It occurred to me that so great an armada could not have been assembled merely to wage war against the green men.

No, it must be that the fleets had come unexpectedly upon the savages. Before moving on to whatever their real purpose might be, they had decided to decimate the hordes. The huge Thark and Warhoon rifles turned from each other and focused upon the common foe -- not without effect. More than one ship's red captain plunged from the bow of his command as it hung, burning, in the sky.

Shis-Inday and I retraced our way to Gooli, the thunderous belch of rifle and canon echoing all about the sea bottom. Bal Zak, Moros Tar and the Jeddak's Guard had heard the explosions. When we reached the village, they gathered to hear my report.

"Perhaps the green men will gain us time," said Moros Tar. "A diversion, until our forces arrive."

"Unlikely allies," commented a Guard. "But they should keep the enemy fleets busy for a while."

"They're after our treasure," said one of the lunatics, as somberly as he'd once measured the circumference of my head.

"Treasure?" said Moros Tar, raising an eyebrow in a way that suggested he thought it possible, however doubtful.

"I think not," I commented, telling him of the chest of sea shells the Goolis had shown me earlier in the day. Then, so as not to offend our hosts, I added, "Your treasure is too large for a foe to easily carry away."

"That is true," the lunatic noted. He wandered off to huddle with others of his kind.

Shis-Inday, I noticed, had left our group to enter the forest. I called for her to return, but she waved me off as if upon some errand that could not wait.

Shrugging, I continued to discuss plans with the others -- keeping an eye on the spot where the girl had gone into the underbrush. She returned some time later, burdened with stout poles that had been carved from trees, as well as various other items. A band of the Gooli lunatics followed her. Whooping and shouting, they dragged several dead banths behind them.

Shis-Inday set about skinning a banth, while the lunatics leaped and shouted all around her. My curiosity at its breaking point, I went over to see what she was doing.

"The female is a great hunter!" cried the lunatic who had once planned to behead me.

"A mighty fighter!" yelled another, unable to contain his excitement over Shis-Inday's accomplishment.

Shis-Inday motioned for the lunatics to gather 'round, including me and the others of our party in the gesture.

"We need weapons, if we are to survive this battle," she said, drawing forth a length of banth-gut "Rocks and branches alone will not help you, if the Green Ones attack."

Four warriors, Shis-Inday among them, approached a great fire from the east -- an important Direction, one with Power, according to the Be-don-ko-he princess.

She chanted:

"I am calling upon Sky and Earth.
"Bats will fly, and turn upside down with me in battle.
"Black Sky will enfold my body and give me protection,
"And Earth will do this also."

Shis-Inday was painted in the most auspicious manner. Many of the lunatics were similarly stained. Splashes of white speckled their faces, with a single stripe of red clay across the bridge of the nose.

I allowed the sacred symbols to adorn my face, though Moros Tar, Bal Zak and the Jeddak's Guard would not. Soon, however, my fellow red men had become intoxicated by the revelry led by my savage princess. A brew she called tizwin helped intoxicate them, too.

"Right here in the middle of this place
"I am becoming Mirage.
"Let them not see me,
"For I am of the Sun."

From the decorated pouch that Shis-Inday wore at her hip, she flung bits of pollen into the air and into the fire, chanting in her native, alluring tongue. Black feathers from some unknown species of bird that inhabited the Great Marsh hung from her leather loincloth.

Amulets -- tzi-daltai, she called them -- decorated her limbs. They were made from the treasure shells of Gooli. Shis-Inday said they contained much Power.

For each of us, she'd also made an izze-kloth, or medicine cord: a loosely braided sash of two banth-hide strands, twisted about each other. We wore them draped across our bodies, from right shoulder to left side.

"Be good, O, winds," she prayed. "Be good, O, ittindi! Make strong the medicine of Shis-Inday, that it may protect her and these warriors from their enemies!"

The weapons seemed primitive, yet effective. Bows were strung with banth-gut; arrows were tipped with carefully sharpened stones. Not since the legendary Bowmen of Lothar had such weapons been used in Barsoomian combat. Lances, stone knives, war clubs and slings completed the accouterments with which Shis-Inday fitted the lunatics.

I, of course, retained my long- and short-swords -- the weapons with which I had always been most proficient. Bal Zak packed a monstrous radium pistol, which he'd found in the disabled flier's cabin.

It was a night of sweaty, barbaric dancing beneath the watchful eyes of Klego-na-ay's crazy cousins. I should have felt exhaustion when red streaked the morning sky; but it was with exhilaration that I greeted the dawn.

Shis-Inday proclaimed us ready for whatever might come. "Usen watches, and smiles," she said. "Kliji-Litzogue says that our victory will be difficult. And magnificent."

I prayed to Issus for the Yellow Lizard's confidence.

My god did not answer. But my princess did.

As the mad dance continued all about us, I took the girl in my arms and kissed her upon the lips.

The commanders under Hora San quickly discovered this to be true. Ground fighting began in earnest shortly after the aerial warfare proved untenable. I would later learn that the High Priest's goal was nothing less than the conquest of all Barsoom. Although it seemed foolhardy to me at the time, this test of mettle against two hordes fit perfectly into Hora San's mad scheme.

Defeat a green horde upon the ground, and almost any force that a red nation can muster will fall before you. Defeat two, and you have proved your worth tenfold.

So, then, it was four armies that swarmed closer and closer to the position held by our relatively tiny and ill-equipped band. Warhoon and Thark seemed to fight as much amongst themselves as against the red armies led by Phundahlian and Ptarthian jedwars.

Even the civilized warriors, though, seemed ill at ease fighting shoulder to shoulder. Hora San had united them, under some ruse that had cost Ptarth its rightful Jeddak -- Thuvan Dihn's father. But the alliance was far from stable.

As the battle progressed, our small "army" waited under a cover that Shis-Inday had devised. Scattered to the four winds, we buried ourselves beneath the moss-like sea bottom. Only our eyes remained visible -- but even those could disappear, should a foe get too close.

A hooting that Shis-Inday said was the cry of Owl was our signal to attack. When it came, the great mass of fighting men was virtually on top of us. We emerged in the thick of battle, taking no quarter.

We were hopelessly outnumbered, but the suprise proved valuable. The red men were unnerved by our seemingly miraculous appearance and strange weapons. Hesitation cost them many lives.

Shis-Inday brandished a war club, her leaps even greater than those I'd seen her use to such terrifying purpose in the pits of Phundahl, which had been cramped and dimly lighted. Here, upon the broad plain, she jumped thirty and thirty-five feet at a time, delivering blows with a savage cry that was quite effective. Arrows feathered the breasts of her opponents, when she found opportunity to loose them -- often from above.

Moros Tar, Bal Zak, the Jeddak's Guard and I all gave splendid accounts of ourselves, though in more traditional fashion. A dozen times I found myself cornered by pressing antagonists, but always did I maneuver with the skill taught by my father and brother, emerging victorious at every turn.

The Toonolian's pistol fired at those whose own weapon of choice was similar, seldom missing its mark. That Bal Zak never shot at a swordsman proved that he is a man of honor.

Moros Tar had always been grim in battle. But this day he'd taken up the war cry of Shis-Inday, equaling the girl's whoops with a passion that nearly cost me my life, as I paused to watch his grinning abandon.

Some say the men of Gooli are cowards. That may be true. But they fought with us that day like no cowards I've ever seen. With less agility, but still to great heights, the powerfully legged marsupials also leaped and fought in a manner that confounded the enemy's best defense. As much to them as ourselves goes the credit for victory. When Shis-Inday had reverently told them of the mystical Power contained within their treasured shells, they became imbued with a confidence that made them unstoppable.

There was method to our attack, even if it seemed haphazard to our foes. We fought only against the warriors of Phundahl -- defending ourselves against green men when they attacked us, which was often, but not carrying the offensive toward them.

Bar Comas, Jeddak of Warhoon, savagely pressed me. I left him frightfully scarred -- but did not kill him. There was strange thrill in such sport. Later, Shis-Inday told me that among The Men of the Woods, it is often enough to display superior skill over an enemy. A tap on the shoulder, or a blow to the chest, is as significant to them as the fatal thrust of spear or hatchet.

The Ptarthian forces we also left unmolested -- a difficult thing for Moros Tar and myself, who had lost many loved ones and friends in our long war with that nation.

Our intent was to divide the red armies against each other. Slowly, just that began to happen. More than one Ptarthian recognized myself or Moros Tar. That we failed to attack them obviously planted seeds of doubt about their cause.

During a lull in the fighting, I whispered to some that Thuvan Dihn might still live; that I had been with him not many days since -- long after all Ptarth thought him dead.

When the battle resumed, I heard shouts from several points across the field:

"For the prince!"

"For Thuvan Dihn! True Jeddak of Ptarth!"

By the end of that first day, the alliances had shifted. The Jeddak of Helium and his son, with their savage allies, fought on the side of Ptarth against Hora San's blaspheming followers.

I took up another cry -- "For Issus!" -- and it echoed in my ears from all directions.

The green men we could never turn, nor did we attempt to. But the separate hordes were too busy fighting each other -- and Phundahl, and Ptarth, and our Gooli lunatics -- to make any real progress. In a way, I felt sorry for the green jeds who attempted to coordinate the battle, which was as strange as any that Barsoom had ever seen, with all the leaping and whooping and general chaos amongst allies.

It was about to grow stranger.

As I sliced at a foe, a familiar buzz rang in my ears. Turning, I saw a swarm of siths hovering over half the field. And with them were the strange fliers that had routed them on that other occasion.

But now the fliers did not attack the monsters. Instead, they seemed to be herding them toward the battle. Siths picked off red Phundahlian and green Thark or Warhoon, never touching the forces of Ptarth -- thanks to the precise maneuvering of our armor-clad and as-yet anonymous allies.

My own hesitation nearly cost me dearly. As I watched the siths in amazement, a Phundahlian sword plunged toward my breast. A flash of green darted past me, attaching itself to the breast of my enemy.

The Killer had returned.

The hatchling ripped wide the man's throat, not pausing to acknowledge me before he was off upon another frenzied attack.

The green hordes had had enough. They withdrew from the field in opposite directions, melting into the dead sea bottoms from which they had come.

The Killer chased after the retreating Tharks, having repaid his debt to me. I would not see him again for many years. When I did, the debt I owed would be greater than a Jeddak's ransom. But that is a story you have already been told.

Thuvan Dihn and a stranger had joined us.

"Moros Tar and Tardos Mors of Helium," said the Prince of Ptarth, "I present Jeddak Kulan Tith, of Kaol."

"The River of Mystery runs through my kingdom, Moros Tar," said Kulan Tith. "But her waters are strangely low, for this time of year. It's a condition that baffles the scholars of my court."

"I would like to see it," said Moros Tar. The tiredness in his voice had returned, now that the battle seemed to be won.

I knew, sadly, that my father wanted more than to see the Iss. He wished to voyage upon her sacred waters, however diminished they might be.

They dared not attack us now. The men of Ptarth and Kaol and Gooli had been joined by the fleet from Helium, which arrived with two hundred thousand soldiers upon five hundred ships. Although we could have used them a day earlier, the fleet made good time across the face of Barsoom. I could not fault her jedwar, Ross Billen. He'd done his best to bring succor at all possible speed.

As we plotted the siege of Phundahl and the capture of Hora San, a noise came to our ears that was unlike any I'd ever heard before: the grinding of gears, or the gnashing of teeth; mechanical, gigantic -- ominous in the extreme.

Thuria and Cluros bathed the nighttime sea bottom in flickering shadows. I joined Shis-Inday, who stood watch because of her keen eyes. Bal Zak followed groggily. We strained to see what it was that lumbered across the ochre moss.

"A mountain approaches," said the girl, shaking her head at the impossible notion.

I could now make out the monstrous shape. It blotted out the stars as it rolled toward us on gargantuan treads.

"Consort of Issus!" I breathed.

My astonished lethargy lasted only a moment. I rushed to sound the alarm. Soon, the entire camp was alert and ready for battle.

But what kind of thing was it we faced?

Bal Zak knew the answer.

"As I told you, Hora San assembled scientists from around the globe," he explained. "One of them was Fal Sivas, a whisp of a man from Zodanga. Another was Solan, of a race I never dreamed existed. Ras Thavas did not care much for either, or their theories."

"Theories be damned!" cried Thuvan Dihn. "Out with it, man! What is it?"

The sound grew louder, overpowering in its weighty roar. I felt heavier by a stone, just listening to its approach.

"The Juggernaut," said Bal Zak, his voice trembling. "In fact, I helped somewhat with the gearing. It's a mechanized war machine. Shis-Inday's assessment is nearly true. It's the size of a small mountain, and armed to the teeth. I never thought Fal Sivas would get it operational, though. None of us did, or we'd have torn him to pieces before the job was complete."

When the thing struck our camp, I knew pure terror for the first and only time in a long and war-filled life.