The city was already in flames in many places, and
though the people fought valiantly to extinguish
them, it seemed to me that they but spread the more
rapidly with each succeeding minute. And then, as suddenly
as it had commenced, the bombardment ceased. Nah-ee-lah
and I crossed over to the outer edge of the terrace
to see if we could note any new movement by the enemy,
nor did we have long to wait. We saw a hundred ladders
raised as if by magic toward the lowest terrace, which rose
but a bare two hundred feet above the base of the city.
The men who carried the ladders were not visible to us
when they came close to the base of the wall, but I guessed
from the distant glimpses that I caught of the ladders as
they were rushed forward by running men that here, again,
Orthis’ earthly knowledge and experience had come to the
assistance of the Kalkars, for I was sure that only some
form of extension ladder could be successfully used to reach
even the lowest terrace.
When I saw their intention I ran quickly down into the
palace and out upon the terrace before the gates, where
the remainder of the guard were stationed, and there I told
them what was happening and urged them to hasten the
people to the lowest terrace to repulse the enemy before
they had secured a foothold upon the city. Then I returned
to Nah-ee-lah, and together we watched the outcome
of the struggle, but almost from the first I realized
that Laythe was doomed, for before any of her defenders
could reach the spot, fully a thousand Kalkars had clambered
to the terrace, and there they held their own while
other thousands ascended in safety to the city.
We saw the defenders rush forth to attack them, and
for a moment, so impetuous was their charge, I thought
that I had been wrong and that the Kalkars might yet be
driven from Laythe. Fighting upon the lower outer terrace
far beneath us was a surging mass of shouting warriors.
The Kalkars were falling back before the impetuous
onslaught of the Laytheans.
“They have not the blood in their veins,” whispered Nah-ee-lah,
clinging tightly to my arm. “One noble is worth
ten of them. Watch them. Already are they fleeing.”
And so it seemed, and the rout of the Kalkars appeared
almost assured, as score upon score of them were hurled
over the edge of the terrace, to fall mangled and bleeding
upon the ground hundreds of feet below.
But suddenly a new force seemed to be injected into the
strife. I saw a stream of Kalkars emerging above the edge
of the lower terrace—new men clambering up the ladders
from the plateau below, and as they came they shouted
something which I could not understand, but the other Kalkars
seemed to take heart and made once more the semblance
of a stand against the noble Laytheans, and I saw
one, the leader of the newcomers, force his way into the
battling throng. And then I saw him raise his hand above
his head and hurl something into the midst of the compact
ranks of the Laytheans.
Instantly there was a terrific explosion and a great, bloody
gap lay upon the terrace where an instant before a hundred
of the flower of the fighting men of Laythe had been so
gloriously defending their city and their honor.
“Grenades,” I exclaimed. “Hand grenades!”
“What is it, Julian? What is it that they are doing down
there?” cried Nah-ee-lah. “They are murdering my people.”
“Yes, Nah-ee-lah, they are murdering your people, and
well may Va-nah curse the day that Earth Men set foot
upon your world.”
“I do not understand, Julian,” she said.
“This is the work of Orthis,” I said, “who has brought
from Earth the knowledge of diabolical engines of destruction.
He first shelled the city with what must have been
nothing more than crude mortars, for it is impossible that
he has had the time to construct the machinery to build
any but the simplest of guns. Now his troops are hurling
hand grenades among your men. There is no chance, Nah-ee-lah,
for the Laytheans to successfully pit their primitive
weapons against the modern agents of destruction which
Orthis has brought to bear against them. Laythe must surrender
or be destroyed.”
Nah-ee-lah laid her head upon my shoulder and wept
softly. “Julian,” she said at last, “this is the end, then.
Take me to the Jemadav, my mother, please, and then you
must go and make your peace with your fellow Earth Man.
It is not right that you, a stranger, who have done so much
for me, should fall with me and Laythe.”
“The only peace I can make with Orthis, Nah-ee-lah,”
I replied, “is the peace of death. Orthis and I may not
live together again in the same world.”
She was crying very softly, sobbing upon my shoulder,
and I put my arm about her in an effort to quiet her.
“I have brought you only suffering and danger, and now
death, Julian,” she said, “when you deserve naught but
happiness and peace.”
I suddenly felt very strange and my heart behaved
wretchedly, so that when I attempted to speak it pounded
so that I could say nothing and my knees shook beneath
me. What had come over me? Could it be possible that
already Orthis had loosed his poison gas? Then, at last,
I managed to gather myself together.
“Nah-ee-lah,” I said, “I do not fear death if you must
die, and I do not seek happiness except with you.”
She looked up suddenly, her great, tear-dimmed eyes
wide and gazing deep into mine.
“You mean—Julian? You mean—?”
“I mean, Nah-ee-lah, that I love you,” I replied, though
I must have stumbled through the words in a most ridiculous
manner, so frightened was I.
“Ah, Julian,” she sighed, and put her arms about my
neck.
“And you, Nah-ee-lah!” I exclaimed incredulously, as
I crushed her to me, “can it be that you return my love?”
“I have loved you always,” she replied. “From the very
first, almost—way back when we were prisoners together
in the No-vans village. You Earth Men must be very blind,
my Julian. A Laythean would have known it at once, for
it seemed to me that upon a dozen occasions I almost
avowed my love openly to you.”
“Alas, Nah-ee-lah! I must have been very blind, for I
had not guessed until this minute that you loved me.”
“Now,” she said, “I do not care what happens. We
have one another, and if we die together, doubtless we shall
live together in a new incarnation.”
“I hope so,” I said, “but I should much rather be sure
of it and live together in this.”
“And I, too, Julian, but that is impossible.”
We were walking now through the corridors of the palace
toward the chamber occupied by her mother, but we
did not find her there and Nah-ee-lah became apprehensive
as to her safety. Hurriedly we searched through other
chambers of the palace, until at last we came to the little
audience chamber in which Sagroth had been slain, and
as we threw open the door I saw a sight that I tried to
hide from Nah-ee-lah’s eyes as I drew her around in an
effort to force her back into the corridor. Possibly she
guessed what impelled my action, for she shook her head
and murmured: “No, Julian; whatever it is I must see
it.” And then she pushed her way gently past me, and we
stood together upon the threshold, looking at the harrowing
sight which the interior of the room displayed.
There were the bodies of the assassins Sagroth and I
had slain, and the dead Jemadar, too, precisely as he had
fallen, while across his breast lay the body of Nah-ee-lah’s
mother, a dagger self-thrust through her heart. For just
a moment Nah-ee-lah stood there looking at them in silence,
as though in prayer, and then she turned wearily away and
left the chamber, closing the door behind her. We walked
on in silence for some time, ascending the stairway back
to the upper terrace. Upon the inner side, the flames were
spreading throughout the city, roaring like a mighty furnace
and vomiting up great clouds of smoke, for though the
Laythean terraces are supported by tremendous arches of
masonry, yet there is much wood used in the interior construction
of the buildings, while the hangings and the furniture
are all inflammable.
“We had no chance to save the city,” said Nah-ee-lah,
with a sigh. “Our people, called from their normal duties
by the false Ko-tah, were leaderless. The fire fighters, instead
of being at their posts, were seeking the life of their
Jemadar. Unhappy day! Unhappy day!”
“You think they could have stopped the fire?” I asked.
“The little ponds, the rivulets, the waterfalls, the great
public baths and the tiny lakes that you see upon every
terrace were all built with fire protection in mind. It is easy
to divert their waters and flood any tier of buildings. Had
my people been at their posts, this, at least, could not have
happened.”
As we stood watching the flames we suddenly saw people
emerging in great numbers upon several of the lower terraces.
They were evidently in terrified flight, and then
others appeared upon terraces above them—Kalkars who
hurled hand grenades amongst the Laytheans beneath them.
Men, women, and children ran hither and thither, shrieking
and crying and seeking for shelter, but from the buildings
behind them, rushing them outward upon the terraces,
came other Kalkars with hand grenades. The fires hemmed
the people of Laythe upon either side and the Kalkars attacked
them from the rear and from above. The weaker
fell and were trodden to death, and I saw scores fall upon
their own lances or drive daggers into the hearts of their
loved ones.
The massacre spread rapidly around the circumference of
the city and the Kalkars drove the people from the upper
terraces downward between the raging fires which were
increasing until the mouth of the great crater was filled
with roaring flames and smoke. In the occasional gaps we
could catch glimpses of the holocaust beneath us.
A sudden current of air rising from the crater lifted the
smoke pall high for a moment, revealing the entire circumference
of the crater, the edge of which was crowded with
Laytheans. And then I saw a warrior from the opposite
side leap upon the surrounding wall that bordered the lower
terrace at the edge of the yawning crater. He turned and
called aloud some message to his fellows, and then wheeling,
threw his arms above his head and leaped outward into
the yawning, bottomless abyss. Instantly the others seemed
to be inoculated with the infection of his mad act. A
dozen men leaped to the wall and dove head foremost into
the crater. The thing spread slowly at first, and then with
the rapidity of a prairie fire, it ran around the entire circle
of the city. Women hurled their children in and then leaped
after them. The multitude fought one with another for a
place upon the wall from which they might cast themselves
to death. It was a terrible—an awe-inspiring sight.
Nah-ee-lah covered her eyes with her hands. “My poor
people!” she cried. “My poor people!” And far below
her, by the thousands now, they were hurling themselves
into eternity, while above them the screaming Kalkars
hurled hand grenades among them and drove the remaining
inhabitants of Laythe, terrace by terrace, down toward
the crater’s rim.
Nah-ee-lah turned away. “Come, Julian,” she said, “I
cannot look, I cannot look.” And together we walked across
the terrace to the outer side of the city.
Almost directly beneath us upon the next terrace was a
palace gate and as we reached a point where we could see
it, I was horrified to see that the Kalkars had made their
way up the outer terraces to the very palace walls. The
Jemadar’s guard was standing there ready to defend the
palace against the invaders. The great stone gates would
have held indefinitely against spears and swords, but even
the guardsmen must have guessed that their doom was already
sealed and that these gates, that had stood for ages,
an ample protection to the Jemadars of Laythe, were about
to fall, as the Kalkars halted fifty yards away, and from
their ranks a single individual stepped forth a few paces.
As my eyes alighted upon him I seized Nah-ee-lah’s arm.
“Orthis!” I cried. “It is Orthis.” At the same instant
the man’s eyes rose above the gates and fell upon us. A
nasty leer curled his lips as he recognized us.
“I come to claim my bride,” he cried, in a voice that
reached us easily, “and to balance my account with you,
at last,” and he pointed a finger at me.
In his right hand he held a large, cylindrical object, and
as he ceased speaking he hurled it at the gates precisely as
a baseball pitcher pitches a swift ball.
The missile struck squarely at the bottom of the gates.
There was a terrific explosion, and the great stone portals
crumbled, shattered into a thousand fragments. The last
defense of the Empress of Laythe had fallen, and with it
there went down in bloody death at least half the remaining
members of her loyal guard.
Instantly the Kalkars rushed forward, hurling hand grenades
among the survivors of the guard.
Nah-ee-lah turned toward me and put her arms about
my neck.
“Kiss me once more, Julian,” she said, “and then the
dagger.”
“Never, never, Nah-ee-lah!” I cried. “I cannot do it.”
“But I can!” she exclaimed, and drew her own from
its sheath at her hip.
I seized her wrist. “Not that, Nah-ee-lah!” I cried.
“There must be some other way.” And then there came to
me a mad inspiration. “The wings!” I cried. “Where
are they kept? The last of your people have been destroyed.
Duty no longer holds you here. Let us escape,
even if it is only to frustrate Orthis’ plans and deny him
the satisfaction of witnessing our death.”
“But, where can we go?” she asked.
“We may at least choose our own manner of death,” I
replied, “far from Laythe and far from the eyes of an
enemy who would gloat over our undoing.”
“You are right, Julian. We still have a little time, for
I doubt if Orthis or his Kalkars can quickly find the stairway
leading to this terrace.” And then she led me quickly
to one of the many towers that rise above the palace. Entering
it, we ascended a spiral staircase to a large chamber
at the summit of the tower. Here were kept the imperial
wings. I fastened Nah-ee-lah’s to her and she helped me
with mine, and then from the pinnacle of the tower we
arose above the burning city of Laythe and flew rapidly
toward the distant lowlands and the sea. It was in my
mind to search out, if possible, the location of The Barsoom,
for I still entertained the mad hope that my companions
yet lived—if I did, why not they?
The heat above the city was almost unendurable and the
smoke suffocating, yet we passed through it, so that almost
immediately we were hidden from the view of that portion
of the palace from which we had arisen, with the result
that when Orthis and his Kalkars finally found their way
to the upper terrace, as I have no doubt they did, we had
disappeared—whither they could not know.
We flew and drifted with the wind across the mountainous
country toward the plains and the sea, it being my
intention upon reaching the latter to follow the coast line
until I came to a river marked by an island at its mouth.
From that point I knew that I could reach the spot where
The Barsoom had landed.
Our long flight must have covered a considerable period
of time, since it was necessary for us to alight and rest
many times and to search for food. We met, fortunately,
with no mishaps, and upon the several occasions when we
were discovered by roving bands of Va-gas we were able
to soar far aloft and escape them easily. We came at length,
however, to the sea, the coast of which I followed to the
left, but though we passed the mouths of many rivers, I
discovered none that precisely answered the description of
that which I sought.
It was borne in upon me at last that our quest was futile,
but where we were to find a haven of safety neither of us
could guess. The gas in our bags was losing its buoyancy
and we had no means wherewith to replenish it. It would
still maintain us for a short time, but how long neither of
us knew, other than that it had not nearly the buoyancy
that it originally possessed.
Off the coast we had seen islands almost continuously
and I suggested to Nah-ee-lah that we try to discover one
upon which grew the fruits and nuts and vegetables necessary
for our subsistence, and where we might also have a
constant supply of fresh water.
I discovered that Nah-ee-lah knew little about these
islands, practically nothing in fact, not even as to whether
they were inhabited; but we determined to explore one,
and to this end we selected an island of considerable extent
that lay about ten miles off shore. We reached it
without difficulty and circled slowly above it, scrutinizing
its entire area carefully. About half of it was quite hilly,
but the balance was rolling and comparatively level. We
discovered three streams and two small lakes upon it, and
an almost riotous profusion of vegetable growth, but nowhere
did we discern the slightest indication that it was inhabited.
And so at last, feeling secure, we made our landing
upon the plain, close to the beach.
It was a beautiful spot, a veritable Garden of Eden, where
we two might have passed the remainder of our lives in
peace and security, for though we later explored it carefully,
we found not the slightest evidence that it had ever
known the foot of man.
Together we built a snug shelter against the storms. Together
we hunted for food, and during our long periods of
idleness we lay upon the soft sward beside the beach, and
to pass the time away, I taught Nah-ee-lah my own language.
It was a lazy, indolent, happy life that we spent upon
this enchanted isle, and yet, though we were happy in our
love, each of us felt the futility of our existence, where our
lives must be spent in useless idleness.
We had, however, given up definitely hope for any other
form of existence. And thus we were lying one time, as
was our wont after eating, stretched in luxurious ease upon
our backs on the soft lunar grasses, I with my eyes closed,
when Nah-ee-lah suddenly grasped me by the arm.
“Julian,” she cried, “what is it? Look!”
I opened my eyes, to find her sitting up and gazing into
the sky toward the mainland, a slim forefinger indicating
the direction of the object that had attracted her attention
and aroused her surprised interest.
As my eyes rested upon the thing her pointing finger indicated,
I leaped to my feet with an exclamation of incredulity,
for there, sailing parallel with the coast at an
altitude of not more than a thousand feet, was a ship, the
lines of which I knew as I had known my mother’s face.
It was The Barsoom.
Grasping Nah-ee-lah by the arm, I dragged her to her
feet. “Come, quick, Nah-ee-lah!” I cried, and urged her
rapidly toward our hut, where we had stored the wings
and the gas bags which we had never thought to use again,
yet protected carefully, though why we knew not.
There was still gas in the bags—enough to support us
in the air, with the assistance of our wings, but to fly
thus for long distances would have been most fatiguing, and
there was even a question as to whether we could cross
the ten miles of sea that lay between us and the mainland;
yet I was determined to attempt it. Hastily we donned
the wings and bags, and rising together, flapped slowly in
the direction of the mainland.
The Barsoom was cruising slowly along a line that would
cross ours before we could reach the shore, but I hoped that
they would sight us and investigate.
We flew as rapidly as I dared, for I could take no chances
upon exhausting Nah-ee-lah, knowing that it would be absolutely
impossible for me to support her weight and my
own, with our depleted gas bags. There was no way in
which I could signal to The Barsoom. We must simply
fly toward her. That was the best that we could do, and
finally, try though we would, I realized that we should
be too late to intercept her and that unless they saw us and
changed their course, we should not come close enough to
hail them. To see my friends passing so near, and yet to
be unable to apprise them of my presence filled me with
melancholy. Not one of the many vicissitudes and dangers
through which I had passed since I left Earth depressed
me more than the sight of The Barsoom forging slowly past
us without speaking. I saw her change her course then
and move inland still further from us, and I could not but
dwell upon our unhappy condition, since now we might
never again be able to reach the safety of our island, there
being even a question as to whether the gas bags would
support us to the mainland.
They did, however, and there we alighted and rested,
while The Barsoom sailed out of sight toward the mountains.
“I shall not give it up, Nah-ee-lah,” I cried. “I am going
to follow The Barsoom until we find it, or until we die
in the attempt. I doubt if we ever can reach the island
again, but we can make short flights here on land, and by
so doing, we may overtake my ship and my companions.”
After resting for a short time, we arose again, and when
we were above the trees I saw The Barsoom far in the distance,
and again it was circling, this time toward the left,
so we altered our course and flew after it. But presently
we realized that it was making a great circle and hope
renewed within our breasts, giving us the strength to fly
on and on, though we were forced to come down often
for brief rests. As we neared the ship we saw that the
circles were growing smaller, but it was not until we were
within about three miles of her that I realized that she was
circling the mouth of a great crater, the walls of which
rose several hundred feet above the surrounding country.
We had been forced to land again to rest, when there flashed
upon my mind a sudden realization of the purpose of the
maneuvers of The Barsoom—she was investigating the
crater, preparatory to an attempt to pass through it into
outer space and seek to return to Earth again.
As this thought impinged upon my brain, a wave of almost
hopeless horror overwhelmed me as I thought of being
definitely left forever by my companions and that by
but a few brief minutes Nah-ee-lah was to be robbed of
life and happiness and peace, for at that instant the hull
of The Barsoom dropped beneath the rim of the crater and
disappeared from our view.
Rising quickly with Nah-ee-lah, I flew as rapidly as my
tired muscles and exhausted gas bag would permit toward
the rim of the crater. In my heart of hearts I knew that
I should be too late, for once they had decided to make the
attempt, the ship would drop like a plummet into the depths,
and by the time I reached the mouth of the abyss it would
be lost to my view forever.
And yet I struggled on, my lungs almost bursting from
the exertion of my mad efforts toward speed. Nah-ee-lah
trailed far behind, for if either of us could reach The Barsoom
in time we should both be saved, and I could fly
faster than Nah-ee-lah; otherwise, I should never have
separated myself from her by so much as a hundred yards.
Though my lungs were pumping like bellows, I venture
to say that my heart stood still for several seconds before
I topped the crater’s rim.
At the same instant that I expected the last vestige of
my hopes to be dashed to pieces irrevocably and forever,
I crossed the rim and beheld The Barsoom not twenty feet
below me, just over the edge of the abyss, and upon her
deck stood West and Jay and Norton.
As I came into view directly above them, West whipped
out his revolver and leveled it at me, but the instant that
his finger pressed the trigger Norton sprang forward and
struck his hand aside.
“My God, sir!” I heard the boy cry, “it is the Captain.”
And then they all recognized me, and an instant later I
almost collapsed as I fell to the deck of my beloved ship.
My first thought was of Nah-ee-lah, and at my direction
The Barsoom rose swiftly and moved to meet her.
“Great Scott!” cried my guest, leaping to his feet and
looking out of the stateroom window, “I had no idea that
I had kept you up all night. Here we are in Paris already.”
“But the rest of your story,” I cried. “You have not
finished it, I know. Last night, as you were watching them
celebrating in the Blue Room, you made a remark which
led me to believe that some terrible calamity threatened the
world.”
“It does,” he said, “and that was what I meant to tell
you about, but this story of the third incarnation of which
I am conscious was necessary to an understanding of how
the great catastrophe overwhelmed the people of the Earth.”
“But, did you reach Earth again?” I demanded.
“Yes,” he said, “in the year 2036. I had been ten years
within Va-nah, but did not know whether it was ten months
or a century until we landed upon Earth.”
He smiled then. “You notice that I still say I. It is sometimes
difficult for me to recall which incarnation I am in.
Perhaps it will be clearer to you if I say Julian 5th returned
to earth in 2036, and in the same year his son, Julian 6th,
was born to his wife, Nah-ee-lah the Moon Maid.”
“But how could he return to Earth in the disabled Barsoom?”
“Ah,” he said, “that raises a point that was of great interest
to Julian 5th. After he regained The Barsoom, naturally
one of the first questions he asked was as to the condition
of the ship and their intentions, and when he learned
that they had, in reality, been intending to pass through
the crater toward the Earth he questioned them further and
discovered that it was the young ensign, Norton, who had
repaired the engine, having been able to do it by information
that he had gleaned from Orthis, after winning the latter’s
friendship. Thus was explained the intimacy between
the two, which Julian 5th had so deplored, but which he
now saw that young Norton had encouraged for a patriotic
purpose.”
“We are docked now and I must be going. Thank you
for your hospitality and for your generous interest,” and
he held out his hand toward me.
“But the story of Julian 9th,” I insisted, “am I never
to hear that?”
“If we meet again, yes,” he promised, with a smile.
“I shall hold you to it,” I told him.
“If we meet again,” he repeated, and departed, closing
the stateroom door after him.
