Chapter
Twelve: Bal Zak ~ words by Jeff, art by David
The loyal three
expertly defended themselves. They did more than that -- carrying out the
duty for which they had trained since childhood: To protect the life of
Helium's Jeddak. It was a duty any subject of the Empire would gladly shoulder.
Few, however, could do it so well as the Jeddak's Guard.
But the traitors had also been superbly trained -- by the same warlords
as the three who were loyal. The display of swordsmanship that ensued would
have drawn cheers from the throats of thousands, had thousands been there
to witness it.
Love and loyalty might have been enough to bring victory to the Jeddak's
faithful guards. But they had more than that -- there were Shis-Inday,
Bal Zak and myself.
Two traitors were quickly dispatched; the third escaped through a hidden
panel that none of us could re-open once it slammed shut behind him.
"Knife and awl!" cursed Shis-Inday, hurling her great strength against
the immobile door.
"He'll make his way to Hora San," I said. "We're no longer safe here.
If ever we were."
"We must know their plans!" insisted Moros Tar. "By the knee of Issus,
I'll not sacrifice Helium because of some disparity in numbers."
"Disparity in numbers!" cried Bal Zak. "You men of Helium have a strange
mathematics. It is four against a city!"
The Toonolian suggested we steal a flier, adjusting the mechanism in
a way he knew that would improve the sluggish Phundahlian craft. We could
return with reinforcements in a matter of days.
Neither Moros Tar nor I favored that plan, for who could know whether
days were available to spare? But Shis-Inday counseled that there was wisdom
in it.
Reluctantly, the Jeddak and his son were persuaded -- by two outsiders
-- the best way to protect the Empire.
Bal Zak proved to be a wizard with machinery. He tuned the hulk of a
Phundahlian flier we selected so that it hummed with the efficiency of
the sleekest ship of the Heliumetic fleet. Not long after we'd been aloft,
Moros Tar offered him a post in our Navy.
"No," the Tonoolian answered. "Ras Thavas may be an eccentric master,
but I've served him my entire life. I suspect that I always will."
"Such loyalty makes you even more valuable," said the Jeddak. He was
thinking, no doubt, of the three who'd betrayed him.
Moros Tar spoke no more of it, however. To those with honor, a Barsoomian's
oath is more sacred than his life. And the number of those with honor is
greater by millions than those without it.
That Bal Zak had thrown his sword at the feet of a mad scientist made
the act no less significant. Any fealty to Xax and Hora San, by extension,
had been broken by Bal Zak's sentence of death.
Shis-Inday leaned far over the side of our speeding craft, marveling
at the new sensation of flight.
"The spirit of Black Wind must be a powerful ally among your people,"
she said. "He carries you upon his shoulders!"
"It's no ghost that lifts us," muttered Bal Zak. "Though I'll wager
the Phundahlians who built this crate have long since gone to meet their
ancestors."
"How long till we reach your camp?" Shis-Inday asked.
I'd never heard Helium referred to as a "camp," with all her millions.
Smiling, I was about to answer, when the princess disappeared.
"Hair of Issus!" shouted Moros Tar, leaping to his feet. "She fell!"
Bal Zak, who manned the controls, needed no command from either the
Jeddak or myself to plunge our ship in a mad descent toward the surface
of Barsoom.
But we three knew it was a meaningless gesture. The Jasoomian girl's
life upon our planet had ended as anonymously as it began. I felt sorrow
and loss well within me, and I grieved for this unknown savage from another
world. I sank to my knees, stunned by the loss.
I'd seen countless other lives senselessly snuffed out -- including
my own brother and mother. Why did this girl's death affect me so profoundly?
I barely knew her.
The answer came with the words I spoke after a faint cry for help rose
from below our ship.
"Hold, my princess!" I shouted, staring over the gunwale at the dangling
form of Shis-Inday. She clutched in one hand a rope that trailed in the
wind, straining with with her great Jasoomian strength against the gravity
that sought to drag her downward.
With Shis-Inday hanging by so slender a tether to life, I did not have
time to think about the import of those words: "My princess."
I leapt to the rail, fastening a grappling hook to it, and began the
perilous descent to Shis-Inday's side. Before I reached her, our craft
was near enough the ground that she could drop lightly to the spongy floor
of the Great Tonoolian Marsh.
I joined her, crushing her to me in an embrace that was more like that
of a father than lover -- proper, for two who were not betrothed. She nestled
contentedly.
"Raven nearly caught me," she said, as defiant as she'd been before
Tur. "But Usen prevented it. Perhaps another day Old Man Death will win.
But not this day."
Despite the brave words, I felt her tremble.
Then she stiffened, and a low growl of warning escaped her lips. Her
dagger flashed from its sheath.
Hundreds of the Gooli lunatics surrounded us.
Perhaps it was Raven's day after all.
With drawn swords, Moros Tar and I kept Shis-Inday between us, circling
slowly and menacing as best we could the lunatics that crept closer. Some
carried rocks. Others had sharpened sticks. Their numbers alone were enough
to overwhelm us.
Shis-Inday was annoyed by the positions my father and I had taken on
either side of her. Though we'd both seen her fight, and thus knew her
to be entirely capable, it was difficult to undue a lifetime of protective
instinct toward the fairer sex.
Bal Zak had been tinkering with the controls of the flier when the lunatics
appeared. That he was unaware of their presence seemed evident by the loud
curses coming from his direction.
"Foul workmanship!" he shouted over the side, amidst clanking metal.
"Twisted drive shaft! The ship was unequal to the dive."
The lunatics were readying themselves for a mad charge when Bal Zak
stuck his head up over the gunwale. The effect was electric.
"Ho!" cried the padwar of Ras Thavas. "Back, you unwashed pouch-breeders!"
They obeyed.
"You just have to hit 'em with the right voice," Bal Zak called to us.
"The mastermind can do it in his sleep. I'm not bad at it, though."
For added emphasis, he pulled on the booming air-horn of the flier.
The squeal sent our would-be attackers scurrying.
"Marsupials -- can you believe it?" Bal Zak said, climbing to the ground.
"Why Ras Thavas wanted to breed human marsupials, I'll never know. The
idea itself is as insane as they are. But if he's not cross-breeding species,
he's growing a new one in some reeking vat. Or hacking out a brain and...doing
things to it. That one is never content with Nature's plan."
"I'm a fool, to have forgotten the wireless," said Bal Zak, as we made
our way toward the village. "No need to go to Helium, when we can as easily
dispatch a message through the ether."
Moros Tar looked at Shis-Inday.
"Your fall saved us a long journey," he said.
"Nevertheless," she answered, "I, too, feel like a fool."
We forced the door to the locked shed in Gooli where Ras Thavas kept
his wireless. Soon, instructions had been delivered for a fleet of warships
to meet us. The jedwar we contacted seemed confused, but as both Moros
Tar and myself provided our personal codes, he obeyed without question.
Later, Shis-Inday and I scouted the forest around Gooli. I worried that
we'd been followed from Phundahl, and wanted to assure myself otherwise.
We paddled across the lake, from the island of Ompt to the mainland.
Over the course of millenia, the Great Toonolian Marsh had alternated between
watery swamp and jungle-like forest. During the time of which I speak,
the waters had receded to a few scattered lakes and small creeks, seeping
into the ground to permit the nearly riotous growth that surrounded Shis-Inday
and me.
I marveled at the girl's woodcraft. She saw signs in the tangled vegetation
that were invisible to me. None of them hinted at pursuit, she told me.
Feeling confident that we were secure, I was about to turn back to camp
when Shis-Inday laid a hand upon my shoulder. Without words, she nodded
toward the open sea bottom that lay beyond the edge of the Great Marsh.
"Green men," I said, cursing. "Thousands of them." Two great hordes
were converging upon us -- no doubt from Thark and Warhoon.
Possibly they hunted Shis-Inday. Or it might have been a continuation
of the war that began with the destruction of Thark hatchlings at the incubator.
Whatever the cause, it heralded no good for us.
Then, over the rim of the horizon, a monumental battle fleet appreared.
I knew that it could not be from Helium, as sufficient time hadn't yet
passed for the arrival of Moros Tar's Navy. When the flagship approached
close enough for me to make out its lines, I recognized the design of Ptarthian
craftsmen.
Shis-Inday pointed in the opposite direction. Another fleet was massing
on that horizon.
Whatever scheme had been hatched by Hora San, it now seemed ready to
play out. The opposing fleet was from Phundahl.
Would the two meet in battle?
Or were they joining forces, as allies?
Chapter
Thirteen: The Angry Dance
Both fleets opened fire, but not upon each other. They bombarded the
swarming green men. Several shots flew wide of their marks, exploding not
far from where Shis-Inday and I stood.
It occurred to me that so great an armada could not have been assembled
merely to wage war against the green men.
No, it must be that the fleets had come unexpectedly upon the savages.
Before moving on to whatever their real purpose might be, they had decided
to decimate the hordes. The huge Thark and Warhoon rifles turned from each
other and focused upon the common foe -- not without effect. More than
one ship's red captain plunged from the bow of his command as it hung,
burning, in the sky.
Shis-Inday and I retraced our way to Gooli, the thunderous belch of
rifle and canon echoing all about the sea bottom. Bal Zak, Moros Tar and
the Jeddak's Guard had heard the explosions. When we reached the village,
they gathered to hear my report.
"Perhaps the green men will gain us time," said Moros Tar. "A diversion,
until our forces arrive."
"Unlikely allies," commented a Guard. "But they should keep the enemy
fleets busy for a while."
"They're after our treasure," said one of the lunatics, as somberly
as he'd once measured the circumference of my head.
"Treasure?" said Moros Tar, raising an eyebrow in a way that suggested
he thought it possible, however doubtful.
"I think not," I commented, telling him of the chest of sea shells the
Goolis had shown me earlier in the day. Then, so as not to offend our hosts,
I added, "Your treasure is too large for a foe to easily carry away."
"That is true," the lunatic noted. He wandered off to huddle with others
of his kind.
Shis-Inday, I noticed, had left our group to enter the forest. I called
for her to return, but she waved me off as if upon some errand that could
not wait.
Shrugging, I continued to discuss plans with the others -- keeping an
eye on the spot where the girl had gone into the underbrush. She returned
some time later, burdened with stout poles that had been carved from trees,
as well as various other items. A band of the Gooli lunatics followed her.
Whooping and shouting, they dragged several dead banths behind them.
Shis-Inday set about skinning a banth, while the lunatics leaped and
shouted all around her. My curiosity at its breaking point, I went over
to see what she was doing.
"The female is a great hunter!" cried the lunatic who had once planned
to behead me.
"A mighty fighter!" yelled another, unable to contain his excitement
over Shis-Inday's accomplishment.
Shis-Inday motioned for the lunatics to gather 'round, including me
and the others of our party in the gesture.
"We need weapons, if we are to survive this battle," she said, drawing
forth a length of banth-gut "Rocks and branches alone will not help you,
if the Green Ones attack."
She called it "The Angry Dance."
Four warriors, Shis-Inday among them, approached a great fire from
the east -- an important Direction, one with Power, according to the Be-don-ko-he
princess.
She chanted:
"I am calling upon Sky and Earth.
"Bats will fly, and turn upside down with me in battle.
"Black Sky will enfold my body and give me protection,
"And Earth will do this also."
Shis-Inday was painted in the most auspicious manner. Many of the lunatics
were similarly stained. Splashes of white speckled their faces, with a
single stripe of red clay across the bridge of the nose.
I allowed the sacred symbols to adorn my face, though Moros Tar, Bal
Zak and the Jeddak's Guard would not. Soon, however, my fellow red men
had become intoxicated by the revelry led by my savage princess. A brew
she called tizwin helped intoxicate them, too.
"Right here in the middle of this place
"I am becoming Mirage.
"Let them not see me,
"For I am of the Sun."
From the decorated pouch that Shis-Inday wore at her hip, she flung
bits of pollen into the air and into the fire, chanting in her native,
alluring tongue. Black feathers from some unknown species of bird that
inhabited the Great Marsh hung from her leather loincloth.
Amulets -- tzi-daltai, she called them -- decorated her limbs. They
were made from the treasure shells of Gooli. Shis-Inday said they contained
much Power.
For each of us, she'd also made an izze-kloth, or medicine cord: a loosely
braided sash of two banth-hide strands, twisted about each other. We wore
them draped across our bodies, from right shoulder to left side.
"Be good, O, winds," she prayed. "Be good, O, ittindi! Make strong the
medicine of Shis-Inday, that it may protect her and these warriors from
their enemies!"
The weapons seemed primitive, yet effective. Bows were strung with banth-gut;
arrows were tipped with carefully sharpened stones. Not since the legendary
Bowmen of Lothar had such weapons been used in Barsoomian combat. Lances,
stone knives, war clubs and slings completed the accouterments with which
Shis-Inday fitted the lunatics.
I, of course, retained my long- and short-swords -- the weapons with
which I had always been most proficient. Bal Zak packed a monstrous radium
pistol, which he'd found in the disabled flier's cabin.
It was a night of sweaty, barbaric dancing beneath the watchful eyes
of Klego-na-ay's crazy cousins. I should have felt exhaustion when red
streaked the morning sky; but it was with exhilaration that I greeted the
dawn.
Shis-Inday proclaimed us ready for whatever might come. "Usen watches,
and smiles," she said. "Kliji-Litzogue says that our victory will be difficult.
And magnificent."
I prayed to Issus for the Yellow Lizard's confidence.
My god did not answer. But my princess did.
As the mad dance continued all about us, I took the girl in my arms
and kissed her upon the lips.
Most commanders in Helium's Navy will tell you that it is nearly impossible
to remain aloft and conquer a green horde. Their rifles are too precise,
while their ability to find cover in places that seem outwardly naked is
remarkable. Shelling is virtually ineffective, while losses to an airborne
fleet can be catastrophic.
The commanders under Hora San quickly discovered this to be true. Ground
fighting began in earnest shortly after the aerial warfare proved untenable.
I would later learn that the High Priest's goal was nothing less than the
conquest of all Barsoom. Although it seemed foolhardy to me at the time,
this test of mettle against two hordes fit perfectly into Hora San's mad
scheme.
Defeat a green horde upon the ground, and almost any force that a red
nation can muster will fall before you. Defeat two, and you have proved
your worth tenfold.
So, then, it was four armies that swarmed closer and closer to the position
held by our relatively tiny and ill-equipped band. Warhoon and Thark seemed
to fight as much amongst themselves as against the red armies led by Phundahlian
and Ptarthian jedwars.
Even the civilized warriors, though, seemed ill at ease fighting shoulder
to shoulder. Hora San had united them, under some ruse that had cost Ptarth
its rightful Jeddak -- Thuvan Dihn's father. But the alliance was far from
stable.
As the battle progressed, our small "army" waited under a cover that
Shis-Inday had devised. Scattered to the four winds, we buried ourselves
beneath the moss-like sea bottom. Only our eyes remained visible -- but
even those could disappear, should a foe get too close.
A hooting that Shis-Inday said was the cry of Owl was our signal to
attack. When it came, the great mass of fighting men was virtually on top
of us. We emerged in the thick of battle, taking no quarter.
We were hopelessly outnumbered, but the suprise proved valuable. The
red men were unnerved by our seemingly miraculous appearance and strange
weapons. Hesitation cost them many lives.
Shis-Inday brandished a war club, her leaps even greater than those
I'd seen her use to such terrifying purpose in the pits of Phundahl, which
had been cramped and dimly lighted. Here, upon the broad plain, she jumped
thirty and thirty-five feet at a time, delivering blows with a savage cry
that was quite effective. Arrows feathered the breasts of her opponents,
when she found opportunity to loose them -- often from above.
Moros Tar, Bal Zak, the Jeddak's Guard and I all gave splendid accounts
of ourselves, though in more traditional fashion. A dozen times I found
myself cornered by pressing antagonists, but always did I maneuver with
the skill taught by my father and brother, emerging victorious at every
turn.
The Toonolian's pistol fired at those whose own weapon of choice was
similar, seldom missing its mark. That Bal Zak never shot at a swordsman
proved that he is a man of honor.
Moros Tar had always been grim in battle. But this day he'd taken up
the war cry of Shis-Inday, equaling the girl's whoops with a passion that
nearly cost me my life, as I paused to watch his grinning abandon.
Some say the men of Gooli are cowards. That may be true. But they fought
with us that day like no cowards I've ever seen. With less agility, but
still to great heights, the powerfully legged marsupials also leaped and
fought in a manner that confounded the enemy's best defense. As much to
them as ourselves goes the credit for victory. When Shis-Inday had reverently
told them of the mystical Power contained within their treasured shells,
they became imbued with a confidence that made them unstoppable.
There was method to our attack, even if it seemed haphazard to our foes.
We fought only against the warriors of Phundahl -- defending ourselves
against green men when they attacked us, which was often, but not carrying
the offensive toward them.
Bar Comas, Jeddak of Warhoon, savagely pressed me. I left him frightfully
scarred -- but did not kill him. There was strange thrill in such sport.
Later, Shis-Inday told me that among The Men of the Woods, it is often
enough to display superior skill over an enemy. A tap on the shoulder,
or a blow to the chest, is as significant to them as the fatal thrust of
spear or hatchet.
The Ptarthian forces we also left unmolested -- a difficult thing for
Moros Tar and myself, who had lost many loved ones and friends in our long
war with that nation.
Our intent was to divide the red armies against each other. Slowly,
just that began to happen. More than one Ptarthian recognized myself or
Moros Tar. That we failed to attack them obviously planted seeds of doubt
about their cause.
During a lull in the fighting, I whispered to some that Thuvan Dihn
might still live; that I had been with him not many days since -- long
after all Ptarth thought him dead.
When the battle resumed, I heard shouts from several points across the
field:
"For the prince!"
"For Thuvan Dihn! True Jeddak of Ptarth!"
By the end of that first day, the alliances had shifted. The Jeddak
of Helium and his son, with their savage allies, fought on the side of
Ptarth against Hora San's blaspheming followers.
I took up another cry -- "For Issus!" -- and it echoed in my ears from
all directions.
The green men we could never turn, nor did we attempt to. But the separate
hordes were too busy fighting each other -- and Phundahl, and Ptarth, and
our Gooli lunatics -- to make any real progress. In a way, I felt sorry
for the green jeds who attempted to coordinate the battle, which was as
strange as any that Barsoom had ever seen, with all the leaping and whooping
and general chaos amongst allies.
It was about to grow stranger.
As I sliced at a foe, a familiar buzz rang in my ears. Turning, I saw
a swarm of siths hovering over half the field. And with them were the strange
fliers that had routed them on that other occasion.
But now the fliers did not attack the monsters. Instead, they seemed
to be herding them toward the battle. Siths picked off red Phundahlian
and green Thark or Warhoon, never touching the forces of Ptarth -- thanks
to the precise maneuvering of our armor-clad and as-yet anonymous allies.
My own hesitation nearly cost me dearly. As I watched the siths in amazement,
a Phundahlian sword plunged toward my breast. A flash of green darted past
me, attaching itself to the breast of my enemy.
The Killer had returned.
The hatchling ripped wide the man's throat, not pausing to acknowledge
me before he was off upon another frenzied attack.
The green hordes had had enough. They withdrew from the field in opposite
directions, melting into the dead sea bottoms from which they had come.
The Killer chased after the retreating Tharks, having repaid his debt
to me. I would not see him again for many years. When I did, the debt I
owed would be greater than a Jeddak's ransom. But that is a story you have
already been told.
"The Iss is near," said Moros Tar, as we sat eating the meager fare
that is the staple in any camp of soldiers.
Thuvan Dihn and a stranger had joined us.
"Moros Tar and Tardos Mors of Helium," said the Prince of Ptarth, "I
present Jeddak Kulan Tith, of Kaol."
"The River of Mystery runs through my kingdom, Moros Tar," said Kulan
Tith. "But her waters are strangely low, for this time of year. It's a
condition that baffles the scholars of my court."
"I would like to see it," said Moros Tar. The tiredness in his voice
had returned, now that the battle seemed to be won.
I knew, sadly, that my father wanted more than to see the Iss. He wished
to voyage upon her sacred waters, however diminished they might be.
The Phundahlians had retreated to a safe distance. We could see their
fires, and the lights from their grounded ships. They seemed to be waiting
for something.
They dared not attack us now. The men of Ptarth and Kaol and Gooli had
been joined by the fleet from Helium, which arrived with two hundred thousand
soldiers upon five hundred ships. Although we could have used them a day
earlier, the fleet made good time across the face of Barsoom. I could not
fault her jedwar, Ross Billen. He'd done his best to bring succor at all
possible speed.
As we plotted the siege of Phundahl and the capture of Hora San, a noise
came to our ears that was unlike any I'd ever heard before: the grinding
of gears, or the gnashing of teeth; mechanical, gigantic -- ominous in
the extreme.
Thuria and Cluros bathed the nighttime sea bottom in flickering shadows.
I joined Shis-Inday, who stood watch because of her keen eyes. Bal Zak
followed groggily. We strained to see what it was that lumbered across
the ochre moss.
"A mountain approaches," said the girl, shaking her head at the impossible
notion.
I could now make out the monstrous shape. It blotted out the stars as
it rolled toward us on gargantuan treads.
"Consort of Issus!" I breathed.
My astonished lethargy lasted only a moment. I rushed to sound the alarm.
Soon, the entire camp was alert and ready for battle.
But what kind of thing was it we faced?
Bal Zak knew the answer.
"As I told you, Hora San assembled scientists from around the globe,"
he explained. "One of them was Fal Sivas, a whisp of a man from Zodanga.
Another was Solan, of a race I never dreamed existed. Ras Thavas did not
care much for either, or their theories."
"Theories be damned!" cried Thuvan Dihn. "Out with it, man! What is
it?"
The sound grew louder, overpowering in its weighty roar. I felt heavier
by a stone, just listening to its approach.
"The Juggernaut," said Bal Zak, his voice trembling. "In fact, I helped
somewhat with the gearing. It's a mechanized war machine. Shis-Inday's
assessment is nearly true. It's the size of a small mountain, and armed
to the teeth. I never thought Fal Sivas would get it operational, though.
None of us did, or we'd have torn him to pieces before the job was complete."
When the thing struck our camp, I knew pure terror for the first and
only time in a long and war-filled life.
Chapter
Fourteen: The Juggernaut
Bal Zak had gone insane.
The Toonlian tore off his harness, and pitched all of his weapons in
the direction of the approaching behemoth.
I was about to suggest that he be taken to a medical transport, when
a tremendous wrenching of wood and steal erupted behind us. I turned in
time to see the Thoris, a ten-thousand man warship named for my great grandsire,
ripped from its moorings. It tumbled end over end in the direction of the
Juggernaut, the outlines of which were becoming visible in the glow of
dawn.
The mighty ship of Helium crashed into the Juggernaut's side and hung
there, a heap of wreckage and men too horrible to comprehend.
"The magnet!" cried Bal Zak, his voice small before the roar of the
machine. "It will draw any steel to it!"
I quickly grasped the Toonolian's meaning as more ships, large and small,
were pulled irresistibly forward. Men, too, had begun to be dragged through
space by their swords, grappling hooks and other metal objects attached
to their bodies. I saw them crushed against the titanic bulk of the Juggernaut.
Divesting myself of all steel, I clutched at a Ptarthian warrior who'd
not been quick enough to follow Bal Zak's example. Hovan Du slipped through
my grasp and was lost in a whirlwind of hurtling debris.
The Juggernaut plowed forward at a maddeningly slow pace -- a swift
man could run faster. It towered far above us, ten- thousand feet tall,
a shapeless bulk that was quickly becoming buried in the warships of Helium
and Ptarth.
Yet it still moved.
Pedantic.
Lumbering.
Deadly beyond belief.
The green men had retreated. It was our turn to do likewise. There is
no shame in it, for to live another day is to fight another day.
We ran for the Great Marsh.
Slowly, the Juggernaut turned to follow -- now firing upon the fleeing
red men before it. Shells burst all about us as the sun rose to detonate
them. Circular blades, razor sharp, shot forth from canons in the monstrosity's
hull, mowing down men in a bloody slaughter that could not rightly be called
war.
After the blades traveled as far as the force that expelled them could
push, they were caught up in the magnetic force and returned to the Juggernaut
-- to be belched forth again. And again. And again.
"Will it get mired in the bogs of the marsh?" I called to Bal Zak.
"Nothing will slow it, or turn it from its path," the Toonolian answered.
His face was nearly as white as Hora San's.
Incredibly, Kaolian fliers were whizzing past we men of Helium and Ptarth.
Sometimes, they paused long enough to pick up passengers. But the machines
were strained to carry more than two riders.
Kulan Tith paused his machine at my side.
"No metal parts," he cried. "The rubber trees of Kaol are unusually
versatile. And so are my draftsmen. Come! I've already carried thy father
to safety."
I looked for Shis-Inday, but did not see her. Able to run faster by
far than any man on that field of death, she was likely safe. But not knowing
for certain her fate worried me.
I was about to clamber to Kulan Tith's side, when a thought struck me.
"Is there a way inside?" I asked Bal Zak, gesturing at the Juggernaut.
The Toonolian pondered that a moment.
"Quickly!" I hissed.
"Yes," he said. "I can get you inside."
"Kulan Tith," I said. "My kingdom for your flier."
"If you are successful, the gratitude of my own kingdom shall be yours,
Tardos Mors," the Jeddak returned.
Bal Zak guided us to a hatch in the the Juggernaut's expansive roof.
He crouched there, atop the moving mountain of steel, as I slipped through
to the interior and made my way to the engine room, following the Toonloian's
directions as best I could.
I expected resistance -- such a vehicle could carry thousands of men.
But I found no one.
A voice rang in my ears, however, carried by speakers that were situated
all about the Juggernaut.
"My ship is impregnable, Prince of Helium," said the voice. "Think you
to disable it? I saw your approach, and allowed you to enter."
Hora San.
But where did he hide?
I knew the answer before the question had been fully formed in my mind:
The High Priest was in Phundahl. The ship was remotely controlled; the
voice I heard carried by radio wave. Photostatic devices probably recorded
my every move, within and without the ship.
"You are killing Barsoom," said Hora San.
"How do you, who plan genocide with this obscenity, figure that?" I
muttered, continuing in the direction that Bal Zak had plotted for me.
"Because you are trying to stop me from saving her," said Hora San.
I ignored him.
"Matai Shang did not listen to reason, either. Perhaps you, a red man
of some limited resourcefulness, will understand the logic of our situation."
Logic? From a mad man?
I'd found the room where the great engines that powered the Juggernaut
were housed. But every instrument, every control panel, every device that
appeared to have any import at all was encased in a seamless alloy that
I could not open or smash. I was powerless to do ought but listen to the
ravings of Hora San.
"The Great Toonolian Marsh is shriveling away," he said. "Perhaps not
in your eyes, accustomed as they are to less fertile portions of Barsoom.
But it disappears more rapidly than you can imagine. The River Iss recedes
into herself more and more each year. The Valley Dor, of which you know
nothing -- nothing! -- is parched. Omean, of which even Matai Shang is
ignorant, is a shallow pool. The northern ice caps are melting. In time,
the rot of the Carrion Caves will wash down upon the burnt hulk of a dead
planet. But even that mositure will quickly disappear into the dry dust
of our forgotten world."
He was indeed mad.
"Only I can save her," said the white priest of Tur. "Only I can foresee
her doom. If it means wiping out nine-tenths of Barsoom's population to
provide for the rest, by Issus, that's what I'll do!"
"`By Issus?'" I repeated. "A strange oath, coming from one who quotes
the scripture of Tur so eloquently."
"If you knew her, you'd swear in that old hag's name as well," said
the High Priest. "Tur is smoke and mirrors, nothing more. I quote the Turgan
so well because I wrote it. But Issus lives -- to the everlasting horror
of us all."
He cackled, nearly choking on his insanity.
Nearly mad myself with rage and frustration, I spun looking for some
tool to use.
Nothing.
I slid to my knees, pounding the polished floor with clenched fists.
A panel opened in front of me and a viewscreen appeared. It displayed the
path that lay in front of the Juggernaut. I watched as more ships of my
beloved Navy were drawn toward the irresistible magnet. Some, who still
had crews aboard them, fired shots that apparently had no effect. Deep
within the bowels of the massive ship, I could not even feel their impact.
"I'll conquer Barsoom," said Hora San, when he'd regained some germ
of coherent thought. "And then Dor. After that, I'll rid our planet of
that diseased tyrant, Issus, and take her place upon the Throne of Eternal
Life!"
A hissing sound was my first warning of the gas. It seeped into the
engine room, and I lost consciousness.
When I woke, I was inside the statue of Tur, bound to a chair on the
top platform. I could tell from the configuration that I sat inside the
hollow head of Phundahl's hollow god.
Hora San stood beside me, gazing through an eyepiece. When he saw that
I was conscious, he bid me lean forward and look into the great hall.
Shis-Inday stood in the place where we'd both been before, chained in
the manner as that other time.
And, as that other time, she stared defiantly into the face of the malevolent
god. Also as before, the temple was filled with a jeering crowd, who heaped
foul curses and vile epitaths at my princess.
Hora San put a mouthpiece to his lips, and spoke in a voice that was
amplified throughout the temple.
"Witness the death of a blasphemer!" he cried. "Witness the fate any
who defies Tur!"
A tremendous explosion rocked the entire building. I could tell from
Hora San's expression that it was not the fate he planned. Another explosion.
And another.
I knew from the first that shells were falling upon Phundahl. Besides
the detonations near the temple, which brought great stones from its walls
crashing to the floor, I could hear others in the distance. The entire
city was under attack!
But the fire seemed concentrated upon the temple, and the place shook
so much that I expected the walls to cave inward momentarily.
Apparently, the assembled crowd felt likewise. I could hear their terrified
screams as they rushed for the doors.
"Hold!" Hora San shouted into the mouthpiece. "Tur will destroy those
who defile his sacred places! And he will destroy those of his people who
flee from him!"
Although I could not see what was happening, it was clear from the High
Priest's expression that his subjects were too terrified by the current
onslaught to worry about one that was threatened. They continued to flee,
as the bombs continued to fall.
One of those bombs must have fallen directly on the roof, for the balst
seemed nearly to topple the statue-god. I felt us sway horribly to the
left, as I ground my feet into the platform to retain my balance. We rocked
back to the right, and then bobbled and back and forth.
Hora San lost his precarious balance, and tumbled five stories to the
stone floor below. I looked over the edge of the platform, and saw him
lying motionless, a red pool encircling his crumpled and twisted form.
"The death of a blasphemer," I said.
Shis-Inday remained chained to the dais, staring up at the statue. It's
not every day one sees a god nearly fall on his side. But she was the only
one to see it, for the temple was empty.
"Quite a sight, eh, my princess?" I said through the mouthpiece.
Her eyes went wide.
"I have the feeling your Usen never wobbles," I added.
"Tardos Mors?"
"None other. Now, how the devil do we get out of these chains again?"
Thuvan Dihn loosed the chains.
As the Juggernaut crawled back toward Phundahl, with me captive aboard
her, the men of Helium, Ptarth and Kaol had regrouped. It took three days
for repairs and plans to be made, and then the assault was carried out.
I'd witnessed, from my limited vantage point, the first wave. At the behest
of Moros Tar, Thuvan Dihn came in search of me and Shis-Inday.
"And the Juggernaut?" I asked the Prince of Ptarth, as he cut the chains
from my wrists with his sword.
"Inert, standing before the gates of Phundahl," he replied. "The magnetic
force is deactivated. Our ships are unaffected. But, teeth of Issus! It's
an ominous sight."
Shis-Inday and Thuvan Dihn stood with me upon the upper platform inside
Tur.
"Is that this Hora San I've been hearing so much about from thy sire?"
asked the Prince, pointing at the corpse below.
"It was," I said.
More bombs began to fall, shattering the silence of the temple.
The sensitive device that transmitted every sound within the Great Hall
of Tur told us that someone had entered through the door at the opposite
end. We heard the approach of faltering footsteps, shaken by the unremitting
fusillade from above.
Through the eyepiece, I saw that it was Xaxa. She was alone.
I was tempted to speak in the voice of Tur, but something in her hesitant
approach kept me from it. I watched, curious. For a long moment, she stared
up at the face of the statue. Her gaze seemed to bore into my own hidden
eyes.
"Speak, Tur!" the woman cried, her voice on the verge of breaking. "Your
people and your Jeddara are afraid. We need the guidance of Tur's wisdom."
Silence.
Dashing to the foot of the immobile statue, Xaxa pounded upon its base
with tiny hands. I strained forward, trying to see through the eyepiece
the scene taking place directly below. Xaxa's heaving sobs echoed across
the cavernous chamber. Stony idols, hanging from the walls and half-hidden
by clouds of incense, looked upon the pathetic figure with indifference.
"Speak!" she begged the living god. "O, Tur, what shall we do?"
Xaxa collapsed upon the floor, kicking and thrashing at first. But then
her struggles slowed. Finally, they stopped. She lay very still. But the
piercing wail of a lost soul continued.
We departed the statue without another thought for the Jeddara of Phundahl
and her silent deity.
Chapter
Fifteen: On the Banks of the Iss
Bal Zak found Ras Thavas in the pits, cursing every Phundahlian back
to the Tree of Life. It seems the Toonolian scientist had fallen from Tur's
favor.
"And those two fakes, Fal Sivas and Solan, were given free reign over
The Project!" Ras Thavas cried. "War machines indeed! Nothing but sentimentalist
drivel! The only answer is a superior breed of human, resistant to drought
and the other vagaries of Barsoom's fragile ecosystem. Why, given time,
I could make it so even air is unecessary. Then our race would not be so
dependent upon that ancient atmosphere plant."
"So the drought is real?" I asked. "It's coming?"
"Where have you been, Prince of Helium?" he shot back, using my title
in a tone that made it seem small. "Does it take no brains at all to become
a royal? It has been upon us for millennia. Barsoom has been spiraling
toward death for ages. You do realize that the dead sea bottoms were not
always dead? They once had oceans on top of them. Of course the drought
is coming. It's here."
"But when will it finally claim us?" I persisted. "The death from which
there is no resurrection?"
Ras Thavas shrugged off the question, as if it had no importance.
"I'm a doctor, not a meteorologist," he said. "Death claims all men."
As he turned to lead Bal Zak up out of the pits, Ras Thavas added, softly:
"Nearly all men."
Thuvan Dihn's expression was urgent.
"The Juggernaut is moving," he said. "And the magnetic field is active
again. We cannot approach."
"Heading?" I asked.
"Southwest," he answered. "If it does not waver from its present course,
it will miss the Ptarthian capital by less than a dozen haads."
"That's much too close to be coincidence, my friend," I said solemenly.
"We'll stop it before it gets a thousand haads from Ptarth. I swear it."
Thuvan Dihn sighed heavily, laying a hand upon my shoulder.
"I swear, too, Tardos Mors," he said, "that we will stop the obscenity.
My cartographers tell me that if its course is true, it heads for Greater
Helium."
Neither Fal Sivas nor this Solan fellow could be found. Searchers did
discover the room from which the Juggernaut was apparently controlled.
But the instruments there were wrecked beyond usefulness.
The Juggernaut moved forward, on a direct course for the city of my
ancestors, half a world away. At its ponderous pace, the monstruous machine
would take months to get there. But when it did, it could easily lay waste
the age-old birthplace of ten thousand jeddaks. What matter that we evacuate
long before the dreadful event? Nothing could replace the priceless treasures,
the history, the tradition that would be gone.
I knew that many would choose to remain and die, rather than watch helplessly
as the soul was torn from our Empire. I would be among them.
Breathless thousands watched from the walled city of Ptarth as the Juggernaut
tread past. It's bulk was clearly visible, some ten haads to the south.
No ship could approach without being destroyed.
"We'll stop it," Thuvan Dihn said, as the Juggernaut disappeared below
the horizon.
Shis-Inday had been watching silently.
"My father told me how Rain often bragged that it could split mountains,"
she said, after the Juggernaut had gone. "One day, the Black Mountain Spirit
got tired of the boast. `Yes, yes,' he muttered, unimpressed by Rain. `But
it takes a thousand of you and your brothers. By then, everyone has forgotten
that you set out to do it. Watch this.' Black Mountain reached down inside
himself, and The World rumbled. A new mountain thrust itself up - - right
through another mountain."
She looked at us in a way that said the task was too great for mere
mortals.
"They say only a mountain can humble another mountain."
The mortals of Helium and Ptarth attempted it, with help from their
new allies in Kaol.
Flying high in the atmosphere, beyond the reach of the Juggernaut's
deadly pull, we dropped bomb after bomb against its unyielding bulk. For
months, night and day, the carnage continued, blasting craters all about
the machine, but not turning it, or even slowing it.
A fleet of great warships was constructed of Kaolian rubber. Able to
maneuver close to the behemoth, they nevertheless proved equally impotent.
Raiding parties entered through the topside hatch. They were slaughtered
by automated guns.
A trench was dug in its path, twenty miles wide and nearly as deep.
The Juggernaut plunged over the side, and chewed through the crust of Barsoom,
eventually emerging to continue on toward Helium.
I was mad with despair, and cursed the foul memory of Hora San. My father,
too, was numb with rage.
One night, when the Juggernaut was a week from the walls of Greater
Helium, Moros Tar took a light Kaolian flier and raced toward the approaching
apocalypse. He wore only the simple leather of a fighting man.
I had tried to stop him; so did Shis-Inday.
But he was still Jeddak. And no man commands the Jeddak.
Through powerful scopes, I watched his suicidal charge until the small
ship disappeared from my view, swallowed by the towering mass of of the
Juggernaut and the wreckage that covered it.
Later that night, Shis-Inday and I sat with Thuvan Dihn and Kulan Tith
in a sunken garden within an inner courtyard of the palace. My friends
planned to leave for their homelands on the morrow. They urged Shis-Inday
and me to come with them, bringing as many from the doomed city as would
follow. But they knew their petition was lost ere they made it.
A guard announced the arrival of a Heliumetic scientist named Pohl Huck,
who sought an immediate audience with me. Nodding vaguely, I bid the man
enter.
The fellow seemed nervous. Excited. Some news was itching to escape
his lips.
My mind with my father, I barely followed his hurried words. I stared
blankly, not responding to whatever it was he attempted to explain. Finally,
the scientist pulled two blocks of metal from a pouch on his harness. He
slammed them to the table at my side, with some force to assure my attention.
"Magnets," he said.
I nodded, stroking Shis-Inday's cheek.
"Watch," he said.
Pohl Huck pushed one magnet toward the other, which scooted out of the
way without being touched.
I lept from my couch. The others followed suit.
"They repel," said the scientist.
"Another mountain," commented Shis-Inday. "They're often in plain sight,
but seldom do we really see them."
The Juggernaut was half a day from my capital when Pohl Huck's great
magnetic slab was hoisted into place before it. For a moment, no change
in the destroyer's inexorable trek was discernable.
But then a cheer went up from the throats of watching thousands. The
Juggernaut had stopped.
And then, slowly, as if some monumental duel of wills was being waged,
the Juggernaut turned. With deft guidance, Pohl Huck's magnet deflected
the one buried inside the Juggernaut.
We watched until the mountain became a speck and disappeared.
To the north.
"It traveled halfway around Barsoom, from Phundahl," said Thuvan Dihn.
"Will it not circumnavigate the globe? We can hardly equip every city with
giant...`Gaurdian' magnets...and repel the Juggernaut back and forth at
each other throughout eternity."
"I see no other means of defense, Thuvan Dihn," I said.
But the Juggernaut disappeared in the snowbound wastes of the north,
never to be seen again.
Well, never to be seen in that horrible form. It would take on another,
just as horrible.
"Iss," sighed Moros Tar. "Take me to Iss."
He lay upon the dry sea bottom, wounded. I'd gone to search for some
sign of him, after the defeat of the Juggernaut. I thought to find no trace,
or his mangled mangled body. But he still lived.
Not for long, I knew.
The fastest flier of the Empire bore us toward Kaol, the nearest point
at which a Pilgrim can begin the voyage to Dor.
"Father, Ras Thavas can heal you yet," I said as we neared our destination.
"Don't leave me."
"It is your time, Tardos Mors," he answered weakly. "I have had mine.
A thousand years' worth. You are ready."
I looked at him through red eyes.
"Mors Kajak was ready to rule," I said. "But I failed him. And you."
"I know all that happened at Flemster -- " he began.
"Not all," I interrupted.
"All. In time, you'll learn just how much a Jeddak can know."
He coughed, bringing up blood.
"The failure belonged to Mors Kajak," said Moros Tar. "He did not lead.
He chose to follow."
"Yes!" I cried. "He followed me into a winless battle against insurmountable
odds. One from which only I returned."
"That is why he failed," said the former Jeddak of Helium. "Remember
that, my son. Always."
Moros Tar died with the fading waters of the River of Mystery lapping
at his feet.
