The City of the Beast or Warriors of Mars, Page 2

  Suddenly a voice spoke inside my skull. I was astonished for a second, until I realized that here was some kind of telepathic communicator which we physicists had only speculated about.

  "Greetings, stranger," said the voice, and I could see the girl's lips move, framing those lovely, alien syllables. "From where do you come?"

  "I come from Chicago, Illinois," I said, more to test the device than to convey information which I guessed would be meaningless to her.

  She frowned. "Soft sounds and very pleasant, but I do not know that place. Where in Vashu is that?"

  "Vashu? Is this city in a land called Vashu?"

  "No—Vashu is the whole planet. This city is called Varnal, capital of the nation of the Karnala, my people."

  "Do you have astronomy?" I asked. "Do you study the stars?"

  "We do. Why do you ask?"

  "Which planet is this in relation to the sun?"

  "It is the fourth from the sun."

  "Mars! It is Mars!" I cried.

  "I do not follow you."

  "I am sorry. Somehow I have arrived here from the third planet, which we call Earth. That is where Chicago is!"

  "But there are no men on Negalu, the third planet. Only steamy jungles and monstrous beasts!"

  "How do you know so much about the planet?"

  "Our ethercraft have visited it and brought back pictures."

  "You have space-ships—but ..." I was at a loss. This was too incredible for me to accept all at once. I questioned her more closely and soon learned that the Earth her people knew was not the Earth I bad left. It seemed to be an Earth that had existed millions of years ago, during the Age of Reptiles. Somehow both space and time had been crossed. That matter transmitter had more to it than we'd guessed!

  Another thing puzzled me. The people did not appear to have a great deal of technology visible in the city—yet they had space-ships.

  "How could this be?" I asked her.

  "We did not build the ethercraft. They were a gift from the Sheev—as were these mind-crowns. We have a science of our own but it cannot compare to the great wisdom and knowledge of the Sheev."

  "Who are the Sheev?"

  "They are very great and few of them still live. They are remote and of an older race than any on Vashu. Our philosophers speculate on their origin, but we know little about them."

  I let that go for the time being and decided it was about the moment to introduce myself.

  "I am called Michael Kane," I said.

  "I am Shizala, Bradhinaka of the Kanala, and ruler in the absence of the Bradhi."

  I learned that the Bradhi was about the equivalent of our 'kang', although the title did not suggest that the man who held it possessed absolute power.

  Perhaps Guide would be a better one—or Protector? Bradhinaka meant, roughly, Princess—daughter of the King.

  "And where is the Bradhi?" I asked.

  I saw her face become sad and she glanced at the ground.

  "My father disappeared two years ago—on a punitive expedition against the Argzoon. He must have been killed or, if he was captured, killed himself. It is better to die than become a prisoner of the Blue Giants."

  I expressed my sympathy and did not feel the time right to ask what the Argzoon or Blue Giants were. She was evidently deeply moved by the memory of the loss of her father, but showed great self-control in refusing to burden someone else with her grief.

  I felt immediately like trying to offer her some comfort. But, considering I knew nothing of the moral code and customs of her people, that might perhaps have been disastrous.

  She touched her circlet. "We only need to wear these for the time being. The Sheev have given us another machine which should be able to teach you our spoken language."

  We conversed a little longer and I learned much of Mars—or Vashu, as I was already beginning to think of it.

  There were many nations on Mars, some friendly towards the Kanala, some not. They all spoke recognizable versions of the same root language. This is supposedly true of Earth—that our language was originally a common one; but in our case the changes have been extreme. This was not the case, I learned, on Vashu.

  Mars's seas still existed, Shizala told me, though apparently they were not so vast as Earth's. Varnal, capital of the Karnala nation, was one of a number of countries, with rather hazily defined borders, which existed on a large land-mass bigger, but in roughly the same geographical position, than the whole of the American continent.

  Travel was effected in two main ways. Most ordinary travel relied on the dahara, a riding and carriage beast of great strength and endurance. But many nations had a few aircraft. As far as I could make out, these relied on atomics—which none of the Vashu peoples understood. These had not been gifts of the Sheev, I learned, but must once have belonged to the Sheev. They were incredibly ancient by all accounts and could not be replaced when destroyed. Thus they were only used in emergencies. There were also ships incorporating some sort of atomic engine, and sailing ships of various kinds. These plied the few rivers of Vashu—rivers which were shrinking with almost every year that passed.

  For arms, the Vashu warriors relied primarily on the sword. They had guns—Shizala showed me hers. It was a long-barreled, finely made weapon with a comfortable grip. I could not quite see what it fired or on what principle it worked, but as Shizala tried to explain haltingly I concluded that it was some sort of laser gun. What an incredible amount of power, I thought, was packed into its chambers, for we scientists had always argued that a laser hand-gun was out of the question, since the power required to produce the laser ray—tightly focused light which could cut through steel—relied on a very big generator. Wonderingly, I handed the gun back to her. These guns, not gifts of the Sheev but probably looted from their now lost or completely ruined cities by Shizala's remote ancestors, were also used infrequently, since once the charge was finally expended it could not be replaced. Their akashasard—or ethercraft—apparently numbered five in all. Three of these belonged to the Karnala and one each to friendly, neighbouring nations—the Iridala and the Walavala. Although there were pilots who could operate them, none of the folk of Vashu had any idea how they worked.

  Other benefits which a few chosen nations had received from the mysterious Sheev included a longevity serum which, once taken, did not need to be taken again. Everyone was allowed to use it and it gave up to two thousand years of life! Because of this very few children were born, so the population of Vashu remained comparatively small. No bad thing, I reflected. I could have listened to Shizala for hours, but at length she stopped my questions with a smile.

  "First we must eat. The evening meal will be served soon. Come."

  I followed Shizala as she led me from the little room and down into the main hall, which was now furnished with several large tables at which sat men and women of Kanala, all handsome and beautiful and chatting gaily.

  They all rose politely, though not servilely, as Shizala took her place at the head of one of the tables. She indicated the chair on her left and I sat down. The food looked strange but smelled good. Opposite me, on Shizala's right, sat a dark-haired young man, superbly muscled. He wore a simple gold bangle on his right wrist and he put his arm on the table in such a way as to show it off.

  Evidently he was proud of it for he wanted me to see it. I guessed it to be a decoration of some kind and thought no more of it.

  Shizala introduced the man as Bradhinak—or Prince Telem Fas Ogdai. The name did not sound like a Karnala name, and it soon transpired that Bradhinak Telem Fas Ogdai was from the city of Mishim Tep, a friendly nation some two thousand miles to the south. He was, so it seemed, a witty talker though, of course, I could not understand what he said. Only a person wearing a circlet could communicate with me.

  On my left was a pleasant-faced young man with long, almost white, fair hair. He seemed to be making a special effort to make me feel at home, offering food and drink, asking polite questions through Shizala, who t
ranslated for us. This was Darnad, Shizala's younger brother. Apparently the succession to the throne of Varnal was determined by sex and not by age.

  Darnad was apparently chief Pukan-Nara of Varnal. A Pukan, I learned, was a warrior, and a Pukan-Nara a warrior leader. The chief PukanNara was elected by popular vote—by civilians and warriors alike. I assumed from this that Darnad's position was therefore no honorary one, and that he had earned it through prowess and intelligence. Though he was personable and charming, the people of Varnal did not judge a man merely on his appearance but on his merit and record.

  I was already beginning to pick up a few words of the Vashu tongue by the time the meal was over, and we adjourned into an ante-room to drink a beverage called basu, a sweetish drink I found quite palatable but which, frankly, did not at that time seem as good to me as good, old-fashioned coffee. Later I was to discover that basu grew on one and then I preferred it to coffee. Like coffee, it is a mild stimulant.

  In spite of the basu, I began to feel quite sleepy and, always alert to her guests' needs, Shizala sensed this.

  "I have had a room prepared for you," she telepathed. "Perhaps you would like to retire now."

  I admitted that the day's surprising experiences had taken a lot out of me. A servant was called and Shizala went with us up the stairs to the second floor of the palace. A dim bulb burned in the room, giving adequate light, Shizala showed me a bell-rope very like old-fashioned bell-ropes on Earth. It was close to the bed and was used to summon a servant. She left her circlet behind when she left. Before she did so she told me that anyone could use the circlet and the servant would know how.

  The bed consisted of a wide, hard bench, on which was a thin mattress. A large fur rug was laid over this, and it seemed rather too heavy, since the day had been very warm. To some, perhaps, the bed would have been too austere but, as it happened, it was the kind I preferred.

  I fell asleep immediately, having shed my clothes, and I awoke only once in the middle of the Martian night—which is, of course, longer than ours—feeling very cold. I had not realized how much the temperature could change. I pulled the rug about me and was soon asleep again.

  Chapter Three

  THE INVADERS

  A FEMALE servant entered in the morning, after knocking lightly on the door. I was standing at the window looking out over the beautiful streets and houses of Varnal. At first I felt embarrassed by my nakedness. But then I realized that there was no need since it was abnormal here to wear many clothes, and then, it seemed, only for decoration.

  What did continue to embarrass me, however, was the look of open admiration she gave me as she handed me my breakfast tray of fruit and basu.

  After she had gone I sat down to eat the fruit—a large one very similar to grape-fruit but with a slightly less bitter taste—and drink the basu.

  I was just finishing when there was another knock on the door. I called, "Come in!" in English, thinking that this would do the trick. It did. In walked Shizala, smiling.

  Seeing her again, it seemed that I had dreamed of her all night, for she was as beautiful—if not more so—as I remembered her. Her blonde hair was swept back from her shoulders and back. She had on a black, gauzy cloak and at her waist was the wide belt containing holstered gun and short sword. These, I gathered, were ceremonial weapons of office, for I could not imagine such a graceful girl having much familiarity with the artifacts of war. On her feet she wore sandals, laced up the calf almost to the knee. That was all she was wearing—but it was enough.

  She picked up the circlet she had worn the day before and put it on.

  "I thought you might wish to ride around the city and see everything," I heard her voice say in my head. "Would you like that?"

  "Very much," I replied. "If you can spare the time."

  "It would please me to do so." She gave me a warm smile.

  I could not make up my mind whether she felt as attracted to me as I was to her, or whether she was just being normally polite. It was a puzzle which was already beginning to fill a great deal of my thoughts.

  "First," she continued, "it would be better if you spent a couple of hours with the Sheev teaching machine. After that you will be able to converse in our language without recourse to these rather clumsy things."

  As she led me down corridors and staircases, I asked her why, if the tongue of Vashu were common, there should be such a thing as a languageteaching machine. She replied that it had been designed for use on other planets but, since the other planets in the solar system only appeared to be inhabited by animals, it had never been used.

  She led me below ground. The cellars of the palace seemed to go down many levels, but at last we reached a place lighted by the same sort of dim bulb as the one in my room. These bulbs were also of Sheev manufacture, Shizala told me, and had once burned much brighter than they did now. The room was small and contained a single piece of equipment. It was large and made of metal I did not recognize—probably an alloy. It glowed a little, adding to the light in the room. It seemed to consist of a cabinet with an alcove moulded to accommodate the form of a seated human being.

  I could see no other machinery and I would dearly have loved to strip the cabinet down to see what was inside—but curbed my impatience.

  "Please sit there," said Shizala, indicating the cabinet. "According to what I have been told, the cabinet will be activated immediately you do so. You may feel yourself black out, but do not be disturbed."

  I did as she asked and, sure enough, as soon as I was seated the cabinet began to hum softly. A cap came down from above and fitted itself over my head, then I began to feel dizzy and soon became unconscious.

  I did not know how much time had passed until I came to, finding myself still seated in the now no longer activated cabinet. I looked at Shizala a little dazedly. My head was aching slightly.

  "How do you feel?" she asked.

  "Fine," I said, getting up.

  But I had not said 'fine' at all, I realized. I had said vrazha—the Martian word that was its nearest equivalent.

  I had spoken Martian!

  "It works!" I cried. "What sort of machine is it that can achieve that so swiftly?"

  "I do not know. We are content simply to use the things of the Sheev. We were warned in the far past never to tamper with their gifts since it might result in disaster for us! Their mighty civilization once suffered a disaster, but we have only a few legends which speak of it and they are bound up in talk of supernatural entities in whom we no longer believe."

  Respecting what was evidently a deeply rooted custom never to question the Sheev inventions, I remained silent, though every instinct made me want to get at the language-teaching machine, probably a highly sophisticated computer containing an hypnotic device of some kind.

  My headache had gone by the time we reached the upper levels of the palace and walked through the great hall out into the city. At the bottom of the wide, white steps two strange beasts were waiting.

  They were about the same size as Shire horses— the famous English Great Horse which had once borne knights into battle. But horses they were not. Their origin seemed to stem from the same basic root as Man! They were ape-like creatures with wide kangaroo tails, their hind legs larger than the forelegs. They were on all fours now and saddles were on their backs. Their great heads, placid and intelligent, turned to look at us as we came down the steps.

  I had a few qualms about mounting mine, since it did bear certain affinities to my own race, but once aboard it seemed natural that I should ride it. Its back was wider than that of a horse and involved stretching one's legs out in front, and cupping the feet in the stirrups attached to another part of the harness up ahead. The saddle had a solid support allowing the rider to stretch backwards at ease. It was rather like being seated in a sports car, and was very comfortable.

  In a kind of holster on my right were several lances, though I had no idea of their purpose. I found that by gentle tugs on the reins, the dahara would r
espond quickly to any command I made.

  With Shizala leading the way, we trotted off through the plaza and down the main street of Varnal.

  The city was as exquisite as ever under the deep yellow sun. The sky was cloudless and I began to relax, feeling that I could spend the rest of my life in Varnal and its surrounds. Here a dome caught the light and flashed brightly; there a little white house nestled between an impressive ziggurat on one side and a slender tower on the other. People moved about in a leisurely yet purposeful way. A fruit market was busy, but there was none of the noise and bustle of a similar Earthly market-place. As we rode around the city, Shizala told me much about it.

  The Karnala as a race had always been primarily traders. Their origins were the same as many races—they had started off as barbarian raiders and finally settled on one part of the country they had liked. But instead of turning to farming they had continued to travel as traders instead of raiders. Because of daring expeditions to far parts of Vashu, they had become very rich, trading southern artifacts for northern precious metals, and so on.

  The Karnala were also great artists, musicians and—what was highly worthwhile in terms of trade as well as everything else—the finest book producers in their world. The printing presses of Karnala, I learned, were of a flatbed type, not so fast as the rotary machines on Earth, but producing what appeared to my eye much sharper printing. The Sanskrit-like lettering I still could not read but, as Shizala took me round a small press, showing me some of the beautifully made books it produced, I soon learned to recognize many words as she pointed them out to me.

  These books were in great demand across the whole continent and were a great asset to the Karnala, as were their artists and writers who produced the raw material.

  Other industries thrived in Varnal. Their swordsmiths were also renowned throughout the world, I learned. The smiths still worked by the old methods, using furnace and anvil much as smiths on Earth worked—an earth that was yet to come, I realized.