Edgar Rice Burroughs

Warlord of Mars Edgar Rice Burroughs

In the shadows of the forest that flanks the crimson plain by the side of the Lost Sea of Korusin the Valley Dor, beneath the hurtling moons of Mars, speeding their meteoric way close above thebosom of the dying planet, I crept stealthily along the trail of a shadowy form that hugged the darkerplaces 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, withinwhose slow-revolving shaft, far beneath the surface of Mars, my princess lay entombed-butwhether alive or dead I knew not. Had Phaidor's slim blade found that beloved heart? Time onlywould reveal the truth. Six hundred and eighty-seven Martian days must come and go before the cell's door would againcome 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 everyevent that had come before or after, there remained the last scene before the gust of smoke blindedmy eyes and the narrow slit that had given me sight of the interior of her cell closed between me andthe 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 Iloved. 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 rangthe single shriek as the knife fell. Then silence, and when the smoke had cleared, the revolvingtemple had shut off all sight or sound from the chamber in which the three beautiful women wereimprisoned. Much there had been to occupy my attention since that terrible moment; but never for aninstant had the memory of the thing faded, and all the time that I could spare from the numerousduties that had devolved upon me in the reconstruction of the government of the First Born sinceour victorious fleet and land forces had overwhelmed them, had been spent close to the grim shaftthat 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 astate of chaos by my revealment of her as naught more than a wicked old woman. In their rage theyhad torn her to pieces