Mars (Planet) -- Fiction; Martians -- Fiction; Science fiction
Why, then, should they be bringing her to such a place? There was but a
single answer. Such was the nature of their work that they must needs
seek the seclusion that a dead city afforded. The girl trembled at
thought of her plight.
For two days her captors kept her within a huge palace that even in
decay reflected the splendour of the age which its youth had known.
Just before dawn on the third day she had been aroused by the voices of
two of her abductors.
“He should be here by dawn,” one was saying. “Have her in readiness
upon the plaza—else he will never land. The moment he finds that he is
in a strange country he will turn about—methinks the prince’s plan is
weak in this one spot.”
“There was no other way,” replied the other. “It is wondrous work to
get them both here at all, and even if we do not succeed in luring him
to the ground, we shall have accomplished much.”
Just then the speaker caught the eyes of Thuvia upon him, revealed by
the quick-moving patch of light cast by _Thuria_ in her mad race
through the heavens.
With a quick sign to the other, he ceased speaking, and advancing
toward the girl, motioned her to rise. Then he led her out into the
night toward the centre of the great plaza.
“Stand here,” he commanded, “until we come for you. We shall be
watching, and should you attempt to escape it will go ill with you—much
worse than death. Such are the prince’s orders.”
Then he turned and retraced his steps toward the palace, leaving her
alone in the midst of the unseen terrors of the haunted city, for in
truth these places are haunted in the belief of many Martians who still
cling to an ancient superstition which teaches that the spirits of Holy
Therns who die before their allotted one thousand years, pass, on
occasions, into the bodies of the great white apes.
To Thuvia, however, the real danger of attack by one of these
ferocious, manlike beasts was quite sufficient. She no longer believed
in the weird soul transmigration that the therns had taught her before
she was rescued from their clutches by John Carter; but she well knew
the horrid fate that awaited her should one of the terrible beasts
chance to spy her during its nocturnal prowlings.
What was that?
Surely she could not be mistaken. Something had moved, stealthily, in
the shadow of one of the great monoliths that line the avenue where it
entered the plaza opposite her!
Thar Ban, jed among the hordes of Torquas, rode swiftly across the
ochre vegetation of the dead sea-bottom toward the ruins of ancient
Aaanthor.
He had ridden far that night, and fast, for he had but come from the
despoiling of the incubator of a neighbouring green horde with which
the hordes of Torquas were perpetually warring.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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