 CHAPTER VI. THE JEDAC OF LOTHAR The girl looked her in credulity. They lay in piles, she murmured. There were thousands of them, but a minute ago. And now, continued Carthoris, there remain but the banths and the carcasses of the green men. They must have sent forth and carried the dead bowman away while we were talking, said the girl. It is impossible, replied Carthoris. Thousands of dead lay there upon the field, but a moment since. It would have required many hours to have removed them. The thing is uncanny. I had hoped, said Thuvia, that we might find an asylum with these fair-skinned people. Notwithstanding their valor upon the field of battle, they did not strike me as a ferocious or warlike people. I had been about to suggest that we seek entrance to the city. But now I scarce know if I care to venture among people whose dead vanish into thin air. Let us chance it, replied Carthoris. We can be no worse off within their walls than without. Here we may fall prey to the banths, or the no less fierce torcasians. There at least we shall find beings molded after our own images. All that causes me to hesitate, he added, is the danger of taking you past so many banths. A single sword would scarce prevail were even a couple of them to charge simultaneously. Do not fear on that score, replied the girl, smiling. The banths will not harm us. As she spoke she descended from the platform, and with Carthoris at her side stepped fearlessly out upon the bloody field in the direction of the walled city of mystery. They had advanced but a short distance when a banth, looking up from its gory feast, described them. With an angry roar the beast walked quickly in their direction, and at the sound of its voice a score of others followed its example. Carthoris drew his long sword. The girl stole a quick glance at his face. She saw the smile upon his lips, and it was as wine to sick nerves. For even upon warlike barsoom where all men are brave, woman reacts quickly to quiet indifference to anger, to dare devil-tree that is without bombast. You may return your sword, she said. I told you that the banths would not harm us. Look! And as she spoke she stepped quickly toward the nearest animal. Carthoris would have leaped after her to protect her, but with a gesture she motioned him back. He heard her calling to the banths in a low, sing-song voice that was half purr. Instantly the great heads went up and all the wicked eyes were riveted upon the figure of the girl. Then, stealthily, they commenced moving toward her. She had stopped now and was standing, waiting them. One, closer to her than the others, hesitated. She spoke to him imperiously, as a master might speak to a refractory hound. The great carnivore let its head droop, and with tail between its legs came slinking to the girl's feet, and after it came the others until she was entirely surrounded by the savage man-eaters. Turning she led them to where Carthoris stood. They growled a little as they neared the man, but a few sharp words of command put them in their places. How do you do it? exclaimed Carthoris. Your father once asked me that same question in the galleries of the golden cliffs within the Otts Mountains, beneath the temples of the Therns. I could not answer him, nor can I answer you. I do not know whence comes my power over them. But ever since the day that Sator Throg threw me among them in the banth pit of the holy Therns, and the great creatures fawned upon me instead of devouring me, I ever have had the same strange power over them. They come at my call and do my bidding, even as the faithful Woola does the bidding of your mighty sire. With a word the girl dispersed the fierce pack. Roaring, they returned to their interrupted feast, while Carthoris and Thuvia passed among them toward the walled city. As they advanced the man looked with wonder upon the dead bodies of those of the green men that had not been devoured or mauled by the banths. He called the girls' attention to them. No arrows protruded from the great carcasses. Nowhere upon any of them was the sign of mortal wound, nor even slightest scratch or abrasion. Before the bowmen's dead had disappeared the corpses of the torcasians had bristled with the deadly arrows of their foes. Where had the slender messengers of death departed? What unseen hand had plucked them from the bodies of the slain? Despite himself, Carthoris could scarce repress a shutter of apprehension as he glanced toward the silent city before them. No longer was sign of life visible upon wall or rooftop. Wall was quiet, brooding, ominous quiet. Yet he was sure that eyes watched them from somewhere behind that blank wall. He glanced at Thuvia. She was advancing with wide eyes fixed upon the city gate. He looked in the direction of her gaze, but saw nothing. His gaze upon her seemed to arouse her as from a lethargy. She glanced up at him, a quick brave smile touching her lips, and then, as though the act was involuntary, she came close to his side and placed one of her hands in his. He guessed that something within her that was beyond her conscious control was appealing to him for protection. He threw an arm about her, and thus they crossed the field. She did not draw away from him. It is doubtful that she realized that his arm was there. So engrossed was she in the mystery of the strange city before them. They stopped before the gate. It was a mighty thing. From its construction Carthoris could but dimly speculate upon its unthinkable antiquity. It was circular, closing a circular aperture, and the Heliumite knew from his study of ancient Barsoomian architecture that it rolled to one side, like a huge wheel, into an aperture in the wall. Even such old-world cities as ancient Anthor were as yet undreamed of when the races lived that built such gates as these. As he stood speculating upon the identity of this forgotten city, a voice spoke to them from above. Both looked up. There, leaning over the edge of the high wall, was a man. His hair was auburn, his skin fair, fairer even than that of John Carter, the Virginian. His forehead was high, his eyes large and intelligent. The language that he used was intelligible to the two below, yet there was a marked difference between it and their Barsoomian tongue. Who are you? he asked. And what do you hear before the gate of Lothar? We are friends, replied Carthoris. This is the princess, Thuvia of Ptarth, who was captured by the Torkasian Horde. I am Carthoris of Helium, prince of the House of Tardosmores, Jeddak of Helium, and son of John Carter, warlord of Mars, and of his wife, Dejah Thoris. Ptarth, repeated the man, Helium? He shook his head. I never heard of these strange places. Nor did I know that they're dwelt upon Barsoom, a race of thy strange color. Where may these cities lie, of which you speak? From our loftiest tower we have never seen another city than Lothar. Carthoris pointed toward the northeast. In that direction lie Helium and Ptarth, he said. Helium is over eight hundred thousand hods from Lothar, while Ptarth lies nine thousand five hundred hods northeast of Helium. Footnote. On Barsoom the ad is the basis of linear measurement. It is the equivalent of an earthly foot, measuring about eleven point six nine four earth inches. As has been my custom in the past, I have generally translated Barsoomian symbols of time, distance, etc. into their earthly equivalent, as being more easily understood by earth readers. For those of a more studious turn of mind, it may be interesting to know the Martian Table of Linear Measurement, and so I give it here. Ten sofads equals one ad, two hundred ads equals one had, one hundred hods equals one carad, three hundred and sixty carads equals one circumference of Mars at equator. A had, or Barsoomian mile, contains about two thousand three hundred and thirty nine earth feet. A carad is one degree. A sofad is about one point one seven earth inches. End of footnote. Still the man shook his head. I know nothing beyond the Lotharian hills, he said. Not may live there beside the hideous green hordes of Torcas. They have conquered all Barsoom except this single valley and the city of Lothar. Here we have defied them for countless ages, though periodically they renew their attempts to destroy us. From whence you come I cannot guess unless you be descended from the slaves the Torcazians captured in early times when they reduced the outer world to their vassalage. But we had heard that they destroyed all of their races but their own. The Turks tried to explain that the Torcazians ruled but a relatively tiny part of the surface of Barsoom and even this only because their domain held nothing to attract to the red race. But the Lotharian could not seem to conceive of anything beyond the valley of Lothar other than a trackless waste peopled by the ferocious green hordes of Torcas. After considerable parlaying he consented to admit them into the city and a moment later the wheel-like gate rolled back within its niche and Thuvia and Carthoris entered the city of Lothar. All about them were evidences of fabulous wealth. The facades of the buildings fronting upon the avenue within the wall were richly carbon and about the windows and doors were often set foot-wide borders of precious stones, intricate mosaics or tablets of beaten gold bearing boss reliefs depicting what may have been bits of the history of this forgotten people. He with whom they had conversed across the wall was in the avenue to receive them. About him were a hundred or more men of the same race. All were clothed in flowing robes and all were beardless. Their attitude was more of fearful suspicion than antagonism. They followed the newcomers with their eyes, but spoke no word to them. Carthoris could not but notice the fact that, though the city had been but a short time before surrounded by a horde of bloodthirsty demons, yet none of the citizens appeared to be armed, nor was there sign of soldiery about. He wondered if all the fighting men had sallied forth in one supreme effort to rout the foe, leaving the city all unguarded. They asked their host. The man smiled. No creature other than a score or so of our sacred banths has left Lothar to-day, he replied. But the soldiers, the bowmen, exclaimed Carthoris, we saw thousands emerge from this very gate, overwhelming the hordes of Torcas and putting them to rout with their deadly arrows and their fierce banths. Still the man smiled, his knowing smile. Look! he cried, and pointed down a broad avenue before him. Carthoris and Thuvia followed the direction indicated, and there, marching bravely in the sunlight, they saw advancing toward them a great army of bowmen. Ah! exclaimed Thuvia. They have returned through another gate, or, per chance, these be the troops that remained to defend the city. Again the fellow smiled his uncanny smile. There are no soldiers in Lothar, he said. Look! Both Carthoris and Thuvia had turned toward him while he spoke, and now as they turned back again toward the advancing regiments, their eyes went wide in astonishment, for the broad avenue before them was as deserted as the tomb. And those who marched out upon the hordes to-day, whispered Carthoris, they, too, were unreal? The man nodded. But their arrows slew the green warriors, insisted Thuvia. Let us go before Tario, replied the Lotharian. He will tell you that which he deems at best you know. I might tell you too much. Who is Tario? asked Carthoris. Jeddak of Lothar, replied the guide, leading them up the broad avenue, down which they had but a moment since seen the phantom army marching. For half an hour they walked along lovely avenues between the most gorgeous buildings that the two had ever seen. Few people were in evidence. Carthoris could not but note the deserted appearance of the mighty city. At last they came to the royal palace. Carthoris saw it from a distance, and guessing the nature of the magnificent pile, wondered that even here there should be a little sign of activity and life. Not even a single guard was visible before the great entrance. Nor into the gardens beyond, into which he could see, was their sign of the myriad of life that pulses within the precincts of the royal estates of the red Jeddaks. Here, said their guide, is the palace of Tario. As he spoke, Carthoris again let his gaze rest upon the wondrous palace. With a startled exclamation he rubbed his eyes and looked again. No, he could not be mistaken. Before the massive gates stood a score of centuries. Within, the avenue leading to the main building was lined on either side by ranks of bowmen. The gardens were dotted with officers and soldiers moving quickly to and fro, as though bent upon the duties of the minute. Manor of people were these who could conjure an army out of thin air. He glanced at Thuvia. She, too, evidently, had witnessed the transformation. With a little shudder she pressed more closely toward him. What do you make of it? she whispered. It is most uncanny. I cannot account for it, replied Carthoris, unless we have gone mad. Carthoris turned quickly toward the Lotharian. The fellow was smiling broadly. I thought that you just said there were no soldiers in Lothar, said the Heliumite, with a gesture toward the guardsmen. What are these? Ask Tario, replied the other. We shall soon be before him. Nor was it long before they entered a lofty chamber at one end of which a man reclined upon a rich couch, that stood upon a high dais. As the trio approached, the man turned dreamy eyes sleepily upon them. Twenty feet from the dais, their conductor halted, and, whispering to Thuvia and Carthoris to follow his example, threw himself headlong to the floor. Then, rising to hands and knees, he commenced crawling toward the foot of the throne, swinging his head to and fro, and wiggling his body as you have seen a hound do when approaching its master. Thuvia glanced quickly toward Carthoris. He was standing erect, with high held head, and arms folded across his broad chest. A haughty smile curved his lips. The man upon the dais was eyeing him intently, and Carthoris of Helium was looking straight in the other's face. "'Who be these, Jav?' asked the man of him who crawled upon his belly along the floor. "'O Tario, most glorious Jeddak,' replied Jav. "'These be strangers who came with the hordes of Torkas to our gates, saying that they were prisoners of the green man. They tell strange tales of cities far beyond Lothar.' "'Arise, Jav,' commanded Tario, and ask these two why they show not to Tario the respect that is his due.' Jav arose and faced the strangers. At sight of their erect positions his face went livid. He leaped toward them. "'Creatures!' he screamed. "'Down! Down upon your bellies before the last of the Jeddaks of Barsoom!' And of Chapter 6, Chapter 7 of Thuvia, Made of Mars." This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Scott Merrill. Thuvia, Made of Mars. By Edgar Rice Burroughs. Chapter 7. The Phantom Bowman. As Jav leaped toward him, Carthoris laid his hand upon the hilt of his longsword. The Lotharian halted. The great apartment was empty saved for the four at the dais. Yet, as Jav stepped back from the menace of the Heliumites' threatening attitude, the latter found himself surrounded by a score of bowmen. From whence had they sprung? Both Carthoris and Thuvia looked their astonishment. Now the former's sword leaped from its scabbard, and at the same instant the bowmen drew back their slim shafts. Tario had half raised himself upon one elbow. For the first time he saw the full figure of Thuvia, who had been concealed behind the person of Carthoris. Enough! cried the Jeddak, raising a protesting hand, but at that very instant the sword of the Heliumite cut viciously at its nearest antagonist. As the keen edge reached its goal, Carthoris let the point fall to the floor. As with wide eyes he stepped backward in consternation, throwing the back of his left hand across his brow. His steel had cut but empty air. His antagonist had vanished. There were no bowmen in the room. It is evident that these are strangers, said Tario to Jav. Let us first determine that they knowingly affronted us before we take measures for punishment. Then he turned to Carthoris, but ever his gaze wandered to the perfect lines of Thuvia's glorious figure, which the harness of a Barsoomian princess accentuated rather than concealed. Who are you? he asked. Who knows not the etiquette of the court of the last of Jeddaks? I am Carthoris, Prince of Helium, replied the Heliumite, and this is Thuvia, Princess of Ptarth. In the courts of our fathers men do not prostrate themselves before royalty. Not since the firstborn tore their immortal goddess Lim from Lim have men crawled upon their bellies to any throne upon Barsoom. Now think you that the daughter of one mighty Jeddak and the son of another would so humiliate themselves? Tario looked at Carthoris for a long time. At last he spoke. There is no other Jeddak upon Barsoom than Tario, he said. There is no other race than that of Lothar, unless the hordes of Torkas may be dignified by such an appellation. Lotharians are white, your skins are red. There are no women left upon Barsoom. Your companion is a woman. He half rose from the couch, leaning far forward and pointing an accusing finger at Carthoris. You are a lie, he shrieked. You are both lies, and you dare to come before Tario, last and mightiest of the Jeddaks of Barsoom, and assert your reality? Someone shall pay well for this, Jav, and unless I mistake it is yourself who has dared thus flippantly to trifle with the good nature of your Jeddak. Remove the man. Leave the woman. We shall see if both be lies. And later, Jav, you shall suffer for your temerity. There be few of us left, but Komal must be fed. Go! Carthoris could see that Jav trembled as he prostrated himself once more before his ruler, and then, rising, turned toward the Prince of Helium. Come, he said. And leave the Princess of Parth here alone? cried Carthoris. Jav brushed closely past him, whispering. Follow me. He cannot harm her, except to kill, and that he can do whether you remain or not. We had best go now. Trust me! Carthoris did not understand, but something in the urgency of the other's tone assured him, and so he turned away, but not without a glance toward Thuvia, in which he attempted to make her understand that it was in her own interest that he left her. For answer she turned her back full upon him, but not without first throwing him such a look of contempt that brought the scarlet to his cheek. Then he hesitated, but Jav seized him by the rest. Come, he whispered, or he will have the bowman upon you, and this time there will be no escape. Did you not see how futile is your steel against thin air? Carthoris turned unwillingly to follow. As the two left the room, he turned to his companion. If I may not kill thin air, he asked, how, then, shall I fear that thin air may kill me? You saw the Torcasians fall before the bowman, asked Jav. Carthoris nodded. So would you fall before them, and without one single chance for self-defense or revenge. As they talked, Jav led Carthoris to a small room in one of the numerous towers of the palace. Here were couches, and Jav bid the heliomite be seated. For several minutes the Lotharian eyed his prisoner, for such Carthoris now realized himself to be. I am half convinced that you are real, he said at last. Carthoris laughed. Of course I am real, he said. What caused you to doubt it? Can you not see me? Feel me? So may I see and feel the bowman, replied Jav. And yet we all know that they, at least, are not real. Carthoris showed by the expression of his face his puzzlement at each new reference to the mysterious bowman, the vanishing soldiery of Lothar. What then, may they be? he asked. You really do not know, asked Jav. Carthoris shook his head negatively. I can almost believe that you have told us the truth, and that you are really from another part of Barsoom, or from another world. But tell me, in your own country have you no bowman to strike terror to the hearts of the green hordesmen as they slay in company with the fierce banths of war? We have soldiers, replied Carthoris. We of the Red Race are all soldiers, but we have no bowman to defend us, such as yours. We defend ourselves. You go out and get killed by your enemies, cried Jav incredulously. Certainly, replied Carthoris, how do the Lotharians? You have seen, replied the other. We send out our deathless archers, deathless because they are lifeless, existing only in the imaginations of our enemies. It is really our giant minds that defend us, sending out legions of imaginary warriors to materialize before the mind's eye of the foe. They see them. They see their bows drawn back. They see their slender arrows speed with unerring precision toward their hearts. And they die, killed by the power of suggestion. But the archers that are slain, exclaimed Carthoris, you call them deathless, and yet I saw their dead bodies piled high upon the battlefield. How may that be? It is but to lend reality to the scene, replied Jav. We picture many of our own defenders killed, that the Torquesians may not guess that there are really no flesh and blood creatures opposing them. Once that truth became implanted in their minds, it is the theory of many of us, no longer would they fall prey to the suggestion of the deadly arrows, for greater would be the suggestion of the truth, and the more powerful suggestion would prevail. It is law. And the banths, questioned Carthoris, they too, were but creatures of suggestion? Some of them were real, replied Jav. Those that accompanied the archers in pursuit of the Torquesians were unreal. Like the archers they never returned, but having served their purpose, vanished with the bowmen when the route of the enemy was assured. Those that remain about the field were real. Those we loosed as scavengers to devour the bodies of the dead of Torques. This thing is demanded by the realists among us. I am a realist. Tario is an etherealist. The etherealists maintain that there is no such thing as matter, that all is mind. They say that none of us exists, except in the imagination of his fellows, other than as an intangible, invisible mentality. According to Tario, it is but necessary that we all unite in imagining that there are no dead Torquesians beneath our walls, and there will be none, nor any need of scavenging banths. You then do not hold Tario's beliefs, asked Carthoris. In part only, replied the Lotharian. I believe, in fact I know, that there are some truly ethereal creatures. Tario is one, I am convinced. He has no existence, except in the imaginations of his people. Of course it is the contention of all us realists, that all etherealists are but figments of the imagination. They contend that no food is necessary, nor do they eat. But any one of the most rudimentary intelligence must realize that food is a necessity to creatures having actual existence. Yes, agreed Carthoris. Not having eaten today, I can readily agree with you. Ah, pardon me, exclaimed Jav. Pray be seated, and satisfy your hunger. And with the wave of his hand he indicated a bountifully laden table that had not been there an instant before he spoke. Of that Carthoris was positive, for he had searched the room diligently with his eyes several times. It is well, continued Jav, that you did not fall into the hands of an etherealist. Then indeed would you have gone hungry. But, exclaimed Carthoris, this is not real food. It was not here at instance since, and real food does not materialize out of thin air. Jav looked hurt. There is no real food or water in Lothar, he said, nor has there been for countless ages. Upon such as you now see before you have we existed since the dawn of history. Upon such, then, may you exist. But I thought you were a realist, exclaimed Carthoris. Indeed, cried Jav. What more realistic than this bounteous feast? It is just here that we differ most from the etherealists. They claim that it is unnecessary to imagine food. But we have found that for the maintenance of life we must thrice daily, sit down to hearty meals. The food that one eats is supposed to undergo certain chemical changes during the process of digestion and assimilation, the result, of course, being the rebuilding of wasted tissue. Now we all know that mind is all, though we may differ in the interpretation of its various manifestations. Tario maintains that there is no such thing as substance, all being created from the substanceless matter of the brain. We realists, however, know better. We know that mind has the power to maintain substance, even though it may not be able to create substance. The latter is still an open question. And so we know that in order to maintain our physical bodies we must cause all our organs properly to function. This we accomplish by materializing food thoughts, and by partaking of the food thus created. We chew, we swallow, we digest. All our organs function precisely as if we had partaken of material food. And what is the result? What must be the result? The chemical changes take place through both direct and indirect suggestion, and we live and thrive. Carthoris eyed the food for him. It seemed real enough. He lifted a morsel to his lips. There was substance indeed, and flavor as well. Yes, even his palate was deceived. Jav watched him, smiling as he ate. Is it not entirely satisfying? he asked. I must admit that it is, replied Carthoris. But tell me, how does Tario live, and the other etherealists who maintain that food is unnecessary? Jav scratched his head. That is a question we often discuss, he replied. It is the strongest evidence we have of the non-existence of the etherealists. But who may know other than Komal? Who is Komal? asked Carthoris. I heard your jeddak speak of him. Jav bent low toward the ear of the heliomite, looking fearfully about before he spoke. Komal is the essence, he whispered. Even the etherealists admit that mind itself must have substance in order to transmit to imaginings the appearance of substance. For if there really was no such thing as substance, it could not be suggested. What never has been cannot be imagined. Do you follow me? I am groping, replied Carthoris dryly. So the essence must be substance, continued Jav. Komal is the essence of the all, as it were. He is maintained by substance. He eats. He eats the real. To be explicit, he eats the realists. That is Tario's work. He says that in as much as we maintain that we alone are real we should, to be consistent, admit that we alone are proper food for Komal. Sometimes, as today, we find other food for him. He is very fond of Torquesians. And Komal is a man, asked Carthoris. He is all, I told you, replied Jav. I know not how to explain him in words that you will understand. He is the beginning and the end. All life emanates from Komal, since the substance which feeds the brain with imaginings radiates from the body of Komal. Should Komal cease to eat, all life upon Barsoom would cease to be. He cannot die, but he might cease to eat, and thus to radiate. And he feeds upon the men and women of your belief, cried Carthoris. Women, exclaimed Jav. There are no women in Lothar. The last of the Lotharian females perished ages since. Upon that cruel and terrible journey across the muddy plains that fringed the half-dried seas, when the green hordes scorched us across the world to this, our last hiding place, our impregnable fortress of Lothar. Scarce twenty thousand men of all the countless millions of our race lived to reach Lothar. Among us were no women and no children. All these had perished by the way. As time went on, we too were dying, and the race fast approaching extinction, when the great truth was revealed to us that mind is all. Many more died before we perfected our powers, but at least we were able to defy death when we fully understood that death was merely a state of mind. Then came the creation of mind-people, or rather the materialization of imaginings. We first put these to practical use when the Torquesians discovered our retreat, and fortunate for us it was that they required ages of search upon their part before they found the single tiny entrance to the valley of Lothar. That day we threw our first bowmen against them. The intention was purely to frighten them away by the vast numbers of bowmen which we could muster upon our walls. All Lothar bristled with the bows and arrows of our ethereal host. But the Torquesians did not frighten. They are lower than the beasts. They know no fear. They rushed upon our walls, and standing upon the shoulders of others, they built human approaches to the wall-tops, and were on the very point of surging in upon us and overwhelming us. Not an arrow had been discharged by our bowmen. We did but caused them to run to and fro along the wall-top, screaming taunts and threats at the enemy. Presently I thought to attempt the thing, the great thing. I centered all my mighty intellect upon the bowmen of my creation. Each of us produces and directs as many bowmen as his mentality and imagination is capable of. I caused them to fit arrows to their bows for the first time. I made them take aim at the hearts of the green men. I made the green men see all this, and then I made them see the arrows fly, and I made them think that the points pierced their hearts. It was all that was necessary. By hundreds they toppled from our walls, and when my fellows saw what I had done they were quick to follow my example, so that presently the hordes of Torques had retreated beyond the range of our arrows. We might have killed them at any distance, but one rule of war we have maintained from the first, the rule of realism. We do nothing, or rather we cause our bowmen to do nothing within sight of the enemy that is beyond the understanding of the foe. Otherwise they might guess the truth, and that would be the end of us. But after the Torquesians had retreated beyond bow-shot, they turned upon us with their terrible rifles, and by constant popping at us made life miserable within our walls. So then I bethought the scheme to hurl our bowmen through the gates upon them, and you have seen this day how well it works, for ages they have come down upon us at intervals, but always with the same results, and all this is due to your intellect, Jav, asked Carthoris. I should think that you would be high in the councils of your people. I am, replied Jav proudly. I am next to Tario. But why then, your cringing manner of approaching the throne? Tario demands it. He is jealous of me. He only awaits the slightest excuse to feed me to Komal. He fears that I may someday usurp his power. Carthoris suddenly sprang from the table. Jav, he exclaimed. I am a beast! Here I have been eating my fill, while the Princess of Parth may per chance be still without food. Let us return and find some means of furnishing her with nourishment. The Lotharian shook his head. Tario would not permit it, he said. He will, doubtless, make an etherealist of her. But I must go to her, insisted Carthoris. You say that there are no women in Lothar. Then she must be among men, and if this be so, I intend to be near where I may defend her if the need arises. Tario will have his way, insisted Jav. He sends you away, and you may not return until he sends for you. Then I shall go without waiting to be sent for. Do not forget the bowmen, cautioned Jav. I do not forget them, replied Carthoris. But he did not tell Jav that he remembered something else that the Lotharian had let drop. Something that was but a conjecture, possibly, and yet one well worth pinning a forlorn hope to, should necessity arise. Carthoris started to leave the room. Jav stepped before him, barring his way. I have learned to like you, red man, he said. But do not forget that Tario is still my jeddak, and that Tario has commanded that you remain here. Carthoris was about to reply when there came faintly to the ears of both a woman's cry for help. With a sweep of his arm the Prince of Helium brushed the Lotharian aside, and with drawn sword sprang into the corridor without. End of Chapter 7. Chapter 8 of Thuvia, Made of Mars. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Chapter 8. The Hall of Doom. As Thuvia of Parth saw Carthoris depart from the presence of Tario, leaving her alone with the man, a sudden qualm of terror seized her. There was an air of mystery pervading the stately chamber. Its furnishings and appointments bespoke wealth and culture, and carried the suggestion that the room was often the scene of royal functions which filled it to its capacity. And yet nowhere about her, in antechamber or corridor, was there sign of any other being than herself and the recumbent figure of Tario, the jeddak, who watched her through half-closed eyes from the gorgeous trappings of his regal couch. For a time after the departure of Jav and Carthoris, the man eyed her intently. Then he spoke. Come nearer, he said, and as she approached, whose creature are you? Who has dared materialize his imaginings of a woman? It is contrary to the customs and the royal edicts of Lothar. Tell me, woman, from whose brain have you sprung? Jav's? No, do not deny it. I know that it could be no other than that envious realist. He seeks to tempt me. He would see me fall beneath the spell of your charms, and then he, your master, would direct my destiny. And my end. I see it all. I see it all. The blood of indignation and anger had been rising to Thuvia's face. Her chin was up, a haughty curve upon her perfect lips. I know not, she cried, of what you are prattling. I am Thuvia, princess of Parth. I am no man's creature. Never before today did I lay eyes upon him you called Jav, nor upon your ridiculous city, of which even the greatest nations of Barsoom have never dreamed. My charms are not for you, nor such as you. They are not for sale or barter, even though the price were a real throne. And as for using them to win your worse than futile power. She ended her sentence with a shrug of her shapely shoulders, and a little scornful laugh. When she had finished, Tarja was sitting upon the edge of his couch, his feet upon the floor. He was leaning forward with eyes no longer half closed, but wide with a startled expression in them. He did not seem to note the lay's majest of her words and manner. There was evidently something more startling and compelling about her speech than that. Slowly he came to his feet. By the fangs of Komal, he muttered, but you are a real, a real woman, no dream, no vain and foolish figment of the mind. He took a step toward her, with his hands outstretched. Come, he whispered, come woman, for countless ages have I dreamed that some day you would come. And now that you are here I can scarce believe the testimony of my eyes. Even now, knowing that you are real, I still half-dread that you may be a lie. Thuvia shrank back. She thought the man mad. Her hand stole to the jeweled hilt of her dagger. The man saw the move and stopped. A cunning expression entered his eyes. Then they became at once dreamy and penetrating, as they fairly bored into the girl's brain. Thuvia suddenly felt a change coming over her. What the cause of it she did not guess, but somehow the man before her began to assume a new relationship within her heart. No longer was he a strange and mysterious enemy, but an old and trusted friend. Her hand slipped from the dagger's hilt. Tario came closer. He spoke gentle, friendly words, and she answered him in a voice that seemed hers, and yet another's. He was beside her now. His hand was up her shoulder. His eyes were downbent towards hers. She looked up into his face. His gaze seemed to bore straight through her to some hidden spring of sentiment within her. Her lips started in sudden awe and wonder at the strange revealment of her inner self that was being laid bare before her consciousness. She had known Tario for ever. He was more than friend to her. She moved a little closer to him. In one swift flood of light she knew the truth. She loved Tario, Jeddak of Lothar. She had always loved him. The man, seeing the success of his strategy, could not restrain a faint smile of satisfaction. Whether there was something in the expression of his face, or whether from Carthoris of Helium in a far chamber of the palace came a more powerful suggestion, who may say? But something there was that dispelled the strange hypnotic influence of the man. As though a mask had been torn from her eyes, Thuvia suddenly saw Tario as she had formerly seen him, and accustomed as she was to the strange manifestations of highly developed mentality which are common upon Barsoom, she quickly guessed enough of the truth to know that she was in grave danger. Quickly she took a step back, tearing herself from his grasp, but the momentary contact had aroused within Tario all the long buried passions of his loveless existence. With a muffled cry he sprang upon her, throwing his arms about her and attempting to drag her lips to his. Woman, he cried, lovely woman, Tario would make you queen of Lothar. Listen to me, listen to the love of the last jeddak of Barsoom. Thuvia struggled to free herself from his embrace. Stop creature, she cried, stop I do not love you, stop or I shall scream for help. Tario laughed in her face. Scream for help! he mimicked. And who within the walls of Lothar is there who might come and answer to your call? Who would dare enter the presence of Tario, unsummoned? There is one, she replied, who would come and, coming, dare to cut you down upon your own throne if he thought that you had offered a front to Thuvia of Parth. Who, Jav? asked Tario. Not Jav, nor any other soft-skinned Lotharian, she replied, but a real man, a real warrior, Carthoris of Helium. Again the man laughed at her. You forget the bowman, he reminded her. What could your red warrior accomplish against my fearless legions? Again he caught her roughly to him, dragging her toward his couch. If you will not be my queen, he said, you shall be my slave. Neither, cried the girl. As she spoke the single word, there was a quick movement of her right hand. Tario, releasing her, staggered back, both hands pressed to his side. At the same instant the room was filled with bowmen, and then the jeddak of Lothar sank senseless to the marble floor. At the instant that he lost consciousness the bowmen were about to release their arrows into Thuvia's heart. Involuntarily she gave a single cry for help, though she knew that not even Carthoris of Helium could save her now. Then she closed her eyes and waited for the end. No slender shafts pierced her tender side. She raised her lids to see what stayed the hands of her executioners. The room was empty, safe for herself, and the still form of the jeddak of Lothar lying at her feet, a little pool of crimson staining the white marble of the floor beside him. Tario was unconscious. Thuvia was amazed. Where were the bowmen? Why had they not loosed their shafts? What could it all mean? An instant before the room had been mysteriously filled with armed men, evidently called to protect their jeddak, yet now, with the evidence of her deed plain before them, they had vanished as mysteriously as they had come, leaving her alone with the body of their ruler into whose side she had slipped her long, keen blade. The girl glanced apprehensively about, first for signs of the return of the bowmen, and then for some means of escape. The wall behind the dais was pierced by two small doorways, hidden by heavy hangings. Thuvia was quickly running toward one of these when she heard the clank of a warrior's medal at the end of the apartment behind her. Ah, if she had but an instant more of time, she could have reached that screening arouse, and, perchance, have found some avenue of escape behind it. But now it was too late. She had been discovered. With a feeling that was akin to apathy, she turned to meet her fate, and there, before her, running swiftly across the broad chamber to her side, was Carthoris, his naked longsword gleaming in his hand. For days she had doubted the intentions of the Heliumite. She had thought him a party to her abduction. Since fate had thrown them together, she had scarce favored him with more than the most perfunctory replies to his remarks, unless at such times as the weird and uncanny happenings at Lothar had surprised her out of her reserve. She knew that Carthoris of Helium would fight for her, but whether to save her for himself or another, she was in doubt. He knew that she was promised to Coulon Tith, Jeddak of Kaol, but if he had been instrumental in her abduction, his motives could not be prompted by loyalty to his friend or regard for her honor. And yet, as she saw him coming across the marble floor of the audience chamber of Tario of Lothar, his fine eyes filled with apprehension for her safety, his splendid figure personifying all that is finest in the fighting men of Marshal Mars, she could not believe that any faint trace of perfidy lurked beneath so glorious an exterior. Never, she thought, in all her life had the sight of any man been so welcome to her. It was with difficulty that she refrained from rushing forward to meet him. She knew that he loved her, but in time she recalled that she was promised to Coulon Tith. Not even might she trust herself to show too great gratitude to the Heliumite, lest he misunderstand. Carthoris was by her side now. His quick glance had taken in the scene within the room, the still figure of the Jeddak sprawled upon the floor, the girl hastening toward a shrouded exit. Did he harm you, Thupia? he asked. She held up her crimson to blade that he might see it. No, she said, he did not harm me. A grim smile lighted Carthoris's face. Praise be our first ancestor, he murmured. And now let us see if we may not make good our escape from this accursed city before the Lotharians discover that their Jeddak is no more. With the firm authority that sat so well upon him in whose veins flowed the blood of John Carter of Virginia and Dejah Thoris of Helium, he grasped her hand, and, turning back across the hall, strode toward the great doorway through which Jab had brought them into the presence of the Jeddak earlier in the day. They had almost reached the threshold when a figure sprang into the apartment through another entrance. It was Jab. He, too, took in the scene within a glance. Carthoris turned to face him, his sword ready in his hand, and his great body shielding the slender figure of the girl. Come, Jab of Lothar! he cried. Let us face the issue at once, for only one of us may leave this chamber alive with Thuvia of Parth. Then, seeing that the man wore no sword, he exclaimed, Bring on your bowman, then, or come with us as my prisoner, until we have safely passed the outer portals of thy ghostly city. You have killed Tario! exclaimed Jab, ignoring the other's challenge. You have killed Tario! I see his blood upon the floor, real blood, real death! Tario was, after all, as real as I. Yet he was an etherealist. He would not materialize his sustenance. Can it be that they are right? Well, we, too, are right. And all these ages we have been quarreling, each saying that the other was wrong. However, he is dead now. Of that, I am glad. Now shall Jab come into his own. Now shall Jab be Jeddak of Lothar! As he finished, Tario opened his eyes and then quickly sat up. Trader! Assassin! he screamed. And then, Kadar! Kadar! which is the Barsoomian for guard. Jab went sickly white. He fell upon his belly, wriggling toward Tario. Oh, my Jeddak! My Jeddak! he whimpered. Jab had no hand in this. Jab, you're faithful, Jab. But just this instant entered the apartment to find you lying prone upon the floor, and these two strangers about to leave. How it happened I know not. Believe me, most glorious Jeddak! See, Snave, cried Tario, I heard your words. However, he is dead now. Of that, I am glad. Now shall Jab come into his own. Now shall Jab be Jeddak of Lothar! At last, Trader, I have found you out. Your own words have condemned you, as surely as the acts of these red creatures have sealed their fates. Unless, he paused, unless the woman. But he got no further. Carthoris guessed what he would have said, and before the words could be uttered, he had sprung forward and struck the man across the mouth with his open palm. Tario frothed in rage and mortification. And should you again affront the Princess of Parth, warned the Heliumite, I shall forget that you wear no sword. Not forever may I control my itching sword hand. Tario shrank back toward the little doorways behind the dais. He was trying to speak, but so hideously were the muscles of his face working that he could utter no word for several minutes. At last he managed to articulate intelligibly. Die, he shrieked. Die! And then he turned toward the exit at his back. Jab leaped forward, screaming in terror. Have pity, Tario! Have pity! Remember the long ages that I have served you faithfully. Remember all that I have done for Lothar! Do not condemn me now to the death hideous! Save me! Save me! But Tario only laughed a mocking laugh, and continued to back toward the hangings that hid the little doorway. Jab turned toward Carthoris. Stop him! he screamed. Stop him! If you love life, let him not leave this room! And as he spoke he leaped in pursuit of his jeddak. Carthoris followed Jab's example, but the last of the jeddaks of Barsoom was too quick for them. By the time they reached the Arras behind which he had disappeared they found a heavy stone door blocking their further progress. Jab sank to the floor in a spasm of terror. Come, man! cried Carthoris. We are not dead yet. Let us hasten to the avenues and make an attempt to leave the city. We are still alive, and while we live we may yet endeavour to direct our own destinies. Of what avail to sink spineless to the floor? Come, be a man! Jab but shook his head. Did you not hear him call the guards? he moaned. Oh, if we could have but intercepted him. Then there might have been hope, but alas, he was too quick for us. Well, well, exclaimed Carthoris impatiently, what if he did call the guards? There will be time enough to worry about that after they come. At present I see no indication that they have any idea of overexerting themselves to obey their jeddak summons. Jab shook his head mournfully. You do not understand, he said. The guards have already come, and gone. They have done their work, and we are lost. Look to the various exits! Carthoris and Thuvia turned their eyes in the direction of the several doorways, which pierced the walls of the Great Chamber. Each was tightly closed by huge stone doors. Well, asked Carthoris. We are to die the death, whispered Jab faintly. Further than that he would not say. He just sat upon the edge of the jeddak's couch, and waited. Carthoris moved to Thuvia's side, and, standing there with naked sword, he let his brave eyes roam ceaselessly about the Great Chamber, that no foe might spring upon them unseen. For what seemed ours no sound broke the silence of their living tomb. No sign gave their executioners of the time or manner of their death. The suspense was terrible. Even Carthoris of Helium began to feel the terrible strain upon his nerves. If he could but know how and whence the hand of death was to strike, he could meet it unafraid. But to suffer longer the hideous tension of this blighting ignorance of the plans of their assassins was telling upon him grievously. Thuvia of Parth drew quite close to him. She felt safer with the feel of his arm against hers, and with the contact of her the man took a new grip upon himself. With his old time smile he turned toward her. It would seem that they are trying to frighten us to death, he said, laughing, and shame be upon me that I should confess it. I think they were close to accomplishing their designs upon me. She was about to make some reply when a fearful shriek broke from the lips of the Lotharian. The end is coming! he cried. The end is coming! The floor! The floor! Oh, comal be merciful! Thuvia and Carthoris did not need to look at the floor to be aware of the strange movement that was taking place. Slowly the marble flagging was sinking in all directions toward the center. At first the movement, being gradual, was scarce noticeable, but presently the angle of the floor became such that one might stand easily only by bending one knee considerably. Jav was shrieking still and clawing at the royal couch that had already commenced to slide toward the center of the room, where both Thuvia and Carthoris suddenly noted a small orifice which grew in diameter as the floor assumed more closely a funnel-like contour. Now it became more and more difficult to cling to the dizzy inclination of the smooth and polished marble. Carthoris tried to support Thuvia, but himself commenced to slide and slip toward the ever-enlarging aperture. Better to cling to the smooth stone, he kicked off his sandals of Zidadar hide, and with his bare feet braced himself against the sickening tilt, at the same time throwing his arms supportingly around the girl. In her terror her own hands clasped about the man's neck. Her cheek was close to his. Death unseen and of unknown form settled close upon them, and because unseen and unknowable infinitely more terrifying. Courage, my princess! he whispered. She looked up into his face to see smiling lips above hers, and brave eyes untouched by terror drinking deeply of her own. Then the floor sagged and tilted more swiftly. There was a sudden slipping rush as they were precipitated toward the aperture. Jav's screams rose weird and horrible in their ears, and then the three found themselves piled upon the royal couch of Tario, which had stuck within the aperture at the base of the marble funnel. For a moment they breathed more freely, but presently they discovered that the aperture was continuing to enlarge. The couch slipped downward. Jav shrieked again. There was a sickening sensation as they felt all let go beneath them, as they fell through darkness to an unknown death. End of Chapter 8. Chapter 9 of Thuvia, Made of Mars This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Thuvia, Made of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs Chapter 9. The Battle in the Plane The distance from the bottom of the funnel to the floor of the chamber beneath it could not have been great, for all three of the victims of Tario's wrath alighted unscathed. Carthoris, still clasping Thuvia tightly to his breast, came to the ground cat-like upon his feet, breaking the shock for the girl. Scarce had his feet touched the rough stone flagging of this new chamber, then his sword flashed out ready for instant use. But though the room was lighted, there was no sign of enemy about. Carthoris turned toward Jav. The man was pasty-white with fear. What is to be our fate, asked the Heliumite? Tell me, man! Shake off your terror long enough to tell me, so I may be prepared to sell my life and that of the princess of Parth as dearly as possible. Comal! whispered Jav. We are to be devoured by Comal! Your deity, asked Carthoris. The Lotharian nodded his head. Then he pointed toward a low doorway at one end of the chamber. From thence will he come upon us, lay aside your puny sword fool. It will but enrage him the more and make our sufferings the worse. Carthoris smiled, gripping his longsword the more firmly. Presently Jav gave a horrified moan, at the same time pointing toward the door. He has come! he whimpered. Carthoris and Thuvia looked in the direction the Lotharian had indicated, expecting to see some strange and fearful creature in human form. But to their astonishment they saw the broad head and great main shoulders of a huge banth, the largest that either had ever seen. Slowly and with dignity the mighty beast advanced into the room. Jav had fallen to the floor and was wriggling his body in the same servile manner that he had adopted toward Tario. He spoke to the fiercest beast as he would have spoken to a human being, pleading with it for mercy. Carthoris stepped between Thuvia and the banth, his sword ready to contest the beast's victory over them. Thuvia turned toward Jav. Is this Komal your god? she asked. Jav nodded affirmatively. The girl smiled and then, brushing past Carthoris, she stepped swiftly toward the growling carnivore. In low, firm tones she spoke to it, as she had spoken to the banths of the golden cliffs and the scavengers before the walls of Lothar. The beast ceased its growling. With lowered head and cat-like purr it came slinking to the girl's feet. Thuvia turned toward Carthoris. It is but a banth, she said. We have nothing to fear from it. Carthoris smiled. I did not fear it, he replied, for I, too, believed it to be only a banth, and I have my longsword. Jav sat up and gazed at the spectacle before him, the slender girl weaving her fingers in the tawny mane of the huge creature that he had thought divine, while Komal rubbed his hideous snout against her side. So this is your god! So this is your god! laughed Thuvia. Jav looked bewildered. He scarce knew whether he dared chance offending Komal or not, for so strong is the power of superstition that even though we know that we have been reverencing a sham, yet still we hesitate to admit the validity of our newfound convictions. Yes, he said, this is Komal. For ages the enemies of Tario have been hurled into his pit to fill his maw, for Komal must be fed. Is there any way out of this chamber, to the avenues of the city? asked Carthoris. Jav shrugged. I do not know, he replied. Never have I been here before, nor ever have I cared to do so. So come, suggested Thuvia, let us explore. There must be a way out. Together the three approached the doorway through which Komal had entered the apartment that was to have witnessed their deaths. Beyond was a low-roofed lair, with a small door at the far end. This, to their delight, opened to the lifting of an ordinary latch, letting them into a circular arena surrounded by tears of seats. Here is where Komal is fed in public, explained Jav. Had Tario dared it would have been here that our fates had been sealed, but he feared too much thy keen blade, red man, and so he hurled us all downward to the pit. I did not know how closely connected were the two chambers. Now we may easily reach the avenues and the city gates. Only the bowmen may dispute the right of way, and, knowing their secret, I doubt that they will have power to harm us. Another door led to a flight of stairs that rose from the arena level upward through the seats to an exit at the back of the hall. Beyond this was a straight, broad corridor, running directly through the palace to the gardens at the side. No one appeared to question them as they advanced, mighty Komal pacing by the girl's side. Where are the people of the palace? The jeddaks retinue, asked Carthoris. Even in the city streets as we came through I scarce saw sign of a human being, yet all about are the evidences of a mighty population. Jav sighed. Poor Lothar, he said. It is indeed a city of ghosts. There are scarce a thousand of us left who once were numbered in the millions. Our great city is peopled by the creatures of our own imaginings. For our own needs we do not take the trouble to materialize these peoples of our brain, yet they are apparent to us. Even now I see great throngs lining the avenues, hastening to and fro in the round of their duties. I see women and children laughing on the balconies. These we are forbidden to materialize, but yet I see them, they are here. But why not? he mused. No longer need I fear Tario. He has done his worst and failed. Why not indeed? Stay, friends! he continued. Would you see Lothar in all her glory? Carthoris and Thuvia nodded their assent, more out of courtesy than because they fully grasped the import of his mutterings. Jav gazed at them penetratingly for an instant. Then, with a wave of his hand, cried, Look! The sight that met them was awe-inspiring, where before there had been naught but deserted pavements and scarlet swords, yawning windows and tenetless doors, now swarmed a countless multitude of happy, laughing people. It is the past, said Jav in a low voice. They do not see us, but they live the old, dead past of ancient Lothar, the dead and crumbled Lothar of antiquity, which stood upon the shore of Throxus, mightiest of the five oceans. See those fine, upstanding men swinging along the broad avenue? See the young girls, and the women smile upon them? See the men greet them with love and respect? Those be seafarers, coming up from their ships, which lie at the quays at the city's edge. Brave men they—oh, but the glory of Lothar has faded. See their weapons? They alone bore arms, for they crossed the five seas to strange places where dangers were. With their passing passed the martial spirit of the Lotharians, leaving, as the ages rolled by, a race of spineless cowards. We hated war, and so we trained not our youth in war-like ways. Thus followed our undoing, for when the seas dried, and the green hordes encroached upon us we could do not but flee. But we remembered the seafaring bowmen of the days of our glory. It is the memory of these which we hurl upon our enemies. As Jav seized speaking, the picture faded, and once more the three took up their way toward the distant city gates, along deserted avenues. Twice they sided Lotharians of flesh and blood, at sight of them, and the huge banth which they must have recognized as Komal, the citizens turned and fled. They will carry word of our flight to Tario, cried Jav, and soon he will send his bowmen after us. Let us hope that our theory is correct, and that their shafts are powerless against mine's cognizant of their unreality. Otherwise we are doomed. Explain, red man, to the woman the truths that I have explained to you, that she may meet the arrows with a stronger counter-suggestion of immunity. Carthoris did as Jav bid him, but they came to the great gates without sign of pursuit developing. Here Jav set in motion the mechanism that rolled the huge, wheel-like gate aside, and a moment later the three, accompanied by the banth, stepped out into the plain before Lothar. Scarce had they covered a hundred yards when the sound of many men shouting rose behind them. As they turned they saw a company of bowmen debuting upon the plain, from the gate through which they had but just passed. Upon the wall above the gate there were a number of Lotharians, among whom Jav recognized Tario. The jeddak stood glaring at them, evidently concentrating all the forces of his trained mind upon them. That he was making a supreme effort to render his imaginary creatures deadly was apparent. Jav turned white and commenced to tremble. At the crucial moment he appeared to lose the courage of his conviction. The great banth turned back toward the advancing bowmen and growled. Carthoris placed himself between Thuvia and the enemy, and, facing them, awaited the outcome of the charge. Suddenly an inspiration came to Carthoris. Hurl your own bowmen against Tario's! he cried to Jav. Let us see a materialized battle between two mentalities. The suggestion seemed to hearten the Lotharian, and in another moment the three stood behind solid ranks of huge bowmen who hurled taunts and menaces at the advancing company emerging from the walled city. Jav was a new man, the moment his battalions stood between him and Tario. One could almost have sworn the man believed these creatures of his strange hypnotic power to be real flesh and blood. With hoarse battle cries they charged the bowmen of Tario. Barbed shafts flew thick and fast, men fell, and the ground was red with gore. Carthoris and Thuvia had difficulty in reconciling the reality of it all with their knowledge of the truth. They saw Utan after Utan march from the gate in perfect step to reinforce the outnumbered company which Tario had first sent forth to arrest them. They saw Jav's forces grow correspondingly until all about them rolled a sea of fighting, cursing warriors, and the dead lay in heaps about the field. Jav and Tario seemed to have forgotten all else beside the struggling bowmen that surged to and fro, filling the broad field between the forest and the city. The wood loomed close behind Thuvia and Carthoris. The latter cast a glance toward Jav. Come! he whispered to the girl. Let them fight out their empty battle. Neither evidently has power to harm the other. They are like two controversialists hurling words at one another. While they are engaged we may as well be devoting our energies to an attempt to find the passage through the cliffs to the plain beyond. As he spoke, Jav, turning from the battle for an instant, caught his words. He saw the girl move to accompany the Heliumite. A cunning look leaped to the Lotharian's eyes. The thing that lay beyond that look had been deep in his heart since first he had laid eyes upon Thuvia of Parth. He had not recognized it, however, until now that she seemed about to pass out of his existence. He centered his mind upon the Heliumite and the girl for an instant. Carthoris saw Thuvia of Parth step forward with outstretched hand. He was surprised at the sudden softening toward him, and it was with a full heart that he let his fingers close upon hers, as together they turned away from forgotten Lothar into the woods and bent their steps toward the distant mountains. As the Lotharian had turned toward them, Thuvia had been surprised to hear Carthoris suddenly voice a new plan. Remain here with Jav, she had heard him say, while I go to search for the passage through the cliffs. She had dropped back in surprise and disappointment, for she knew that there was no reason why she should not have accompanied him. Certainly she should have been safer with him than left here alone with the Lotharian. And Jav watched the two and smiled his cunning smile. When Carthoris had disappeared within the wood, Thuvia seated herself apathetically upon the Scarlet Sward to watch the seemingly interminable struggles of the Bowman. The long afternoon dragged its weary way toward darkness, and still the imaginary legions charged and retreated. The sun was about to set when Tario commenced to withdraw his troops slowly toward the city. His plan for cessation of hostilities through the night evidently met with Jav's entire approval, for he caused his forces to form themselves in orderly udans and marched just within the edge of the wood, where they were soon busily engaged in preparing their evening meal and spreading down their sleeping silks and furs for the night. Thuvia could scarce repress a smile as she noted the scrupulous care with which Jav's imaginary men attended to each tiny detail of deportment, as truly as if they had been flesh and blood. Centuries were posted between the camp and the city. Officers clanked hither and thither issuing commands and seeing to it that they were properly carried out. Thuvia turned toward Jav. Why is it, she asked, that you observe such careful night-city in the regulation of your creatures when Tario knows quite as well as you that they are but figments of your brain? Why not prevent them simply to dissolve into thin air until you again require their futile service? You do not understand them, replied Jav. While they exist they are real. I do but call them into being now, and in a way direct their general actions. But thereafter, until I dissolve them, they are as actual as you or I. Their officers command them, under my guidance. I am the general. That is all. And the psychological effect upon the enemy is far greater than were I to treat them merely as substanceless vagaries. Then, too, continued the Lotharian, there is always the hope, which with us is little short of belief, that some day these materializations will merge into their real, that they will remain, some of them, after we have dissolved their fellows, and that thus we shall have discovered a means for perpetuating our dying race. Some there are who claim already to have accomplished the thing. It is generally supposed that the Etherealists have quite a few among their number, who are permanent materializations. It is even said that such is Tario, but that cannot be, for he existed before we have discovered the full possibilities of suggestion. There are others among us who insist that none of us is real. That we could not have existed all these ages without material food and water had we ourselves been material. Although I am a realist, I rather incline towards this belief myself. It seems well and sensibly based upon the belief that our ancient forebears developed before their extinction such wondrous mentalities that some of the stronger minds among them lived after the death of their bodies, that we are but the deathless minds of individuals long dead. It would appear possible, and yet, insofar as I am concerned, I have all the attributes of corporeal existence. I sleep. I eat. He paused, casting a meaning look upon the girl. I love! Thuvia could not mistake the palpable meaning of his words and expression. She turned away with a little shrug of disgust that was not lost upon the Lotharian. He came close to her and seized her arm. Why not, Jev? he cried. Who more honorable than the second of the world's most ancient race? Your Heliumite? He is gone. He has deserted you to your fate to save himself. Come, be Jevs! Thuvia of Parth rose to her full height. Her lifted shoulders turned toward the man. Her haughty chin upraised. A scornful twist to her lips. You lie! she said quietly. The Heliumite knows less of disloyalty than he knows of fear, and of fear he has as ignorant as the unhatched young. Then where is he? taunted the Lotharian. I tell you, he has fled the valley. He has left you to your fate. But Jev will see that it is a pleasant one. Tomorrow we shall return into the Lothar at the head of my victorious army, and I shall be Jadak, and you shall be my consort. Come! and he attempted to crush her to his breast. The girl struggled to free herself, striking at the man with her metal armlets. Yet still he drew her toward him, until both were suddenly startled by a hideous growl that rumbled from the dark woods close behind them. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. As Carthoris moved through the forest toward the distant cliffs with Thuvia's hand still pressed tight in his, he wondered a little at the girl's continued silence. Yet the contact of her cool palm against his was so pleasant that he feared to break the spell of her newfound reliance in him by speaking. Onward through the dim wood they passed, until the shadows of the quick-coming Martian night commenced to close down upon them. Then it was that Carthoris turned to speak to the girl at his side. They must plan together for the future. It was his idea to pass through the cliffs at once if they could locate the passage, and he was quite positive that they were now close to it. But he wanted her assent to the proposition. As his eyes rested upon her, he was struck by her strangely ethereal appearance. She seemed suddenly to have dissolved into the tenuous substance of a dream, and as he continued to gaze upon her she faded slowly from his sight. For an instant he was dumbfounded, and then the whole truth flashed suddenly upon him. Jav had caused him to believe that Thuvia was accompanying him through the wood while, as a matter of fact, he had detained the girl for himself. Carthoris was horrified. He cursed himself for his stupidity, and yet he knew that the fiendish power which Lotharian had invoked to confuse him might have deceived any. Scarce had he realized the truth that he had started to retrace his steps toward Lothar, but now he moved at a trot, the earthly fuse that he had inherited from his father, carrying him swiftly over the soft carpet of fallen leaves and rank at grass. Thuvia's brilliant light flooded the plain before the walled city of Lothar, as Carthoris broke from the wood opposite the great gate that had given the fugitive's egress from the city earlier in the day. At first he saw no indication that there was another than himself anywhere about. The plain was deserted. No myriad bowman camped now beneath the overhanging verger of the giant trees. No gory heaps of tortured dead defaced the beauty of the scarlet sword. All was silence. All was peace. The Heliumite, scarce pausing at the forest's verge, pushed on across the plain toward the city, when presently he described a huddled form in the grass at his feet. It was the body of a man lying prone. Carthoris turned the figure over upon its back. It was jab, but torn and mangled almost beyond recognition. The prince bent low to note if any spark of life remained, and as he did so the lids raised and dull, suffering eyes looked up into his. The Princess of Ptarth, cried Carthoris, where is she? Answer me, man, or I complete the work that another has so well begun. Comal, muttered Jav, he sprang upon me, and would have devoured me but for the girl. Then they went away together into the wood. The girl and the great Banth, her fingers twined in his tawny mane. Which way went they? asked Carthoris. There, replied Jav faintly, toward the passage through the cliffs. The Prince of Helium waited to hear no more, but springing to his feet raced back again into the forest. It was dawn when he reached the mouth of the dark tunnel that would lead him to the other world beyond this valley of ghostly memories and strange hypnotic influences and menaces. Within the long dark passages he met with no accident or obstacle, coming at last into the light of day beyond the mountains, and no great distance from the southern verge of the domains of the Torcasians, not more than one hundred and fifty hod at most. From the boundary of Torcas to the city of Anthor is a distance of some two hundred hods, so that the Heliumite had before him a journey of more than one hundred and fifty earth miles between him and Anthor. He could at best but hazard a chance guess that toward Anthor Thuvia would take her flight. There lay the nearest water, and there might be expected some day a rescuing party from her father's empire. For Carthoris knew Thuvan Din well enough to know that he would leave no stone unturned, until he had tracked down the truth as to his daughter's abduction, and learned all that there might be to learn of her whereabouts. He realized, of course, that the trick which had laid suspicion upon him would greatly delay the discovery of the truth, but little did he guess to what vast proportions had the results of the villainy of Astak of Dusar already grown. Even as he emerged from the mouth of the passage to look across the foothills in the direction of Anthor, a path battle fleet was winging its majestic way slowly toward the twin cities of Helium, while from far-distant Kaol raced another mighty armada to join forces with its ally. He did not know that in the face of the circumstantial evidence against him even his own people had commenced to entertain suspicions that he might have stolen the Princess of Parth. He did not know of the lengths to which the Dusarians had gone to disrupt the friendship and alliance which existed between the three great powers of the Eastern Hemisphere, Helium, Parth, and Kaol. How Dusarian emissaries had found employment in important posts in the foreign offices of the three great nations, and how, through these men, messages from one jeddak to another were altered and garbled until the patience and pride of the three rulers and former friends could no longer endure the humiliations and insults contained in these falsified papers, not any of this he knew. Nor did he know how even to the last John Carter, warlord of Mars, had refused to permit the jeddak of Helium to declare war against either Parth or Kaol because of his implicit belief in his son, and that eventually all would be satisfactorily explained. And now two great fleets were moving upon Helium, while the Dusarian spies at the court of Tartos Mors saw to it that the twin cities remained in ignorance of their danger. War had been declared by Thuvan Din, but the messenger who had been dispatched with the proclamation had been a Dusarian who had seen to it that no word of warning reached the twin cities of the approach of a hostile fleet. For several days diplomatic relations had been severed between Helium and her two most powerful neighbors, and with the departure of the ministers had come a total cessation of wireless communication between the disputants, as is usual upon Barsoom. But of all of this Carthoris was ignorant. All that interested him at present was the finding of Thuvia of Parth. Her trail beside that of the huge banth had been well marked to the tunnel, and was once more visible leading southward into the foothills. As he followed rapidly downward toward the Dead Sea Bottom, where he knew he must lose the spore and the resilient ochre vegetation, he was suddenly surprised to see a naked man approaching him from northeast. As the fellow drew closer, Carthoris halted to await his coming. He knew that the man was unarmed, and that he was apparently a Lotharian, for his skin was white and his hair auburn. He approached the Heliumite without sign of fear, and when quite close called out the cheery Barsoomian cow oar of greeting. Who are you? asked Carthoris. I am Carcomac, Oduar of the Bowmen, replied the other. A strange thing has happened to me. For ages Tarja has been bringing me into existence, as he has needed the service of the army of his mind. Of all the Bowmen it has been Carcomac, who has been the oftenest materialized. For a long time Tarja has been concentrating his mind upon my permanent materialization. It has been an obsession with him that some day this thing could be accomplished, and the future of Lothar assured. He asserted that matter was non-existent, except in the imagination of man, that all was mental, and so he believed that by persisting in his suggestion he could eventually make of me a permanent suggestion in the minds of all creatures. Yesterday he succeeded, but at such a time it must have come all unknown to him, as it came to me without my knowledge. As with my horde of yelling Bowmen, I pursued the fleeing Torcasians back to their ochre plains. As darkness settled and the time came for us to fade once more into thin air, I suddenly found myself alone upon the edge of the great plain which lies yonder at the foot of the low hills. My men were gone back to the nothingness from which they had sprung, but I remained naked and unarmed. At first I could not understand, but at last came a realization of what had occurred. Tarja's long suggestion had at last prevailed, and Carcomac had become a reality in the world of men. But my harness and my weapons had faded away from my fellows, leaving me naked and unarmed in a hostile country far from Lothar. You wish to return to Lothar? asked Carthoris. No! replied Carcomac quickly. I have no love for Tarja. Being a creature of his mind, I know him too well. He is cruel and tyrannical, a master I have no desire to serve. Now that he has succeeded in accomplishing my permanent materialization, he will be unbearable, and he will go on until he has filled Lothar with his creatures. I wonder if he has succeeded as well with the maid of Lothar. I thought there were no women there, said Carthoris. In a hidden apartment in the palace of Tario, replied Carcomac, the jeddak has maintained the suggestion of a beautiful girl, hoping that someday she would become permanent. I have seen her there. She is wonderful. But for her sake I hope that Tario succeeds not so well with her as he has with me. Now, red man, I have told you of myself. What of you? Carthoris liked the face and manner of the bowman. There had been no sign of doubt or fear in his expression as he had approached the heavily armed Heliumite, and he had spoken directly and to the point. So the prince of Helium told the bowman of Lothar who he was and what adventure had brought him to this far country. Good! exclaimed the other when he had done. Carcomac will accompany you. Together we shall find the princess of Parth, and with you Carcomac will return to the world of men. Such a world as he knew when the long gone past, when the ships of mighty Lothar plowed angry throxus, and the roaring surf beat against the barrier of these parched and dreary hills. What mean you? asked Carthoris. Had you really a former actual existence? Most assuredly, replied Carcomac. In my day I commanded the fleets of Lothar, mightiest of all the fleets that sailed the five salt seas. Wherever men lived upon Barsoom there was the name of Carcomac known and respected. Peaceful were the land races in those distant days. Only the seafarers were warriors. But now has the glory of the past faded. Nor did I think until I met you that there remained upon Barsoom a single person of your own mold who lived and loved and fought, as did the ancient seafarers of my time. Ah, but it will seem good to see men once again, real men. Never had I much respect for the landsmen of my day. They remained in their walled cities wasting their time in play, depending for their protection entirely upon the sea-race. And the poor creatures who remain, the Tarios and Javs of Lothar, are even worse than their ancient forebears. Carthoris was a trifle skeptical as to the wisdom of permitting the stranger to attach himself to him. There was always the chance that he was but the essence of some hypnotic treachery which Tario or Jav was attempting to exert upon the Heliumite. And yet so sincere had been the manner and the words of the bowmen. So much the fighting man did he seem. But Carthoris could not find it in his heart to doubt him. The outcome of the matter was that he gave the Naked Odwar leave to accompany him, and together they set out upon the spore of Thuvia and Komal. Down to the ochre sea-bottom the trail led. There it disappeared, as Carthoris had known that it would. But where it entered the plain its direction had been toward Anthor, and so toward Anthor the two turned their faces. It was a long and tedious journey, fraught with many dangers. The bowmen could not travel at the pace set by Carthoris, whose muscles carried him with great rapidity over the face of the small planet, the force of gravity of which exerts so much less retarding power than that of the earth. Fifty miles a day is a fair average for a Barsoomian. But the son of John Carter might easily have covered a hundred or more miles had he cared to desert his newfound Comrade. All the way they were in constant danger of discovery by roving bands of Torcasians, and especially was this true before they reached the boundary of Torcas. Good fortune was with them, however, and although they cited two detachments of the savage green men, they were not themselves seen. And so they came, upon the morning of the third day, within sight of the glistening domes of distant Anthor. Throughout the journey Carthoris had ever strained his eyes ahead in search of Thuvia and the great Banth, but not till now had he seen ought to give him hope. This morning, far ahead, halfway between themselves and Anthor, the men saw two tiny figures moving toward the city. For a moment they watched them intently. Then Carthoris, convinced, leaped forward at a rapid run, car Comac following as swiftly as he could. The Heliumite shouted to attract the girl's attention, and presently he was rewarded by seeing her turn and stand looking toward him. At her side the great Banth stood with upright ears, watching the approaching man. Not yet could Thuvia of Parth have recognized Carthoris, though that it was he she must have been convinced, for she waited there for him without sign of fear. Presently he saw her point toward the northeast, beyond him. Without slackening his pace he turned his eyes in the direction she indicated. Racing silently over the thick vegetation, not half a mile behind, came a score of fierce green warriors charging him upon their mighty thoats. To their right was Carcomac, naked and unarmed, yet running valiantly toward Carthoris and shouting warning as though he too had but just discovered the silent menacing company that moved so swiftly forward with couched spears and ready longswords. Carthoris shouted to the Lotharian, warning him back, for he knew that he could but uselessly sacrifice his life by placing himself, all unarmed, in the path of the cruel and relentless savages. But Carcomac never hesitated. With shouts of encouragement to his new friend, he hurried onward toward the Prince of Helium. The red man's heart leaped in response to this exhibition of courage and self-sacrifice. He regretted now that he had not thought to give Carcomac one of his swords, but it was too late to attempt it, for should he wait for the Lotharian to overtake him, or return to meet him, the Torcasians would reach Thuvia of Parth before he could do so. Even as it was, it would be nip and tuck as to who came first to her side. Again he turned his face in her direction, and now, from Enthor way, he saw a new force hastening toward them. Two medium-sized warcraft, and even at the distance they still were from him, he discerned the device of Dusar upon their bows. Now indeed seemed little hope for Thuvia of Parth, with savage warriors of the hordes of Torcas charging toward her from one direction, and no less implacable enemies in the form of the creatures of Astok, Prince of Dusar, bearing down upon her from another, while only a Banth, a red warrior, and an unarmed bowman were near to defend her, her plight was quite hopeless, and her cause already lost, erever it was contested. As Thuvia saw Carthoris approaching, she felt again that unaccountable sensation of entire relief from responsibility and fear that she had experienced upon a former occasion. Nor could she account for it, while her mind still tried to convince her heart that the Prince of Helium had been instrumental in her abduction from her father's court. She only knew that she was glad when he was by her side, and that with him there all things seemed possible, even such impossible things as escape from her present predicament. Now he had stopped, panting before her, a brave smile of encouragement lit his face. Courage, my princess! he whispered. To the girl's memory flashed the occasion upon which he had used those same words, in the throne room of Tario of Lothar, as they had commenced to slip down the sinking marble floor toward an unknown fate. Then she had not chidened him for the use of that familiar salutation, nor that she chide him now, though she was promised to another. She wandered at herself, flushing at her own turpitude, for upon Barsoom it is a shameful thing for a woman to listen to those two words from another than her husband or her betrothed. Carthoris saw her flush of mortification, and in an instant regretted his words. There was but a moment before the green warriors would be upon them. Forgive me, said the man in a low voice. Let my great love be my excuse, that and the belief that I have but a moment more of life. And with the words he turned to meet the foremost of the green warriors. The fellow was charging with couched spear, but Carthoris leaped to one side, and as the great thoat and its rider hurtled harmlessly past him, he swung his longsword at a mighty cut that clove the green carcass in twain. At the same moment Carcomac leaped with bare hands clawing at the leg of another of the huge riders. The balance of the horde raced in to close quarters, dismounting the better to wield their favorite longswords. The Dusarian fliers touched the soft carpet of the ochre-clad sea-bottom, disgorging fifty fighting men from their bowels, and into the swirling sea of cutting, slashing swords sprang Comal the Great Banth.