I tried a trick which I knew had worked on Earth when men had been in a similar position confronted by wild beasts. I shouted at the top of my voice and ran towards it, the hand holding the rock upraised.
I ran full tilt almost into its horrid maw.
The beast had not moved an inch!
Now I was in worse straits than I was before!
Deciding to sell my life dearly, I flung my last rock at the eye and dashed past to get behind it. The beast screamed, wailed and reared again. Then I saw thick blood beginning to ooze down its muzzle. It scuttled round, still on its hind legs, forelegs waving, claws slashing at air. I had hit the lower part of the eye. I must have inflicted some damage, for the blood was evident, but the beast could still see.
I stooped towards another rock and then, with a speed I had not expected, it was dashing towards me, jaws gaping!
I flung myself out of its path just in time - but already it was whirling round and coming at me again. I knew I hadn't a chance.
I remember lying on the rock trying to turn over and get to my feet, fearfully aware of that great bulk rushing down on me, the shining teeth, the saliva...
And then, only inches from me, the beast fell to the ground, threshed and was still.
What had happened? I thought at first that my rock must have done more damage than I had suspected, but when I got up I saw a long, heavy lance jutting from the beast's side.
I looked around, saw the figure standing there - and was instantly on my guard again. This was a Blue Giant - an Argzoon. I had previously experienced their savagery - I knew they attacked men such as me on sight.
The Argzoon was well armed, with sword and mace at left and right hips. He was magnificently muscled and almost ten feet tall.
What confirmed my suspicion that I was in a different era was the fact that instead of wearing the normal Argzoon leather breastplate his was of fine metal, as were his wrist-guards and greaves.
Perhaps he had saved my life in order to have some sport with me. I began attempting to wrench his lance from the corpse of the beast so that I would have something with which to defend myself when he attacked.
I got the lance free as he came close. He smiled and stood regarding me with some puzzlement in his manner, arms aldmbo, head slightly to one side.
'I am ready for you, Argzoon,' I said in Martian.
He laughed then - not the savage, animal laugh of the Argzoon but a good-humoured laugh. Had the Argzoon digged so much?
‘I saw your fight with the rhadari,’ he said. ‘You are very brave.'
Warily I lowered the lance, saying nothing. The voice, too, had been unlike the Argzoon guttural which I knew.
He pointed at me, smiling again. 'Why are you swathed in that bulky cloth? Are you ill?'
I shook my head, feeling a little embarrassed already, both by my appearance - which was odd on Mars, to say the least - and my assumption that he was a foe.
‘I am called Hool Haji,' he said. 'Your name and tribe?'
‘Michael Kane,' I said, finding my tongue at last. 'I have no native tribe, but am an adopted member of the Kamala nation.'
'A strange name - but I know of the Kamala. By reputation, they are as brave as you have shown yourself to be.'
'You'll pardon me,' I said, 'but you do not seem typical of the Argzoon nation.'
He laughed good-humouredly. 'Thank you. That is because I am of the Mendishar.'
I seemed to have heard vaguely of the Mendishar, but could not remember what I had been told - by Shizala probably, I thought.
'Is this Mendishar?' I asked.
‘I wish it were. We are nearly there, however.'
'Where is Mendishar in relation to Argzoon?'
'Oh, we lie well to the north of the Caves of Darkness.'
The discrepancy in time could not be as great as I had at first thought, then. If the Kamala and the Argzoon's underground world, the Caves of Darkness, still existed, then the spot - this barren waste - on which I had found myself was not typical of the planet I knew.
Hool Haji reached out his hand. 'Perhaps I could have my lance now?'
I apologised and handed it to him.
'You look exhausted,' he said. 'Come - I have a camp nearby - we'll eat a little of your late adversary.' He bent down and lifted the great beast's carcase easily, flinging it over his shoulder.
I walked beside him and he deliberately shortened his pace so that I might find it easier to keep up with htm. He did not seem to tire beneath his burden.
‘I was graceless,' I said. ‘I did not thank you for saving my life. I am in your debt.'
'May you have an opportunity to repay it,' he replied, using a formal reply which I had only heard in the south until now.
We reached Hool Haji's camp - a low tent pitched beside a small stream that ran through the rocks. A fire was burning and giving off a great deal of ill-smelling smoke, but Hool Haji explained that the only fuel in these parts was in the oxel, the broguish, bracken-like plant that sprouted among the rocks.
Hool Haji began to skin the beast and as he did so, preparing it most deftly with a special knife he wore in his upper harness, he explained the similarities between his race and the Argzoon. I was interested to hear it, especially since it also told me a little more about the earlier history of Vashu - or Mars, as they call it on Earth.
It seems that in the dim and distant past of Vashu the Mendishar and the Argzoon were one people, living close to the sea from which, their legends said, they had origina-nated. They were fishermen and boat builders, pirates and coastal raiders, sea traders, inrak divers - the inrak being a rare shell-fish regarded as a delicacy by all, it appeared, but the blue men themselves.
They lived in a part of the planet which at that time was remote. Their lives were parochial, their trading and raiding confined mostly to nearby places.
Then came the Mightiest War. About the cause of this war and its protagonists Hool Haji was rather vague. It was between the Sheev and the Yaksha, he said. I had heard of the Sheev. This mysterious people had given many benefits to the Karnala - they had once possessed a great civilisation, understood nuclear energy and the like, were more advanced than Earthmen of my own time. The ruins of their cities were still sometimes to be found here and there. Hool Haji appeared to know little more than I did. The Yaksha and the Sheev were of similar origins, he said, but the Yaksha were considerably less wholesome.
The Mightiest War was waged across the planet for decades. Soon even the remote blue men heard of it. Soon they even suffered from its effects, many dying from a strange disease borne on the wind from the west.
Then the Yaksha came to the settlements of the blue folk. They had many wonderful weapons, but they seemed beaten and desperate. The handful of Yaksha offered the blue men great chances of plunder if they would help them attack a Sheev position inland. Many had agreed and had set off for the mountains where the Sheev were. Apparently they had found the Sheev in underground chambers blasted from the rock, and had attacked. The Sheev had held them off until only three of the Sheev survived. Then these had escaped in a flying boat of some kind. The Yaksha, also few in number, had followed them, telling the blue folk to hold the position until they returned.
They had not returned. The blue folk settled in the cavern-world. Some had brought women. They adapted to the environment and had even seemed to thrive on it. The caverns were an ideal place from which to conduct raids on the smaller, lighter-skinned races - so they had raided. That had been the origin of the Argzoon millennia before.
The Mendishar were those who had remained. They had taken no part in the Mightiest War, but had prospered, trading amongst far islands and a continent which lay beyond the sea to the north.
'That is,' Hool Haji said as he set the meat on a spit over the fire, 'until the Priosa gained too much power.'
'Who are they?' I asked.
'Originally they were simply a royal guard - a ceremonial force attached to our Bradhi's house.' A Bradhi
was a kind of Martian king who tended to rule by heredity but could be deposed and replaced by popular vote. 'They were made up of young warriors who had won honour among our people. They were idolised by the populace who began, by degrees, to attach an almost mystical significance to them. In the minds of the ordinary folk they became more than men, almost deities - they could do what they liked virtually with impunity. Then, about forty years ago, the warrior who was then Pukan Nara' - this meant, roughly. Warrior-leader - 'of the Priosa began to say that he was receiving messages from higher beings.
'Realising that the whole system of the Priosa offered a danger to the Mendisher nation, the Bradhi and his council decided to disband it. But they had reckoned without the power the Priosa now held over the ordinary folk. When they announced the decision to disband the force the people refused to hear of it. The Bradhi was deposed and the Pukan Nara - Jewar Baru - was elected Bradhi. The old Bradhi and his council all died mysteriously in different ways, the Bradhi's family was' forced to flee and the new Bradhi Jewar Baru began his unhealthy reign.
'In what way is it unhealthy?' I asked.
'They have brought superstition back into the lives of the Mendishar. They perform "miracles" and claim clairvoyance; they receive "messages" for "higher beings" ... it is religion debased to its lowest level.'
I knew the pattern. It was not unlike similar episodes in my own planet's chequered history.
'They are now a caste of warrior-priests milking the nation of its riches,' Hool Haji continued, 'to the point where many are now disillusioned. But Jewar Baru and his "more-than-men" have total power and those who are disillusioned and say so publicly soon find themselves taking part in one of their barbaric ritual sacrifices where a man's - or a woman's - heart is torn out in the central square of Mendisharling, our nation's capital city.'
I was disgusted. 'But what part do you play in this?' I asked him.
'An important one,' he said. ‘A rebellion is planned and many rebels wait in the small hill villages beyond Mendisharling. They need only a leader to unite under and march against the Priosa.'
'And that leader is not forthcoming?'
'I am that leader,' he said. ‘I hope their faith in me will be justified. I am the last of the line of the old Bradhis - my father was slain on Jewar Barn's orders. My family wandered the wastelands, seeking refuge and finding none, hunted by bands of Priosa. Those who were not killed by the Priosa died of mulnutrition and disease, of attacks by wild beasts such as our friend there.' He pointed at the carcase which was now beginning to roast well.
‘At length only I, Hool Haji, remained. Though I yearned for Mendishar I could think of no way of returning - until a messenger found me wandering, many days' journey from this spot, and told me of the rebels. Of their longing for a leader, how as last of the old line I would be ideal. I agreed to go to the hill village he told me of - and I am now on my way.'
'Since I have no aims,' I said, ‘perhaps you will allow me to accompany you.'
'Your presence will be welcome. I am a lonely man.'
We ate and I told him my story, which he did not find as incredible as I had suspected he would.
'We are used to strange happenings on Vashu,' he said. ‘From time to time the shadows of the older races pass across us in the form of rediscovered marvels, strange inventions of which we know little. Your story is unusual - but possible. Everything is possible.'
I realised once again that the Martians are a philosophical folk on the whole - somewhat fatalistic in our terms, I suppose, yet with a strong tradition and moral code that save them from any hint of decadence.
After our meal we slept, and it was night again by the time we set off for the hills of Mendishar.
Dawn rose on those hills which marked the border of the Mendishar nation, and Hool Haji had to restrain himself from lengthening his steps.
It was as we set foot on blue-green sward that two riders, mounted on the huge, ape-like daharas, riding beasts of almost all Martian nations, topped the nearest hill, paused for a moment when they saw us and then rode full tilt at us.
They were gaudily dressed, with brightly lacquered armour and long, coloured plumes in close-fitting helmets. Their swords flashed in the early morning sun.
They were clearly bent on taking our lives!
Hool Haji cried one word as he flung me his long lance and drew his sword.
That word was - Priosa!'
The pair thundered down on us and I held my lance ready as my opponent's great sword swung up, preparing, to crash down and cleave my skull.
It swept towards me. I deflected it with my lance but the force of his blow knocked my weapon from my hands and I was forced to leap out of the warrior's path, dashing to retrieve the lance as he wheeled his mount and grinned with narrowed eyes, sure of an easy victory.
CHAPTER TWO
Ora Lis
The Giant Blue warrior now aimed his sword at me as if to impale me -1 was sure that was his intention.
My lance was only a short distance from me but there was no time to pick it up. When the point of his sword was almost at my throat I flung myself backwards, feeling the metal literally part my hair! Then I grabbed for the lance and leapt to my feet.
He was once again turning his mount when I saw my opportunity and hurled my lance at him.
It took him in the face and killed him instantly. He fell back, the lance quivering in his head. His sword dropped from his hand and hung by its wrist throng. The unruly dahara reared up, sensing that its master no longer controlled it, and the corpse toppled from the saddle.
Glancing about me, I saw that Hool Haji had not had my luck - for luck it had been. He was defending himself from a rain of blows his attacker was aiming at him. He had dropped to his knee.
Snatchmg up my late opponent's sword, I ran forward with a yell. I must have looked a peculiar sight, still in jacket, shirt and trousers, armed with a huge blade, running to the aid of one of two battling blue giants!
Foolishly, Hool Haji's antagonist half-turned at my yell. My blue ally needed only that momentary diversion. He sprang up, knocked aside his opponent's weapon and plunged his sword into the Priosa's throat.
The giant was scarcely dead before Hool Haji was grasping the dahara's harness and steadying the beast as its late master fell sideways from the saddle. Somewhat contemptuously, the ex-Bradhinak freed the feet of the corpse from the stirrups and let it drop to the ground.
I realised what my friend had in mind and turned towards the other dahara, which had moved a short distance away and was nervously looking about. Without its rider it looked even more curiously man-like than ever. The dahara was descended from the common ape-ancester of Man. If anyone had said of it, as is sometimes said of dogs and horses on Earth, that it was 'almost human,' that person would have stated a plain fact! Their intelligence varied according to species, the intelligence of the smaller Southern variety being greater than that of this much larger Northern variety. I approached the big dahara with caution, talking to it soothingly. It shied away - but not before I was able to catch its reins. It made a token snap at me - I have never known even the wildest dahara to attack a man - and then it was under my control.
Now we both had mounts and enough weapons to arm me.
A trifle ghoulishly, we stripped the corpses of everything we needed - but it was a pity that the armour fitted neither of us, Hool Haji being a little too large and I a lot too small, but I was able to make a cross-belt to go over my shoulders and take the heavy weapons. I was also, thankfully, able to rid myself of the greater part of my encumbering Earthly clothing. Feeling more like a warrior of Mars with my weapons strapped about me and seated on the broad back of the dahara, I galloped along, keeping pace with Hool Haji as we headed once more into the hills.
Now we were at last in Mendishar. The village - called Asde-Trahi - lay only a few miles away.
We soon reached it I had expected something more primitive than the bright, mosaic walls of tlie low,
semi-spherical houses - many of the mosaics being arranged as pictures, very beautiful and artistic. The village was surrounded by a wall, though as we rode down the hill towards it we could see the whole of the interior. The wall was also decorated, but in paints of strong, primary colours - orange, blue and yellow - with geometrical designs mainly based on the circle and the rectangle.
As we neared Asde-Trahi, figures began to appear on the walls. The figures were almost all armed and their weapons were drawn. These were blue giants, but their armour, if 155 they wore it at all, v/as of padded leather similar to that which the Argzoon, my old enemies, wore. Their weapons, too, seemed to be whatever they had been able to lay hands on.
When we were closer, one of the figures gave out a wild yell and began to talk rapidly to his companions.
A great cheer rang out then and the warriors held their swords and axes high, leaping up and down in exultation.
Evidently Hool Haji had been recognised and was welcome.
From a flag-mast in the centre of the village one banner was run down and another raised. I gathered they were literally raising the flag of rebellion. The heavy yellow and black square banner was apparently the old standard of the deposed Bradhis.
Hool Haji smiled at me as the gates opened in the wall.
'It is a homecoming worth waiting for,' he said.
We rode into the village and men and women and the Mendishar children - some of them were almost my own height! - flocked around Hool Jaji, their voices babbling their welcome.
One of the women - I suppose she was beautiful by their standards - clung to Hool Haji's arm and looked with large eyes up into his face.
'I have waited so long for you, great Bradhinak,' I heard her say. 'I have dreamed of this day.'
Hool Haji seemed rather embarrassed - as I had been - and had some difficulty disengaging his arm from the woman's embrace, but was able to do so when he saw a tall, dignified young warrior come towards him, hands outstretched in welcome.