火星诸神· บทที่ 15

บทที่ บทที่ 15 · 第15章

FLIGHT AND PURSUIT

I could not have been unconscious more than a few seconds, and yet I

know that I was unconscious, for the next thing I realized was that a

growing radiance was illuminating the corridor about me and the eyes

were gone.

I was unharmed except for a slight bruise upon my forehead where it had

struck the stone flagging as I fell.

I sprang to my feet to ascertain the cause of the light. It came from a

torch in the hand of one of a party of four green warriors, who were

coming rapidly down the corridor toward me. They had not yet seen me,

and so I lost no time in slipping into the first intersecting corridor

that I could find. This time, however, I did not advance so far away

from the main corridor as on the other occasion that had resulted in my

losing Tars Tarkas and his guards.

The party came rapidly toward the opening of the passageway in which I

crouched against the wall. As they passed by I breathed a sigh of

relief. I had not been discovered, and, best of all, the party was the

same that I had followed into the pits. It consisted of Tars Tarkas and

his three guards.

I fell in behind them and soon we were at the cell in which the great

Thark had been chained. Two of the warriors remained without while the

man with the keys entered with the Thark to fasten his irons upon him

once more. The two outside started to stroll slowly in the direction of

the spiral runway which led to the floors above, and in a moment were

lost to view beyond a turn in the corridor.

The torch had been stuck in a socket beside the door, so that its rays

illuminated both the corridor and the cell at the same time. As I saw

the two warriors disappear I approached the entrance to the cell, with

a well-defined plan already formulated.

While I disliked the thought of carrying out the thing that I had

decided upon, there seemed no alternative if Tars Tarkas and I were to

go back together to my little camp in the hills.

Keeping near the wall, I came quite close to the door to Tars Tarkas’

cell, and there I stood with my longsword above my head, grasped with

both hands, that I might bring it down in one quick cut upon the skull

of the jailer as he emerged.

I dislike to dwell upon what followed after I heard the footsteps of

the man as he approached the doorway. It is enough that within another

minute or two, Tars Tarkas, wearing the metal of a Warhoon chief, was

hurrying down the corridor toward the spiral runway, bearing the

Warhoon’s torch to light his way. A dozen paces behind him followed

John Carter, Prince of Helium.

The two companions of the man who lay now beside the door of the cell

that had been Tars Tarkas’ had just started to ascend the runway as the

Thark came in view.

“Why so long, Tan Gama?” cried one of the men.

“I had trouble with a lock,” replied Tars Tarkas. “And now I find that

I have left my short-sword in the Thark’s cell. Go you on, I’ll return

and fetch it.”

“As you will, Tan Gama,” replied he who had before spoken. “We shall

see you above directly.”

“Yes,” replied Tars Tarkas, and turned as though to retrace his steps

to the cell, but he only waited until the two had disappeared at the

floor above. Then I joined him, we extinguished the torch, and together

we crept toward the spiral incline that led to the upper floors of the

building.

At the first floor we found that the hallway ran but halfway through,

necessitating the crossing of a rear room full of green folk, ere we

could reach the inner courtyard, so there was but one thing left for us

to do, and that was to gain the second floor and the hallway through

which I had traversed the length of the building.

Cautiously we ascended. We could hear the sounds of conversation coming

from the room above, but the hall still was unlighted, nor was any one

in sight as we gained the top of the runway. Together we threaded the

long hall and reached the balcony overlooking the courtyard, without

being detected.

At our right was the window letting into the room in which I had seen

Tan Gama and the other warriors as they started to Tars Tarkas’ cell

earlier in the evening. His companions had returned here, and we now

overheard a portion of their conversation.

“What can be detaining Tan Gama?” asked one.

“He certainly could not be all this time fetching his shortsword from

the Thark’s cell,” spoke another.

“His short-sword?” asked a woman. “What mean you?”

“Tan Gama left his short-sword in the Thark’s cell,” explained the

first speaker, “and left us at the runway, to return and get it.”

“Tan Gama wore no short-sword this night,” said the woman. “It was

broken in to-day’s battle with the Thark, and Tan Gama gave it to me to

repair. See, I have it here,” and as she spoke she drew Tan Gama’s

short-sword from beneath her sleeping silks and furs.

The warriors sprang to their feet.

“There is something amiss here,” cried one.

“’Tis even what I myself thought when Tan Gama left us at the runway,”

said another. “Methought then that his voice sounded strangely.”

“Come! let us hasten to the pits.”

We waited to hear no more. Slinging my harness into a long single

strap, I lowered Tars Tarkas to the courtyard beneath, and an instant

later dropped to his side.

We had spoken scarcely a dozen words since I had felled Tan Gama at the

cell door and seen in the torch’s light the expression of utter

bewilderment upon the great Thark’s face.

“By this time,” he had said, “I should have learned to wonder at

nothing which John Carter accomplishes.” That was all. He did not need

to tell me that he appreciated the friendship which had prompted me to

risk my life to rescue him, nor did he need to say that he was glad to

see me.

This fierce green warrior had been the first to greet me that day, now

twenty years gone, which had witnessed my first advent upon Mars. He

had met me with levelled spear and cruel hatred in his heart as he

charged down upon me, bending low at the side of his mighty thoat as I

stood beside the incubator of his horde upon the dead sea bottom beyond

Korad. And now among the inhabitants of two worlds I counted none a

better friend than Tars Tarkas, Jeddak of the Tharks.

As we reached the courtyard we stood in the shadows beneath the balcony

for a moment to discuss our plans.

“There be five now in the party, Tars Tarkas,” I said; “Thuvia, Xodar,

Carthoris, and ourselves. We shall need five thoats to bear us.”

“Carthoris!” he cried. “Your son?”

“Yes. I found him in the prison of Shador, on the Sea of Omean, in the

land of the First Born.”

“I know not any of these places, John Carter. Be they upon Barsoom?”

“Upon and below, my friend; but wait until we shall have made good our

escape, and you shall hear the strangest narrative that ever a

Barsoomian of the outer world gave ear to. Now we must steal our thoats

and be well away to the north before these fellows discover how we have

tricked them.”

In safety we reached the great gates at the far end of the courtyard,

through which it was necessary to take our thoats to the avenue beyond.

It is no easy matter to handle five of these great, fierce beasts,

which by nature are as wild and ferocious as their masters and held in

subjection by cruelty and brute force alone.

As we approached them they sniffed our unfamiliar scent and with

squeals of rage circled about us. Their long, massive necks upreared

raised their great, gaping mouths high above our heads. They are

fearsome appearing brutes at best, but when they are aroused they are

fully as dangerous as they look. The thoat stands a good ten feet at

the shoulder. His hide is sleek and hairless, and of a dark slate

colour on back and sides, shading down his eight legs to a vivid yellow

at the huge, padded, nailless feet; the belly is pure white. A broad,

flat tail, larger at the tip than at the root, completes the picture of

this ferocious green Martian mount—a fit war steed for these warlike

people.

As the thoats are guided by telepathic means alone, there is no need

for rein or bridle, and so our object now was to find two that would

obey our unspoken commands. As they charged about us we succeeded in

mastering them sufficiently to prevent any concerted attack upon us,

but the din of their squealing was certain to bring investigating

warriors into the courtyard were it to continue much longer.

At length I was successful in reaching the side of one great brute, and

ere he knew what I was about I was firmly seated astride his glossy

back. A moment later Tars Tarkas had caught and mounted another, and

then between us we herded three or four more toward the great gates.

Tars Tarkas rode ahead and, leaning down to the latch, threw the

barriers open, while I held the loose thoats from breaking back to the

herd. Then together we rode through into the avenue with our stolen

mounts and, without waiting to close the gates, hurried off toward the

southern boundary of the city.

Thus far our escape had been little short of marvellous, nor did our

good fortune desert us, for we passed the outer purlieus of the dead

city and came to our camp without hearing even the faintest sound of

pursuit.

Here a low whistle, the prearranged signal, apprised the balance of our

party that I was returning, and we were met by the three with every

manifestation of enthusiastic rejoicing.

But little time was wasted in narration of our adventure. Tars Tarkas

and Carthoris exchanged the dignified and formal greetings common upon

Barsoom, but I could tell intuitively that the Thark loved my boy and

that Carthoris reciprocated his affection.

Xodar and the green Jeddak were formally presented to each other. Then

Thuvia was lifted to the least fractious thoat, Xodar and Carthoris

mounted two others, and we set out at a rapid pace toward the east. At

the far extremity of the city we circled toward the north, and under

the glorious rays of the two moons we sped noiselessly across the dead

sea bottom, away from the Warhoons and the First Born, but to what new

dangers and adventures we knew not.

Toward noon of the following day we halted to rest our mounts and

ourselves. The beasts we hobbled, that they might move slowly about

cropping the ochre moss-like vegetation which constitutes both food and

drink for them on the march. Thuvia volunteered to remain on watch

while the balance of the party slept for an hour.

It seemed to me that I had but closed my eyes when I felt her hand upon

my shoulder and heard her soft voice warning me of a new danger.

“Arise, O Prince,” she whispered. “There be that behind us which has

the appearance of a great body of pursuers.”

The girl stood pointing in the direction from whence we had come, and

as I arose and looked, I, too, thought that I could detect a thin dark

line on the far horizon. I awoke the others. Tars Tarkas, whose giant

stature towered high above the rest of us, could see the farthest.

“It is a great body of mounted men,” he said, “and they are travelling

at high speed.”

There was no time to be lost. We sprang to our hobbled thoats, freed

them, and mounted. Then we turned our faces once more toward the north

and took our flight again at the highest speed of our slowest beast.

For the balance of the day and all the following night we raced across

that ochre wilderness with the pursuers at our back ever gaining upon

us. Slowly but surely they were lessening the distance between us. Just

before dark they had been close enough for us to plainly distinguish

that they were green Martians, and all during the long night we

distinctly heard the clanking of their accoutrements behind us.

As the sun rose on the second day of our flight it disclosed the

pursuing horde not a half-mile in our rear. As they saw us a fiendish

shout of triumph rose from their ranks.

Several miles in advance lay a range of hills—the farther shore of the

dead sea we had been crossing. Could we but reach these hills our

chances of escape would be greatly enhanced, but Thuvia’s mount,

although carrying the lightest burden, already was showing signs of

exhaustion. I was riding beside her when suddenly her animal staggered

and lurched against mine. I saw that he was going down, but ere he fell

I snatched the girl from his back and swung her to a place upon my own

thoat, behind me, where she clung with her arms about me.

This double burden soon proved too much for my already overtaxed beast,

and thus our speed was terribly diminished, for the others would

proceed no faster than the slowest of us could go. In that little party

there was not one who would desert another; yet we were of different

countries, different colours, different races, different religions—and

one of us was of a different world.

We were quite close to the hills, but the Warhoons were gaining so

rapidly that we had given up all hope of reaching them in time. Thuvia

and I were in the rear, for our beast was lagging more and more.

Suddenly I felt the girl’s warm lips press a kiss upon my shoulder.

“For thy sake, O my Prince,” she murmured. Then her arms slipped from

about my waist and she was gone.

I turned and saw that she had deliberately slipped to the ground in the

very path of the cruel demons who pursued us, thinking that by

lightening the burden of my mount it might thus be enabled to bear me

to the safety of the hills. Poor child! She should have known John

Carter better than that.

Turning my thoat, I urged him after her, hoping to reach her side and

bear her on again in our hopeless flight. Carthoris must have glanced

behind him at about the same time and taken in the situation, for by

the time I had reached Thuvia’s side he was there also, and, springing

from his mount, he threw her upon its back and, turning the animal’s

head toward the hills, gave the beast a sharp crack across the rump

with the flat of his sword. Then he attempted to do the same with mine.

The brave boy’s act of chivalrous self-sacrifice filled me with pride,

nor did I care that it had wrested from us our last frail chance for

escape. The Warhoons were now close upon us. Tars Tarkas and Xodar had

discovered our absence and were charging rapidly to our support.

Everything pointed toward a splendid ending of my second journey to

Barsoom. I hated to go out without having seen my divine Princess, and

held her in my arms once again; but if it were not writ upon the book

of Fate that such was to be, then would I take the most that was coming

to me, and in these last few moments that were to be vouchsafed me

before I passed over into that unguessed future I could at least give

such an account of myself in my chosen vocation as would leave the

Warhoons of the South food for discourse for the next twenty

generations.

As Carthoris was not mounted, I slipped from the back of my own mount

and took my place at his side to meet the charge of the howling devils

bearing down upon us. A moment later Tars Tarkas and Xodar ranged

themselves on either hand, turning their thoats loose that we might all

be on an equal footing.

The Warhoons were perhaps a hundred yards from us when a loud explosion

sounded from above and behind us, and almost at the same instant a

shell burst in their advancing ranks. At once all was confusion. A

hundred warriors toppled to the ground. Riderless thoats plunged hither

and thither among the dead and dying. Dismounted warriors were trampled

underfoot in the stampede which followed. All semblance of order had

left the ranks of the green men, and as they looked far above our heads

to trace the origin of this unexpected attack, disorder turned to

retreat and retreat to a wild panic. In another moment they were racing

as madly away from us as they had before been charging down upon us.

We turned to look in the direction from whence the first report had

come, and there we saw, just clearing the tops of the nearer hills, a

great battleship swinging majestically through the air. Her bow gun

spoke again even as we looked, and another shell burst among the

fleeing Warhoons.

As she drew nearer I could not repress a wild cry of elation, for upon

her bows I saw the device of Helium.