The Chessmen of Mars Read Online Free PDF

only guess at the distance she had
been carried for she could not believe in the correctness of the
high figures that had been piled upon the record of her odometer.
They seemed unbelievable and yet, had she known it, they were
quite true—in twelve hours she had flown and been carried by the
storm full seven thousand haads. Just before dark she was carried
over one of the deserted cities of ancient Mars. It was Torquas,
but she did not know it. Had she, she might readily have been
forgiven for abandoning the last vestige of hope, for to the
people of Helium Torquas seems as remote as do the South Sea
Islands to us. And still the tempest, its fury unabated, bore her
on.
    All that night she hurtled through the dark beneath the clouds,
or rose to race through the moonlit void beneath the glory of
Barsoom's two satellites. She was cold and hungry and altogether
miserable, but her brave little spirit refused to admit that her
plight was hopeless even though reason proclaimed the truth. Her
reply to reason, sometime spoken aloud in sudden defiance,
recalled the Spartan stubbornness of her sire in the face of
certain annihilation: "I still live!"
    That morning there had been an early visitor at the palace of The
Warlord. It was Gahan, Jed of Gathol. He had arrived shortly
after the absence of Tara of Helium had been noted, and in the
excitement he had remained unannounced until John Carter had
happened upon him in the great reception corridor of the palace
as The Warlord was hurrying out to arrange for the dispatch of
ships in search of his daughter.
    Gahan read the concern upon the face of The Warlord. "Forgive me
if I intrude, John Carter," he said. "I but came to ask the
indulgence of another day since it would be fool-hardy to attempt
to navigate a ship in such a storm."
    "Remain, Gahan, a welcome guest until you choose to leave us,"
replied The Warlord; "but you must forgive any seeming
inattention upon the part of Helium until my daughter is restored
to us."
    "You daughter! Restored! What do you mean?" exclaimed the
Gatholian. "I do not understand."
    "She is gone, together with her light flier. That is all we know.
We can only assume that she decided to fly before the morning
meal and was caught in the clutches of the tempest. You will
pardon me, Gahan, if I leave you abruptly—I am arranging to send
ships in search of her;" but Gahan, Jed of Gathol, was already
speeding in the direction of the palace gate. There he leaped
upon a waiting thoat and followed by two warriors in the metal of
Gathol, he dashed through the avenues of Helium toward the palace
that had been set aside for his entertainment.

Chapter III — The Headless Humans
*
    Above the roof of the palace that housed the Jed of Gathol and
his entourage, the cruiser Vanator tore at her stout moorings.
The groaning tackle bespoke the mad fury of the gale, while the
worried faces of those members of the crew whose duties demanded
their presence on the straining craft gave corroborative evidence
of the gravity of the situation. Only stout lashings prevented
these men from being swept from the deck, while those upon the
roof below were constantly compelled to cling to rails and
stanchions to save themselves from being carried away by each new
burst of meteoric fury. Upon the prow of the Vanator was painted
the device of Gathol, but no pennants were displayed in the upper
works since the storm had carried away several in rapid
succession, just as it seemed to the watching men that it must
carry away the ship itself. They could not believe that any
tackle could withstand for long this Titanic force. To each of
the twelve lashings clung a brawny warrior with drawn
short-sword. Had but a single mooring given to the power of the
tempest eleven short-swords would have cut the others; since,
partially moored, the ship was doomed, while free in the tempest
it stood at least some slight chance for life.
    "By the blood of Issus, I believe they will hold!" screamed one
warrior to