-old marble
halls of the dead city of Korad.

As I stood in the shadows at the far corner of the first square which
housed members of the horde, I saw warriors emerging from several of
the buildings. They all went in the same direction, toward a great
building which stood in the centre of the plaza. My knowledge of green
Martian customs convinced me that this was either the quarters of the
principal chieftain or contained the audience chamber wherein the
Jeddak met his jeds and lesser chieftains. In either event, it was
evident that something was afoot which might have a bearing on the
recent capture of Tars Tarkas.

To reach this building, which I now felt it imperative that I do, I
must needs traverse the entire length of one square and cross a broad
avenue and a portion of the plaza. From the noises of the animals
which came from every courtyard about me, I knew that there were many
people in the surrounding buildings--probably several communities of
the great horde of the Warhoons of the South.

To pass undetected among all these people was in itself a difficult
task, but if I was to find and rescue the great Thark I must expect
even more formidable obstacles before success could be mine. I had
entered the city from the south and now stood on the corner of the
avenue through which I had passed and the first intersecting avenue
south of the plaza. The buildings upon the south side of this square
did not appear to be inhabited, as I could see no lights, and so I
decided to gain the inner courtyard through one of them.

Nothing occurred to interrupt my progress through the deserted pile I
chose, and I came into the inner court close to the rear walls of the
east buildings without detection. Within the court a great herd of
thoats and zitidars moved restlessly about, cropping the moss-like
ochre vegetation which overgrows practically the entire uncultivated
area of Mars. What breeze there was came from the north-west, so there
was little danger that the beasts would scent me. Had they, their
squealing and grunting would have grown to such a volume as to attract
the attention of the warriors within the buildings.

Close to the east wall, beneath the overhanging balconies of the second
floors, I crept in dense shadows the full length of the courtyard,
until I came to the buildings at the north end. These were lighted for
about three floors up, but above the third floor all was dark.

To pass through the lighted rooms was, of course, out of the question,
since they swarmed with green Martian men and women. My only path lay
through the upper floors, and to gain these it was necessary to scale
the face of the wall. The reaching of the balcony of the second floor
was a matter of easy accomplishment--an agile leap gave my hands a
grasp upon the stone hand-rail above. In another instant I had drawn
myself upon the balcony.

Here through the open windows I saw the green folk squatting upon their
sleeping silks and furs, grunting an occasional monosyllable, which, in
connection with their wondrous telepathic powers, is ample for their
conversational requirements. As I drew closer to listen to their words
a warrior entered the room from the hall beyond.

"Come, Tan Gama," he cried, "we are to take the Thark before Kab Kadja.
Bring another with you."

The warrior addressed arose and, beckoning to a fellow squatting near,
the three turned and left the apartment.

If I could but follow them the chance might come to free Tars Tarkas at
once. At least I would learn the location of his prison.

At my right was a door leading from the balcony into the building. It
was at the end of an unlighted hall, and on the impulse of the moment I
stepped within. The hall was broad and led straight through to the
front of the building. On either side were the doorways of the various
apartments which lined it.

I had no more than entered the corridor than I saw the three warriors
at the other end--those whom I had just seen leaving the apartment.
Then a turn to the right took them from my sight again. Quickly I
hastened along the hallway in pursuit. My gait was reckless, but I
felt that Fate had been kind indeed to throw such an opportunity within
my grasp, and I could not afford to allow it to elude me now.

At the far end of the corridor I found a spiral stairway leading to the
floors above and below. The three had evidently left the floor by this
avenue. That they had gone down and not up I was sure from my
knowledge of these ancient buildings and the methods of the Warhoons.

I myself had once been a prisoner of the cruel hordes of northern
Warhoon, and the memory of the underground dungeon in which I lay still
is vivid in my memory. And so I felt certain that Tars Tarkas lay in
the dark pits beneath some nearby building, and that in that direction
I should find the trail of the three warriors leading to his cell.

Nor was I wrong. At the bottom of the runway, or rather at the landing
on the floor below, I saw that the shaft descended into the pits
beneath, and as I glanced down the flickering light of a torch revealed
the presence of the three I was trailing.

Down they went toward the pits beneath the structure, and at a safe
distance behind I followed the flicker of their torch. The way led
through a maze of tortuous corridors, unlighted save for the wavering
light they carried. We had gone perhaps a hundred yards when the party
turned abruptly through a doorway at their right. I hastened on as
rapidly as I dared through the darkness until I reached the point at
which they had left the corridor. There, through an open door, I saw
them removing the chains that secured the great Thark, Tars Tarkas, to
the wall.

Hustling him roughly between them, they came immediately from the
chamber, so quickly in fact that I was near to being apprehended. But
I managed to run along the corridor in the direction I had been going
in my pursuit of them far enough to be without the radius of their
meagre light as they emerged from the cell.

I had naturally assumed that they would return with Tars Tarkas the
same way that they had come, which would have carried them away from
me; but, to my chagrin, they wheeled directly in my direction as they
left the room. There was nothing for me but to hasten on in advance
and keep out of the light of their torch. I dared not attempt to halt
in the darkness of any of the many intersecting corridors, for I knew
nothing of the direction they might take. Chance was as likely as not
to carry me into the very corridor they might choose to enter.

The sensation of moving rapidly through these dark passages was far
from reassuring. I knew not at what moment I might plunge headlong
into some terrible pit or meet with some of the ghoulish creatures that
inhabit these lower worlds beneath the dead cities of dying Mars.
There filtered to me a faint radiance from the torch of the men
behind--just enough to permit me to trace the direction of the winding
passageways directly before me, and so keep me from dashing myself
against the walls at the turns.

Presently I came to a place where five corridors diverged from a common
point. I had hastened along one of them for some little distance when
suddenly the faint light of the torch disappeared from behind me. I
paused to listen for sounds of the party behind me, but the silence was
as utter as the silence of the tomb.

Quickly I realized that the warriors had taken one of the other
corridors with their prisoner, and so I hastened back with a feeling of
considerable relief to take up a much safer and more desirable position
behind them. It was much slower work returning, however, than it had
been coming, for now the darkness was as utter as the silence.

It was necessary to feel every foot of the way back with my hand
against the side wall, that I might not pass the spot where the five
roads radiated. After what seemed an eternity to me, I reached the
place and recognized it by groping across the entrances to the several
corridors until I had counted five of them. In not one, however,
showed the faintest sign of light.

I listened intently, but the naked feet of the green men sent back no
guiding echoes, though presently I thought I detected the clank of side
arms in the far distance of the middle corridor. Up this, then, I
hastened, searching for the light, and stopping to listen occasionally
for a repetition of the sound; but soon I was forced to admit that I
must have been following a blind lead, as only darkness and silence
rewarded my efforts.

Again I retraced my steps toward the parting of the ways, when to my
surprise I came upon the entrance to three diverging corridors, any one
of which I might have traversed in my hasty dash after the false clue I
had been following. Here was a pretty fix, indeed! Once back at the
point where the five passageways met, I might wait with some assurance
for the return of the warriors with Tars Tarkas. My knowledge of their
customs lent colour to the belief that he was but being escorted to the
audience chamber to have sentence passed upon him. I had not the
slightest doubt but that they would preserve so doughty a warrior as
the great Thark for the rare sport he would furnish at the Great Games.

But unless I could find my way back to that point the chances were most
excellent that I would wander for days through the awful blackness,
until, overcome by thirst and hunger, I lay down to die, or--What was
that!

A faint shuffling sounded behind me, and as I cast a hasty glance over
my shoulder my blood froze in my veins for the thing I saw there. It
was not so much fear of the present danger as it was the horrifying
memories it recalled of that time I near went mad over the corpse of
the man I had killed in the dungeons of the Warhoons, when blazing eyes
came out of the dark recesses and dragged the thing that had been a man
from my clutches and I heard it scraping over the stone of my prison as
they bore it away to their terrible feast.

And now in these black pits of the other Warhoons I looked into those
same fiery eyes, blazing at me through the terrible darkness, revealing
no sign of the beast behind them. I think that the most fearsome
attribute of these awesome creatures is their silence and the fact that
one never sees them--nothing but those baleful eyes glaring
unblinkingly out of the dark void behind.

Grasping my long-sword tightly in my hand, I backed slowly along the
corridor away from the thing that watched me, but ever as I retreated
the eyes advanced, nor was there any sound, not even the sound of
breathing, except the occasional shuffling sound as of the dragging of
a dead limb, that had first attracted my attention.

On and on I went, but I could not escape my sinister pursuer. Suddenly
I heard the shuffling noise at my right, and, looking, saw another pair
of eyes, evidently approaching from an intersecting corridor. As I
started to renew my slow retreat I heard the noise repeated behind me,
and then before I could turn I heard it again at my left.

The things were all about me. They had me surrounded at the
intersection of two corridors. Retreat was cut off in all directions,
unless I chose to charge one of the beasts. Even then I had no doubt
but that the others would hurl themselves upon my back. I could not
even guess the size or nature of the weird creatures. That they were
of goodly proportions I guessed from the fact that the eyes were on a
level with my own.

Why is it that darkness so magnifies our dangers? By day I would have
charged the great banth itself, had I thought it necessary, but hemmed
in by the darkness of these silent pits I hesitated before a pair of
eyes.

Soon I saw that the matter shortly would be taken entirely from my
hands, for the eyes at my right were moving slowly nearer me, as were
those at my left and those behind and before me. Gradually they were
closing in upon me--but still that awful stealthy silence!

For what seemed hours the eyes approached gradually closer and closer,
until I felt that I should go mad for the horror of it. I had been
constantly turning this way and that to prevent any sudden rush from
behind, until I was fairly worn out. At length I could endure it no
longer, and, taking a fresh grasp upon my long-sword, I turned suddenly
and charged down upon one of my tormentors.

As I was almost upon it the thing retreated before me, but a sound from
behind caused me to wheel in time to see three pairs of eyes rushing at
me from the rear. With a cry of rage I turned to meet the cowardly
beasts, but as I advanced they retreated as had their fellow. Another
glance over my shoulder discovered the first eyes sneaking on me again.
And again I charged, only to see the eyes retreat before me and hear
the muffled rush of the three at my back.

Thus we continued, the eyes always a little closer in the end than they
had been before, until I thought that I should go mad with the terrible
strain of the ordeal. That they were waiting to spring upon my back
seemed evident, and that it would not be long before they succeeded was
equally apparent, for I could not endure the wear of this repeated
charge and countercharge indefinitely. In fact, I could feel myself
weakening from the mental and physical strain I had been undergoing.

At that moment I caught another glimpse from the corner of my eye of
the single pair of eyes at my back making a sudden rush upon me. I
turned to meet the charge; there was a quick rush of the three from the
other direction; but I determined to pursue the single pair until I
should have at least settled my account with one of the beasts and thus
be relieved of the strain of meeting attacks from both directions.

There was no sound in the corridor, only that of my own breathing, yet
I knew that those three uncanny creatures were almost upon me. The
eyes in front were not retreating so rapidly now; I was almost within
sword reach of them. I raised my sword arm to deal the blow that
should free me, and then I felt a heavy body upon my back. A cold,
moist, slimy something fastened itself upon my throat. I stumbled and
went down.





Next: Flight And Pursuit

Previous: A Break For Liberty



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