John Carter

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Authors: Stuart Moore
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waste my time with fantasies of ‘Earth’ while my city lies on the verge of defeat.”
    â€œYou called me a—a Thern.” Carter pointed to the statue. “Is that what she is?”
    â€œShe is Issus!” Sola cried. “Her temple stands at the heart of every city on Barsoom. All worship the Goddess.”
    â€œNot quite all,” Dejah said.
    But Carter had stopped listening. He was staring up at a bas-relief, intertwined with an unknown, ancient script, running around the base of the temple ceiling. A geometric pattern wove in and out of it.
    He’d seen that pattern before. In the cave, in Arizona. Back home.
    â€œWhat does that say?”
    â€œForgotten your own scripture? How convenient.”
    Carter grabbed Dejah and sprang upward, enjoying her yelp of surprise. He landed on a tottering pillar just below the bas-relief.
    Dejah struggled in his grip, almost dropping her torch. “Put me down!”
    â€œAs soon as you read this to me.”
    Grimacing, she handed him the torch. He held it up to the wall, and she pointed at the first in a row of images: human or near-human figures wearing medallions, standing above a vast mountain range.
    â€œâ€˜In the time of oceans, all Barsoom was lawlessness and chaos.’” She paused, struggling to read. “‘There came…the Therns. Holy messengers of the Goddess Issus…they took the firstborn and divided the red men from the green. To each they gave the gifts of knowledge…’” Her finger passed over a series of blurred, overlapping images of godlike Therns.
    â€œThe doubled faces,” Carter said. “What do they mean?”
    â€œSupposedly the Therns once walked among us as guardians. Taking any form they wished…speaking directly to men, in their minds. Guiding them, protecting…”
    â€œLike angels.”
    Once again he grabbed up Dejah, then leaped to a ledge on the opposite side of the temple. Dejah glared at him and turned back to the wall. She ran her finger along an image of a long, snaking river.
    â€œâ€˜The Therns’ final gift of knowledge,’” she read, “‘was the Way of the Goddess—’”
    Carter stabbed out a finger to touch the far end of the river’s image. Another medallion was depicted there within an upside-down pyramid. “There’s the medallion again. What does it mean?”
    â€œDon’t rush me. ‘. . . that those who seek the solace of eternity may journey down the River…to pass through the sacred Gates of Iss and find everlasting peace in the bosom of Issus.’”
    Carter followed her gaze to a carving of huge, ornate gates. “‘The Gates of Iss…’ Do you think the answer is there?”
    She hesitated. “Yes. I’m certain of it.” Then she cast a glance down at Sola, on the ground, and lowered her voice. “What if I could take you there?”
    He frowned. “What if I don’t trust you?”
    â€œThen we’d be even.”
    He smiled.
    â€œI can lead you to the Gates,” Dejah continued. “To the answers you seek. A way back to Jasoom.”
    â€œEarth.”
    â€œEarth.” She looked around conspiratorially. “Assuming you can get us out of here.”
    They locked eyes for a long moment. Then he stuck out his hand. “Deal.”
    She stared at the hand, puzzled.
    â€œYou shake it,” he said.
    A very awkward handshake ensued. Carter smiled again, despite himself. “Now I just need to get that medallion off of Tars. I don’t suppose he’ll just—”
    â€œDotar Sojat?”
    They looked down to see Sola struggling in the grip of Sarkoja’s four strong arms. Five Tharks raised rifles in warning, aiming them straight at Carter and Dejah.
    â€œI told you it was forbidden,” Sola said.

T ARS T ARKAS burst into the holding tent, sweeping the flap open with all four arms.

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