But at length he overdid the thing; for, drawing his shortsword,
he hurled it, javelinwise, at my body, at the same instant rushing
upon me with his long-sword. A single sweeping circle of my own
blade caught the flying weapon and hurled it clattering against
the far wall, and then, as I sidestepped my antagonist's impetuous
rush, I let him have my point full in the stomach as he hurtled
by.
Clear to the hilt my weapon passed through his body, and with a
frightful shriek he sank to the floor, dead.
Halting only for the brief instant that was required to wrench
my sword from the carcass of my late antagonist, I sprang across
the chamber to the blank wall beyond, through which the thern had
attempted to pass. Here I sought for the secret of its lock, but
all to no avail.
In despair I tried to force the thing, but the cold, unyielding
stone might well have laughed at my futile, puny endeavors. In fact,
I could have sworn that I caught the faint suggestion of taunting
laughter from beyond the baffling panel.
In disgust I desisted from my useless efforts and stepped to the
chamber's single window.
The slopes of Otz and the distant Valley of Lost Souls held nothing
to compel my interest then; but, towering far above me, the tower's
carved wall riveted my keenest attention.
Somewhere within that massive pile was Dejah Thoris. Above me I
could see windows. There, possibly, lay the only way by which I
could reach her.
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