3 - Barbarians of Mars
Read 3 - Barbarians of Mars Online
Authors: Edward P. Bradbury
Barbarians of Mars
(Masters of the Pit)
Michael Kane Book 3
Edward P. Bradbury
(Michael Moorcock)
1965
For Mr Chip Delany of
San Francisco
and
Sister Mary Eugene of Bon Secours Convent,
Derby
,
Pennsylvania
Contents
The sickness is Fear and the remedy is Faith
Sitting in my study one autumn night, a small
fire burning in the grate taking the chill off a room filled with the scents of
oncoming winter, I heard a footfall in the hall below.
I am not a nervous man, but I can be an
imaginative one, and I had thoughts of both ghosts and burglars as I left the
leather armchair and opened the door. The hall was quiet and the lights were
out, but I saw a shadowy figure coming up the stairs towards me.
There was something about the size of the man,
something about the jingle he made as he walked, that I recognized instantly. A
grin began to spread across my face as he approached, and I held out my hand to
him.
"Michael Kane
? "
It was hardly a question.
"It is," replied the deep, vibrant
voice of my visitor. He came to the top of the stairs and I felt my hand
enclosed in a firm, manly grip. I saw the giant smile in return.
"How is Mars?" I asked, as I led him
into the study.
"A little changed from when we last
spoke," he said,
"You must tell me," I said eagerly.
"What will you have to drink?"
"No liquor, thanks. I'm not used to it
any longer. How about some coffee? That's the one thing I miss on Mars."
"Wait here," I told him. "I'm
all alone in the house today. I'll go and make some."
I left him slumped in a chair beside the fire,
his magnificent, bronzed body completely relaxed. He looked strangely
incongruous in his Martian war harness, studded as it was with unfamiliar gems,
his huge longsword with its ornate basket hilt resting with its tip on the
floor.
His diamond-blue eyes seemed much more
humorous and even less full of tension than when I had last seen him. His
manner had relaxed me, too, even in my excitement at seeing my friend again.
In the kitchen I prepared the coffee,
remembering all that he had told me of his past adventures - of Shlzala,
Princess of the Vamala and of Hool Haji, now ruler of Mendishar, his wife and
his closest friend respectively I remembered how his first trip to Mars* - an
ancient Mars, far in our own past - had been made accidentally because of a
malfunctioning matter transmitter, a development of laser research he had been
pursuing in Chicago; how he had met and fought for Shizala against the fearsome
Blue Giants and their leader Horguhl, a woman of her own race who had a secret power
over people, across the lush landscapes of a strange planet. I remembered how
he had sought my help and I had given it - building a matter transmitter in my
own basement. He had returned to Mars** and had faced many dangers, discovering
the lost underground city of the Yaksha, helping to win a revolution and
fighting strange, spider creatures before finally finding Shizala again and
marrying her. Using the forgotten scientific devices of the Yaksha - a race now
supposed to be extinct - he had built a machine capable of flinging him across
Time and Space again to a transceiver in my basement.
Evidently he had, as he had promised before he
left the last time, returned to tell me of his latest adventures.
I went back with the coffee and set it in front
of him.
He poured himself a cup, tasting it a little
suspiciously at first, then added milk and sugar. He took his first swallow and
grinned.
"One thing I haven't lost my taste
for," he said.
"And one thing I haven't lost my taste
for," I replied eagerly. "I want to hear your latest story from
beginning to end."
"Have you published the first two
adventures yet?" he asked.
At that time I had not, so I shook my head.
"Someone will believe me sufficiently to publish them," I told him.
"People believe I wrote them cynically for one reason or another - but we
know that I did not, that you are real, that your exploits actually happened.
One day they will realize this, when governments are prepared to release the
information that confirms what you have told me. They will realize that you are
no liar and that I am no crack-pot - or worse, a commercial writer trying to
write a science fiction novel."
*{See 'City of the Beast' - NEL, 1971) *
*(
See 'Lord of the Spiders' - NEL, 1971)
"I hope so," he said seriously,
"because it would be a shame for people not to be able to read the story
of my experiences on Mars."
As he finished his first cup of coffee and
reached forward to help himself to another, I fixed the tape-recorder so that
it would take down every word he said. Then I settled back in my chair.
"Is your marvellous memory working at
full capacity as usual
? "
I asked.
He smiled. "I think so."
"And you're going to tell me of your
recent adventures on Mars?"
"If you wish to hear them."
"I do. How is Shizala, your wife? How is
Hool Haji, your friend the Blue Giant?
And Horguhl - any news
of her?"
"None of Horguhl," he said.
"And Fate
be
thanked for that!"
"Then what?
Surely things can't have been so uneventful on Mars!"
"They certainly were not. I am only just
recovering from everything that happened. Telling you about it all will help
me, as usual, to bring it into perspective. Where shall I begin? "
"The last I heard from you was that you
and Shizala were living happily in Varnal, that you had designed airships to
supplement the Varnalian air force, and that you had made several expeditions
to the Yaksha underground city to study their machines."
"That's right." He nodded
thoughtfully. "Well, I can begin with our sixth expedition to the Yaksha
city. That was when things really started to happen. Are you ready?"
"I am ready," I replied.
Kane began his story.
EPB
Chester Square
,
London
, S.W.I. August 1969
THE AERIAL EXPEDITION
I KISSED Shizala farewell, little realizing
that I would not see her again for many Martian months, and clasped the ladder
leading into the cabin of my airship - a vessel designed to my own
specifications.
Shizala looked lovelier than ever, a womanly
woman who was, without doubt, the most beautiful human being on the whole
planet of Mars.
The slender towers of Vamal, the city of which
I was now a Bradhinak, or prince, rose around us in the light of the early
morning sun. There was a smell of scented mist - the green mist which came from
the lake in the centre of Vamal, sending delicate green traceries through the
air to mingle with the pennants of lovely colours floating at masts rising from
the towers. Most of the buildings are tall and white, though a number are of
fine blue marble, while others have veins of gold running through them. It is a
delicate, beautiful city - perhaps the finest on Mars.
This was where we had lived since our marriage
and we had been exquisitely happy there. But I am a restless soul and my mind
was eager for new information about the forgotten machines of Mars in the
vaults of the Yaksha, which still needed investigation.
Thus, when Hool Haji had flown from Mendishar,
far in the North, to visit me, it had not been long before I had suggested an
expedition to the Yaksha vaults, partially for the sake of old times.
He had agreed eagerly, and so it had been
decided. We should only be away for the equivalent of an Earthly week, and
Shizala, loving me with a deep and abiding love which I fully reciprocated, did
not object to this venture.
Now Hool Haji, the Blue Giant who had become
my firmest friend on Mars, waited above in the cabin of the airship as it
swayed gently in the breeze.
Once more I kissed Shizala without speaking. There
was no need for speech - we communicated with our eyes, and that was
sufficient.
I began to climb the ladder into the ship.
The interior was comfortably furnished with
couches of
a stuff
rather like red plush, and the
metal work was similar to brass and polished in the same way. There was
something vaguely nostalgic and Victorian about the design and I had encouraged
the motif throughout the ship. The ropes crisscrossing the gas-bag, for
instance, were of thick, red cord and the metal cabin had been painted in
bright greens and reds, with scroll-work picked out in gold. The controls of
the ship were at the front, and once again these were of the brass-like metal,
enamelled in black.
I started the engine as I climbed into the
seat next to Hool Haji, whose massive, blue-skinned bulk dwarfed me.
My friend watched with interest as I pulled a
lever, releasing the cords which held the ship near the ground, and I began to
steer her away from Vamal - not without a pang, for I knew that I should miss
both Shizala and the City of
Green Mists
.
I did not know then that I was to be separated
from them for a very long time, that circumstances were so to arrange
themselves that I would face death, endure enormous discomforts and experience
hideous dangers before I should see them again.
It was, however, in this slightly melancholy
mood, yet with mounting excitement at the prospect of studying the Yaksha
machines again, that I set course
Northwards
. It was
going to be a long journey, even in my comparatively speedy airship.
The journey to the Yaksha city in the desert
was not to be without interruption, however, for on the second day of our trip
the engines began to falter.
I.
was
surprised, for I trusted my engineers.
I turned to Hool Haji. My friend was looking
down at the country far below. It was a predominantly yellow landscape, of
great flowers similar to gigantic irises, swaying below us as if in a graceful,
though monotonous, dance. Every so often the sea of yellow flowers was broken
by effusions of blue or green, each splash of colour, a bloom like a marigold
in general appearance. Even at this distance above them, they sent up
languorous scents that delighted my nostrils. Hool Haji seemed entranced by
this beauty and had not even noticed the change of note in the engine.
"It looks as if we might have to
land," I informed him.
He glanced up at me. "Why, Michael Kane?
Would it not be unwise?"
"What do you mean, unwise?" I asked.
He pointed downwards.
"The flowers."
"We could find a clearing.”
"That is not what I am trying to say.
Have you not heard of the Flowers of Modnaf? They are attractive at a distance
but highly dangerous when you come close to them. Their scent from here is
pleasant, but when approached more closely it induces first
a
lethargy
, then a creeping madness. Many have been trapped by these
flowers and their vitality sapped, leaving them dry of everything human, to
become mindless creatures wandering eventually to the quicksands of Golana,
where they are sucked down slowly and never heard of again."
I shuddered. "No human being should
suffer such a fate?"
"But many have! And those who have
survived have become little more than walking dead men."
"Then let us steer a course away from
both Modnaf and Golana and hope that our motor does not give up until they are
far behind us," I said, making up my mind to avoid the dangers below us at
all costs, even if it necessitated drifting in the wind until we had passed
them by.
As I nursed the engine along, Hool Haji told
me the story of an old, desperate man who had once dreamed of power, one
Blemplac the Mad, who was still supposed to wander below. He had imbibed so
much of the scents that they no longer affected him as they did others and he
had managed to survive the quicksands - because he had been their original
creator. Apparently he had once been a benevolent and beneficient man who had
acquired a little scientific knowledge from somewhere and had dreamed of
greatness. Knowing little of what he handled, he had tried to use his knowledge
to build a vast, gleaming tower that would inspire men with its beauty and
grandeur. The foundations had been laid and it had seemed for a long time that
he would succeed. Sadly, something had gone wrong and his mind had become
affected. His experiment had gone out of control and the result was the
quicksands, which had peculiar and unnatural properties found nowhere else.
At length, and with a feeling of tremendous
relief, we passed over the flowers and the quicksands. I had only observed the
quicksands at night, by the light of the moons that hurtled above, but the
glimpse was enough to tell me that Hool Haji had not exaggerated. Strange cries
had risen from the slowly shifting muck below, insane ravings that sometimes
seemed to be words, but I could make no sense out of them, nor did I try very
hard.
By morning we were crossing a series of deep,
gleaming lakes dotted with green islands and the occasional boat scudding
across the vast expanse of water.
I remarked on the welcome contrast to Hool
Haji and he agreed. While we had crossed the previous territory he had been
more disturbed than he had admitted. I asked if it was sensible to try to land,
since the engine was now working in fits and starts and was soon bound to give
up altogether. He said it would be safe, for these were the islands of
enlightened and intelligent folk who had the ability to entertain and delight
any visitor to the lakes. He pointed out names as we passed over them. There
was one lush island, set somewhat apart from the rest.
"That is an island called Drallab,"
Hool Haji explained. "It's folk have only rare contact with their
neighbours, but though they appear to play little part in the activities of the
other islands they exert a great artistic influence on them and are really
extremely benevolent. They entertained me once, when I travelled the islands,
and I enjoyed every moment of my stay."
Another island appeared. This was a
strange-looking place of peculiar contrasts for so small an island. I could
make out a small forest, a mountain, a barren area -and other features. This
was K'cocroom, Hool Haji informed me, an island that had only in the last few
years emerged from the lake and was still largely unpopulated, though the few
people who lived there seemed a folk of strange contrasts, sometimes friendly
to strangers, sometimes not.
We decided not to land there and passed over
several other islands, with Hool Haji naming them all with great affection.
There was S'Sidla, a gentle landscape of strong, straight trees and rich, dark
glades, and Nosirrah, a rugged, healthy looking place with, Hool Haji informed
me, great treasures yet un-mined.
I was eager to hear all this, even though part
of my attention was on the engine, for everything I heard told me more about a
world I had still only partially explored, and the more I knew the better I
would be equipped to survive in it.
At length we had managed to nurse the airship
over all the islands and saw ahead of us on the mainland - which we decided was
a better place to land in case the engine proved unrepairable - a city which
was called, Hool Haji told me, Cend-Amrid. The people, he said, were well known
for their craftsmanship and skill with the few technical devices in circulation
on Mars. They would help us more than the islanders, though the islanders were
possibly
more friendly
.
I manipulated my controls and we began to drop
down towards Cend-Amrid.
Later I was to regret not landing on one of
the
islands,
for Hool Haji was to find Cend-Amrid
changed from the place he had known when, as a wandering outcast, he had spent
some time in the city.
But it was with relief in our hearts that we
drifted over the city as evening came, bathing its dark towers in deep shadow.
It was a silent place and few lights burned,
but I put this down to the fact that its inhabitants were a hard-working folk,
according to Hool Haji, whose pleasures were simple and did not extend to any
kind of night-time festivities.
We descended on the outskirts of the city and
I released the grappling anchor which imbedded its sharp prongs into the earth
and enabled me to climb down the ladder and secure the ropes to a couple of
stunted trees that grew nearby.
