CHAPTER XI

Gods of Mars

by Edgar R. Burroughs

CHAPTER XI, GODS OF MARS by Edgar R. Burroughs
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WHEN HELL BROKE LOOSE


Early the next morning Xodar and I commenced work
upon our plans for escape. First I had him sketch upon the
stone floor of our cell as accurate a map of the south
polar regions as was possible with the crude instruments
at our disposal--a buckle from my harness, and the sharp
edge of the wondrous gem I had taken from Sator Throg.

From this I computed the general direction of Helium and the
distance at which it lay from the opening which led to Omean.

Then I had him draw a map of Omean, indicating plainly
the position of Shador and of the opening in the dome which
led to the outer world.

These I studied until they were indelibly imprinted in my
memory. From Xodar I learned the duties and customs of
the guards who patrolled Shador. It seemed that during the
hours set aside for sleep only one man was on duty at a
time. He paced a beat that passed around the prison, at a
distance of about a hundred feet from the building.

The pace of the sentries, Xodar said, was very slow,
requiring nearly ten minutes to make a single round.
This meant that for practically five minutes at a time each
side of the prison was unguarded as the sentry pursued his
snail like pace upon the opposite side.

"This information you ask," said Xodar, "will be all very
valuable AFTER we get out, but nothing that you have
asked has any bearing on that first and most important
consideration."

"We will get out all right," I replied, laughing. "Leave that to me."

"When shall we make the attempt?" he asked.

"The first night that finds a small craft moored near
the shore of Shador," I replied.

"But how will you know that any craft is moored near
Shador? The windows are far beyond our reach."

"Not so, friend Xodar; look!"

With a bound I sprang to the bars of the window opposite
us, and took a quick survey of the scene without.

Several small craft and two large battleships lay within
a hundred yards of Shador.

"To-night," I thought, and was just about to voice my
decision to Xodar, when, without warning, the door of our
prison opened and a guard stepped in.

If the fellow saw me there our chances of escape might
quickly go glimmering, for I knew that they would put me
in irons if they had the slightest conception of the wonderful
agility which my earthly muscles gave me upon Mars.

The man had entered and was standing facing the centre
of the room, so that his back was toward me. Five feet
above me was the top of a partition wall separating our
cell from the next.

There was my only chance to escape detection. If the
fellow turned, I was lost; nor could I have dropped to the
floor undetected, since he was no nearly below me that
I would have struck him had I done so.

"Where is the white man?" cried the guard of Xodar.
"Issus commands his presence." He started to turn to see if
I were in another part of the cell.

I scrambled up the iron grating of the window until I
could catch a good footing on the sill with one foot; then I
let go my hold and sprang for the partition top.

"What was that?" I heard the deep voice of the black
bellow as my metal grated against the stone wall as I slipped
over. Then I dropped lightly to the floor of the cell beyond.

"Where is the white slave?" again cried the guard.

"I know not," replied Xodar. "He was here even as you
entered. I am not his keeper--go find him."

The black grumbled something that I could not understand,
and then I heard him unlocking the door into one
of the other cells on the further side. Listening intently,
I caught the sound as the door closed behind him. Then I
sprang once more to the top of the partition and dropped
into my own cell beside the astonished Xodar.

"Do you see now how we will escape?" I asked him in a whisper.

"I see how you may," he replied, "but I am no wiser than before
as to how I am to pass these walls. Certain it is that I cannot
bounce over them as you do."

We heard the guard moving about from cell to cell, and
finally, his rounds completed, he again entered ours.
When his eyes fell upon me they fairly bulged from his head.

"By the shell of my first ancestor!" he roared.
"Where have you been?"

"I have been in prison since you put me here yesterday,"
I answered. "I was in this room when you entered.
You had better look to your eyesight."

He glared at me in mingled rage and relief.

"Come," he said. "Issus commands your presence."

He conducted me outside the prison, leaving Xodar behind.
There we found several other guards, and with them the
red Martian youth who occupied another cell upon Shador.

The journey I had taken to the Temple of Issus on the
preceding day was repeated. The guards kept the red boy
and myself separated, so that we had no opportunity to continue
the conversation that had been interrupted the previous night.

The youth's face had haunted me. Where had I seen
him before. There was something strangely familiar in
every line of him; in his carriage, his manner of speaking,
his gestures. I could have sworn that I knew him, and yet
I knew too that I had never seen him before.

When we reached the gardens of Issus we were led away
from the temple instead of toward it. The way wound through
enchanted parks to a mighty wall that towered a hundred
feet in air.

Massive gates gave egress upon a small plain, surrounded
by the same gorgeous forests that I had seen at the foot of
the Golden Cliffs.

Crowds of blacks were strolling in the same direction
that our guards were leading us, and with them mingled
my old friends the plant men and great white apes.

The brutal beasts moved among the crowd as pet dogs
might. If they were in the way the blacks pushed them
roughly to one side, or whacked them with the flat of a
sword, and the animals slunk away as in great fear.

Presently we came upon our destination, a great amphitheatre
situated at the further edge of the plain, and about half a
mile beyond the garden walls.

Through a massive arched gateway the blacks poured in
to take their seats, while our guards led us to a smaller
entrance near one end of the structure.

Through this we passed into an enclosure beneath the
seats, where we found a number of other prisoners herded
together under guard. Some of them were in irons, but
for the most part they seemed sufficiently awed by the
presence of their guards to preclude any possibility of
attempted escape.

During the trip from Shador I had had no opportunity
to talk with my fellow-prisoner, but now that we were safely
within the barred paddock our guards abated their watchfulness,
with the result that I found myself able to approach the red
Martian youth for whom I felt such a strange attraction.

"What is the object of this assembly?" I asked him.
"Are we to fight for the edification of the First Born,
or is it something worse than that?"

"It is a part of the monthly rites of Issus," he replied,
"in which black men wash the sins from their souls in the
blood of men from the outer world. If, perchance, the
black is killed, it is evidence of his disloyalty to Issus--
the unpardonable sin. If he lives through the contest he
is held acquitted of the charge that forced the sentence of
the rites, as it is called, upon him.

"The forms of combat vary. A number of us may be
pitted together against an equal number, or twice the
number of blacks; or singly we may be sent forth to
face wild beasts, or some famous black warrior."

"And if we are victorious," I asked, "what then--freedom?"

He laughed.

"Freedom, forsooth. The only freedom for us death.
None who enters the domains of the First Born ever leave.
If we prove able fighters we are permitted to fight often.
If we are not mighty fighters--" He shrugged his shoulders.
"Sooner or later we die in the arena."

"And you have fought often?" I asked.

"Very often," he replied. "It is my only pleasure. Some
hundred black devils have I accounted for during nearly a
year of the rites of Issus. My mother would be very proud
could she only know how well I have maintained the traditions
of my father's prowess."

"Your father must have been a mighty warrior!" I said.
"I have known most of the warriors of Barsoom in my
time; doubtless I knew him. Who was he?"

"My father was--"

"Come, calots!" cried the rough voice of a guard. "To
the slaughter with you," and roughly we were hustled to
the steep incline that led to the chambers far below which
let out upon the arena.

The amphitheatre, like all I had ever seen upon Barsoom,
was built in a large excavation. Only the highest seats,
which formed the low wall surrounding the pit, were above the
level of the ground. The arena itself was far below the surface.

Just beneath the lowest tier of seats was a series of
barred cages on a level with the surface of the arena. Into
these we were herded. But, unfortunately, my youthful friend
was not of those who occupied a cage with me.

Directly opposite my cage was the throne of Issus. Here
the horrid creature squatted, surrounded by a hundred slave
maidens sparkling in jewelled trappings. Brilliant cloths of
many hues and strange patterns formed the soft cushion
covering of the dais upon which they reclined about her.

On four sides of the throne and several feet below it stood
three solid ranks of heavily armed soldiery, elbow to elbow.
In front of these were the high dignitaries of this mock
heaven--gleaming blacks bedecked with precious stones, upon
their foreheads the insignia of their rank set in circles of gold.

On both sides of the throne stretched a solid mass
of humanity from top to bottom of the amphitheatre.
There were as many women as men, and each was clothed in
the wondrously wrought harness of his station and his house.
With each black was from one to three slaves, drawn from
the domains of the therns and from the outer world. The
blacks are all "noble." There is no peasantry among the
First Born. Even the lowest soldier is a god, and has his
slaves to wait upon him.

The First Born do no work. The men fight--that is a sacred
privilege and duty; to fight and die for Issus. The women do
nothing, absolutely nothing. Slaves wash them, slaves dress
them, slaves feed them. There are some, even, who have
slaves that talk for them, and I saw one who sat during
the rites with closed eyes while a slave narrated to her the
events that were transpiring within the arena.

The first event of the day was the Tribute to Issus. It
marked the end of those poor unfortunates who had looked
upon the divine glory of the goddess a full year before.
There were ten of them--splendid beauties from the proud
courts of mighty Jeddaks and from the temples of the
Holy Therns. For a year they had served in the retinue of
Issus; to-day they were to pay the price of this divine
preferment with their lives; tomorrow they would grace the
tables of the court functionaries.

A huge black entered the arena with the young women.
Carefully he inspected them, felt of their limbs and poked
them in the ribs. Presently he selected one of their number
whom he led before the throne of Issus. He addressed
some words to the goddess which I could not hear. Issus
nodded her head. The black raised his hands above his head
in token of salute, grasped the girl by the wrist, and dragged
her from the arena through a small doorway below the throne.

"Issus will dine well to-night," said a prisoner beside me.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"That was her dinner that old Thabis is taking to the
kitchens. Didst not note how carefully he selected the
plumpest and tenderest of the lot?"

I growled out my curses on the monster sitting opposite
us on the gorgeous throne.

"Fume not," admonished my companion; "you will see
far worse than that if you live even a month among the
First Born."

I turned again in time to see the gate of a nearby cage
thrown open and three monstrous white apes spring into the
arena. The girls shrank in a frightened group in the centre
of the enclosure.

One was on her knees with imploring hands outstretched
toward Issus; but the hideous deity only leaned further
forward in keener anticipation of the entertainment to come.
At length the apes spied the huddled knot of terror-stricken
maidens and with demoniacal shrieks of bestial frenzy,
charged upon them.

A wave of mad fury surged over me. The cruel cowardliness
of the power-drunk creature whose malignant mind conceived
such frightful forms of torture stirred to their uttermost
depths my resentment and my manhood. The blood-red haze
that presaged death to my foes swam before my eyes.

The guard lolled before the unbarred gate of the cage
which confined me. What need of bars, indeed, to keep
those poor victims from rushing into the arena which the
edict of the gods had appointed as their death place!

A single blow sent the black unconscious to the ground.
Snatching up his long-sword, I sprang into the arena. The
apes were almost upon the maidens, but a couple of mighty
bounds were all my earthly muscles required to carry me
to the centre of the sand-strewn floor.

For an instant silence reigned in the great amphitheatre,
then a wild shout arose from the cages of the doomed.
My long-sword circled whirring through the air, and a great
ape sprawled, headless, at the feet of the fainting girls.

The other apes turned now upon me, and as I stood facing
them a sullen roar from the audience answered the wild cheers
from the cages. From the tail of my eye I saw a score
of guards rushing across the glistening sand toward me.
Then a figure broke from one of the cages behind them.
It was the youth whose personality so fascinated me.

He paused a moment before the cages, with upraised sword.

"Come, men of the outer world!" he shouted. "Let us
make our deaths worth while, and at the back of this
unknown warrior turn this day's Tribute to Issus into an
orgy of revenge that will echo through the ages and cause
black skins to blanch at each repetition of the rites of Issus.
Come! The racks without your cages are filled with blades."

Without waiting to note the outcome of his plea, he
turned and bounded toward me. From every cage that
harboured red men a thunderous shout went up in answer
to his exhortation. The inner guards went down beneath
howling mobs, and the cages vomited forth their inmates hot
with the lust to kill.

The racks that stood without were stripped of the swords
with which the prisoners were to have been armed to enter
their allotted combats, and a swarm of determined warriors
sped to our support.

The great apes, towering in all their fifteen feet of height,
had gone down before my sword while the charging guards
were still some distance away. Close behind them pursued
the youth. At my back were the young girls, and as it
was in their service that I fought, I remained standing
there to meet my inevitable death, but with the determination
to give such an account of myself as would long be remembered
in the land of the First Born.

I noted the marvellous speed of the young red man as
he raced after the guards. Never had I seen such speed in
any Martian. His leaps and bounds were little short of those
which my earthly muscles had produced to create such awe
and respect on the part of the green Martians into whose
hands I had fallen on that long-gone day that had seen my
first advent upon Mars.

The guards had not reached me when he fell upon them
from the rear, and as they turned, thinking from the
fierceness of his onslaught that a dozen were attacking them,
I rushed them from my side.

In the rapid fighting that followed I had little chance
to note aught else than the movements of my immediate
adversaries, but now and again I caught a fleeting glimpse
of a purring sword and a lightly springing figure of sinewy
steel that filled my heart with a strange yearning and a
mighty but unaccountable pride.

On the handsome face of the boy a grim smile played,
and ever and anon he threw a taunting challenge to the
foes that faced him. In this and other ways his manner of
fighting was similar to that which had always marked me
on the field of combat.

Perhaps it was this vague likeness which made me love
the boy, while the awful havoc that his sword played amongst
the blacks filled my soul with a tremendous respect for him.

For my part, I was fighting as I had fought a thousand
times before--now sidestepping a wicked thrust, now stepping
quickly in to let my sword's point drink deep in a foeman's
heart, before it buried itself in the throat of his companion.

We were having a merry time of it, we two, when a great
body of Issus' own guards were ordered into the arena.
On they came with fierce cries, while from every side the
armed prisoners swarmed upon them.

For half an hour it was as though all hell had broken loose.
In the walled confines of the arena we fought in an
inextricable mass--howling, cursing, blood-streaked
demons; and ever the sword of the young red man flashed
beside me.

Slowly and by repeated commands I had succeeded in drawing
the prisoners into a rough formation about us, so that at
last we fought formed into a rude circle in the centre of
which were the doomed maids.

Many had gone down on both sides, but by far the greater
havoc had been wrought in the ranks of the guards of Issus.
I could see messengers running swiftly through the audience,
and as they passed the nobles there unsheathed their swords
and sprang into the arena. They were going to annihilate
us by force of numbers--that was quite evidently their plan.

I caught a glimpse of Issus leaning far forward upon her
throne, her hideous countenance distorted in a horrid
grimace of hate and rage, in which I thought I could
distinguish an expression of fear. It was that face
that inspired me to the thing that followed.

Quickly I ordered fifty of the prisoners to drop back
behind us and form a new circle about the maidens.

"Remain and protect them until I return," I commanded.

Then, turning to those who formed the outer line, I cried,
"Down with Issus! Follow me to the throne; we will reap
vengeance where vengeance is deserved."

The youth at my side was the first to take up the cry of
"Down with Issus!" and then at my back and from all
sides rose a hoarse shout, "To the throne! To the throne!"

As one man we moved, an irresistible fighting mass, over
the bodies of dead and dying foes toward the gorgeous
throne of the Martian deity. Hordes of the doughtiest
fighting-men of the First Born poured from the audience to
check our progress. We mowed them down before us as they
had been paper men.

"To the seats, some of you!" I cried as we approached
the arena's barrier wall. "Ten of us can take the throne,"
for I had seen that Issus' guards had for the most part
entered the fray within the arena.

On both sides of me the prisoners broke to left and
right for the seats, vaulting the low wall with dripping
swords lusting for the crowded victims who awaited them.

In another moment the entire amphitheatre was filled
with the shrieks of the dying and the wounded, mingled with
the clash of arms and triumphant shouts of the victors.

Side by side the young red man and I, with perhaps a
dozen others, fought our way to the foot of the throne.
The remaining guards, reinforced by the high dignitaries
and nobles of the First Born, closed in between us and
Issus, who sat leaning far forward upon her carved sorapus
bench, now screaming high-pitched commands to her following,
now hurling blighting curses upon those who sought to
desecrate her godhood.

The frightened slaves about her trembled in wide-eyed
expectancy, knowing not whether to pray for our victory
or our defeat. Several among them, proud daughters no
doubt of some of Barsoom's noblest warriors, snatched
swords from the hands of the fallen and fell upon the
guards of Issus, but they were soon cut down; glorious
martyrs to a hopeless cause.

The men with us fought well, but never since Tars Tarkas
and I fought out that long, hot afternoon shoulder to
shoulder against the hordes of Warhoon in the dead sea
bottom before Thark, had I seen two men fight to such
good purpose and with such unconquerable ferocity as
the young red man and I fought that day before the throne
of Issus, Goddess of Death, and of Life Eternal.

Man by man those who stood between us and the carven
sorapus wood bench went down before our blades. Others
swarmed in to fill the breach, but inch by inch, foot by
foot we won nearer and nearer to our goal.

Presently a cry went up from a section of the stands
near by--"Rise slaves!" "Rise slaves!" it rose and fell until
it swelled to a mighty volume of sound that swept in great
billows around the entire amphitheatre.

For an instant, as though by common assent, we ceased
our fighting to look for the meaning of this new note nor
did it take but a moment to translate its significance. In
all parts of the structure the female slaves were falling
upon their masters with whatever weapon came first to hand.
A dagger snatched from the harness of her mistress was
waved aloft by some fair slave, its shimmering blade crimson
with the lifeblood of its owner; swords plucked from the
bodies of the dead about them; heavy ornaments which
could be turned into bludgeons--such were the implements
with which these fair women wreaked the long-pent vengeance
which at best could but partially recompense them for the
unspeakable cruelties and indignities which their black masters
had heaped upon them. And those who could find no other weapons
used their strong fingers and their gleaming teeth.

It was at once a sight to make one shudder and to cheer;
but in a brief second we were engaged once more in our
own battle with only the unquenchable battle cry of the
women to remind us that they still fought--"Rise slaves!"
"Rise slaves!"

Only a single thin rank of men now stood between us
and Issus. Her face was blue with terror. Foam flecked
her lips. She seemed too paralysed with fear to move.
Only the youth and I fought now. The others all had
fallen, and I was like to have gone down too from a nasty
long-sword cut had not a hand reached out from behind
my adversary and clutched his elbow as the blade was
falling upon me. The youth sprang to my side and ran
his sword through the fellow before he could recover to
deliver another blow.

I should have died even then but for that as my sword
was tight wedged in the breastbone of a Dator of the First
Born. As the fellow went down I snatched his sword from
him and over his prostrate body looked into the eyes of
the one whose quick hand had saved me from the first cut of
his sword--it was Phaidor, daughter of Matai Shang.

"Fly, my Prince!" she cried. "It is useless to fight them
longer. All within the arena are dead. All who charged
the throne are dead but you and this youth. Only among
the seats are there left any of your fighting-men, and they
and the slave women are fast being cut down. Listen! You
can scarce hear the battle-cry of the women now for nearly
all are dead. For each one of you there are ten thousand
blacks within the domains of the First Born. Break for the
open and the sea of Korus. With your mighty sword arm
you may yet win to the Golden Cliffs and the templed gardens
of the Holy Therns. There tell your story to Matai Shang,
my father. He will keep you, and together you may find a way
to rescue me. Fly while there is yet a bare chance for flight."

But that was not my mission, nor could I see much to
be preferred in the cruel hospitality of the Holy Therns
to that of the First Born.

"Down with Issus!" I shouted, and together the boy and
I took up the fight once more. Two blacks went down
with our swords in their vitals, and we stood face to face
with Issus. As my sword went up to end her horrid career
her paralysis left her, and with an ear-piercing shriek she
turned to flee. Directly behind her a black gulf suddenly
yawned in the flooring of the dais. She sprang for the
opening with the youth and I close at her heels. Her scattered
guard rallied at her cry and rushed for us. A blow fell
upon the head of the youth. He staggered and would have
fallen, but I caught him in my left arm and turned to face
an infuriated mob of religious fanatics crazed by the affront
I had put upon their goddess, just as Issus disappeared into
the black depths beneath me.