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Burroughs, Edgar Rice, 1875-1950

"Warlord of Mars"


During the fighting in the chamber I had not even a single chance
to so much as steal a glance at her where she stood behind me beside
the throne of the dead ruler. I wondered why she no longer urged
me on with the strains of the martial hymn of Helium; but I did not
need more than the knowledge that I was battling for her to bring
out the best that is in me.
It would be wearisome to narrate the details of that bloody struggle;
of how we fought from the doorway, the full length of the room to
the very foot of the throne before the last of my antagonists fell
with my blade piercing his heart.
And then, with a glad cry, I turned with outstretched arms to seize
my princess, and as my lips smothered hers to reap the reward that
would be thrice ample payment for the bloody encounters through
which I had passed for her dear sake from the south pole to the
north.
The glad cry died, frozen upon my lips; my arms dropped limp and
lifeless to my sides; as one who reels beneath the burden of a
mortal wound I staggered up the steps before the throne.
Dejah Thoris was gone.


REWARDS


With the realization that Dejah Thoris was no longer within the
throneroom came the belated recollection of the dark face that I had
glimpsed peering from behind the draperies that backed the throne
of Salensus Oll at the moment that I had first come so unexpectedly
upon the strange scene being enacted within the chamber.


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