The Gods Of Mars (3 page)

Half a dozen great leaps brought me to the spot, and another instant
saw me again in my stride in quick pursuit of the hideous monsters that
were rapidly gaining on the fleeing warrior, but this time I grasped a
mighty long-sword in my hand and in my heart was the old blood lust of
the fighting man, and a red mist swam before my eyes and I felt my lips
respond to my heart in the old smile that has ever marked me in the
midst of the joy of battle.

Swift as I was I was none too soon, for the green warrior had been
overtaken ere he had made half the distance to the forest, and now he
stood with his back to a boulder, while the herd, temporarily balked,
hissed and screeched about him.

With their single eyes in the centre of their heads and every eye
turned upon their prey, they did not note my soundless approach, so
that I was upon them with my great long-sword and four of them lay dead
ere they knew that I was among them.

For an instant they recoiled before my terrific onslaught, and in that
instant the green warrior rose to the occasion and, springing to my
side, laid to the right and left of him as I had never seen but one
other warrior do, with great circling strokes that formed a figure
eight about him and that never stopped until none stood living to
oppose him, his keen blade passing through flesh and bone and metal as
though each had been alike thin air.

As we bent to the slaughter, far above us rose that shrill, weird cry
which I had heard once before, and which had called the herd to the
attack upon their victims. Again and again it rose, but we were too
much engaged with the fierce and powerful creatures about us to attempt
to search out even with our eyes the author of the horrid notes.

Great tails lashed in frenzied anger about us, razor-like talons cut
our limbs and bodies, and a green and sticky syrup, such as oozes from
a crushed caterpillar, smeared us from head to foot, for every cut and
thrust of our longswords brought spurts of this stuff upon us from the
severed arteries of the plant men, through which it courses in its
sluggish viscidity in lieu of blood.

Once I felt the great weight of one of the monsters upon my back and as
keen talons sank into my flesh I experienced the frightful sensation of
moist lips sucking the lifeblood from the wounds to which the claws
still clung.

I was very much engaged with a ferocious fellow who was endeavouring to
reach my throat from in front, while two more, one on either side, were
lashing viciously at me with their tails.

The green warrior was much put to it to hold his own, and I felt that
the unequal struggle could last but a moment longer when the huge
fellow discovered my plight, and tearing himself from those that
surrounded him, he raked the assailant from my back with a single sweep
of his blade, and thus relieved I had little difficulty with the others.

Once together, we stood almost back to back against the great boulder,
and thus the creatures were prevented from soaring above us to deliver
their deadly blows, and as we were easily their match while they
remained upon the ground, we were making great headway in dispatching
what remained of them when our attention was again attracted by the
shrill wail of the caller above our heads.

This time I glanced up, and far above us upon a little natural balcony
on the face of the cliff stood a strange figure of a man shrieking out
his shrill signal, the while he waved one hand in the direction of the
river’s mouth as though beckoning to some one there, and with the other
pointed and gesticulated toward us.

A glance in the direction toward which he was looking was sufficient to
apprise me of his aims and at the same time to fill me with the dread
of dire apprehension, for, streaming in from all directions across the
meadow, from out of the forest, and from the far distance of the flat
land across the river, I could see converging upon us a hundred
different lines of wildly leaping creatures such as we were now engaged
with, and with them some strange new monsters which ran with great
swiftness, now erect and now upon all fours.

“It will be a great death,” I said to my companion. “Look!”

As he shot a quick glance in the direction I indicated he smiled.

“We may at least die fighting and as great warriors should, John
Carter,” he replied.

We had just finished the last of our immediate antagonists as he spoke,
and I turned in surprised wonderment at the sound of my name.

And there before my astonished eyes I beheld the greatest of the green
men of Barsoom; their shrewdest statesman, their mightiest general, my
great and good friend, Tars Tarkas, Jeddak of Thark.

Tars Tarkas and I found no time for an exchange of experiences as we
stood there before the great boulder surrounded by the corpses of our
grotesque assailants, for from all directions down the broad valley was
streaming a perfect torrent of terrifying creatures in response to the
weird call of the strange figure far above us.

“Come,” cried Tars Tarkas, “we must make for the cliffs. There lies
our only hope of even temporary escape; there we may find a cave or a
narrow ledge which two may defend for ever against this motley, unarmed
horde.”

Together we raced across the scarlet sward, I timing my speed that I
might not outdistance my slower companion. We had, perhaps, three
hundred yards to cover between our boulder and the cliffs, and then to
search out a suitable shelter for our stand against the terrifying
things that were pursuing us.

They were rapidly overhauling us when Tars Tarkas cried to me to hasten
ahead and discover, if possible, the sanctuary we sought. The
suggestion was a good one, for thus many valuable minutes might be
saved to us, and, throwing every ounce of my earthly muscles into the
effort, I cleared the remaining distance between myself and the cliffs
in great leaps and bounds that put me at their base in a moment.

The cliffs rose perpendicular directly from the almost level sward of
the valley. There was no accumulation of fallen debris, forming a more
or less rough ascent to them, as is the case with nearly all other
cliffs I have ever seen. The scattered boulders that had fallen from
above and lay upon or partly buried in the turf, were the only
indication that any disintegration of the massive, towering pile of
rocks ever had taken place.

My first cursory inspection of the face of the cliffs filled my heart
with forebodings, since nowhere could I discern, except where the weird
herald stood still shrieking his shrill summons, the faintest
indication of even a bare foothold upon the lofty escarpment.

To my right the bottom of the cliff was lost in the dense foliage of
the forest, which terminated at its very foot, rearing its gorgeous
foliage fully a thousand feet against its stern and forbidding
neighbour.

To the left the cliff ran, apparently unbroken, across the head of the
broad valley, to be lost in the outlines of what appeared to be a range
of mighty mountains that skirted and confined the valley in every
direction.

Perhaps a thousand feet from me the river broke, as it seemed, directly
from the base of the cliffs, and as there seemed not the remotest
chance for escape in that direction I turned my attention again toward
the forest.

The cliffs towered above me a good five thousand feet. The sun was not
quite upon them and they loomed a dull yellow in their own shade. Here
and there they were broken with streaks and patches of dusky red,
green, and occasional areas of white quartz.

Altogether they were very beautiful, but I fear that I did not regard
them with a particularly appreciative eye on this, my first inspection
of them.

Just then I was absorbed in them only as a medium of escape, and so, as
my gaze ran quickly, time and again, over their vast expanse in search
of some cranny or crevice, I came suddenly to loathe them as the
prisoner must loathe the cruel and impregnable walls of his dungeon.

Tars Tarkas was approaching me rapidly, and still more rapidly came the
awful horde at his heels.

It seemed the forest now or nothing, and I was just on the point of
motioning Tars Tarkas to follow me in that direction when the sun
passed the cliff’s zenith, and as the bright rays touched the dull
surface it burst out into a million scintillant lights of burnished
gold, of flaming red, of soft greens, and gleaming whites—a more
gorgeous and inspiring spectacle human eye has never rested upon.

The face of the entire cliff was, as later inspection conclusively
proved, so shot with veins and patches of solid gold as to quite
present the appearance of a solid wall of that precious metal except
where it was broken by outcroppings of ruby, emerald, and diamond
boulders—a faint and alluring indication of the vast and unguessable
riches which lay deeply buried behind the magnificent surface.

But what caught my most interested attention at the moment that the
sun’s rays set the cliff’s face a-shimmer, was the several black spots
which now appeared quite plainly in evidence high across the gorgeous
wall close to the forest’s top, and extending apparently below and
behind the branches.

Almost immediately I recognised them for what they were, the dark
openings of caves entering the solid walls—possible avenues of escape
or temporary shelter, could we but reach them.

There was but a single way, and that led through the mighty, towering
trees upon our right. That I could scale them I knew full well, but
Tars Tarkas, with his mighty bulk and enormous weight, would find it a
task possibly quite beyond his prowess or his skill, for Martians are
at best but poor climbers. Upon the entire surface of that ancient
planet I never before had seen a hill or mountain that exceeded four
thousand feet in height above the dead sea bottoms, and as the ascent
was usually gradual, nearly to their summits they presented but few
opportunities for the practice of climbing. Nor would the Martians
have embraced even such opportunities as might present themselves, for
they could always find a circuitous route about the base of any
eminence, and these roads they preferred and followed in preference to
the shorter but more arduous ways.

However, there was nothing else to consider than an attempt to scale
the trees contiguous to the cliff in an effort to reach the caves above.

The Thark grasped the possibilities and the difficulties of the plan at
once, but there was no alternative, and so we set out rapidly for the
trees nearest the cliff.

Our relentless pursuers were now close to us, so close that it seemed
that it would be an utter impossibility for the Jeddak of Thark to
reach the forest in advance of them, nor was there any considerable
will in the efforts that Tars Tarkas made, for the green men of Barsoom
do not relish flight, nor ever before had I seen one fleeing from death
in whatsoever form it might have confronted him. But that Tars Tarkas
was the bravest of the brave he had proven thousands of times; yes,
tens of thousands in countless mortal combats with men and beasts. And
so I knew that there was another reason than fear of death behind his
flight, as he knew that a greater power than pride or honour spurred me
to escape these fierce destroyers. In my case it was love—love of the
divine Dejah Thoris; and the cause of the Thark’s great and sudden love
of life I could not fathom, for it is oftener that they seek death than
life—these strange, cruel, loveless, unhappy people.

At length, however, we reached the shadows of the forest, while right
behind us sprang the swiftest of our pursuers—a giant plant man with
claws outreaching to fasten his bloodsucking mouths upon us.

He was, I should say, a hundred yards in advance of his closest
companion, and so I called to Tars Tarkas to ascend a great tree that
brushed the cliff’s face while I dispatched the fellow, thus giving the
less agile Thark an opportunity to reach the higher branches before the
entire horde should be upon us and every vestige of escape cut off.

But I had reckoned without a just appreciation either of the cunning of
my immediate antagonist or the swiftness with which his fellows were
covering the distance which had separated them from me.

As I raised my long-sword to deal the creature its death thrust it
halted in its charge and, as my sword cut harmlessly through the empty
air, the great tail of the thing swept with the power of a grizzly’s
arm across the sward and carried me bodily from my feet to the ground.
In an instant the brute was upon me, but ere it could fasten its
hideous mouths into my breast and throat I grasped a writhing tentacle
in either hand.

The plant man was well muscled, heavy, and powerful but my earthly
sinews and greater agility, in conjunction with the deathly strangle
hold I had upon him, would have given me, I think, an eventual victory
had we had time to discuss the merits of our relative prowess
uninterrupted. But as we strained and struggled about the tree into
which Tars Tarkas was clambering with infinite difficulty, I suddenly
caught a glimpse over the shoulder of my antagonist of the great swarm
of pursuers that now were fairly upon me.

Now, at last, I saw the nature of the other monsters who had come with
the plant men in response to the weird calling of the man upon the
cliff’s face. They were that most dreaded of Martian creatures—great
white apes of Barsoom.

My former experiences upon Mars had familiarized me thoroughly with
them and their methods, and I may say that of all the fearsome and
terrible, weird and grotesque inhabitants of that strange world, it is
the white apes that come nearest to familiarizing me with the sensation
of fear.

I think that the cause of this feeling which these apes engender within
me is due to their remarkable resemblance in form to our Earth men,
which gives them a human appearance that is most uncanny when coupled
with their enormous size.