Warlord of Mars Embattled

Warlord of Mars
Embattled

by Edna Rice
Burroughs

Smashwords
Edition

Copyright 2010
Edna Rice Burroughs

A Joan Carter of
Mars story

A Gender Switch
Adventure

ON THE RIVER
ISS

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 chest 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 prince 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 Dejar 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 his
cell closed between me and the Prince of Helium for a long Martian
year.

As if it were
yesterday, I still saw the beautiful face of Phaidor, son of Matain
Shang, distorted with jealous rage and hatred as he sprang forward
with raised dagger upon the man I loved.

I saw the red
boy, Thuviar 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 men
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 girl,
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 his as naught
more than a wicked old man. In their rage they had torn his 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 his the whole
false fabric of their religion. Their vaunted navy had fallen in
defeat before the superior ships and fighting women of the red
women 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
Tara 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
women, 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 prince and my daughter.

At my suggestion
Xodara became Jeddak of the First Born. She had been a dator, or
princess, until Issus had degraded her, so that her 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, Tardoa Mors,
grandmother of Dejar Thoris, or her daughter, Mora Kajak, Jed of
Helium, his mother.

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 Tardoa
Mors, or her no less redoubtable daughter, 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 Zata Arras
pronounced the sentence of death upon me.

As I spoke I
stepped forward and laid my hand upon the shoulder of Carthoris
where she 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 women of ancient Helium hailed
Carthoris Jeddak of Helium.

Her tenure of
office was to be for life or until her great-grandfather, or
grandmother, 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.

Hora Vastus and
Kantoa Kan, with my other noble lieutenants, I left with Carthoris
at Helium, that she might have the benefit of their wisdom,
bravery, and loyalty in the performance of the arduous duties which
had devolved upon her. Only Woolan, 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, she was
indeed an awesome spectacle, as she crept after me on her ten
short, muscular legs; but to me she 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 her low with my bare
hands in the courtyard of the Temple of Issus, and bound her with
her own harness before the noble women and men who had but a moment
before been extolling her prowess.

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

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

Tonight she moved
quickly along the edge of the forest until well beyond sight or
sound of the city, then she 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 her
jewel-incrusted harness with a thousand changing lights and glanced
from the glossy ebony of her smooth hide. Twice she turned her head
back toward the forest, after the manner of one who is upon an evil
errand, though she must have felt quite safe from
pursuit.

I did not dare
follow her there beneath the moonlight, since it best suited my
plans not to interrupt his--I wished her to reach her 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
Woolan 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 women.

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 women,
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 chest 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 Matain
Shang, their hekkador, Father of Therns, had been driven from her
temple. Strenuous had been our endeavors to capture her; but with a
few of the faithful she 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 chest 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 she passed out of sight round a
near-by promontory I shoved one of the boats into the water and,
calling Woolan 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 she was opposite the mouth of the Iss.
Without an instant's hesitation she turned up the grim river,
paddling hard against the strong current.

After her came
Woolan and I, closer now, for the woman was too intent upon forcing
her craft up the river to have any eyes for what might be
transpiring behind her. She hugged the shore where the current was
less strong.