Post by jedimaster91 on Apr 3, 2004 20:52:17 GMT -5
Part 1 (someday, i will unlazify myself and write the rest of this)
The thumper was armed. Its steady pulse thundered in Tizarah’s ears and rumbled the sand beneath her feet. Tizarah stood poised, hooks in her hands, scanning the darkening desert for worm sign. Her eyes spotted the cresting of sand like a wave against the setting sun. A blood red horizon framed the head of the Maker speeding toward her. She planted her feet in the sand and readied herself. Hooks out, she waited for the giant worm to come alongside her. Flawlessly, she hooked a scale on its side as it passed and hauled herself up to its head. Flawlessly, she turned the worm by subtle shifts in her weight to where the other members of her sietch were waiting. So relaxed, so poised atop Shai-Hulud, there was a reason she was the best worm rider in the south desert.
Presently, other shapes concealed in dark robes started from behind the dunes moved to climb aboard. Her father made his way to her side and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Well done, Tizarah,” he said.
“Thank you,” she answered, beaming. Such praise from a naib was rare, even for his daughter. Rasiir was a good naib; fair and just, but just as often harsh as the Arakkis desert. Tizarah glanced to either side of her to ensure everyone was with her. Six Makers side-by-side, filled to capacity with Fedykin anxious to fight for Muad’dib’s cause. She threw her head back and howled the war cry of her people, which the others readily joined. Even the worms roared in their eagerness for blood.
Having rallied the troops, Tizarah turned her gaze back to the desert. Eyes the characteristic blue-on-blue of spice addiction peered from beneath the hood of her robe watching for danger. In fact, eyes were the only part of their bodies that Fremen exposed to the harsh desert. Stillsuits captured and recycled the body’s precious water, allowing a tribe to travel in harsh conditions for days. It would be a full day’s ride to Sietch Tabr where Muad’dib was gathering his forces.
Muad’dib promised to bring water to Arakkis, following the vision of Liet-Kynes. A paradise from the desert! Was such a feat possible? But Muad’dib had seen it in a vision, so the people trusted him. Now he was to lead them in a strike against Arakeen—the largest strike Fremen had ever attempted—to wrest control of Arakkis from the vile Harkonnen. Rumor had it that the Padishah Emperor of House Corrino had taken interest in Muad’dib. Tizarah longed to meet Muad’dib face to face. Anyone who could unite the tribes with a promise of abundant water certainly piqued her interest. A male who can see into the future. That has never happened before.
Halfway through the journey, she felt the worm begin to tire. At her signal, the Fremen dismounted and she released it back into the desert. “Bless the Maker and his water. Bless his coming and his going. May his passing cleanse the world. May he keep the world for his people.”
She armed another thumper and waited for a fresh worm. There would be water spilled on the sands of Arakkis soon. Harkonnen blood. Another wave of sand signaled Shai-Hulud’s approach. And I will help to bring this future to pass.
The thumper was armed. Its steady pulse thundered in Tizarah’s ears and rumbled the sand beneath her feet. Tizarah stood poised, hooks in her hands, scanning the darkening desert for worm sign. Her eyes spotted the cresting of sand like a wave against the setting sun. A blood red horizon framed the head of the Maker speeding toward her. She planted her feet in the sand and readied herself. Hooks out, she waited for the giant worm to come alongside her. Flawlessly, she hooked a scale on its side as it passed and hauled herself up to its head. Flawlessly, she turned the worm by subtle shifts in her weight to where the other members of her sietch were waiting. So relaxed, so poised atop Shai-Hulud, there was a reason she was the best worm rider in the south desert.
Presently, other shapes concealed in dark robes started from behind the dunes moved to climb aboard. Her father made his way to her side and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Well done, Tizarah,” he said.
“Thank you,” she answered, beaming. Such praise from a naib was rare, even for his daughter. Rasiir was a good naib; fair and just, but just as often harsh as the Arakkis desert. Tizarah glanced to either side of her to ensure everyone was with her. Six Makers side-by-side, filled to capacity with Fedykin anxious to fight for Muad’dib’s cause. She threw her head back and howled the war cry of her people, which the others readily joined. Even the worms roared in their eagerness for blood.
Having rallied the troops, Tizarah turned her gaze back to the desert. Eyes the characteristic blue-on-blue of spice addiction peered from beneath the hood of her robe watching for danger. In fact, eyes were the only part of their bodies that Fremen exposed to the harsh desert. Stillsuits captured and recycled the body’s precious water, allowing a tribe to travel in harsh conditions for days. It would be a full day’s ride to Sietch Tabr where Muad’dib was gathering his forces.
Muad’dib promised to bring water to Arakkis, following the vision of Liet-Kynes. A paradise from the desert! Was such a feat possible? But Muad’dib had seen it in a vision, so the people trusted him. Now he was to lead them in a strike against Arakeen—the largest strike Fremen had ever attempted—to wrest control of Arakkis from the vile Harkonnen. Rumor had it that the Padishah Emperor of House Corrino had taken interest in Muad’dib. Tizarah longed to meet Muad’dib face to face. Anyone who could unite the tribes with a promise of abundant water certainly piqued her interest. A male who can see into the future. That has never happened before.
Halfway through the journey, she felt the worm begin to tire. At her signal, the Fremen dismounted and she released it back into the desert. “Bless the Maker and his water. Bless his coming and his going. May his passing cleanse the world. May he keep the world for his people.”
She armed another thumper and waited for a fresh worm. There would be water spilled on the sands of Arakkis soon. Harkonnen blood. Another wave of sand signaled Shai-Hulud’s approach. And I will help to bring this future to pass.
