Under the Moons of Mars Read online

  WOOLA’S SONG

  BY THEODORA GOSS

  Listen, my clutchmates. Listen as I tell you how I met my master, John Carter. How we fought the ilthurs, how we fled from the Tharks into the mountains and valleys of this land, where I lost my master. How I came at last to the lost valley of our songs, where water flows and the trees give pleasant shade, and met the others of our kind. Where I learned—

  But let me begin as I ought to, with praise for our mother, Awala, the fierce, the many-tusked, protector of her clutch. She longed to raise her children in freedom, so when her time came, she hid from the Tharks in one of the buildings of this city, which once belonged to the Orovars of our songs but now belongs to the Tharks, whose slaves we are.

  There she sang her birthing song and laid us, seven eggs in a hollow she had dug in the dirt, where the floor tiles had long ago cracked. The warm earth held us as we grew, learning her songs even as we lay curled in our eggs, learning to sing with our minds, together as a clutch, my brothers and sisters.

  Alas the day that an ilthur found her, curled on her clutch, crooning to us! How she fought! Praise to our mother, to the fierce Awala, who wounded the ilthur, who thrust her tusks into its throat so that it died, its white fur soaked with blood. Praise her and mourn her, our mother who died when the hands of the ilthur, in its death-agony, crushed her throat. As long as we live, we shall remember her and sing her praises, who died so that we might hatch and feel the cool air and warm sun, and sing together as she had taught us.

  Listen, my clutchmates. You remember how we hatched out of our shells in that chamber, how for seven days we ate nothing but that ilthur, gnawing it although our teeth were still soft. How we would not eat our mother, even though we were starving because we had no mother to hunt for us. After seven days we were found by Sola of the Tharks, who brought us to her master, Tas Tharvas. There we were raised as our kind are raised, as slaves to the Tharks.

  Sola was kind to us. She fed us well and crooned to us with her mind, almost as our mother would have, although she could not hear our songs. Remember how we tumbled over the floor and each other, chasing a ball. Wala lying on her back, her legs flailing. Awol falling on his nose in his eagerness. Lawala and Oola bumping into each other, Alool singing a song of triumph when at last he cornered it. Olawa stealing it from him. Those were good days, with food and song, my brothers and sisters.

  But soon enough, we were trained as our kind is among the Tharks. We were given food enough for five, and made to fight one another for it. We were taught to fight ulsios, thules, bakaras, all to prepare us for when we were adults and would fight in the arena for the amusements of the Tharks. What saved us then, my brothers and sisters? What kept us from wounding one another more than we had to, working together to defeat the mindless animals that the Tharks sent against us? It was the song we shared, mind to mind, as I am singing to you now.

  And so we grew in the house of Tas Tharvas, trained to be fierce, trained as our mother had been to use our tusks to kill. Who showed us tenderness? Only Sola, who would stoke our ridges, who would bring us food when Tas Tharvas had ordered us to be starved, to make us more bloodthirsty. Only Sola wept when we were separated, I to remain with Tas Tharvas, you to be sent to the houses of other Tharks or to the arena. Only Sola put her arms around me while I howled and rattled my chains. At last, weary, I lay down beside her and wept with her, my clutchmates!

  One day Sola came into the chamber where I was kept, her eyes brighter and her steps lighter than usual. I could hear the song in her mind: Tas Tharvas was dead, struck by a strange visitor whose skin was as pale and ugly as an ilthur’s, but who was as strong as the strongest of the Tharks. “Come, Woola,” she said. I followed her down the corridors and into a chamber where I saw him, John Carter as I was later to learn. He was indeed as ugly as an ilthur, although hairless. Not green like the Tharks or one of our kind.

  “You must make certain that he does not leave this chamber,” she said to me. And so I guarded the door.

  That was how I met my prisoner, for John Carter was my prisoner before he was my master. Twice he tried to escape from me. Once, I followed him to the border of the city, where the buildings are unoccupied. It was close to where we had hatched, my brothers and sisters, and I remembered our mother, Awala, and praised and mourned her in my mind. I tried to warn him, tried to drive him back, but like the Tharks, he could not hear my mindsongs, and my motions meant nothing to him.

  He went into one of those buildings, and just as he was looking at the curious paintings on the walls, paintings left by the Orovars of our songs, an ilthur sprang upon him. It had the branch of a bodi tree in its hand, and it would have killed him with it, had I not thrown myself at its throat. I fought as our mother had fought, biting the ilthur through the shoulder so that it dropped the branch, but it clutched my throat and I thought I was surely going to die in that room. “I’m coming to you, Awala my mother,” I sang. “Wait for me in that valley we sing of, where our kind live together, and where no Thark has ever set foot.”

  But John Carter picked up the branch of the bodi tree and with one blow, he crushed the head of the ilthur. And then we heard a roar. It was the mate of the ilthur, who had come into the room and seen its mate lying dead upon the floor. It lay dead, I lay dying, and John Carter turned to the window, about to leap outside and so make his escape. But he looked back and saw me lying there, at the mercy of the ilthur.

  What would a Thark have done, my clutchmates? I had lost my fight, and a Thark would have left me there to die. But John Carter did not leave me to die. He threw the branch of the bodi tree at the ilthur, striking it on the head. The ilthur fell to the floor, and then John Carter struck it again and again, until it lay dead.

  Then both of us heard laughter. There at the door stood Sola and several Tharks. She had noticed our absence and led them to us. It was they who were laughing, having witnessed and enjoyed our struggle with the ilthurs. One of them said, with a broad smile on his face, “Let the calot be killed,” and another took out his weapon. He pointed it at me, but John Carter struck his hand so that the projectile hit the wall. And then he knelt beside me and said, “Follow me, Woola.” So I rose and followed him, grateful to be alive, grateful to my new master for having saved me twice in one day from certain death.

  That day, for only the second time in my life, I felt affection toward someone other than you, my clutchmates. I had loved Sola because of her kindness to us. Now I learned to love John Carter, not only because he had saved my life, but also because he treated me with a kindness to which I was not accustomed among the Tharks. He would sit with me, talking about the place he had come from, and about Dejah Thoris, the granddaughter of the Jeddak of Helium, whose airship had been captured by the Tharks. I could not hear his mindsong as clearly as I could hear those of the Tharks, but I could hear his tenderness toward her, his desire to rescue her from certain death.

  At last, one day, he decided that an attempt at rescue should be made. I was determined not to be left behind, although I could hear in his mind that he was planning to leave me because he believed I belonged among the Tharks. But I had no desire to remain among them. I would rather leave the city of my birth, leave you, my brothers and sisters, than remain a slave.

  He had hidden his thoats in one of the buildings at the edge of the city, close to where we had fought the ilthurs. He was planning to bring Sola and Dejah Thoris to our chamber, and then flee with them before the sun rose in the sky. Before he left, he put his arms around me and said, “You’re a good dog, Woola. Take care of yourself, all right?”

  I lay in our chamber, waiting until I knew he was gone. I was going to follow him stealthily, creeping through the back alleys of the city. I was not going to allow him to leave me behind.

  But soon after he left, two Thark warriors came to his chamber.

  “They will throw him to the wild calots,” said one, “but only after he is forced to watch Dejah Thoris suffer at the hands of
Tal Hajus.”

  The other laughed, as though anticipating such as spectacle with pleasure, and then said, “What about the calot?”

  “Tie it up for the night. We will take it to Tal Hajus tomorrow.”

  I thought about fighting, my clutchmates. But both of them had projectile weapons, and they would have killed me. Then what good would I be to myself, or my master? No, I allowed them to tie me with a rope. A rope, I thought, I can bite through that! But it took all night for me to gnaw through it, all night in that silent room, not knowing whether or not my master had been captured, whether or not he was even now enduring the tortures of the Tharks.

  After the warriors left, I rose and ran, as swiftly as I was able, to the building where I knew John Carter had left the thoats. They were gone. But I could follow their scent, so I ran even more swiftly than I had thought possible through the city, and when I had left the city buildings behind, over the plains to the north, where our songs say the first calots were laid and hatched by our Great Mother, Lal. It was with joy that I felt the warmth of the sun on my body. I coursed swiftly over the plain, knowing that my master was ahead of me. I smelled nothing but his thoats, so I knew he had not been followed. The wind over the plains tasted of freedom.

  When the sun was already high in the sky, I saw them, resting beneath the shade of the thoats. How joyful John Carter was to see me! And Dejah Thoris herself embraced me and said, “I’m so glad to see you, Woola,” before she kissed my snout.

  But our journey that day did not go well. One of the thoats became sick and could not carry a rider, so we left it. John Carter and Sola walked, which slowed us down considerably. And when the sun was beginning to descend, Dejah Thoris cried, “I see Tharks—or warriors of some other green tribe!”

  We turned, and there they were, hundreds of warriors ranged along the horizon. We saw a flash of light, and heard a distant shout—one of them had seen us with his field glasses. Suddenly, hundreds of warriors were moving toward us over the plain.

  John Carter turned to us. “Sola, take Dejah Thoris and ride into the mountains. I’ll stay behind and fight. Go, now!”

  “No, my chieftain,” said Dejah Thoris. “I will stay and fight beside the man I love.”

  If I had ever been jealous of the favor in which John Carter held her, and I admit that I had at times felt such jealousy, it melted at that moment. She was as brave as a calot.

  “I could not fight them as well, Dejah Thoris, if I knew you were in danger,” said John Carter. “Ride for the mountains, and I will at least slow them down. Go, my Princess!”

  Reluctantly, Sola and Dejah Thoris mounted the thoat. I stood beside John Carter, ready to give my life to protect him. But he knelt beside me, took my head in his hands, and said, “Woola, you must protect my Princess. Can I trust you to do that?”

  I growled, unwilling to leave him. But I could hear his mindsong, asking me to go with her, to protect her. So, with Sola and Dejah Thoris upon the thoat, and me loping beside them, we made for the mountains, where we could lose the warriors among the ravines and defiles.

  Only once did I look back at my master. He was battling Green warriors—not Tharks but Warhoons, by their ornaments—jumping like one of the litvak of the mountains, attempting to avoid them. But there were too many of them, and as I looked, they swarmed over him and he was taken captive. In sorrow I turned and followed the thoat, certain that I would never see my master again. My duty was now to protect Sola and Dejah Thoris.

  That night we slept in one of the ravines, trying to conceal ourselves as best we could, lighting no fire. Sola gathered sap from an ighur plant, and she brought some for Dejah Thoris to eat. I ate some as well, and it assuaged both my hunger and thirst, for there was no water anywhere. She and Dejah Thoris had not seen John Carter fall to the Green warriors, and I was glad—let them hope, at least for a little while. But I was sunk in sorrow, and as I lay upon the ground, watching the moons rise, I began to compose his song of lament and praise.

  The next day, we made our way through the canyons, trying to stay where we hoped we would not be seen. We were hungry and thirsty, for there were few ighur plants in that area, and Sola had given much of what she had gathered to the thoat. But on we went, Sola and Dejah Thoris riding, and I loping at their side, in the direction of the highest peak. From that peak, we would be able to see the country around, and find a canal—which would lead us to Helium.

  By late afternoon, we had almost reached it. It would be a steep climb, but I was relieved to be able to rest for a while in the shade of a large boulder. As we were resting there, we heard a shout. Quickly, Dejah Thoris rose and drew her weapon. Sola was just behind her. I, too, looked around, but could see and smell nothing. Then another shout, and suddenly a Red warrior was running down the side of a gorge toward us. Sola shot and he fell, but he was followed by another, and then another, and then an entire army of Red warriors running toward us and shouting.

  In a moment they were upon us. Dejah Thoris was captured at once. Sola fought valiantly, but she too was captured. I wounded many of them with my tusks before they were able to capture me and tie my snout, so I could no longer gore or bite. Dejah Thoris’s and Sola’s hands were tied as well.

  Then one of the Red warriors, a jed by his ornaments, strode up to Dejah Thoris and said, “I recognize you, Princess of Helium. I traveled with our ambassador to your grandfather’s court, when he refused our offer of peace between Zodanga and Helium. He will regret that decision. You are now a prisoner of Zodanga. Than Kosis will be so pleased to have you in his dungeon, he might just promote me to his personal guard. And you, Green warrior, and that hideous beast, will all come with me to Zodanga, where you will meet your deaths.”

  “My grandfather would never purchase peace at that price!” said Dejah Thoris. “Helium is a free city. We will never submit to Zodanga!”

  “Speak those brave words to Than Kosis himself, and see how quickly he cuts out your tongue, Princess!” said the Red warrior. “Now, march!”

  Thereafter, even Dejah Thoris marched in silence. We followed the Red warriors, Sola and Dejah Thoris walking, for the Zodangans had taken the thoat as their own, until the first moon rose and we rested among the canyons.

  That night, we were fed by the Zodangans, and I realized what I had never thought possible: that it is better to be free and starving than a captive and well-fed. But I ate the flat portions of ghram they gave us because I knew that whatever happened, I would need my strength.

  As I was eating, the Jed who had captured us passed by me, no doubt checking on his prisoners. Another Red warrior walked beside him, and to that warrior he said, “We will be well-rewarded by Than Kosis when we reach Zodanga. The Princess of Helium will fetch a fine ransom, and I have no doubt that the Green warrior and the thoat can both be put to work in the palace. They look strong and healthy. But the calot is too wild and will have to be killed. I wonder if Than Kosis will allow me to take its skin for a rug?”

  So I was to be killed! As if I were of no more use than a litvak or an ulsio! The Zodangans prided themselves on being more civilized than the Tharks, but even a Thark would not kill a calot unless he were wounded, or in battle.

  What to do now was a conundrum to me, my clutchmates. I had promised John Carter that I would stay with Sola and Dejah Thoris, but I would be of no use to them in Zodanga as a rug on a Red jed’s floor. While the second moon rose, still not knowing what I should do, I rubbed the rope that tied my snout against a rock until it snapped, and went to where Sola and Dejah Thoris were lying upon the ground. The Zodangans were asleep, and the guards did not see me. They were concerned with intruders from the outside, for earlier that day one of them had seen a Warhoon in the distance.

  Sola was asleep, but Dejah Thoris sat up as I came near her. Her hands were bound, but she put her face next to my snout and said, “Dear Woola. You always know the right thing to do. Listen well: You must escape from this camp and find John Carter. Do you understand, Woola
? You must find him and bring him to us. He will save us from the Zodangans.”

  I had no way of telling her that John Carter had fallen, and was either dead or a captive among the Warhoons. But she was right, without his aid, we had no hope among the Zodangans. Her command released me from his—I would go find my master and if he still lived, I would help him in any way I could.

  I growled deep in my throat, nuzzled her cheek (too roughly perhaps, because I almost sent her tumbling backward), and then turned and crept, silently, through two rows of guards. Just as I had reached the edge of their line, one of them spotted me and shouted, “Stop!” So I rose and ran as swiftly as I could through the boulder-strewn ravine where we had camped. I heard shots, and once I felt a pain in one of my legs. But I did not stop running until I was deep into the shadows of the canyon walls. There, by the light of the moons I saw a small cave, and deep into it I crept, to sleep until morning.

  When the light of the sun woke me, I crept outside and looked around me. Where was I? I had paid no attention to where I was going in my flight, and now I was lost.