Read Dune: The Machine Crusade Online

Authors: Brian Herbert,Kevin J. Anderson

Tags: #Science Fiction

Dune: The Machine Crusade (43 page)

On top of it all, Aurelius would secure commercial opportunities he had never dreamed possible. Norma could not wait for him to come back— to discuss this, and much more.

Guard every breath, for it carries the warmth and moisture of your life.
— Zensunni admonition to children

B
eneath the cave overhang Selim looked with pride at his hardened followers, then glanced at Marha with an expression more akin to love. The young woman was full of energy and determination, exuberance mixed with common sense. For nearly two years, she had excelled among them, making herself indispensable.

“Arrakis is ours because we have taken it,” Selim announced. “We have learned to survive under the harshest circumstances, without depending upon the benevolence of strangers or trade with offworld intruders.”

Taking Marha’s strong hand in his, he pulled her to her feet and they both stood, staring at each other with spice-blue eyes. “Marha, you have proven yourself a worthy member of our band, but I am also pleased to accept you as my wife— if you will have me.”

Initially she had come as an admirer, a competent follower and fellow outlaw. Now she would be his mate. Marha had worked harder and followed his visions with more dedication than any other member of his outlaw band. She had made it perfectly clear to everyone, including him, that no one but she would be a suitable bride for the legendary leader.

Only a week ago, she had come to Selim at dawn, where he stood at the window rock and gazed out upon the sea of dunes. In the utter stillness, Marha stepped up to him and cast a necklace of jangling tokens at his feet, making a loud clatter in the small cave.

Hundreds of spice tokens, taken from hopeful women working the melange fields. Many, many times more than the wedding price Naib Dhartha had imposed on his people.

Knowing how much courage it must have taken for her to see him as a husband as well as a legendary leader, Selim had grinned. “How can I refuse an offer such as this?”

Now Marha smiled at him, revealing perfectly white teeth. Her face looked radiant; the crescent-moon scar above her left eye stood out plainly on her flushed face. “Ever since I was an awestruck girl, listening to the whispered stories of the great Wormrider, I dreamed of this moment. Yes, of course I will have you as my husband, Selim.”

While the outlaw leader made his proud announcement, his lieutenant Jafar, dressed in a distilling suit, walked alone out onto the empty sand. Now everyone could see the gaunt, dedicated man through the cave opening. Taking up his chosen position, Jafar pounded his drum; the gathered outlaws heard the faint thumping muffled by distance. Their anticipation built as Selim remained silent and watched.

After he had drummed long enough to be certain a worm would come, the outlaw lieutenant tucked the drum under his arm. As he sprinted, his long legs carried him swiftly over the dune crests. In the open vastness behind him, wormsign appeared, indicating the rippling progress of an approaching behemoth.

Breathless, Jafar reached a shelter of rocks, but instead of climbing to safety he remained at the shoreline of sand, striking sharp, resonant blows on the stone with a metal hammer. The sandworm drove toward the vibrations, but could not come closer to the rock barrier, which extended like an iceberg far beneath the surface of the sand. Finally, it rose into the open sky, its gaping mouth open and questing, tiny crystalline teeth glinting. Dust and sand tumbled from its segmented body. The creature let out a roar that sounded like the scraping wind from a heavy storm.

Selim raised his voice and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Shai-Hulud, hear me! I have summoned you to bear witness.” He pulled Marha close to stand beside him in the wash of light. “I claim this woman as my wife, and she accepts me. From this day forward, we are married in your eyes. Let no one doubt it.”

The outlaws let out a loud cheer, deafening as it reverberated inside the cave chamber. The worm lifted itself higher— as if in a benediction— then plunged deep into the dunes again, sending up a spray of sand as it tunneled far below, to a hidden hoard of melange.

* * *

THAT NIGHT THE bandits celebrated with honey and exotic delicacies stolen from caravans returning from Arrakis City. They consumed large quantities of melange in their revelries, until heads grew light and coruscating vision blurred faces and surroundings to a beautiful soft focus. They were all bound together by the special red dust cast off by the sandworms, a powder that was the dried essence of Shai-Hulud himself.

Their inhibitions faded, and many men and women became newfound lovers in the shadowed passages of the caves. Later, when the celebration finally ended, their group would return to its all-consuming mission. But for one night the spice transported them.

With Marha beside him, Selim traveled the pathways of melange, stepping through open doorways into the future. He sensed her nearby, a dazzling soul and a warm heart that had become an inseparable part of him.

But for this journey, Selim needed to go alone.

On the back wall of the cave, mysterious runes had been scribed long ago by forgotten explorers. No one knew what the inscriptions meant, but Selim had fashioned his own interpretations, and his followers did not question such pronouncements.

Aided by the melange, Selim saw many things that were invisible to the real world.

And now for the first time he saw the true scope of the challenge he faced, the immensity of time over which this epic battle would be played out. He saw that this was not merely a struggle between himself and the hated NaibDhartha, not a conflict Selim could resolve in his own lifetime. It had already gone too far. The temptation and dependence on spice had passed a threshold that no mere man could ever stop.

One lifetime would never be enough. Selim had to insure that his mission would last far beyond his own death. Shai-Hulud would show him how, when the time was right.

Afterward he awoke with Marha warm and naked against him, clinging even in her dreams, as if afraid to let go. She stirred in the dim shadows. Her face was filled with curiosity and appreciation, drinking in every detail of his features.

“Selim, my love, my husband”— she said the last word on an indrawn breath—”I have finally learned to see you, to truly
see
you, as a man, a human being. At first, I fell in love with the
idea
of you, the portrait of a hero, an outlaw who could see the future with an unwavering clarity of mission. But you are more than that… a mortal man with a heart. To me, that makes you greater than any legend.”

He kissed her tenderly on the lips. “So, Marha, you alone know my secret. And you alone shall share it with me, keeping me strong, and helping me accomplish what I must.” Selim stroked her dark hair and smiled at her, content with Marha’s devotion. After all the years, myth and reality had merged into the same entity.

She seemed to read his thoughts, understanding him even before he put his hesitation into words. “Have you experienced another vision, my love? What troubles you?”

He nodded somberly. “Last night, after we consumed so much spice, more dreams opened to me.” She sat up with an intent expression, switching from a newlywed wife in the afterglow of love to a devoted follower ready to receive new instructions.

Selim said, “We have raided caravans and thwarted NaibDhartha’s efforts to sell melange, but I have not done enough to drive away the offworlders. The spice trade grows greater every year. It is no wonder Shai-Hulud is disappointed in me. He has given me a quest, and so far I have failed.”

“The Old Man of the Desert has faith in you, Selim. Why else would he give you such an impossible task?” When Marha sat up, his gaze drifted to her perfect breasts and smooth skin in the dim cave light. “We will help you. We will give everything to see that you achieve your goals. This mission is more than any one man could hope to accomplish.”

He kissed her gently on her crescent scar, then sat up straight and looked toward brighter light outside, where the sun washed across the rippling dunes. “Perhaps it is more than one
man
can accomplish. But not beyond the capability of a
legend
.”

* * *

STARRY-EYED AND FULL of dreams, young Aziz waited until his grandfather and the cliff dwellers had fallen asleep for the night. Then he gathered the bits of equipment he had hidden away one piece at a time, day by day. He made no sound, scurrying like a muad’dib, one of the small desert mice that populated the crannies and cliffs.

Tonight he would prove himself, not only to NaibDhartha, but to Selim Wormrider. Though neither would want to hear it, both men were Aziz’s heroes, people he respected. The boy saw honor on either side of the conflict, and hoped to bring them together somehow, for the good of the Zensunni people. His secret.

But it was such a difficult task.

For many months, ever since the legendary bandits had rescued him from certain death in the desert, Aziz had been thinking about life among the outlaws. Selim Wormrider was blind to how much Naib Dhartha had done for the Zensunni people. The young man loved his grandfather very much and understood the Naib’s stern ways, which he saw as the price for the tribe’s dramatically improved life, reliable supplies of food and water, even a few luxuries and comforts purchased from interstellar merchants.

But Selim Wormrider had a fire in his eyes and a different sort of honor, a brave confidence and righteousness that overshadowed Naib Dhartha’s more provincial concerns. Selim’s outlaws followed their leader with passion, far more than the spice gatherers showed in their work for NaibDhartha. And the woman Marha— who had run away from this very village— now seemed to have a new center in her life. Obviously, she had no regrets over her own decision.

For many nights Aziz had dreamed of joining the bandit group himself and becoming one of the romantic outlaws. He could talk to the Wormrider, say all the things he should have said months ago when he’d had the opportunity. His eyes shone, bright with the challenge of making the world right again, healing the breach, stopping the long-standing, destructive feud.

Aziz could do it. But would Selim accept him?

Perhaps… if he could demonstrate abilities that were useful to the tribe.

Upon delivering the outlaw’s response to his grandfather, Aziz had attempted to soften the words, to apologize and make excuses for Selim. Even so, NaibDhartha had been infuriated, cursing the Wormrider with undeserved insults. Instead of rewarding him for his arduous journey, the Naib had sent his abashed young grandson off to his quarters alone. For days, the old man had kept a close eye on Aziz.

But the youth had not forgotten what he’d seen and experienced, and his imagination gave him alternatives that he should have considered before. Aziz wanted to go back. Most of all, he wanted the exhilaration and the excitement again. He was sure he could do it.

He had planned carefully for this night, remembering what Selim Wormrider had done, and convinced that he could repeat it. After all, years ago, a young untrained outcast had discovered how to ride the demon sandworms for the first time, without any guidance whatsoever….

Now in the quiet night, Aziz slid past the complacent guards and stole down a rocky footpath that opened onto the great basin of sand. The Realm of Sandworms. Only one of the moons was low in the sky now, shedding little glow, but the stars watching over him were as bright as the eyes of angels. Aziz scampered out onto the soft sands, leaving an obvious trail. He tried to shout, but the sand slipped under his feet, and he felt as if he were swimming in dust.

Aziz needed to venture far enough out so that the worms could approach without being frustrated by buried rocks. But he also wanted to stay close enough to the cliffs in order for the people to see what he was about to do. Especially his grandfather.

The boy had been making his way for more than an hour when dawn colors began to smear the knife-sharp eastern horizon. He hurried along, hoping to get in position by sunrise, and climbed a high dune that made him think of a grandstand he had seen once in a videobook brought from offworld. He hoped that his careful footfalls had caused no vibrations loud enough to summon Shai-Hulud… not yet.

Aziz had brought along a rock and a metal rod, some rope, and a long sturdy spear— much more than Selim had carried as a fuzzy-cheeked youth when
he
first conquered the desert creatures. It could be done.

His heart pounding, his confidence unshaken, Aziz squatted on the dune. He thrust the metal into soft sand and began hammering it with the rock. The sounds shot out like sharp explosions, vividly audible in the eternal stillness of the desert.

As dawn finally broke across the sky the boy looked back toward the rugged cliffs. Inside the dark sheltered windows, some of the sleeping Zensunnis would hear. He waited for the great worm to come.

* * *

HEARING THE GUNSHOT patter from far out in the dunes, Dhartha came awake. Curious and suspicious, the old leader dressed quickly, but before he could step from his private chambers another man lifted the door curtain. “NaibDhartha, a youth has run far out onto the sand. I believe… it looks like Aziz.”

Scowling, Dhartha strode through the tunnels to a bank of window walls that offered a view of the ancient desert. “Why is he making so much foolish racket? I taught him better than that.”

Then, abruptly, the grizzled desert man suspected, as he remembered Aziz’s deluded admiration for the bandit who commanded sandworms. Dhartha began to shout. “Send men out to bring the boy back. Hurry, before a worm comes!”

His companion looked reluctant, but turned to do as he was commanded.

Far out on the dunes, Aziz continued his beckoning rhythm. When The Naib grabbed the stone edge with cramped fingers, he stared out into sunlight spilling across the pristine dunes. He saw the tiny dotted line of his grandson’s footprints leading out into the wasteland. Utter foolishness!

From the horizon, he could already see the titanic ripple of an oncoming worm. None of the rescuers would ever reach the boy in time. Dhartha’s chest felt cold. “Ayii, no! Buddallah, please do not let this happen!”

Other books

SevenMarkPackAttackMobi by Weldon, Carys
Murder Fir Christmas by Joyce Lavene, Jim Lavene
The Wild by Christopher Golden
The Insiders by Rosemary Rogers
Only His by Susan Mallery