Read Online Dune: The Machine Crusade by Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson
Tags: Science-Fiction
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intertwined, a weave that forms any point in time.
— from “The Legend of Selim Wormrider,” Zensunni fire poetry
S tanding just inside the large tribal cave, Selim Wormrider gazed across Arrakis’s soothing ocean of dunes, watching for the moment when the sun would first rise over the horizon. He waited, then felt his pulse quicken as golden light poured like molten metal across the undulating desert, purifying and inevitable— like his visions, like his mission in life.
Selim greeted the day, taking a deep breath of air so dry that it crackled his lungs. Dawn was his favorite time, after just waking from deep sleep filled with mysterious dreams and portents. It was the best time to accomplish meaningful tasks.
A tall, gaunt man came up beside him, always knowing where to find his leader at daybreak. Loyal Jafar had a heavy jaw, sunken cheeks, and deep blue-within-blue eyes from years of a spice-rich diet. The lieutenant waited in silence, knowing Selim was aware of his presence. Finally, Selim turned from the rising sun and looked up at his most respected friend and follower.
Jafar extended a small plate. “I have brought you melange for the morning, Selim, so that you may better see into the mind of Shai-Hulud.”
“We serve him, and our future, but no one can understand the mind of Shai-Hulud. Never make that assumption, Jafar, and you will live longer.”
“As you say, Wormrider.”
Selim took one of the wafers, spice mixed with flour and honey. His eyes reflected the deep blue of addiction as well, but the sacred spice had kept him alive, granting him energy even during times of greatest trial and deprivation. Melange opened a marvelous window on the universe and gave Selim visions, helping him to understand the destiny Buddallah had chosen for him. He— and his ever-growing troop of desert exiles— followed a calling greater than any of their individual lives.
“There will be a testing this morning,” Jafar said, his deep voice even. The newborn sun exposed secret footprints made during the night. “Biondi wishes to prove himself. Today he will attempt to ride a worm. “
Selim frowned. “He is not ready.”
“But he insists.”
“He will die.”
Jafar shrugged. “Then he will die. That is the way of the desert.”
Selim emitted a resigned sigh. “Each man must face his own conscience and his own testing. Shai-Hulud makes the final choice.”
Selim was fond of Biondi, though the young man’s brash impatience was better suited to the life of an offworlder at the Arrakis City spaceport, rather than the unchanging existence of the deep desert. Biondi might eventually become a valuable contributor to Selim’s band, but if the young man could not live up to his own abilities, he would be a danger to the others. It was better to discover such a weakness now than to risk the lives of Selim’s faithful followers.
Selim said, “I will watch from here.”
Jafar nodded and left.
Over twenty-six standard years ago, Selim had been falsely accused of stealing water from one of his tribe’s stores; subsequently, he had been exiled into the desert. Manipulated by the lies of Naib Dhartha, Selim’s former friends had chased him from their cliff cities, throwing rocks and insults at him until he ran out onto the treacherous dunes, supposedly to be devoured by one of the “demon worms.”
But Selim had been innocent, and Buddallah had saved him— for a purpose.
When a sandworm had come to devour him, Selim discovered the secret of how to ride the creature. Shai-Hulud had taken him far from the Zensunni village and deposited him near an abandoned botanical testing station, where he’d found food, water, and tools. There, Selim had time to look inside himself, to understand his true mission.
In a melange-enhanced vision, nearly drowning in thick reddish powder cast up from a spice blow, he had learned that he must prevent Naib Dhartha and his desert parasites from harvesting and distributing
— from “The Legend of Selim Wormrider,” Zensunni fire poetry
S tanding just inside the large tribal cave, Selim Wormrider gazed across Arrakis’s soothing ocean of dunes, watching for the moment when the sun would first rise over the horizon. He waited, then felt his pulse quicken as golden light poured like molten metal across the undulating desert, purifying and inevitable— like his visions, like his mission in life.
Selim greeted the day, taking a deep breath of air so dry that it crackled his lungs. Dawn was his favorite time, after just waking from deep sleep filled with mysterious dreams and portents. It was the best time to accomplish meaningful tasks.
A tall, gaunt man came up beside him, always knowing where to find his leader at daybreak. Loyal Jafar had a heavy jaw, sunken cheeks, and deep blue-within-blue eyes from years of a spice-rich diet. The lieutenant waited in silence, knowing Selim was aware of his presence. Finally, Selim turned from the rising sun and looked up at his most respected friend and follower.
Jafar extended a small plate. “I have brought you melange for the morning, Selim, so that you may better see into the mind of Shai-Hulud.”
“We serve him, and our future, but no one can understand the mind of Shai-Hulud. Never make that assumption, Jafar, and you will live longer.”
“As you say, Wormrider.”
Selim took one of the wafers, spice mixed with flour and honey. His eyes reflected the deep blue of addiction as well, but the sacred spice had kept him alive, granting him energy even during times of greatest trial and deprivation. Melange opened a marvelous window on the universe and gave Selim visions, helping him to understand the destiny Buddallah had chosen for him. He— and his ever-growing troop of desert exiles— followed a calling greater than any of their individual lives.
“There will be a testing this morning,” Jafar said, his deep voice even. The newborn sun exposed secret footprints made during the night. “Biondi wishes to prove himself. Today he will attempt to ride a worm. “
Selim frowned. “He is not ready.”
“But he insists.”
“He will die.”
Jafar shrugged. “Then he will die. That is the way of the desert.”
Selim emitted a resigned sigh. “Each man must face his own conscience and his own testing. Shai-Hulud makes the final choice.”
Selim was fond of Biondi, though the young man’s brash impatience was better suited to the life of an offworlder at the Arrakis City spaceport, rather than the unchanging existence of the deep desert. Biondi might eventually become a valuable contributor to Selim’s band, but if the young man could not live up to his own abilities, he would be a danger to the others. It was better to discover such a weakness now than to risk the lives of Selim’s faithful followers.
Selim said, “I will watch from here.”
Jafar nodded and left.
Over twenty-six standard years ago, Selim had been falsely accused of stealing water from one of his tribe’s stores; subsequently, he had been exiled into the desert. Manipulated by the lies of Naib Dhartha, Selim’s former friends had chased him from their cliff cities, throwing rocks and insults at him until he ran out onto the treacherous dunes, supposedly to be devoured by one of the “demon worms.”
But Selim had been innocent, and Buddallah had saved him— for a purpose.
When a sandworm had come to devour him, Selim discovered the secret of how to ride the creature. Shai-Hulud had taken him far from the Zensunni village and deposited him near an abandoned botanical testing station, where he’d found food, water, and tools. There, Selim had time to look inside himself, to understand his true mission.
In a melange-enhanced vision, nearly drowning in thick reddish powder cast up from a spice blow, he had learned that he must prevent Naib Dhartha and his desert parasites from harvesting and distributing
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