CHAPTER XVIII
CHAINED IN WARHOON
It must have been several hours before I regained consciousness
and I well remember the feeling of surprise which swept over me as
I realized that I was not dead.
I was lying among a pile of sleeping silks and furs in the corner of
a small room in which were several green warriors, and bending over
me was an ancient and ugly female.
As I opened my eyes she turned to one of the warriors, saying,
"He will live, O Jed."
"'Tis well," replied the one so addressed, rising and approaching my
couch, "he should render rare sport for the great games."
And now as my eyes fell upon him, I saw that he was no Thark, for
his ornaments and metal were not of that horde. He was a huge
fellow, terribly scarred about the face and chest, and with one
broken tusk and a missing ear. Strapped on either breast were human
skulls and depending from these a number of dried human hands.
His reference to the great games of which I had heard so much while
among the Tharks convinced me that I had but jumped from purgatory
into gehenna.
After a few more words with the female, during which she assured him
that I was now fully fit to travel, the jed ordered that we mount
and ride after the main column.
I was strapped securely to as wild and unmanageable a thoat as I had
ever seen, and, with a mounted warrior on either side to prevent the
beast from bolting, we rode forth at a furious pace in pursuit of
the column. My wounds gave me but little pain, so wonderfully and
rapidly had the applications and injections of the female exercised
their therapeutic powers, and so deftly had she bound and plastered
the injuries.
Just before dark we reached the main body of troops shortly after
they had made camp for the night. I was immediately taken before
the leader, who proved to be the jeddak of the hordes of Warhoon.
Like the jed who had brought me, he was frightfully scarred, and
also decorated with the breastplate of human skulls and dried dead
hands which seemed to mark all the greater warriors among the
Warhoons, as well as to indicate their awful ferocity, which
greatly transcends even that of the Tharks.
The jeddak, Bar Comas, who was comparatively young, was the object
of the fierce and jealous hatred of his old lieutenant, Dak Kova,
the jed who had captured me, and I could not but note the almost
studied efforts which the latter made to affront his superior.
He entirely omitted the usual formal salutation as we entered the
presence of the jeddak, and as he pushed me roughly before the
ruler he exclaimed in a loud and menacing voice.
"I have brought a strange creature wearing the metal of a Thark
whom it is my pleasure to have battle with a wild thoat at the
great games."
"He will die as Bar Comas, your jeddak, sees fit, if at all,"
replied the young ruler, with emphasis and dignity.
"If at all?" roared Dak Kova. "By the dead hands at my throat but
he shall die, Bar Comas. No maudlin weakness on your part shall
save him. O, would that Warhoon were ruled by a real jeddak rather
than by a water-hearted weakling from whom even old Dak Kova could
tear the metal with his bare hands!"
Bar Comas eyed the defiant and insubordinate chieftain for an
instant, his expression one of haughty, fearless contempt and hate,
and then without drawing a weapon and without uttering a word he
hurled himself at the throat of his defamer.
I never before had seen two green Martian warriors battle with
nature's weapons and the exhibition of animal ferocity which ensued
was as fearful a thing as the most disordered imagination could
picture. They tore at each others' eyes and ears with their hands
and with their gleaming tusks repeatedly slashed and gored until
both were cut fairly to ribbons from head to foot.
Bar Comas had much the better of the battle as he was stronger,
quicker and more intelligent. It soon seemed that the encounter was
done saving only the final death thrust when Bar Comas slipped in
breaking away from a clinch. It was the one little opening that Dak
Kova needed, and hurling himself at the body of his adversary he
buried his single mighty tusk in Bar Comas' groin and with a last
powerful effort ripped the young jeddak wide open the full length of
his body, the great tusk finally wedging in the bones of Bar Comas'
jaw. Victor and vanquished rolled limp and lifeless upon the moss,
a huge mass of torn and bloody flesh.
Bar Comas was stone dead, and only the most herculean efforts on
the part of Dak Kova's females saved him from the fate he deserved.
Three days later he walked without assistance to the body of Bar
Comas which, by custom, had not been moved from where it fell, and
placing his foot upon the neck of his erstwhile ruler he assumed
the title of Jeddak of Warhoon.
The dead jeddak's hands and head were removed to be added to the
ornaments of his conqueror, and then his women cremated what
remained, amid wild and terrible laughter.
The injuries to Dak Kova had delayed the march so greatly that it
was decided to give up the expedition, which was a raid upon a small
Thark community in retaliation for the destruction of the incubator,
until after the great games, and the entire body of warriors, ten
thousand in number, turned back toward Warhoon.
My introduction to these cruel and bloodthirsty people was but an
index to the scenes I witnessed almost daily while with them. They
are a smaller horde than the Tharks but much more ferocious. Not a
day passed but that some members of the various Warhoon communities
met in deadly combat. I have seen as high as eight mortal duels
within a single day.
We reached the city of Warhoon after some three days march and I was
immediately cast into a dungeon and heavily chained to the floor
and walls. Food was brought me at intervals but owing to the utter
darkness of the place I do not know whether I lay there days, or
weeks, or months. It was the most horrible experience of all my
life and that my mind did not give way to the terrors of that inky
blackness has been a wonder to me ever since. The place was filled
with creeping, crawling things; cold, sinuous bodies passed over me
when I lay down, and in the darkness I occasionally caught glimpses
of gleaming, fiery eyes, fixed in horrible intentness upon me. No
sound reached me from the world above and no word would my jailer
vouchsafe when my food was brought to me, although I at first
bombarded him with questions.
Finally all the hatred and maniacal loathing for these awful
creatures who had placed me in this horrible place was centered
by my tottering reason upon this single emissary who represented
to me the entire horde of Warhoons.
I had noticed that he always advanced with his dim torch to where he
could place the food within my reach and as he stooped to place it
upon the floor his head was about on a level with my breast. So,
with the cunning of a madman, I backed into the far corner of my
cell when next I heard him approaching and gathering a little slack
of the great chain which held me in my hand I waited his coming,
crouching like some beast of prey. As he stooped to place my food
upon the ground I swung the chain above my head and crashed the
links with all my strength upon his skull. Without a sound he
slipped to the floor, stone dead.
Laughing and chattering like the idiot I was fast becoming I fell
upon his prostrate form my fingers feeling for his dead throat.
Presently they came in contact with a small chain at the end of
which dangled a number of keys. The touch of my fingers on these
keys brought back my reason with the suddenness of thought. No
longer was I a jibbering idiot, but a sane, reasoning man with
the means of escape within my very hands.
As I was groping to remove the chain from about my victim's neck
I glanced up into the darkness to see six pairs of gleaming eyes
fixed, unwinking, upon me. Slowly they approached and slowly I
shrank back from the awful horror of them. Back into my corner I
crouched holding my hands palms out, before me, and stealthily on
came the awful eyes until they reached the dead body at my feet.
Then slowly they retreated but this time with a strange grating
sound and finally they disappeared in some black and distant recess
of my dungeon.
