I placed a length of chain between one of the rollers and the wall. The links snapped, after a violent tug that nearly wrenched my arm from its socket. Shis-Inday watched intently as I repeated the procedure with the chains that bound my feet. Soon, the girl and I were both free.

I calmly gathered the excess chain and motioned for the girl to do likewise. But she needed no coaching from me. The Be-don- ko-he princess understood my plan perfectly, without a word having been spoken.

The suddenness of our attack caught the guards below wholly unprepared. We burst from the shaft as soon as the opening was wide enough to permit it. Arms swinging like windmills, we twirled the loosely hanging chains to deadly effect. I caved in the skull of the first of our jailers who was unlucky enough to approach.

Shis-Inday, meanwhile, delivered a blow that cut another entirely in half through the torso. She'd told me that her strength was incredible upon Barsoom. But this was the first evidence I'd seen of it. She leaped nimbly across the chamber to the next frantic guard, and rained blow after blow upon his head and chest with the heavy chains on her wrists in a blur of motion that was impossible to follow.

We were alone.

Spying a set of keys hanging upon the wall, I rushed to find the one that would unlock the dangling chains. Presently, I'd traded the encumbrances for a good long-sword. After buckling a dagger and short-sword to my waist, I felt whole again.

Shis-Inday accepted a dagger, but preferred a length of chain to the other unfamiliar weapons I offered. Having seen her effectiveness with that improvised offense, I did not argue.

In the next room sat a line of prisoners, chained together. Taking the keys, I went to free them. The first that I saw was Bal Zak.

"One day I'll learn to mind my own business," he said grimly, as I hastily freed him.

"Perhaps you already have," I replied. "But the Prince of Helium will never forget that you spoke in his defense while surrounded by enemies."

An astonished cry from the far end of the line caused me to look to another of the prisoners. I felt my knees weaken as I recognized him, ignobly imprisoned like some common slave.

It was my father, Moros Tar.

The fighting light of old flickered in my father's eyes. Gone was the resignation and despair that clouded him when last we'd been together, in the Temple of Reward. He'd found purpose, somehow, in these thrice-cursed pits.

There was no time for explanations.

"A sword!" cried Moros Tar, as the chains fell from him.

From the racks on the wall, I quickly armed the dozen prisoners. I recognized several of them as members of my father's private Guard, who would have accompanied the Jeddak upon his Pilgrimage. I knew them to be the very finest warriors Helium had to offer. Their sole purpose was to protect the Jeddak's life with their own. That they had failed caused me some little consternation, though I had scarcely the time to dwell upon such things.

My earliest tutelage in the art of swordplay came at the experienced hands of my father and brother. Almost before I could walk, those two practiced teachers imparted to me the thrill of steel upon steel and the satisfaction of thrust and parry against an equal or superior foe -- not that many could match the skill to be found in the House of Mor.

Later, I stood shoulder to shoulder with them in battle against the enemies of Helium.

How many times had we three faced incredible odds, and overcome them to the everlasting glory of the Empire? I could not begin to say.

That time in the Temple of Reward, when the Jeddak whispered his intent to seek Dor, I thought never again would we defend together a cause that was just.

But now Moros Tar and I rose once more to the task, here in the pits of Phundahl, half a world from home, as wave after wave of pagan zealots rushed madly upon the points of our swords. Had my brother been there, my joy would have been complete.

Another, however, stood ably in Mors Kajak's place.

My father's eye fell admiringly upon the slender form of Shis- Inday as she lithely feinted and powerfully smote the attacking guards with the heavy chains that had formerly bound her.

"By Issus! She's a devil in combat!" Moros Tar breathed.

"I know little of Issus," Shis-Inday returned, leaping over the head of a foe to strike another. "It is in Usen's name that I fight for life, his most precious gift."

We'd lost two men in the unequal battle -- a Phundahlian slave and one of my father's guard. Bal Zak maneuvered close to my side.

"We cannot stand much longer, Tardos Mors," he whispered. "I know a way to elude these calots through precincts of their own pits that they do not even dream exist."

I was loathe to give up the fight, but there was nothing to be gained by holding useless ground. I'd learned that much at Flemster. I nodded acknowledgement, and Bal Zak led the retreat. I covered the rear, while the Tonoolian and Shis-Inday darted forward at the head of our remaining force through unlit chambers of damp and black.

The warriors of Phundahl were not the only enemies we needed to defend against, as these remote corners were fairly overrun with ulsios and other carnivorous creatures of Barsoom's underworld.

When we'd secluded ourselves, I turned with questioning eyes upon the Jeddak.

"I do not understand, father," I said.

"And neither do I, fully," Moros Tar answered. "Foul intrigues are afoot in Helium and elsewhere. Thank our ancestors that we are reunited, Tardos Mors, to uncover them."

Moros Tar had never begun the Pilgrimage. Spies had been waiting in his innermost sanctuary that day in the Temple of Reward. With the swiftness of Thuria, and as silently, they whisked him and his Guard from Helium and brought them to distant Phundahl.

The Jeddak was questioned, under torture, by Xax and Hora San, the white-skinned High Priest of Tur. They sought information about the Empire's defenses and her ability to continue the war with Ptarth.

They may as well have questioned a rock, for all the information they'd get from Helium's Jeddak.

"That stone blasphemy, Tur, sentenced me to death," Moros Tar said.

"Fire?" I asked, with the grim humor of a fighting man.

"Decapitation," the Jeddak replied, also smiling. "Although it was to be my fate to witness the immolation of another prisoner -- you, I now presume."

He laid his hand upon my shoulder.

"I knew that you would come," he said.

I briefly narrated my adventures, including my encounter with Thuvan Dihn, who harbored suspicions himself about the war .

I also made it clear that it was not by design that I'd found my way to Moros Tar's side. He shook his head, softly, and the wisdom of a Jeddak stared back at me.

"I knew that you would come," Moros Tar repeated. "And now that you are here, we must learn the intent of our enemies."

I also learned the secret of Tur.

On the third morning of my vigil, as I spied from a hidden recess at the back of the temple, I saw Hora San's furtive entrance. Save for we two secretive souls, no other occupied the vile shrine.

Hora San snuck, cowering, to the rear of the statue. He toggled a jewel at its base, and a hidden door slid silently open. With a futile glance to assure himself that no one was watching, he slipped inside, and the door closed behind him.

I leapt from hiding my place, and bounded across the stone floor to the place where the white scoundrel had disappeared. It was the work of an instant to repeat the procedure, and soon I was inside the blasphemy.

In the gloomy interior, I heard whispers drift softly from above. I recognized the second speaker as Xax, puppet Jeddak of Phundahl.

"I tell you, the Heliumites must be found!" said Hora San, rage evident in his tone.

"And I tell you, they have escaped Phundahl!" rejoined Xax. "Slaughtering half my finest warriors in the process. By all the forms of Tur! One man was cut in half!"

A ladder rose to the platform where Hora San and his henchman plotted. I secreted myself behind it, to better hear their words.

"If my agents among Moros Tar's Guard still live, then perhaps they're waiting for the right moment to make their move," mused the High Priest.

More intrigue! Would it never end?

"Your daughter is still ignorant of our plans?" Hora San asked the Jeddak.

"My daughter is ignorant of everything," Xax replied, sadly. "She believes with the rest of Phundahl that this monstrosity is the living god, Tur."

"Then all is not lost," the high priest said. "We can use her to further our purpose."

"Have we not already used her enough?"

"Ignorant red man!" Hora San hissed. "We'll yet save Barsoom from the slow death that awaits it."

"Save it for whom?" questioned Xax. "A handful of slaves to do your bidding? My people -- my entire race -- deserve better."

There was the sound of a brief struggle. A body fell from the platform, landing with a dull thud a sword's length from where I hid.

Glancing at the contorted figure, I knew that the princess Xaxa now ruled this evil land.

I'd been waiting quietly in our secret apartments for the return of Moros Tar and the others of our party from their various missions of espionage. Shis-Inday stepped to my side as Bal Zak, my father, and the six remaining members of the Jeddak's Guard gathered about a rough table in this remote chamber of the pits.

The room was well-lighted by radium bulbs. A collection of highly advanced scientific instruments surrounded us. They belonged to Ras Thavas, and other scientists that Bal Zak told me had been gathered from the farthest reaches of Barsoom by Hora San -- Fal Sivas of Zodanga; Phor Tak of Jahar; even a yellow-skinned fellow, from some northern clime, named Solan.

"And Xax?" I asked.

"His body has been paraded through the streets," Bal Zak answered. "They say that you killed him."

"Would that it were true," I murmured.

"What is your plan, my son?" asked Moros Tar.

As I think on that comment, these many years later, it strikes me as the moment I became Jeddak. My coronation would come later, and then all of Barsoom would know that Tardos Mors ruled Helium. My father had given me his blessing in the Temple of Reward; but that had rung hollow. This was the instant when Moros Tar truly knew I was ready for the throne, even if I did not.

"First, it is time for the Test of Loyalty," I said casually, carefully observing the reaction of the Guard.

Without hesitation, and no flicker of emotion betraying their thoughts, three of that group rose immediately from the table, facing Moros Tar. A fraction of a moment later, the other three rose to join them. The delay was enough to tell me who the traitors among them were.

The Guard members each drew short-swords, and stood poised to plunge them into their own breasts at the command of Moros Tar or myself.

Seldom is the Test used by a Jeddak of Helium -- but any who would thus serve the House of Mor must be ready at a moment's notice to prove in this manner that they are loyal. It is the only way to insure the Jeddak's safety when there is the possibility of breached security.

Moros Tar had already drawn his own weapon. He knew that I would not call for the Test unless I had reason for my suspicions. The hestitation among the three he thought to be loyal was enough to raise suspicions of his own.

"You would betray me?" the Jeddak said. "I've known each of you since the day you broke your snowy white shells!"

For answer, the unfaithful three turned upon those who were loyal.

"It is for Barsoom that we act!" cried the leader, attacking.