CHAPTER XVII

A PLAY TO THE DEATH

Clear and sweet a trumpet spoke across The Fields of Jetan. From The

High Tower its cool voice floated across the city of Manator and above

the babel of human discords rising from the crowded mass that filled

the seats of the stadium below. It called the players for the first

game, and simultaneously there fluttered to the peaks of a thousand

staffs on tower and battlement and the great wall of the stadium the

rich, gay pennons of the fighting chiefs of Manator. Thus was marked

the opening of The Jeddak's Games, the most important of the year and

second only to the Grand Decennial Games.

Gahan of Gathol watched every play with eagle eye. The match was an

unimportant one, being but to settle some petty dispute between two

chiefs, and was played with professional jetan players for points only.

No one was killed and there was but little blood spilled. It lasted

about an hour and was terminated by the chief of the losing side

deliberately permitting himself to be out-pointed, that the game might

be called a draw.

Again the trumpet sounded, this time announcing the second and last

game of the afternoon. While this was not considered an important

match, those being reserved for the fourth and fifth days of the games,

it promised to afford sufficient excitement since it was a game to the

death. The vital difference between the game played with living men and

that in which inanimate pieces are used, lies in the fact that while in

the latter the mere placing of a piece upon a square occupied by an

opponent piece terminates the move, in the former the two pieces thus

brought together engage in a duel for possession of the square.

Therefore there enters into the former game not only the strategy of

jetan but the personal prowess and bravery of each individual piece, so

that a knowledge not only of one's own men but of each player upon the

opposing side is of vast value to a chief.

In this respect was Gahan handicapped, though the loyalty of his

players did much to offset his ignorance of them, since they aided him

in arranging the board to the best advantage and told him honestly the

faults and virtues of each. One fought best in a losing game; another

was too slow; another too impetuous; this one had fire and a heart of

steel, but lacked endurance. Of the opponents, though, they knew little

or nothing, and now as the two sides took their places upon the black

and orange squares of the great jetan board Gahan obtained, for the

first time, a close view of those who opposed him. The Orange Chief had

not yet entered the field, but his men were all in place. Val Dor

turned to Gahan. "They are all criminals from the pits of Manator," he

said. "There is no slave among them. We shall not have to fight against

a single fellow-countryman and every life we take will be the life of

an enemy."

"It is well," replied Gahan; "but where is their Chief, and where the

two Princesses?"

"They are coming now, see?" and he pointed across the field to where

two women could be seen approaching under guard.

As they came nearer Gahan saw that one was indeed Tara of Helium, but

the other he did not recognize, and then they were brought to the

center of the field midway between the two sides and there waited until

the Orange Chief arrived.

Floran voiced an exclamation of surprise when he recognized him. "By my

first ancestor if it is not one of their great chiefs," he said, "and

we were told that slaves and criminals were to play for the stake of

this game."

His words were interrupted by the keeper of The Towers whose duty it

was not only to announce the games and the stakes, but to act as

referee as well.

"Of this, the second game of the first day of the Jeddak's Games in the

four hundred and thirty-third year of O-Tar, Jeddak of Manator, the

Princesses of each side shall be the sole stakes and to the survivors

of the winning side shall belong both the Princesses, to do with as

they shall see fit. The Orange Princess is the slave woman Lan-O of

Gathol; the Black Princess is the slave woman Tara, a princess of

Helium. The Black Chief is U-Kal of Manataj, a volunteer player; the

Orange Chief is the dwar U-Dor of the 8th Utan of the jeddak of

Manator, also a volunteer player. The squares shall be contested to the

death. Just are the laws of Manator! I have spoken."

The initial move was won by U-Dor, following which the two Chiefs

escorted their respective Princesses to the square each was to occupy.

It was the first time Gahan had been alone with Tara since she had been

brought upon the field. He saw her scrutinizing him closely as he

approached to lead her to her place and wondered if she recognized him:

but if she did she gave no sign of it. He could not but remember her

last words--"I hate you!" and her desertion of him when he had been

locked in the room beneath the palace by I-Gos, the taxidermist, and so

he did not seek to enlighten her as to his identity. He meant to fight

for her--to die for her, if necessary--and if he did not die to go on

fighting to the end for her love. Gahan of Gathol was not easily to be

discouraged, but he was compelled to admit that his chances of winning

the love of Tara of Helium were remote. Already had she repulsed him

twice. Once as jed of Gathol and again as Turan the panthan. Before his

love, however, came her safety and the former must be relegated to the

background until the latter had been achieved.

Passing among the players already at their stations the two took their

places upon their respective squares. At Tara's left was the Black

Chief, Gahan of Gathol; directly in front of her the Princess' Panthan,

Floran of Gathol; and at her right the Princess' Odwar, Val Dor of

Helium. And each of these knew the part that he was to play, win or

lose, as did each of the other Black players. As Tara took her place

Val Dor bowed low. "My sword is at your feet, Tara of Helium," he said.

She turned and looked at him, an expression of surprise and incredulity

upon her face. "Val Dor, the dwar!" she exclaimed. "Val Dor of

Helium--one of my father's trusted captains! Can it be possible that my

eyes speak the truth?"

"It is Val Dor, Princess," the warrior replied, "and here to die for

you if need be, as is every wearer of the Black upon this field of

jetan today. Know Princess," he whispered, "that upon this side is no

man of Manator, but each and every is an enemy of Manator."

She cast a quick, meaning glance toward Gahan. "But what of him?" she

whispered, and then she caught her breath quickly in surprise. "Shade

of the first jeddak!" she exclaimed. "I did but just recognize him

through his disguise."

"And you trust him?" asked Val Dor. "I know him not; but he spoke

fairly, as an honorable warrior, and we have taken him at his word."

"You have made no mistake," replied Tara of Helium. "I would trust him

with my life--with my soul; and you, too, may trust him."

Happy indeed would have been Gahan of Gathol could he have heard those

words; but Fate, who is usually unkind to the lover in such matters,

ordained it otherwise, and then the game was on.

U-Dor moved his Princess' Odwar three squares diagonally to the right,

which placed the piece upon the Black Chief's Odwar's seventh. The move

was indicative of the game that U-Dor intended playing--a game of

blood, rather than of science--and evidenced his contempt for his

opponents.

Gahan followed with his Odwar's Panthan one square straight forward, a

more scientific move, which opened up an avenue for himself through his

line of Panthans, as well as announcing to the players and spectators

that he intended having a hand in the fighting himself even before the

exigencies of the game forced it upon him. The move elicited a ripple

of applause from those sections of seats reserved for the common

warriors and their women, showing perhaps that U-Dor was none too

popular with these, and, too, it had its effect upon the morale of

Gahan's pieces. A Chief may, and often does, play almost an entire game

without leaving his own square, where, mounted upon a thoat, he may

overlook the entire field and direct each move, nor may he be

reproached for lack of courage should he elect thus to play the game

since, by the rules, were he to be slain or so badly wounded as to be

compelled to withdraw, a game that might otherwise have been won by the

science of his play and the prowess of his men would be drawn. To

invite personal combat, therefore, denotes confidence in his own

swordsmanship, and great courage, two attributes that were calculated

to fill the Black players with hope and valor when evinced by their

Chief thus early in the game.

U-Dor's next move placed Lan-O's Odwar upon Tara's Odwar's

fourth--within striking distance of the Black Princess.

Another move and the game would be lost to Gahan unless the Orange

Odwar was overthrown, or Tara moved to a position of safety; but to

move his Princess now would be to admit his belief in the superiority

of the Orange. In the three squares allowed him he could not place

himself squarely upon the square occupied by the Odwar of U-Dor's

Princess. There was only one player upon the Black side that might

dispute the square with the enemy and that was the Chief's Odwar, who

stood upon Gahan's left. Gahan turned upon his thoat and looked at the

man. He was a splendid looking fellow, resplendent in the gorgeous

trappings of an Odwar, the five brilliant feathers which denoted his

position rising defiantly erect from his thick, black hair. In common

with every player upon the field and every spectator in the crowded

stands he knew what was passing in his Chief's mind. He dared not

speak, the ethics of the game forbade it, but what his lips might not

voice his eyes expressed in martial fire, and eloquently: "The honor of

the Black and the safety of our Princess are secure with me!"

Gahan hesitated no longer. "Chief's Odwar to Princess' Odwar's fourth!"

he commanded. It was the courageous move of a leader who had taken up

the gauntlet thrown down by his opponent.

The warrior sprang forward and leaped into the square occupied by

U-Dor's piece. It was the first disputed square of the game. The eyes

of the players were fastened upon the contestants, the spectators

leaned forward in their seats after the first applause that had greeted

the move, and silence fell upon the vast assemblage. If the Black went

down to defeat, U-Dor could move his victorious piece on to the square

occupied by Tara of Helium and the game would be over--over in four

moves and lost to Gahan of Gathol. If the Orange lost U-Dor would have

sacrificed one of his most important pieces and more than lost what

advantage the first move might have given him.

Physically the two men appeared perfectly matched and each was fighting

for his life, but from the first it was apparent that the Black Odwar

was the better swordsman, and Gahan knew that he had another and

perhaps a greater advantage over his antagonist. The latter was

fighting for his life only, without the spur of chivalry or loyalty.

The Black Odwar had these to strengthen his arm, and besides these the

knowledge of the thing that Gahan had whispered into the ears of his

players before the game, and so he fought for what is more than life to

the man of honor.

It was a duel that held those who witnessed it in spellbound silence.

The weaving blades gleamed in the brilliant sunlight, ringing to the

parries of cut and thrust. The barbaric harness of the duelists lent

splendid color to the savage, martial scene. The Orange Odwar, forced

upon the defensive, was fighting madly for his life. The Black, with

cool and terrible efficiency, was forcing him steadily, step by step,

into a corner of the square--a position from which there could be no

escape. To abandon the square was to lose it to his opponent and win

for himself ignoble and immediate death before the jeering populace.

Spurred on by the seeming hopelessness of his plight, the Orange Odwar

burst into a sudden fury of offense that forced the Black back a half

dozen steps, and then the sword of U-Dor's piece leaped in and drew

first blood, from the shoulder of his merciless opponent. An

ill-smothered cry of encouragement went up from U-Dor's men; the Orange

Odwar, encouraged by his single success, sought to bear down the Black

by the rapidity of his attack. There was a moment in which the swords

moved with a rapidity that no man's eye might follow, and then the

Black Odwar made a lightning parry of a vicious thrust, leaned quickly

forward into the opening he had effected, and drove his sword through

the heart of the Orange Odwar--to the hilt he drove it through the body

of the Orange Odwar.

A shout arose from the stands, for wherever may have been the favor of

the spectators, none there was who could say that it had not been a

pretty fight, or that the better man had not won. And from the Black

players came a sigh of relief as they relaxed from the tension of the

past moments.

I shall not weary you with the details of the game--only the high

features of it are necessary to your understanding of the outcome. The

fourth move after the victory of the Black Odwar found Gahan upon

U-Dor's fourth; an Orange Panthan was on the adjoining square

diagonally to his right and the only opposing piece that could engage

him other than U-Dor himself.

It had been apparent to both players and spectators for the past two

moves, that Gahan was moving straight across the field into the enemy's

country to seek personal combat with the Orange Chief--that he was

staking all upon his belief in the superiority of his own

swordsmanship, since if the two Chiefs engage, the outcome decides the

game. U-Dor could move out and engage Gahan, or he could move his

Princess' Panthan upon the square occupied by Gahan in the hope that the

former would defeat the Black Chief and thus draw the game, which is

the outcome if any other than a Chief slays the opposing Chief, or he

could move away and escape, temporarily, the necessity for personal

combat, or at least that is evidently what he had in mind as was

obvious to all who saw him scanning the board about him; and his

disappointment was apparent when he finally discovered that Gahan had

so placed himself that there was no square to which U-Dor could move

that it was not within Gahan's power to reach at his own next move.

U-Dor had placed his own Princess four squares east of Gahan when her

position had been threatened, and he had hoped to lure the Black Chief

after her and away from U-Dor; but in that he had failed. He now

discovered that he might play his own Odwar into personal combat with

Gahan; but he had already lost one Odwar and could ill spare the other.

His position was a delicate one, since he did not wish to engage Gahan

personally, while it appeared that there was little likelihood of his

being able to escape. There was just one hope and that lay in his

Princess' Panthan, so, without more deliberation he ordered the piece

onto the square occupied by the Black Chief.

The sympathies of the spectators were all with Gahan now. If he lost,

the game would be declared a draw, nor do they think better of drawn

games upon Barsoom than do Earth men. If he won, it would doubtless

mean a duel between the two Chiefs, a development for which they all

were hoping. The game already bade fair to be a short one and it would

be an angry crowd should it be decided a draw with only two men slain.

There were great, historic games on record where of the forty pieces on

the field when the game opened only three survived--the two Princesses

and the victorious Chief.

They blamed U-Dor, though in fact he was well within his rights in

directing his play as he saw fit, nor was a refusal on his part to

engage the Black Chief necessarily an imputation of cowardice. He was a

great chief who had conceived a notion to possess the slave Tara. There

was no honor that could accrue to him from engaging in combat with

slaves and criminals, or an unknown warrior from Manataj, nor was the

stake of sufficient import to warrant the risk.

But now the duel between Gahan and the Orange Panthan was on and the

decision of the next move was no longer in other hands than theirs. It

was the first time that these Manatorians had seen Gahan of Gathol

fight, but Tara of Helium knew that he was master of his sword. Could

he have seen the proud light in her eyes as he crossed blades with the

wearer of the Orange, he might easily have wondered if they were the

same eyes that had flashed fire and hatred at him that time he had

covered her lips with mad kisses, in the pits of the palace of O-Tar.

As she watched him she could not but compare his swordplay with that of

the greatest swordsman of two worlds--her father, John Carter, of

Virginia, a Prince of Helium, Warlord of Barsoom--and she knew that the

skill of the Black Chief suffered little by the comparison.

Short and to the point was the duel that decided possession of the

Orange Chief's fourth. The spectators had settled themselves for an

interesting engagement of at least average duration when they were

brought almost standing by a brilliant flash of rapid swordplay that

was over ere one could catch his breath. They saw the Black Chief step

quickly back, his point upon the ground, while his opponent, his sword

slipping from his fingers, clutched his breast, sank to his knees and

then lunged forward upon his face.

And then Gahan of Gathol turned his eyes directly upon U-Dor of

Manator, three squares away. Three squares is a Chief's move--three

squares in any direction or combination of directions, only provided

that he does not cross the same square twice in a given move. The

people saw and guessed Gahan's intention. They rose and roared forth

their approval as he moved deliberately across the intervening squares

toward the Orange Chief.

O-Tar, in the royal enclosure, sat frowning upon the scene. O-Tar was

angry. He was angry with U-Dor for having entered this game for

possession of a slave, for whom it had been his wish only slaves and

criminals should strive. He was angry with the warrior from Manataj for

having so far out-generaled and out-fought the men from Manator. He was

angry with the populace because of their open hostility toward one who

had basked in the sunshine of his favor for long years. O-Tar the

jeddak had not enjoyed the afternoon. Those who surrounded him were

equally glum--they, too, scowled upon the field, the players, and the

people. Among them was a bent and wrinkled old man who gazed through

weak and watery eyes upon the field and the players.

As Gahan entered his square, U-Dor leaped toward him with drawn sword

with such fury as might have overborne a less skilled and powerful

swordsman. For a minute the fighting was fast and furious and by

comparison reducing to insignificance all that had gone before. Here

indeed were two magnificent swordsmen, and here was to be a battle that

bade fair to make up for whatever the people felt they had been

defrauded of by the shortness of the game. Nor had it continued long

before many there were who would have prophesied that they were

witnessing a duel that was to become historic in the annals of jetan at

Manator. Every trick, every subterfuge, known to the art of fence these

men employed. Time and again each scored a point and brought blood to

his opponent's copper hide until both were red with gore; but neither

seemed able to administer the coup de grace.

From her position upon the opposite side of the field Tara of Helium

watched the long-drawn battle. Always it seemed to her that the Black

Chief fought upon the defensive, or when he assumed to push his

opponent, he neglected a thousand openings that her practiced eye

beheld. Never did he seem in real danger, nor never did he appear to

exert himself to quite the pitch needful for victory. The duel already

had been long contested and the day was drawing to a close. Presently

the sudden transition from daylight to darkness which, owing to the

tenuity of the air upon Barsoom, occurs almost without the warning

twilight of Earth, would occur. Would the fight never end? Would the

game be called a draw after all? What ailed the Black Chief?

Tara wished that she might answer at least the last of these questions

for she was sure that Turan the panthan, as she knew him, while

fighting brilliantly, was not giving of himself all that he might. She

could not believe that fear was restraining his hand, but that there

was something beside inability to push U-Dor more fiercely she was

confident. What it was, however, she could not guess.

Once she saw Gahan glance quickly up toward the sinking sun. In thirty

minutes it would be dark. And then she saw and all those others saw a

strange transition steal over the swordplay of the Black Chief. It was

as though he had been playing with the great dwar, U-Dor, all these

hours, and now he still played with him but there was a difference. He

played with him terribly as a carnivore plays with its victim in the

instant before the kill. The Orange Chief was helpless now in the hands

of a swordsman so superior that there could be no comparison, and the

people sat in open-mouthed wonder and awe as Gahan of Gathol cut his

foe to ribbons and then struck him down with a blow that cleft him to

the chin.

In twenty minutes the sun would set. But what of that?