READ THE NOVEL- Chapters 1-31 - ERBzine

Tarzan on Mars
Again, he could not restrain his laughter. And as he
laughed, Sardon Dhur watched him darkly, nursing within
himself the instinctive hatred of his kind for his traditional
enemy.
Always, he thought, had the First Born sought to lord it
over the Therns of the lesser heaven— they who had
harbored the false, cannibalistic goddess, Issus, in their
hidden domain—or at least the entrance to her temple. From
time immemorial their dark fleets had risen out of the depths
of Omean to make massive raids upon the Therns, despoiling
them of their treasures gathered painstakingly from the
faithful who had gone to the bosom of the Iss, and to Korus.
But this time, perhaps, it would be different.
Sardon Dhur stood at the foot of Zithad's throne. Two
dozen royal guardsmen stood behind him. Yet he drew his
sword and sprang half way up the dais toward Zithad.
"Your tongue is sharper and noisier than your sword,
Zithad!" he cried. "This is not the time for a display of the
usual egotism of the First Born. Silence your tongue and hear
us out—or by my ancestors!—I shall silence it for you!"
Before Sardon Dhur had finished speaking, Zithad's face
had changed mercurially from an expression of amusement to
one of murderous rage. He drew his sword and sprang down
the steps of the dais in one swift flow of movement.
Yet, even as the guards closed in to slay Sardon Dhur,
and as the Thern's blade crashed against the First Born's
guard, Tario intervened.
Not physically, but mentally. The two contestants from
suddenly into immobility, as did the guards. Each man there
present felt his mind isolated from his body, as though
encased in a shell of steel. They all stood there like motionless
statues, as in some fantastic tableau.
"Sardon Dhur," said Tario, quietly. "Sheathe your sword."
The Thern complied, as though in a trace.
"Zithad, sheathe your sword also, and be seated on your
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