Warlord of Mars | Page 4

I crept stealthily along the trail of a shadowy form that hugged
the darker places with a persistency that proclaimed the sinister nature
of its errand.
For six long Martian months I had haunted the vicinity of the hateful
Temple of the Sun, within whose slow-revolving shaft, far beneath the
surface of Mars, my princess lay entombed--but whether alive or dead I
knew not. Had Phaidor's slim blade found that beloved heart? Time
only would reveal the truth.
Six hundred and eighty-seven Martian days must come and go before

the cell's door would again come opposite the tunnel's end where last I
had seen my ever-beautiful Dejah Thoris.
Half of them had passed, or would on the morrow, yet vivid in my
memory, obliterating every event that had come before or after, there
remained the last scene before the gust of smoke blinded my eyes and
the narrow slit that had given me sight of the interior of her cell closed
between me and the Princess of Helium for a long Martian year.
As if it were yesterday, I still saw the beautiful face of Phaidor,
daughter of Matai Shang, distorted with jealous rage and hatred as she
sprang forward with raised dagger upon the woman I loved.
I saw the red girl, Thuvia of Ptarth, leap forward to prevent the hideous
deed.
The smoke from the burning temple had come then to blot out the
tragedy, but in my ears rang the single shriek as the knife fell. Then
silence, and when the smoke had cleared, the revolving temple had shut
off all sight or sound from the chamber in which the three beautiful
women were imprisoned.
Much there had been to occupy my attention since that terrible moment;
but never for an instant had the memory of the thing faded, and all the
time that I could spare from the numerous duties that had devolved
upon me in the reconstruction of the government of the First Born since
our victorious fleet and land forces had overwhelmed them, had been
spent close to the grim shaft that held the mother of my boy, Carthoris
of Helium.
The race of blacks that for ages had worshiped Issus, the false deity of
Mars, had been left in a state of chaos by my revealment of her as
naught more than a wicked old woman. In their rage they had torn her
to pieces.
From the high pinnacle of their egotism the First Born had been
plunged to the depths of humiliation. Their deity was gone, and with
her the whole false fabric of their religion. Their vaunted navy had

fallen in defeat before the superior ships and fighting men of the red
men of Helium.
Fierce green warriors from the ocher sea bottoms of outer Mars had
ridden their wild thoats across the sacred gardens of the Temple of
Issus, and Tars Tarkas, Jeddak of Thark, fiercest of them all, had sat
upon the throne of Issus and ruled the First Born while the allies were
deciding the conquered nation's fate.
Almost unanimous was the request that I ascend the ancient throne of
the black men, even the First Born themselves concurring in it; but I
would have none of it. My heart could never be with the race that had
heaped indignities upon my princess and my son.
At my suggestion Xodar became Jeddak of the First Born. He had been
a dator, or prince, until Issus had degraded him, so that his fitness for
the high office bestowed was unquestioned.
The peace of the Valley Dor thus assured, the green warriors dispersed
to their desolate sea bottoms, while we of Helium returned to our own
country. Here again was a throne offered me, since no word had been
received from the missing Jeddak of Helium, Tardos Mors, grandfather
of Dejah Thoris, or his son, Mors Kajak, Jed of Helium, her father.
Over a year had elapsed since they had set out to explore the northern
hemisphere in search of Carthoris, and at last their disheartened people
had accepted as truth the vague rumors of their death that had filtered in
from the frozen region of the pole.
Once again I refused a throne, for I would not believe that the mighty
Tardos Mors, or his no less redoubtable son, was dead.
"Let one of their own blood rule you until they return," I said to the
assembled nobles of Helium, as I addressed them from the Pedestal of
Truth beside the Throne of Righteousness in the Temple of Reward,
from the very spot where I had stood a year before when Zat Arras
pronounced the sentence of death upon me.

As I spoke I stepped forward and laid my hand upon the shoulder of
Carthoris where he stood in the front rank