A Trip to Mars

CHAPTER XXX

CAPTURED

When the ominous summons to surrender was heard, shouted down from some invisible person in the air above them, it was Malto who took upon himself to reply.

His brain had been working quickly. At first he had feared that it was Agrando's people who had thus found them out, but a moment's reflection convinced him that such a thing was extremely improbable. If it were indeed so, then, such was his detestation of his late master, and horror of again falling into his clutches, that he would rather have died fighting than yield.

But Agrando's men would have acted first. There would have been no preliminary summons; they would simply have used their tridents to render the fugitives powerless at once. The inference was that these must be some other people who were not armed with tridents. All the same, resistance was probably useless, as they could not even see their adversaries, and a fight could only end in one way. So he called out, 'Who are you? And why do you threaten us? We have no quarrel with you, whoever you are. We are peaceable folk.'

'You will find out who we are in good time,' was the answer, given with a grim laugh. 'Will you surrender quietly, or shall we' —

The speaker did not finish the sentence, but waited for an answer, as though he considered it unnecessary to say more.

There were other sounds, however, which had caught Malto's quick ear – sounds as of a number of men moving about amongst the surrounding rocks, and from these he drew the inference that the threat that had been made was not likely to prove an idle one.

'If we yield, what are you going to do with us?' he asked again.

'That is for us to say. We cannot make any bargain with you,' was the answer given roughly and impatiently.

'Will you guarantee us good treatment? Remember, I have told you we are peaceable folk. Have you no fear that King Agrando will call you to account?'

At this there was a harsh laugh.

'We have no fear of Agrando or his ruffians,' the voice declared jeeringly. 'You will gain nothing by appealing to him here.'

'Then you ought to welcome us as friends instead of treating us as enemies, for we have no more bitter foe than that same Agrando.'

'Why,' cried another voice, 'the fellow is mocking us! Is he not himself one of Agrando's myrmidons? He is dressed in the tyrant's uniform – ay, and so is another I can see beside him!'

'A man may wear another's uniform and yet be no friend of' – Malto began, when Malandris interrupted him. It struck him that the second speaker was not unknown to him.

'I ought to know that voice!' he exclaimed. 'I should recognise it among a thousand. Surely it is Landris, who was once a friend of mine!'

'It is Malandris,' they heard the second man then say; and there ensued a colloquy in a low tone between the unseen speakers. Presently the second man's voice was heard again.

'If you are Malandris, what are you doing here? If you have come out at the tyrant's bidding to join in hunting us down' —

'We are fugitives, Landris. We have run away from him, as you yourself did once, and for the same reason – because we could put up with his treatment no longer. He condemned me to the cage of the krudias – his great monstrous bats – but by good chance these brave gentlemen, who are my companions, rescued me, and we all had to flee for our lives in consequence.'

Again there was a conference in low tones, and what seemed to be an argument ensued. At last the one called Landris said aloud, 'I tell you I will have it so! I know this Malandris to be an honest man, and once he saved my life; and I insist that he and those with him shall go before the chief and speak for themselves.'

'Oh, very well, if you insist!' the other replied. 'But, recollect, if there is trouble about it, it is your doing, not mine.'

'You will have to be bound and blindfolded, Malandris – all of you,' Landris now said. 'I will conduct you to our leader, and you can tell your story to him. If he believes that you speak the truth he will not harm you – indeed, he may welcome you if so be that you care to join him and fight against Agrando, even as he did with me.'

'Lead us to him, friend Landris. That is all I ask,' Malandris said.

A few moments later the fugitives found themselves in the midst of a crowd of rough-looking men, who climbed down from the adjoining rocks, bringing with them lanterns and pieces of rope.

They were certainly not by any means of attractive appearance, and their apparel was of the coarsest. Their hair and beards, too, were unkempt, and their manners gruff and surly. But they had the appearance of alert, hardy veterans of the wilds; and in their handling of their prisoners there was nothing cruel or insulting.

The one named Landris greeted Malandris with quiet friendliness, and his companion – the one who had called upon them to surrender – also came and conversed with the prisoners. His name, it appeared, was Duralda. He was a fine, picturesque figure of a man, with bearded face, shaggy hair, and dressed in what had probably once been a rich costume, but had evidently seen its best days. This man examined and questioned each prisoner in turn, but showed no resentment when, acting upon a hint from Malandris, they told him civilly that they preferred to tell what they had to tell to his chief.

Their wings and other belongings were packed up by the band – of whom it was now seen there were fully a hundred – and in due time the whole party commenced a march over very difficult, rocky ground.

At the end of some two hours a halt was called. They were then blindfolded, and the march resumed in slow fashion, each captive being led by two guards, one on each side.

This time, after ascending some steep, broken ground, they came to steps, up which their guards assisted them.

At length there was another halt, and a low, tumultuous murmuring sound told them that they must have arrived in the midst of a considerable assembly.

Then the bandages were removed from their eyes, and they gazed round upon a marvellous scene.

CHAPTER XXXI

AT HOME IN A VOLCANO

The prisoners found themselves in the middle of what they took to be a vast round building, with an immense domed roof, open to the sky in the centre. As a matter of fact, they afterwards knew it to be the interior of the crater of an extinct volcano.

Into the open part, one of Mars' two moons was peeping, throwing down a warm, mellow light, very different from the pale silvery beams of our own moon.

But this soft radiance was lost in the bright illumination given out by thousands of lights of some kind which were placed about within the great dome – some round the rocky walls, others high up in the wide, lofty roof.

Round the sides, below, were seats, rising tier upon tier, save at one place, where was a platform or dais, upon which were raised seats with a canopy over them. Just in front of the highest seat stood a man of commanding appearance, who gazed at the prisoners with a look of keen, searching scrutiny. This man, as they afterwards learned, was the chief of whom Malto had spoken – the one who was known as Fumenta. He was dressed as plainly as his followers – indeed, more plainly than some of them; but there was that in his face, in his manner, in his very pose, which singled him out from all the rest, and proclaimed the fact that he was their leader.

That he must be old was apparent from the gray beard and the gray hair which showed beneath his head-covering – a kind of helmet. His face, too, was seamed and marked, and spoke eloquently of a life of hardship and adventure. But his tall figure was upright and stalwart, and exhibited no sign of failing strength; while his dark, piercing eyes were flashing with a fire almost as of youth.

Duralda and Landris mounted, by means of three or four steps, on to the platform, and, after a respectful salutation, conferred in a low tone with their leader. Meantime, those seated around – of whom there must have been many hundreds – ceased their talk, and gazed in silence at the prisoners.

Presently, Fumenta turned from his henchmen, and, fixing his eagle glance upon the captives, began to question them. 'Who are you?' he asked. 'And what are you doing in these parts?' His voice was sonorous, and, though stern, not unpleasing. He glanced from one to the other, as if to mark the effect of his question upon each in turn; but he evidently addressed himself more particularly to Malandris, who had been pointed out by Landris.

'We were storm-tossed travellers at the time we were captured, my lord,' Malandris answered. 'We had lost our way. Apart from that, we were fugitives fleeing from' —

Fumenta's eyes flashed and his brow grew dark.

'I want a plain answer,' he interrupted warningly. 'You – you two – wear Agrando's hated livery; you are evidently his servitors – some of his myrmidons! Woe to you if you have come here to play the part of spy for him!'

At the mention of the words 'livery' and 'servitors,' Malto had started and flushed. And now at the word 'spy' he seemed to lose control of himself. He laid a hand on Malandris, as though asking that the answering of the questions should be left to him. Then, drawing himself up, he said haughtily, 'Though we are your prisoners, sir, I fail to see why we should endure your insults without protest! It is true, alas! that I have for many years been one of Agrando's servitors – ay, even his slave, I may almost say. But I am not the first, nor the only one, of gentle birth, who has been forced by the tyrant to serve him thus. At last, however, I have escaped, and I only await the opportunity of picking up some other suit of clothes to throw off for ever what you aptly call his hated livery. If you are, indeed, as I suspect, the chief Fumenta of whom I have heard, I have no reason for fear, for I have been told of him that he is brave and just, an upright, chivalrous gentleman, though he has been sorely persecuted. I have never heard, however, that he was given to insulting his prisoners, and taunting them with having been forced to serve a hateful tyrant.'

Alondra, who had been engaged in 'taking stock,' so to speak, of everything and every one around, turned and looked at Malto in surprise. The young man had suddenly come out in a new character. He was looking his questioner squarely in the face, his eyes flashing back glance for glance, his whole attitude full of indignant protest. Yet was there in it nothing of rudeness; on the contrary, even in his defiance, there was a subtle suggestion of that deference which a young man may always pay to age without lowering his own dignity.

But what was even more noticeable was the fact that Fumenta himself appeared to be just as much taken aback as Alondra had been. To the surprise of every one there – his own people most of all – he showed no sign of anger, and the look he cast at the speaker, shrewd, searching, as it was, was free from all trace of irritation. There was a pause, while he eyed the young man from head to foot. He looked at him as if trying to read his very soul. Then, for a moment, a quick, eager expression came into his face; but it faded again instantly, he passed his hand over his forehead in a strange, dreamy way, and finally shook his head.

When he spoke again his tone was gentler. 'You are bold, young sir,' he said. 'Few dare to speak to me as you have done. Yet if you tell the truth your boldness will be justified, for it shall never be said that those who have called me a just man spoke falsely. I confess I like your spirit; you remind me of – But it's useless now to speak of that. What is your name?'

'I have been known as Malto. But it is not my true name.'

'How so?'

'Agrando chose, for purposes of his own, that I should be called Malto while I was yet but a boy; and I had no choice but to submit.'

'Ha! But why, then, after serving him and submitting to him for so many years, did you suddenly wish to leave him?'

'Because, sir, something accidentally came to my knowledge of which I had previously been ignorant. It is rather a long story, but I may say briefly that I wished to make a personal appeal to King Ivanta. Instead, however, we had to flee for our lives in the midst of the great storm which has but just passed, and we were carried here by the high wind.'

'With these companions?' asked Fumenta. For the first time he seemed to notice the prince's rich dress. Malto's personality had so attracted his attention that for the time being he had troubled little about the others. Now he seemed suddenly interested in Alondra. 'And who, young sir, are you?' he queried.

Alondra drew himself up, and proudly answered, 'My name is Alondra, son of King Ivanta!'

The words had a marvellous effect; they seemed to electrify the assembly. Till then every one had been silent, content to await quietly the result of their chief's questioning, and anxious to hear all that was said. Now there burst out a great commotion. Every one present sprang up in amazement. Some simply stood and stared in helpless astonishment; some leaned forward to gaze upon the youth as though scarcely able to believe their ears; others, again, turned to their nearest neighbours, and began talking and gesticulating excitedly.

Exclamations were heard, some of which gave a clue to the cause of this excitement: 'What a piece of luck for us!' 'What a hostage!' 'Now King Ivanta must listen to us; we can compel him!'

It was obvious that these outlaws regarded the young prince as a great prize – one which they meant to turn to account in negotiating with Ivanta.

As to Fumenta, he, it was easy to perceive, was nearly as much astonished by the statement as were his followers. He seemed, indeed, almost too surprised for speech, and for a few minutes exhibited some signs of incredulity. Then, suddenly making up his mind, he bent his head courteously, and said, 'It is a pity we did not know this sooner. Had you told my people at first who you were, Prince, they would have handled you a little more gently, I expect. They are rough fellows; the life we lead has made them so.'

'I have not complained,' said Alondra, with one of his good-natured smiles. 'But certainly I wish now that I had spoken sooner, if it would have been better for these friends of mine. They are my royal father's guests, and are supposed to be under his protection. But Agrando has suddenly revolted. We went there on a peaceful visit, and he made a treacherous attack upon my whole party, and sought to take us prisoners.'

Fumenta started, while from the listening throng came loud exclamations. Every one strained his ears in eager excitement.

'What do you tell me?' exclaimed Fumenta, evidently utterly amazed. 'Agrando in revolt! Tried to seize you and your party! Is that, then, the reason you are fleeing from him?'

'Truly, we had no other course open to us, as we were situated. I myself and these companions were cut off from my followers, and we had to make our escape as and how we could. It was a desperate venture, as you know, to cast ourselves loose in the air in such a storm. But it was our only chance. Had we not taken the risk we should have been Agrando's prisoners. I do not even now know how his traitorous attack turned out. I don't know whether my followers have got away or have been captured. But this I do know,' he concluded, looking round proudly, 'there will be a heavy reckoning for all this. My father King Ivanta will be already on his way, by this time, to look for us, and to punish Agrando and his treacherous crew.'

To the astonishment of Alondra and those with him, this speech was received by the whole assembly with a great burst of cheering. Again and again, and yet again, did it ring out. And the shouters, after cheering themselves hoarse, pressed forward and crowded round the 'prisoners,' seeking eagerly to kiss the prince's hand, or, failing that, to shake hands with one or another of his companions.

Gerald and Jack found themselves suddenly treated with exuberant friendliness by those whom they had regarded but a few minutes before as dangerous enemies. They stared about them, bewildered, not understanding such a sudden change. Alondra was as perplexed as the rest, and his face showed it.

Fumenta smiled, and proceeded to explain: 'These followers of mine, rough fellows though they are, to whom Agrando and his tools have given a bad name, are really honest patriots who have been driven into exile to escape from the tyrant,' he said. 'We have fought against him, and against his bloodthirsty followers, it is true; but otherwise we have harmed no man. And, above all, we have no quarrel with King Ivanta, save in so far as he had been led – by false representations, doubtless – to espouse Agrando's cause against us. Now, therefore, that you have told us that Agrando has revolted, my friends are delighted, because they know it must lead to the tyrant's overthrow and to his just punishment. As to the rest, you can command us all, Prince. Every man here will join your standard and fight for you against Agrando. We are ready to offer our aid, our lives, to King Ivanta. We will fight to the death for him against that cruel monster.'

'We will! We will!' cried the shouting crowd. 'Long live King Ivanta!' 'Long live Prince Alondra!'

Just then a messenger entered in breathless haste, and saluting Fumenta, spoke to him aside.

There was a brief colloquy between the two, after which Fumenta spoke aloud, so that all might hear: 'Some airships have been sighted in the distance, seemingly coming this way. All lights must be extinguished.' Then, addressing Alondra more particularly, he continued, 'There are two squadrons, it seems; but our scouts could not tell whose ships they are. They may carry your enemies or your friends, or a party of each, one in chase of the other. At the same time, a thick mist is rising, as is often the case here after such a storm as we have had, and most likely the airships will disappear in the fog and we shall see no more of them.'

'But that would be a bad thing if some of them are my friends,' said Alondra. 'Your people took charge of the motor-wings we brought with us; let us go out in them to reconnoitre. If we meet with friends we will all join together; but if we discover that they are enemies, and they do not look like going away, we will return and warn you.'

Fumenta considered for a few minutes, then answered, 'Very well; so be it.'

By this time all lights had been put out, and the whole vast interior was in black darkness, save for the opening in the centre, where some rays of moonlight were still feebly struggling through the thickening vapours.

Through this opening, a little later, Alondra and his companions rose, flying like spectres on silent wings, and disappearing into the mist.

CHAPTER XXXII

IVANTA A FUGITIVE

Alondria's companions in his scouting expedition were Gerald and Jack, Malto and the outlaw chief Fumenta, the latter having taken the place of Malandris, who had been left behind.

'You will want some one who knows this region as a guide, or you will not be able to find your way through the mist,' Fumenta had pointed out. Alondra had been prompt to recognise the wisdom of the suggestion, and gladly accepted it.

It seemed that these outlaws were without flying apparatus of any kind except the roughest sort of wings. They lived the life of hunted men, and even if they had possessed airships or other flying machines, they were without the necessary means of utilising them.

All kinds of air-craft required electricity to work them; which, in its turn, as with us, required machinery to produce it. Throughout Ivanta's dominions there were stations here and there at which passing aeronauts could refill their storage batteries on payment of certain specified sums. At these stations gigantic engines of immense power were ever at work, day and night, accumulating the necessary force, and it was upon this constant supply that all airships were dependent. When they journeyed beyond the districts in which these stations were situated, travellers were compelled to be careful not to venture too far afield – no farther, that is, than they could travel back again with the storage power on board.