The Chessmen of Mars - Edgar Rice Burroughs (best thriller novels of all time txt) 📗

of my people have been kind,” she said; “you came just in time. To the thanks of Tara of Helium shall be added those of The Warlord of Barsoom and his people. Thy reward shall surpass thy greatest desires.”

Gahan of Gathol saw that she did not recognize him, and quickly he checked the warm greeting that had been upon his lips.

“Be thou Tara of Helium or another,” he replied, “is immaterial, to serve thus a red woman of Barsoom is in itself sufficient reward.”

As they spoke the girl was making her way through the aperture after Ghek, and presently all three had quitted the apartments of Luud and were moving rapidly along the winding corridors toward the tower. Ghek repeatedly urged them to greater speed, but the red men of Barsoom were never keen for retreat, and so the two that followed him moved all too slowly for the kaldane.

“There are none to impede our progress,” urged Gahan, “so why tax the strength of the Princess by needless haste?”

“I fear not so much opposition ahead, for there are none there who know the thing that has been done in Luud’s chambers this night; but the kaldane of one of the warriors who stood guard before Luud’s apartment escaped, and you may count it a truth that he lost no time in seeking aid. That it did not come before we left is due solely to the rapidity with which events transpired in the king’s1 room. Long before we reach the tower they will be upon us from behind, and that they will come in numbers far superior to ours and with great and powerful rykors I well know.”

Nor was Ghek’s prophecy long in fulfilment. Presently the sounds of pursuit became audible in the distant clanking of accouterments and the whistling call to arms of the kaldanes.

“The tower is but a short distance now,” cried Ghek. “Make haste while yet you may, and if we can barricade it until the sun rises we may yet escape.”

“We shall need no barricades for we shall not linger in the tower,” replied Gahan, moving more rapidly as he realized from the volume of sound behind them the great number of their pursuers.

“But we may not go further than the tower tonight,” insisted Ghek. “Beyond the tower await the banths and certain death.”

Gahan smiled. “Fear not the banths,” he assured them. “Can we but reach the enclosure a little ahead of our pursuers we have naught to fear from any evil power within this accursed valley.”

Ghek made no reply, nor did his expressionless face denote either belief or skepticism. The girl looked into the face of the man questioningly. She did not understand.

“Your flier,” he said. “It is moored before the tower.”

Her face lighted with pleasure and relief. “You found it!” she exclaimed. “What fortune!”

“It was fortune indeed,” he replied. “Since it not only told that you were a prisoner here; but it saved me from the banths as I was crossing the valley from the hills to this tower into which I saw them take you this afternoon after your brave attempt at escape.”

“How did you know it was I?” she asked, her puzzled brows scanning his face as though she sought to recall from past memories some scene in which he figured.

“Who is there but knows of the loss of the Princess Tara of Helium?” he replied. “And when I saw the device upon your flier I knew at once, though I had not known when I saw you among them in the fields a short time earlier. Too great was the distance for me to make certain whether the captive was man or woman. Had chance not divulged the hiding place of your flier I had gone my way, Tara of Helium. I shudder to think how close was the chance at that. But for the momentary shining of the sun upon the emblazoned device on the prow of your craft, I had passed on unknowing.”

The girl shuddered. “The Gods sent you,” she whispered reverently.

“The Gods sent me, Tara of Helium,” he replied.

“But I do not recognize you,” she said. “I have tried to recall you, but I have failed. Your name, what may it be?”

“It is not strange that so great a princess should not recall the face of every roving panthan of Barsoom,” he replied with a smile.

“But your name?” insisted the girl.

“Call me Turan,” replied the man, for it had come to him that if Tara of Helium recognized him as the man whose impetuous avowal of love had angered her that day in the gardens of The Warlord, her situation might be rendered infinitely less bearable than were she to believe him a total stranger. Then, too, as a simple panthan2 he might win a greater degree of her confidence by his loyalty and faithfulness and a place in her esteem that seemed to have been closed to the resplendent Jed of Gathol.

They had reached the tower now, and as they entered it from the subterranean corridor a backward glance revealed the van of their pursuers⁠—hideous kaldanes mounted upon swift and powerful rykors. As rapidly as might be the three ascended the stairways leading to the ground level, but after them, even more rapidly, came the minions of Luud. Ghek led the way, grasping one of Tara’s hands the more easily to guide and assist her, while Gahan of Gathol followed a few paces in their rear, his bared sword ready for the assault that all realized must come upon them now before ever they reached the enclosure and the flier.

“Let Ghek drop behind to your side,” said Tara, “and fight with you.”

“There is but room for a single blade in these narrow corridors,” replied the Gatholian. “Hasten on with Ghek and win to the deck of the