Thuvia, Maid of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs (read my book .TXT) 📕

not without first throwing him such a look of contempt that brought the scarlet to his cheek.

Then he hesitated, but Jav seized him by the wrist.

“Come!” he whispered. “Or he will have the bowmen upon you, and this time there will be no escape. Did you not see how futile is your steel against thin air!”

Carthoris turned unwillingly to follow. As the two left the room he turned to his companion.

“If I may not kill thin air,” he asked, “how, then, shall I fear that thin air may kill me?”

“You saw the Torquasians fall before the bowmen?” asked Jav.

Carthoris nodded.

“So would you fall before them, and without one single chance for self-defence or revenge.”

As they talked Jav led Carthoris to a small room in one of the numerous towers of the palace. Here were couches, and Jav bid the Heliumite be seated.

For several minutes the Lotharian eyed his prisoner, for such Carthoris now realized himself to be.

“I am half convinced that you are real,” he said at last.

Carthoris laughed.

“Of course I am real,” he said. “What caused you to doubt it? Can you not see me, feel me?”

“So may I see and feel the bowmen,” replied Jav, “and yet we all know that they, at least, are not real.”

Carthoris showed by the expression of his face his puzzlement at each new reference to the mysterious bowmen⁠—the vanishing soldiery of Lothar.

“What, then, may they be?” he asked.

“You really do not know?” asked Jav.

Carthoris shook his head negatively.

“I can almost believe that you have told us the truth and that you are really from another part of Barsoom, or from another world. But tell me, in your own country have you no bowmen to strike terror to the hearts of the green hordesmen as they slay in company with the fierce banths of war?”

“We have soldiers,” replied Carthoris. “We of the red race are all soldiers, but we have no bowmen to defend us, such as yours. We defend ourselves.”

“You go out and get killed by your enemies!” cried Jav incredulously.

“Certainly,” replied Carthoris. “How do the Lotharians?”

“You have seen,” replied the other. “We send out our deathless archers⁠—deathless because they are lifeless, existing only in the imaginations of our enemies. It is really our giant minds that defend us, sending out legions of imaginary warriors to materialize before the mind’s eye of the foe.

“They see them⁠—they see their bows drawn back⁠—they see their slender arrows speed with unerring precision toward their hearts. And they die⁠—killed by the power of suggestion.”

“But the archers that are slain?” exclaimed Carthoris. “You call them deathless, and yet I saw their dead bodies piled high upon the battlefield. How may that be?”

“It is but to lend reality to the scene,” replied Jav. “We picture many of our own defenders killed that the Torquasians may not guess that there are really no flesh and blood creatures opposing them.

“Once that truth became implanted in their minds, it is the theory of many of us, no longer would they fall prey to the suggestion of the deadly arrows, for greater would be the suggestion of the truth, and the more powerful suggestion would prevail⁠—it is law.”

“And the banths?” questioned Carthoris. “They, too, were but creatures of suggestion?”

“Some of them were real,” replied Jav. “Those that accompanied the archers in pursuit of the Torquasians were unreal. Like the archers, they never returned, but, having served their purpose, vanished with the bowmen when the rout of the enemy was assured.

“Those that remained about the field were real. Those we loosed as scavengers to devour the bodies of the dead of Torquas. This thing is demanded by the realists among us. I am a realist. Tario is an etherealist.

“The etherealists maintain that there is no such thing as matter⁠—that all is mind. They say that none of us exists, except in the imagination of his fellows, other than as an intangible, invisible mentality.

“According to Tario, it is but necessary that we all unite in imagining that there are no dead Torquasians beneath our walls, and there will be none, nor any need of scavenging banths.”

“You, then, do not hold Tario’s beliefs?” asked Carthoris.

“In part only,” replied the Lotharian. “I believe, in fact I know, that there are some truly ethereal creatures. Tario is one, I am convinced. He has no existence except in the imaginations of his people.

“Of course, it is the contention of all us realists that all etherealists are but figments of the imagination. They contend that no food is necessary, nor do they eat; but anyone of the most rudimentary intelligence must realize that food is a necessity to creatures having actual existence.”

“Yes,” agreed Carthoris, “not having eaten today I can readily agree with you.”

“Ah, pardon me,” exclaimed Jav. “Pray be seated and satisfy your hunger,” and with a wave of his hand he indicated a bountifully laden table that had not been there an instant before he spoke. Of that Carthoris was positive, for he had searched the room diligently with his eyes several times.

“It is well,” continued Jav, “that you did not fall into the hands of an etherealist. Then, indeed, would you have gone hungry.”

“But,” exclaimed Carthoris, “this is not real food⁠—it was not here an instant since, and real food does not materialize out of thin air.”

Jav looked hurt.

“There is no real food or water in Lothar,” he said; “nor has there been for countless ages. Upon such as you now see before you have we existed since the dawn of history. Upon such, then, may you exist.”

“But I thought you were a realist,” exclaimed Carthoris.

“Indeed,” cried Jav, “what more realistic than this bounteous feast? It is just here that we differ most from the etherealists. They claim that it is unnecessary to imagine food; but we have found that for the maintenance of life we must thrice daily sit down to hearty meals.

“The food that one eats is supposed to undergo certain chemical changes during the process of digestion and assimilation, the result, of course,