Read John Carter for Free Online Page B

his thoughts.
    He still had no idea where he was. He’d heard tales of Africa and South America, of remote villages untouched by modern civilization. But none of those accounts had mentioned ten-foot-tall, green-skinned warriors with tusks.
    Carter’s first instinct was to run for it, to leap for the edge of the settlement and just keep going. But there was nothing around for miles. How long could he survive, alone, in an unfamiliar desert?
    The animal from the nursery crept up behind him and growled softly.
    â€œShoo,” Carter said. “Go away. Git!”
    No, he realized, the Tharks were his best option. Now that Carter understood their language, he was in a better position to negotiate with Tars Tarkas. But a weapon would improve his chances even further.
    Quietly, followed closely by the gruff animal, Carter crossed the central square to a huge, partly destroyed building. Up on a high terrace, firelight flickered, and the sound of drums and voices wafted down. An armed sentry crossed the terrace.
    Carter leaped straight up to the terrace and grabbed the surprised sentry around the neck. As the Thark’s four arms flailed about, Carter jabbed him hard on the head and took his long, tapered sword. The sentry went down.
    Beyond the terrace, a large pavilion tent stood within the ruined walls of an ancient throne room. Carter crossed silently to the edge of the tent, stopping in the shadows. Through the open side, he could see Tars Tarkas surrounded by his clansmen, eating. A few Tharks pounded on ceremonial drums.
    Carter took a deep breath and raised his sword.
    Then the animal burst past him, roaring. It slammed clumsily into a group of Tharks, knocking their dishes to the stone floor. Turning to face Carter, it roared again.
    The Tharks were upon the creature in an instant, raining down blows on its thick hide.
    Carter’s first instinct was to protect the animal.
    He dove forward, sword upraised, calling out, “That’s enough!” He pulled a Thark off the creature and punched him hard, knocking the warrior back a dozen feet into a tent pole. The pole cracked, knocking the tent wall down, and the Thark slammed hard against a stone wall. Dead.
    The other Tharks stopped in shock, staring at Carter. He held up his own fist, amazed at his strength.
    Tars Tarkas stood now, gazing down at the dead Thark. Slowly he straightened and turned cold eyes on Carter. “You killed him with one blow.”
    â€œI—I didn’t mean to—”
    Carter realized he now understood Tars’s words. But even as the thought flitted through his mind, Tars gestured to the others, and they all set upon Carter with their hands, furious and eager to avenge their fallen comrade.
    Carter was still too stunned to fight back. He went limp, wincing as green fists pummeled him into unconsciousness. His last thought was to wonder if he would die here…without ever knowing where here really was.

S LOWLY , Sarkoja raised the white-hot iron out of the flame. She smiled the horrific grin of the Tharks. Then she brought the iron down firmly onto Sola’s heavily scarred arm.
    Sola’s flesh sizzled. She struggled against the bonds that held her fast. But she didn’t cry out.
    â€œFor the love of God!” Carter screamed.
    He stood chained in the plaza square, watching helplessly as the Tharks performed their barbaric scarification ritual. Tars Tarkas and the others had blamed Sola for Carter’s escape. This was her punishment. Her arms were lashed to an X-shaped frame, and Sarkoja crouched over her, relishing every second of Sola’s pain. Under the hot sun, the assembled Tharks watched, hungry for blood or perhaps just for a diversion.
    As the brand burned into Sola’s flesh again, Carter leaned forward. “It was my fault—”
    Tal Hajus strode forward and slapped Carter hard in the face. “Silence!”
    â€œDo that again and I’ll—”
    Tal slapped him