2 - Blades of Mars (3 page)

 
          
 
I seemed to have heard vaguely of the
Mendishar, but could not remember what I had been told - by Shizala probably, I
thought.

 
          
 
'Is this Mendishar?' I asked.

 
          
 
‘I wish it were. We are nearly there,
however.'

 
          
 
'Where is Mendishar in relation to Argzoon?'

 
          
 
'Oh, we lie well to the north of the Caves of
Darkness.'

 
          
 
The discrepancy in time could not be as great
as I had at first thought, then. If the Kamala and the Argzoon's underground world,
the Caves of Darkness, still existed, then the spot - this barren waste - on
which I had found
myself
was not typical of the planet
I knew.

 
          
 
Hool Haji reached out his hand. 'Perhaps I
could have my lance now?'

 
          
 
I apologised and handed it to him.

 
          
 
'You look exhausted,' he said. 'Come - I have
a camp nearby - we'll eat a little of your late adversary.' He bent down and
lifted the great beast's carcase easily, flinging it over his shoulder.

 
          
 
I walked beside him and he deliberately
shortened his pace so that I might find it easier to keep up with htm. He did
not seem to tire beneath his burden.

 
          
 
‘I was graceless,' I said. ‘I did not thank
you for saving my life. I am in your debt.'

 
          
 
'May you have an opportunity to repay it,' he
replied, using a formal reply which I had only heard in the south until now.

 
          
 
We reached Hool Haji's camp - a low tent
pitched beside a small stream that ran through the rocks. A fire was burning
and giving off a great deal of ill-smelling smoke, but Hool Haji explained that
the only fuel in these parts was in the oxel, the broguish, bracken-like plant
that sprouted among the rocks.

 
          
 
Hool Haji began to skin the beast and as he
did so, preparing it most deftly with a special knife he wore in his upper
harness, he explained the similarities between his race and the Argzoon. I was
interested to hear it, especially since it also told me a little more
about
the earlier history of Vashu - or Mars, as they call
it on Earth.

 
          
 
It seems that in the dim and distant past of
Vashu the Mendishar and the Argzoon were one people, living close to the sea
from which, their legends said, they had origina-nated. They were fishermen and
boat builders, pirates and coastal raiders, sea traders, inrak divers - the
inrak being a rare shell-fish regarded as a delicacy by all, it appeared, but
the blue men themselves.

 
          
 
They lived in a part of the planet which at
that time was remote. Their lives were parochial, their trading and raiding
confined mostly to nearby places.

 
          
 
Then
came
the Mightiest
War. About the cause of this war and its protagonists Hool Haji was rather
vague. It was between the Sheev and the Yaksha, he said. I had heard of the
Sheev. This mysterious people had given many benefits to the Karnala - they had
once possessed a great civilisation, understood nuclear energy and the like,
were more advanced than Earthmen of my own time. The ruins of their cities were
still sometimes to be found here and there. Hool Haji appeared to know little
more than I did. The Yaksha and the Sheev were of similar origins, he said, but
the Yaksha were considerably less wholesome.

 
          
 
The Mightiest War was waged across the planet
for decades. Soon even the remote blue men heard of it. Soon they even suffered
from its effects, many dying from a strange disease borne on the wind from the
west.

 
          
 
Then the Yaksha came to the settlements of the
blue folk. They had many wonderful weapons, but they seemed beaten and
desperate. The handful of Yaksha offered the blue men great chances of plunder
if they would help them attack a Sheev position inland. Many had agreed and had
set off for the mountains where the Sheev were. Apparently they had found the
Sheev in underground chambers blasted from the rock, and had attacked. The
Sheev had held them off until only three of the Sheev survived. Then these had
escaped in a flying boat of some kind. The Yaksha, also few in number, had
followed them, telling the blue folk to hold the position until they returned.

 
          
 
They had not returned. The blue folk settled
in the cavern-world. Some had brought women. They adapted to the environment
and had even seemed to thrive on it. The caverns were an ideal place from which
to conduct raids on the smaller, lighter-skinned races - so they had raided.
That had been the origin of the Argzoon millennia before.

 
          
 
The Mendishar were those who had remained.
They had taken no part in the Mightiest War, but had prospered, trading amongst
far islands and a continent which lay beyond the sea to the north.

 
          
 
'That is,' Hool Haji said as he set the meat
on a spit over the fire, 'until the Priosa gained too much power.'

 
          
 
'Who are they?' I asked.

 
          
 
'Originally they were simply a royal guard - a
ceremonial force attached to our Bradhi's house.' A Bradhi was a kind of
Martian king who tended to rule by heredity but could be deposed and replaced
by popular vote. 'They were made up of young warriors who had won honour among
our people. They were idolised by the populace who began, by degrees, to attach
an almost mystical significance to them. In the minds of the ordinary folk they
became more than men, almost deities - they could do what they liked virtually
with impunity. Then, about forty years ago, the warrior who was then Pukan
Nara' - this meant, roughly. Warrior-leader - 'of the Priosa began to say that
he was receiving messages from higher beings.

 
          
 
'Realising that the whole system of the Priosa
offered a danger to the Mendisher nation, the Bradhi and his council decided to
disband it. But they had reckoned without the power the Priosa now held over
the ordinary folk. When they announced the decision to disband the force the
people refused to hear of it. The Bradhi was deposed and the Pukan Nara - Jewar
Baru - was elected Bradhi. The old Bradhi and his council all died mysteriously
in different ways, the Bradhi's family was' forced to flee and the new Bradhi
Jewar Baru began his unhealthy reign.

 
          
 
'In what way is it unhealthy?' I asked.

 
          
 
'They have brought superstition back into the
lives of the Mendishar. They perform "miracles" and claim clairvoyance;
they receive "messages" for "higher beings" ... it is
religion debased to its lowest level.'

 
          
 
I knew the pattern. It was not unlike similar
episodes in my own planet's chequered history.

 
          
 
'They are now a caste of warrior-priests
milking the nation of its riches,' Hool Haji continued, 'to the point where
many are now disillusioned. But Jewar Baru and his "more-than-men"
have total power and those who are disillusioned and say so publicly soon find
themselves taking part in one of their barbaric ritual sacrifices where a man's
- or a woman's - heart is torn out in the central square of Mendisharling, our
nation's capital city.'

 
          
 
I was disgusted. 'But what part do you play in
this?' I asked him.

 
          
 
'An important one,' he said. ‘A rebellion is
planned and many rebels wait in the small hill villages beyond Mendisharling.
They need only a leader to unite under and march against the Priosa.'

 
          
 
'And that leader is not forthcoming?'

 
          
 
'I am that leader,' he said. ‘I hope their
faith in me will be justified. I am the last of the line of the old Bradhis -
my father was slain on Jewar Barn's orders. My family wandered the wastelands,
seeking refuge and finding none, hunted by bands of Priosa. Those who were not
killed by the Priosa died of mulnutrition and disease, of attacks by wild
beasts such as our friend there.' He pointed at the carcase which was now
beginning to roast well.

 
          
 
‘At length only I, Hool Haji, remained. Though
I yearned for Mendishar I could think of no way of returning - until a messenger
found me wandering, many days' journey from this spot, and told me of the
rebels.
Of their longing for a leader, how as last of the old
line I would be ideal.
I agreed to go to the hill village he told me of
- and I am now on my way.'

 
          
 
'Since I have no aims,' I said, ‘perhaps you
will allow me to accompany you.'

 
          
 
'Your presence will be welcome. I am a lonely
man.'

 
          
 
We ate and I told him my story, which he did
not find as incredible as I had suspected he would.

 
          
 
'We are used to strange happenings on Vashu,'
he said. ‘From time to time the shadows of the older races pass across us in
the form of rediscovered marvels, strange inventions of which we know little.
Your story is unusual - but possible. Everything is possible.'

 
          
 
I realised once again that the Martians are a
philosophical folk on the whole - somewhat fatalistic in our terms, I suppose,
yet with a strong tradition and moral code that save them from any hint of
decadence.

 
          
 
After our meal we slept, and it was night
again by the time we set off for the hills of Mendishar.

 
          
 
Dawn rose on those hills which marked the
border of the Mendishar nation, and Hool Haji had to restrain himself from
lengthening his steps.

 
          
 
It was as we set foot on blue-green sward that
two riders, mounted on the huge, ape-like daharas, riding beasts of almost all
Martian nations, topped the nearest hill, paused for a moment when they saw us
and then rode full tilt at us.

 
          
 
They were gaudily dressed, with brightly
lacquered armour and long, coloured plumes in close-fitting helmets. Their
swords flashed in the early morning sun.

 
          
 
They were clearly bent on taking our lives!

 
          
 
Hool Haji cried one word as he flung me his
long lance and drew his sword.

 
          
 
That word was - Priosa!'

 
          
 
The pair thundered down on us and I held my
lance ready as my opponent's great sword swung up, preparing, to crash down and
cleave my skull.

 
          
 
It swept towards me. I deflected it with my
lance but the force of his blow knocked my weapon from my hands and I was
forced to leap out of the warrior's path, dashing to retrieve the lance as he
wheeled his mount and grinned with narrowed eyes, sure of an easy victory.

Ora Lis

 
          
 
The Giant Blue warrior now aimed his sword at
me as if to impale me -1 was sure that was his intention.

 
          
 
My lance was only a short distance from me but
there was no time to pick it up. When the point of his sword was almost at my
throat I flung myself backwards, feeling the metal literally part my hair! Then
I grabbed for the lance and leapt to my feet.

 
          
 
He was once again turning his mount when I saw
my opportunity and hurled my lance at him.

 
          
 
It took him in the face and killed him
instantly. He fell back, the lance quivering in his head. His sword dropped
from his hand and hung by its wrist throng. The unruly dahara reared up,
sensing that its master no longer controlled it, and the corpse toppled from
the saddle.

 
          
 
Glancing about me, I saw that Hool Haji had
not had my luck - for luck it had been. He was defending himself from a rain of
blows his attacker was aiming at him. He had dropped to his knee.

 
          
 
Snatchmg up my late opponent's sword, I ran
forward with a yell. I must have looked a peculiar sight, still in jacket,
shirt and trousers, armed with a huge blade, running to the aid of one of two
battling blue giants!

 
          
 
Foolishly, Hool Haji's antagonist half-turned
at my yell. My blue ally needed only that momentary diversion. He sprang up,
knocked aside his opponent's weapon and plunged his sword into the Priosa's
throat.

 
          
 
The giant was scarcely dead before Hool Haji
was grasping the dahara's harness and steadying the beast as its late master
fell sideways from the saddle. Somewhat contemptuously, the ex-Bradhinak freed
the feet of the corpse from the stirrups and let it drop to the ground.

 
          
 
I realised what my friend had in mind and
turned towards the other dahara, which had moved a short distance away and was
nervously looking about. Without its rider it looked even more curiously
man-like than ever. The dahara was descended from the common ape-ancester of
Man.
If anyone had said of it, as is sometimes
said of dogs and horses on Earth, that it was 'almost human,' that person would
have stated a plain fact! Their intelligence varied according to species, the
intelligence of the smaller Southern variety being greater than that of this
much larger Northern variety. I approached the big dahara with caution, talking
to it soothingly. It shied away - but not before I was able to catch its reins.
It made a token snap at me - I have never known even the wildest dahara to
attack a man - and then it was under my control.

 
          
 
Now we both had mounts and enough weapons to
arm me.

 
          
 
A trifle ghoulishly, we stripped the corpses
of everything we needed - but it was a pity that the armour fitted neither of
us, Hool Haji being a little too large and I a lot too small, but I was able to
make a cross-belt to go over my shoulders and take the heavy weapons. I was also,
thankfully, able to rid myself of the greater part of my encumbering Earthly
clothing. Feeling more like a warrior of Mars with my weapons strapped about me
and seated on the broad back of the dahara, I galloped along, keeping pace with
Hool Haji as we headed once more into the hills.

 
          
 
Now we were at last in Mendishar. The village
- called Asde-Trahi - lay only a few miles away.

 
          
 
We soon reached it I had expected something
more primitive than the bright, mosaic walls of tlie low, semi-spherical houses
- many of the mosaics being arranged as pictures, very beautiful and artistic.
The village was surrounded by a wall, though as we rode down the hill towards
it we could see the whole of the interior. The wall was also decorated, but in
paints of strong, primary colours - orange, blue and yellow - with geometrical
designs mainly based on the circle and the rectangle.

 
          
 
As we neared Asde-Trahi, figures began to
appear on the walls. The figures were almost all armed and their weapons were
drawn. These were blue giants, but their
armour,
if
155 they wore it at all, v/as of padded leather similar to that which the Argzoon,
my old enemies, wore. Their weapons, too, seemed to be whatever they had been
able to lay hands on.

 
          
 
When we were closer, one of the figures gave
out a wild yell and began to talk rapidly to his companions.

 
          
 
A great cheer rang out then and the warriors
held their swords and axes high, leaping up and down in exultation.

 
          
 
Evidently Hool Haji had been recognised and
was welcome.

 
          
 
From a flag-mast in the centre of the village
one banner was run down and another
raised
. I gathered
they were literally raising the flag of rebellion. The heavy yellow and black
square banner was apparently the old standard of the deposed Bradhis.

 
          
 
Hool Haji smiled at me as the gates opened in
the wall.

 
          
 
'It is a homecoming worth waiting for,' he
said.

 
          
 
We rode into the village and men and women and
the Mendishar children - some of them were almost my own height! - flocked
around Hool Jaji, their voices babbling their welcome.

 
          
 
One of the women - I suppose she was beautiful
by their standards - clung to Hool Haji's arm and looked with large eyes up
into his face.

 
          
 
'I have waited so long for you, great
Bradhinak,' I heard her say. 'I have dreamed of this day.'

 
          
 
Hool Haji seemed rather embarrassed - as I had
been - and had some difficulty disengaging his arm from the woman's embrace,
but was able to do so when he saw a tall, dignified young warrior come towards
him, hands outstretched in welcome.

 
          
 
'Morahi Vaja!' the exile exclaimed in
pleasure. ‘You see I kept my promise.'

 
          
 
'And I mine,' smiled the young warrior. 'There
is not a village in these hills that does not willingly offer its support to
you and our cause.'

 
          
 
The woman was still there, though she no
longer embraced Hool Haji.

 
          
 
Morahi Vaja stepped towards her. 'This is my
sister, Ora Lis - she has never met you, but she is already your greatest
supporter.' Morahi Vaja smiled. Then he spoke to the girl. 'Ora Lis, will you
instruct the servants to prepare Hool Haji's friend a bed and food?' The young
warrior seemed not at all surprised by the appearance of a stranger - a
stranger of a different race, at that - in his village. Hool Haji realised it
was time to introduce me. 'This is Michael Kane - he is from Negalu,' he said,
using the Martian name for the planet Earth.

            
This time Morahi Vaja did show
slight surprise. 'I thought Negalu was inhabited only by giant reptiles and the
like,' he said.

 
          
 
Hool Kaji laughed. 'He is not only from Negalu
- he is from the future!'

 
          
 
Morahi Vaja smiled a little. 'Well then,
greetings, friend -I hope you bring luck to our enterprise.'

 
          
 
I restrained myself from remarking that I
hoped I could since I had brought little to ray own!

 
          
 
As we dismounted, Hool Haji said: 'Michael
Kane saved my life when we were attacked by Priosa earlier today.'

 
          
 
'You are welcome and honoured,' Morahi Vaja
said to me.

 
          
 
'Hool Haji forgets to tell you that he saved
mine before I saved his,' I pointed out as Morahi Vaja led us towards a large
house decorated in the most splendid mosaics I have ever seen.

 
          
 
'Then it was ordained that he should - for if
you had not been saved you could not have saved him.'

 
          
 
I could think of no reply to such logic. We
entered the house. It was cool and the rooms were large, light and simply
decorated.

 
          
 
Ora Lis was already there. She had eyes only
for Hool Haji, who seemed both slightly flattered and embarrassed by her
attention.

 
          
 
Morahi Vaja was plainly a person of some
consequence in the village - he was, it emerged later, a kind of mayor -and we
were given the best of everything. The food and drink were delicious, though
some of it was plainly produced only in the North, since it was unfamiliar to
me.

 
          
 
We ate and drank our fill and all the while
Ora Lis paid Hool Haji every attention, even begging to be allowed to remain
when Morahi Vaja told her we were now to talk of strategy and logistics.

 
          
 
The reasons for the planned rebellion were
twofold. One, the people were beginning to realise that the Priosa were by no
means superior beings - too many daughters and matrons had testified to the
fact that the Priosa's appetites were scarcely those of enlightened demigods -
and two, the Priosa were becoming more lax, more self-indulgent, less inclined
to ride out on their patrols.

 
          
 
It seemed to me that this process was not
unfamiliar -it seems to be something of a law of nature that the tyrant falls
by his own lack of foresight. It has always been that the wise king, no matter
what kind of character he may possess, protects his subjects and thereby
protects himself.
The larger and more complex the society,
the longer the process of disposing of the tyrant.
Often, of course, one
tyrant is substituted for another and a vicious circle is brought about. In the
end, however, this means the destruction of the state - its conquest or decline
- and sooner or later the enlightened ruler or government will arise. This may
take centuries - or a few weeks - and it is, of course, hard to be
philosophical when it is your face that is beneath the iron heel.

 
          
 
We talked into the night and I was sometimes
amused to see Hool Haji having to refuse a dish of fruit or the offer of
another cushion from the attentive Ora Lis.

 
          
 
Our plan was based on the belief that, once a
large force of Yillage-Uving Mendishar attacked the capital city, the townsfolk
would join them.

 
          
 
It seemed logical that this would be so.
Everything seemed ripe.

 
          
 
It had not been thus not so
long ago, Morahi Vaja informed us.
The men of the villages and small
towns had been wary of following Morahi Vaja, who was, in their eyes, too young
and untried. But when he had been able to contact Hool Haji everything had
changed. Now they were enthusiastic.

 
          
 
'You are very valuable, Bradhi,' said Morahi
Vaja. 'You must protect yourself until the time for the rising, for if we were
to lose you we should lose our whole cause!'

 
          
 
Morahi Vaja's face was very serious. Evidently
he meant what he said - and knew that what he said was true!

 
          
 
We were given a room each in Morahi Vaja's
house. My bed was the plain, unsprung bed that predominates all over Mars. I
was soon asleep.