CHAPTER XII

Gods of Mars

by Edgar R. Burroughs

CHAPTER XII, GODS OF MARS by Edgar R. Burroughs
An eText from LiteratureClassics.com.

Please see the eText readme for important copyright information (available from the options menu above if you are browsing online or as a separate file in the archive if you are browsing offline.)




DOOMED TO DIE


For an instant I stood there before they fell upon me, but
the first rush of them forced me back a step or two. My
foot felt for the floor but found only empty space. I had
backed into the pit which had received Issus. For a second
I toppled there upon the brink. Then I too with the boy
still tightly clutched in my arms pitched backward into the
black abyss.

We struck a polished chute, the opening above us closed
as magically as it had opened, and we shot down, unharmed,
into a dimly lighted apartment far below the arena.

As I rose to my feet the first thing I saw was the malignant
countenance of Issus glaring at me through the heavy bars
of a grated door at one side of the chamber.

"Rash mortal!" she shrilled. "You shall pay the awful
penalty for your blasphemy in this secret cell. Here you shall
lie alone and in darkness with the carcass of your accomplice
festering in its rottenness by your side, until crazed by
loneliness and hunger you feed upon the crawling maggots that
were once a man."

That was all. In another instant she was gone, and the dim
light which had filled the cell faded into Cimmerian blackness.

"Pleasant old lady," said a voice at my side.

"Who speaks?" I asked.

"'Tis I, your companion, who has had the honour this day of
fighting shoulder to shoulder with the greatest warrior that
ever wore metal upon Barsoom."

"I thank God that you are not dead," I said. "I feared for
that nasty cut upon your head."

"It but stunned me," he replied. "A mere scratch."

"Maybe it were as well had it been final," I said. "We
seem to be in a pretty fix here with a splendid chance of
dying of starvation and thirst."

"Where are we?"

"Beneath the arena," I replied. "We tumbled down the
shaft that swallowed Issus as she was almost at our mercy."

He laughed a low laugh of pleasure and relief, and then
reaching out through the inky blackness he sought my
shoulder and pulled my ear close to his mouth.

"Nothing could be better," he whispered. "There are secrets
within the secrets of Issus of which Issus herself does not dream."

"What do you mean?"

"I laboured with the other slaves a year since in the
remodelling of these subterranean galleries, and at that
time we found below these an ancient system of corridors
and chambers that had been sealed up for ages. The blacks
in charge of the work explored them, taking several of us
along to do whatever work there might be occasion for.
I know the entire system perfectly.

"There are miles of corridors honeycombing the ground beneath
the gardens and the temple itself, and there is one passage
that leads down to and connects with the lower regions that
open on the water shaft that gives passage to Omean.

"If we can reach the submarine undetected we may yet
make the sea in which there are many islands where the
blacks never go. There we may live for a time, and who
knows what may transpire to aid us to escape?"

He had spoken all in a low whisper, evidently fearing spying
ears even here, and so I answered him in the samesubdued tone.

"Lead back to Shador, my friend," I whispered. "Xodar, the
black, is there. We were to attempt our escape together,
so I cannot desert him."

"No," said the boy, "one cannot desert a friend.
It were better to be recaptured ourselves than that."

Then he commenced groping his way about the floor of
the dark chamber searching for the trap that led to the
corridors beneath. At length he summoned me by a low,
"S-s-t," and I crept toward the sound of his voice to
find him kneeling on the brink of an opening in the floor.

"There is a drop here of about ten feet," he whispered.
"Hang by your hands and you will alight safely on a level
floor of soft sand."

Very quietly I lowered myself from the inky cell above into the
inky pit below. So utterly dark was it that we could not see
our hands at an inch from our noses. Never, I think, have I known
such complete absence of light as existed in the pits of Issus.

For an instant I hung in mid air. There is a strange sensation
connected with an experience of that nature which is quite
difficult to describe. When the feet tread empty air
and the distance below is shrouded in darkness there is a
feeling akin to panic at the thought of releasing the hold and
taking the plunge into unknown depths.

Although the boy had told me that it was but ten feet to
the floor below I experienced the same thrills as though I
were hanging above a bottomless pit. Then I released my
hold and dropped--four feet to a soft cushion of sand.

The boy followed me.

"Raise me to your shoulders," he said, "and I will replace the trap."

This done he took me by the hand, leading me very
slowly, with much feeling about and frequent halts to assure
himself that he did not stray into wrong passageways.

Presently we commenced the descent of a very steep incline.

"It will not be long," he said, "before we shall have light.
At the lower levels we meet the same strata of phosphorescent
rock that illuminates Omean."

Never shall I forget that trip through the pits of Issus.
While it was devoid of important incidents yet it was
filled for me with a strange charm of excitement and
adventure which I think I must have hinged principally on
the unguessable antiquity of these long-forgotten corridors.
The things which the Stygian darkness hid from my objective
eye could not have been half so wonderful as the pictures
which my imagination wrought as it conjured to life again the
ancient peoples of this dying world and set them once more to
the labours, the intrigues, the mysteries and the cruelties
which they had practised to make their last stand against the
swarming hordes of the dead sea bottoms that had driven
them step by step to the uttermost pinnacle of the world
where they were now intrenched behind an impenetrable
barrier of superstition.

In addition to the green men there had been three principal
races upon Barsoom. The blacks, the whites, and a race
of yellow men. As the waters of the planet dried and the
seas receded, all other resources dwindled until life upon the
planet became a constant battle for survival.

The various races had made war upon one another for
ages, and the three higher types had easily bested the green
savages of the water places of the world, but now that the
receding seas necessitated constant abandonment of their
fortified cities and forced upon them a more or less nomadic
life in which they became separated into smaller communities
they soon fell prey to the fierce hordes of green men.
The result was a partial amalgamation of the blacks, whites
and yellows, the result of which is shown in the present
splendid race of red men.

I had always supposed that all traces of the original races
had disappeared from the face of Mars, yet within the past
four days I had found both whites and blacks in great multitudes.
Could it be possible that in some far-off corner of the planet
there still existed a remnant of the ancient race of yellow men?

My reveries were broken in upon by a low exclamation from the boy.

"At last, the lighted way," he cried, and looking up I beheld
at a long distance before us a dim radiance.

As we advanced the light increased until presently we
emerged into well-lighted passageways. From then on our
progress was rapid until we came suddenly to the end of a
corridor that let directly upon the ledge surrounding the pool
of the submarine.

The craft lay at her moorings with uncovered hatch.
Raising his finger to his lips and then tapping his sword in a
significant manner, the youth crept noiselessly toward the vessel.
I was close at his heels.

Silently we dropped to the deserted deck, and on hands
and knees crawled toward the hatchway. A stealthy glance
below revealed no guard in sight, and so with the quickness
and the soundlessness of cats we dropped together into the
main cabin of the submarine. Even here was no sign of life.
Quickly we covered and secured the hatch.

Then the boy stepped into the pilot house, touched a button
and the boat sank amid swirling waters toward the bottom
of the shaft. Even then there was no scurrying of feet as
we had expected, and while the boy remained to direct the
boat I slid from cabin to cabin in futile search for some
member of the crew. The craft was entirely deserted.
Such good fortune seemed almost unbelievable.

When I returned to the pilot house to report the good
news to my companion he handed me a paper.

"This may explain the absence of the crew," he said.

It was a radio-aerial message to the commander of the submarine:


"The slaves have risen. Come with what men you have and
those that you can gather on the way. Too late to get aid
from Omean. They are massacring all within the amphitheatre.
Issus is threatened. Haste.

"ZITHAD"


"Zithad is Dator of the guards of Issus," explained the youth.
"We gave them a bad scare--one that they will not soon forget."

"Let us hope that it is but the beginning of the end of Issus," I said.

"Only our first ancestor knows," he replied.

We reached the submarine pool in Omean without incident.
Here we debated the wisdom of sinking the craft before
leaving her, but finally decided that it would add nothing
to our chances for escape. There were plenty of blacks on
Omean to thwart us were we apprehended; however many
more might come from the temples and gardens of Issus
would not in any decrease our chances.

We were now in a quandary as to how to pass the guards who
patrolled the island about the pool. At last I hit upon a plan.

"What is the name or title of the officer in charge of these guards?"
I asked the boy.

"A fellow named Torith was on duty when we entered this morning,"
he replied.

"Good. And what is the name of the commander of the submarine?"

"Yersted."

I found a dispatch blank in the cabin and wrote the following order:


"Dator Torith: Return these two slaves at once to Shador.

"YERSTED"


That will be the simpler way to return," I said, smiling, as I
handed the forged order to the boy. "Come, we shall see now
how well it works."

"But our swords!" he exclaimed. "What shall we say to explain them?"

"Since we cannot explain them we shall have to leave them behind us,"
I replied.

"Is it not the extreme of rashness to thus put ourselves again,
unarmed, in the power of the First Born?"

"It is the only way," I answered. "You may trust me to find
a way out of the prison of Shador, and I think, once out,
that we shall find no great difficulty in arming ourselves
once more in a country which abounds so plentifully in armed men."

"As you say," he replied with a smile and shrug. "I could not
follow another leader who inspired greater confidence than you.
Come, let us put your ruse to the test."

Boldly we emerged from the hatchway of the craft, leaving
our swords behind us, and strode to the main exit which led
to the sentry's post and the office of the Dator of the guard.

At sight of us the members of the guard sprang forward in
surprise, and with levelled rifles halted us. I held out the
message to one of them. He took it and seeing to whom
it was addressed turned and handed it to Torith who was
emerging from his office to learn the cause of the commotion.

The black read the order, and for a moment eyed us with
evident suspicion.

"Where is Dator Yersted?" he asked, and my heart sank
within me, as I cursed myself for a stupid fool in not having
sunk the submarine to make good the lie that I must tell.

"His orders were to return immediately to the temple landing,"
I replied.

Torith took a half step toward the entrance to the pool
as though to corroborate my story. For that instant everything
hung in the balance, for had he done so and found the
empty submarine still lying at her wharf the whole weak
fabric of my concoction would have tumbled about our heads;
but evidently he decided the message must be genuine,
nor indeed was there any good reason to doubt it since it
would scarce have seemed credible to him that two slaves
would voluntarily have given themselves into custody in any
such manner as this. It was the very boldness of the plan
which rendered it successful.

"Were you connected with the rising of the slaves?" asked Torith.
"We have just had meagre reports of some such event."

"All were involved," I replied. "But it amounted to little.
The guards quickly overcame and killed the majority of us."

He seemed satisfied with this reply. "Take them to Shador,"
he ordered, turning to one of his subordinates. We entered
a small boat lying beside the island, and in a few minutes
were disembarking upon Shador. Here we were returned to our
respective cells; I with Xodar, the boy by himself; and behind
locked doors we were again prisoners of the First Born.