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Updated: June 23, 2025
"There are none to impede our progress," urged Gahan, "so why tax the strength of the Princess by needless haste?"
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.
"Slay him not and pray that he be not dead if you would save your princess." "How is that?" asked Gahan. "If word of O-Tar's death reached the quarters of the women the Princess Tara would be lost. They know O-Tar's intention of taking her to wife and making her Jeddara of Manator, so you may rest assured that they all hate her with the hate of jealous women.
For weeks Gahan of Gathol crossed valleys and hills in search of some familiar landmark that might point his way toward his native land, but the summit of each succeeding ridge revealed but another unfamiliar view.
A bare arm, protruding from the coverings, lay exposed against a black and yellow striped orluk skin an arm of wondrous beauty about which was clasped an armlet that Gahan knew. No other creature was visible within the chamber, all of which was exposed to Gahan's view. Pressing his face to the bars the Gatholian whispered her dear name. The girl stirred, but did not awaken.
He had arrived shortly after the absence of Tara of Helium had been noted, and in the excitement he had remained unannounced until John Carter had happened upon him in the great reception corridor of the palace as The Warlord was hurrying out to arrange for the dispatch of ships in search of his daughter. Gahan read the concern upon the face of The Warlord.
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.
"Your time shall come then, I-Gos," Gahan assured the other, "and if you have any party that thinks as you do, prepare them for the eventuality that will succeed O-Tar's presumptuous attempt to wed the daughter of The Warlord. Where shall I see you again, and when? I go now to speak with Tara, Princess of Helium." "I like your boldness," said I-Gos; "but it will avail you naught.
They spoke of many things of Hastor, and Helium, and Ptarth, and finally the conversation reminded Tara of Gathol. "You have served there?" she asked. "Yes," replied Turan. "I met Gahan the Jed of Gathol at my father's palace," she said, "the very day before the storm snatched me from Helium he was a presumptuous fellow, magnificently trapped in platinum and diamonds.
Tara of Helium shook her head. "We will not desert you, panthan," she said. Gahan, ignoring her reply, spoke above her head to Ghek. "Take her to the craft moored within the enclosure," he commanded. "It is our only hope. Alone, I may win to its deck; but have I to wait upon you two at the last moment the chances are that none of us will escape. Do as I bid."
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