3 - Barbarians of Mars (5 page)

 
          
 
It was only a matter of moments before the
engine roared into powerful life. I released the anchor ropes and we were soon
rising into the air.

 
          
 
"What now?" Hool Haji asked,
glancing at the girl as he seated himself in his
specially
large chair.

 
          
 
"I am tempted to return at once to
Vamal," I said, “and get the taste of that place out of my mouth before
doing anything more. But it would probably be best to go at once to the Vaults
of Yaksha and see if we can find a machine to cure the plague. Better yet - if
we could contact the Sheev, they might help."

 
          
 
"The Sheev involve themselves rarely in
our affairs,” Hool Haji reminded me.

 
          
 
"But if they knew-“

 
          
 
“-Perhaps they do."

 
          
 
"Very well," I said. "We go to
Yaksha. Perhaps there we will also find a means of contacting the Sheev."

 
          
 
"What about the girl?" Hool Haji
asked.

 
          
 
'There is nothing for it but to take her with
us,” I said, "after
all,
in helping her in the
first place I have made her my responsibility."

 
          
 
"And mine, my friend." Hool Haji
smiled, gripping my shoulder.

 
          
 
From behind us, Ala Mara said weakly: "I
thank you, strangers. But if I am to be any trouble to you, put me down where
you will. You have done enough."

 
          
 
"Nonsense," I said, setting course
for the North and Yaksha. "I want to be able eventually to return you to
Cend-Amrid - and when we do return it will be with some effective means of
destroying both the tyrannies that dwell there."

 
          
 
Perhaps moved by this, and obviously remembering
the death of her father, the girl began to sob again. I, too, found it hard to
remain completely unaffected by her emotion and it was a long time before I
could begin to work out what method I was going to use to find the machine that
could cure the plague - assuming that it existed in Yaksha at all!

 
          
 
It would be several days yet before our
destination would be reached. And in that time I would have to train myself to
think very coolly indeed.

 
          
 
I did not know then, of course, just what was
in store for me. If I had, I might have returned to Varnal.

 
          
 
As it was, things were to complicate
themselves even more and I was going to find myself in desperate straits soon
enough - as were we all!

THE BARBARIANS

 
          
 
At last we were crossing the desert, having
decided to visit Mendishar, Hool Haji's homeland, on our way back. This was
partly my friend's decision, since he explained he had only recently left there
and was sure that there was little to concern him at present.

 
          
 
We dropped down just outside the entrance we
had cleared earlier. We secured the airship, leaving Ala Mara in charge of it.

 
          
 
At the entrance, which had been covered with a
great sheet of non-corrosive metal alloy which we had found earlier, we saw
signs that it had been disturbed.

 
          
 
Hool Haji pointed at the ground.

 
          
 
"Men have been here since we last
left," he said. "Here are footmarks - and there signs that heavy
objects have been dragged over the ground. What do you make of it, Michael
Kane?"

 
          
 
I frowned. "No more than you at this
stage. We had best enter carefully. Perhaps inside we shall discover signs of
the identity of the strangers. Who would have been likely to come here?"

 
          
 
Hool Haji shook his head. "The footprints
show that they were not folk of my race but of yours - and yet no small ones
dwell in these parts. They must have come from afar."

 
          
 
We lifted the covering and passed into the
cool interior. It was illuminated by the seemingly everlasting lights of the
ancient race.

 
          
 
We had made wooden steps on our last visit,
and these were now chipped and battered, again indicating that heavy objects had
been dragged up them.

 
          
 
As we progressed further into the vaults of
the Yaksha, we gasped in anger at the destruction we saw. Machines had been
overturned and smashed, jars of chemicals had been spilt and broken,
artifacts
of all kinds had been partially destroyed,

 
          
 
On we went, through the many chambers of the
underground city, finding further evidence of insensate vandalism, until we
stepped into a particularly large chamber and found it almost empty. I
remembered that the place had contained many of the most interesting machines
of the Yaksha, machines which would have produced much interesting knowledge
when I got round to investigating them.

 
          
 
But they were gone!

 
          
 
Where were they?

 
          
 
I could not guess.

 
          
 
Just then my ears caught the sound of movement
ahead of us and I drew my sword, Hool Haji following suit.

 
          
 
We had just done this when, from the opposite
entrance to the one we had entered, a number of men
came
running, brandishing swords in their hands, round shields of crudely beaten
metal on their arms.

 
          
 
The thing that struck me most about them,
however, was the fact that they were all bearded. Almost everyone I had seen on
Mars was clean-shaven.

 
          
 
These men were squat, muscular, with heavy
leather harness completely unadorned. Their only decorations were necklaces and
bangles of hammered metal, something like iron, though a few wore what appeared
in that light to be gold or brass.

 
          
 
They came to a ragged halt as we prepared to
meet them, our swords at the ready.

 
          
 
One of them, a squint-eyed individual even
hairier than most of the others, cocked his head to one side and said in a
harsh, insolent voice:

 
          
 
"Who are you? What are you doing here? These
are our looting grounds. We found 'em first."

 
          
 
"Did you, indeed?" I replied.

 
          
 
"Yes, we did. You're a funny pair to be
here together. I thought you Blue Giants were always fighting people like
us."

 
          
 
"People like you need to be fought,
judging by what you have done to this place," Hool Haji said in a tone of
distaste.

 
          
 
"I mean people like him, too," said
the bearded one, waving his sword in my direction.

           
 
“That is beside the point," I said
impatiently. "What is more to the point is - who are you?"

 
          
 
"None of your business!"

 
          
 
"We can make it our business!" Hool
Haji growled.

 
          
 
The bearded man laughed harshly and
arrogantly. "Oh, can you? Well, you can try if you like. We're the
Bagarad, and Rokin the Gold's our leader. We're the fiercest fighters on both
sides of the
Western
Sea
."

 
          
 
"So you come from over the
Western
Sea
," I said.

 
          
 
"You've heard of us?"

 
          
 
I shook my head but Hool Haji said: "The
Bagarad - I've heard a Little of you from my father.
Barbarians
- looters -raiders from the land beyond the
Western
Sea
."

 
          
 
I had only visited the Western continent once,
and then by accident, when I had encountered the strange City of the Spider and
Hool Haji and I had barely escaped with our lives. So these, too, were from
that mysterious continent, unexplored by most civilized Martian nations.

 
          
 
"Barbarians!"
Again the man voiced his guttural laugh. "Maybe - but we'll soon be
conquerors of the world!"

 
          
 
"How so?"
I
asked, a suspicion dawning.

 
          
 
"Because we have
weapons - weapons undreamed of by human beings.
The
weapons of the Gods who once dwelled here!"

 
          
 
"They were no Gods," I said.
"Pitiful demons, perhaps."

 
          
 
The man frowned. "What do you know of the
Gods?"

 
          
 
"I told you - those who built this
city-vault were not Gods, they were simply men."

 
          
 
"You talk heresy, smoothskin," the
barbarian growled. "Watch your step. Who are you, anyway?"

 
          
 
"I am Michael Kane, Bradhinak of
Vamal."

 
          
 
"A Bradhinak, eh?
Hmmm - could get good ransom for you, eh?"

 
          
 
"Doubtless," I said coldly.
"But it would be ransom for a corpse, for I'd die fighting rather than
have hands such as yours laid on me."

 
          
 
The barbarian grinned, enjoying the insult for
its own sake.

 
          
 
"And who's the other?"

 
          
 
"I am Bradhi Hool Haji of Mendishar, and
I need not repeat my friend's words, since they are the same as mine would
be." Hool Haji shifted his stance slightly.

 
          
 
The barbarian lowered his squinting gaze
thoughtfully.

 
          
 
"Well, well. Two good prizes if we can
get you alive, aren't you? I'm Zonom the Render - my name well-earned. I've
torn men limb from limb in my time."

 
          
 
"A useful accomplishment," I said
mockingly.

 
          
 
His face became serious. "Aye, it is -
where the Bagarad rule. Nobody dare spit in Zonom's eye - save the only man
stronger than me."

 
          
 
"The way you speak, there isn't
one," I said.

 
          
 
"I'm talking about our own Bradhi - Rokin
the Gold. You can insult me and I'll judge the insult on its merits. Only if
it's a weak one I'll complain. But say a word against Rokin - a true War Bradhi
- and I'll tear you apart. I need no sword or shield when I deal with a
man."

 
          
 
"So you, under Rokin's orders, have
stolen the machines. Is that it?"

 
          
 
"That's it, roughly."

 
          
 
"Where are the machines now?
Still on this side of the Western ocean?"

 
          
 
"Some are
,
some
aren't."

 
          
 
"You are fools to tamper with them, you
know. They could destroy you as easily as they could those you plan to use them
against.”

 
          
 
"Don't try to worry me with talk like
that," Zonom rasped. "We know what we're doing. Never call a man of
the Bagarad a fool until you look for your beard." He burst into laughter,
obviously enjoying what was a common jest amongst his people.

 
          
 
"I have no beard," I reminded him.
"And you would be wise if you returned what you have stolen. You cannot
understand the implications of what you have done, nor would you understand
them if I explained them to you."

 
          
 
"We're not afraid of you," he
muttered. "And we're not afraid of your big friend. There are a lot of us
- and we're the best fighters any side of the ocean."

 
          
 
"Then we'll bargain," I said.

 
          
 
"What's the bargain?"

 
          
 
"If we beat you in fair fight, you bring
back the weapons.” I thought this would probably appeal to his simple barbarian
instincts.

 
          
 
"Can't do that," he said, shaking
his head as if disappointed. "Rokin would have to decide anything of that
sort."

 
          
 
"Then what do we do?"

 
          
 
"I'm a fair man," Zonom said
thoughtfully. "And we're under strength at present. I'll let you go.
How's that?"

 
          
 
"You're afraid to fight us, is that
it?" Hool Haji laughed, hefting his sword.

 
          
 
It was the wrong thing to have said.

 
          
 
If Zonom had let us go we could have returned
with a force of Mendishar to stop them before they embarked in their ships for
the Western continent.

 
          
 
But Hool Haji had attacked Zonom's barbarian
pride.