Daughter Of Dune (Ursus Peregrinus & darkangel76)

[Ursus Peregrinus]

~~Marid~~

As they moved out across the sands, Marid keeping their pace slow and careful as they crossed the basin. The scent of melange grew stronger as the wind shifted, and Hersilia's guide paused and looked back at her as they crested a dune. Pointing southeast, he loosened his mask to taste the air and she saw his worried expression.
"The storm is coming on. A great mother of a storm." Marid refastened his mask and nodded back towards where the thumper should be working any moment.

Sure enough, a faint rumbling was soon heard, beginning worryingly close to them just to the west. Marid placed his hand upon her shoulder and urged her to crouch as the sands began to hump up and crested as the worm roused and began to move towards the distant call of the thumper.

Sand sprayed as the sandworm broke the surface kilometers away. Even in the dark it was visible by moonlight, a dark shape larger than anything Hersilia had ever seen in motion. As it thrashed about, Marid began to speak, intoning the words of the ancient Fremen invocation.
"Bless the Maker and his water. Bless his coming and his going. May his passage cleanse the world. May he keep the world for his people." As he finished, he began to move, breaking into a jog as he left the stone and stepped onto the sand. "Come! Speed is more important than caution now."

Marid broke into a loping jog, his cloak flowing behind him. slipping and sliding down the slipface of the dune, moving diagonally to keep them ahead of any avalanche of sand. The distant sound of Shai-hulud venting his anger was like thunder, the worm's body crushing rock beneath its scales.

Dashing up another dune, Marid paused to see that Hersilia was still with him.
"Along the crest," he called down, breathing hard. "We have only so long until the second thumper, and after that the worm will likely return to the basin." Pointing down, Marid continued. "There will be sandtrout and little makers with a spice bed so rich, food for the old man of the desert. He will be back. Soon."

Marid knew this was a clumsy crossing, was angry at himself for setting a bad example. Alone, he would have tried to ride the worm, though this was a big maker for one man to control. Hersilia, though, was not ready. She had no hooks and no training, he was not yet prepared to risk her to riding a sandworm.

Their footsteps took them down the end of a dune towards a lower, rolling area. The scent of melange was stronger now, and the sand was shading from tan-grey to rust-red with the density of spice.
"See there?" Marid nodded to an area to their right so dark it seemed almost black. "A spice blow. A recent one, too. Fremen should have come here to harvest by now."

As he continued, the smell of spice clinging to his nose filters, Marid considered that. Even with the Imperial monopoly, the Fremen were the ones most responsible for working the spice sands. Fanged Ridge was well known, there should be occasional Thopters passing by as scouts, if not carryalls and harvesters working the area. They weren't yet so deep into the desert that Fremen patrols should not have seen the blow. It could not have been more than three days past.

So where were the Fremen who should have come and gathered it? Marid stopped and knelt, dipping his hand into the sand and lifting a handful of mixed sand and melange. This was wealth, great wealth. Decaliters of water's worth of the most precious substance in the universe. The distant thrashing of Shai-Hulud had not grown fainter, the worm's fury spending itself against sand and stone.

Letting the sand fall from his fingers, Marid glanced at Hersilia. The ridge was perhaps three kilometers away now, not more than four.
"That will be the second thumper. We've less time now. I hope you can run, girl." He dug in, running harder now. The worm would tire itself out and return to the basin, and if it caught them before they reached the ridge, they would be trapped in the open with nowhere to hide.

~tag~

 

[darkangel76]

Hersilia followed her protector, ready to leave and knowing full well that it wouldn't be long before they had company. The scent she now knew she'd never forget was strong and so thick in the air. She wondered how she hadn't noticed it before Marid had mentioned it. Perhaps she'd just been too preoccupied with other things... with thoughts and dreams... with shadows and... with foxes. Her cheeks reddened slightly as she thought on the little fox that had looked down upon her only to vanish as quickly as it had come. But she didn't have time to dwell on the sights of the desert and all the visions it brought with it. The ground was shaking, beginning to rumble. Looking down at her hands, they were clenched into tiny fists, expending energy as her muscles began to clench and tremble.

Swallowing hard, Hersilia idly licked at her lips. Her mouth had gone as dry as the sands that she and Marid were traipsing through. But the air, it was changing. She could smell the shift as the ground rumbled beneath her unsteady feet. Perking up, her ears could hear the sound of the thumper beckoning the great worm—Shai'Hulud. She'd been waiting for this moment, knowing it would one day come. But, so soon? Breaths quickened as her heart pounded in time with the thumper. This was it. The greatest beast alive would soon be with them, the most feared, the most respected...

In that moment, Hersilia's thoughts drifted to her uncle and she thought of him and her mother. Salty tears welled in her eyes and just then... she saw it! Her mouth dropped open and she sucked in a sharp breath.

Wide-eyed, Hersilia mumbled, "Beautiful..." Blue eyes blinking rapidly, her body crouched low next to Marid, she listened to him recite the incantation. The words made a tiny smile tug at the corners of her lips, her eyes still fixed upon the worm as it made its way toward that beckoning thumper. Transfixed, she almost forgot that they needed to run, to leave before the worm turned and pursued.

Hersilia shook her head coming back to the present and gave Marid a quick nod. Immediately, she followed his lead, watching his steps, doing as he did. As they ran, she could feel her lungs beginning to burn, her muscles starting to ache. Already the night was warm though she was grateful for the cover of night, knowing full well the light of day would have been brutal and meant her death. Panting, she looked out and saw the spice blow that Marid had pointed to, making note of it along with how he seemed unnerved by the fact that the Fremen had yet to be by to harvest. Something was clearly stirring in the deeper desert, away from the prying eyes of Arrakeen. Though what, she wasn't sure just yet though it seemed that perhaps even the Fremen were in a state of discord.

Hanging her head a bit, Hersilia felt a bit of shame. Her family had brought this to Arrakis, this... change. It was all happening too quickly, too—and she hated to admit it—unnaturally. Glancing over at Marid, she forced her body to move faster, a Bene Gesserit trick she'd learned from Irulan. But it only helped so much and she still needed to conserve herself, her energy, her water. The ground was beginning to rumble again as the second thumper began its pounding. Her mind began to swirl as her protector locked eyes with her own, his words telling her to run.

Hersilia felt panic wash over her, but she knew she couldn't let it consume or get the better of her. The Fanged Ridge was just barely out of reach and she was determined to get there at all costs. Feet moving clumsily in the sands, she ran after Marid, her eyes fixed upon him as she moved through the desert. She could hear the roar of the worm, its mournful cry as the winds shifted. For a moment, she was tempted to look back, but she knew to do so would be suicide. So, resisting the temptation, she focused on the man in front of her, blue eyes fixed on the form before her as they ran under the shrouded night toward their destination in the distance.

The air was changing, shifting once again and Hersilia could smell the approaching storm. The winds were beginning to howl, picking up, making it that much harder to move across the sands. Oh the desert was cruel, harsh in its lessons to any who dare come to its school. But, she needed to learn, needed to be its prize pupil. And Marid would be her guide.

Panting, almost whimpering, Hersilia recited the litany of fear over and over again in her mind. Her blue eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, her legs running as if they had a mind of their own. When she opened them, she could scarcely believe that they were nearing the ridge. The winds were getting worse and in the distance she could see the wall of sand making its way toward them. Gasping, she hoped that they'd make the final stretch before the sands found them, burying them, stripping the flesh from their bones.

 

[Ursus Peregrinus]

~~Marid~~

His eyes had flicked back at the young woman following him when she called the maker beautiful. That was not a word he would have used for the Old Man of the Desert, but she said it with the proper respect due the creature who was the basis for the entire Imperium and the source of the Emperor's wealth.

Marid ran, his cloak flapping behind him like the ragged wings of some great bird. Together the two of them dashed across the dunes to an area of pea sand, the marble-sized stones granting them a more solid tread but increasing the noise of their passage. They were drawing closer to the broken stone that marked the edge of the basin, it was less than a kilometer now.

The rumbling of the worm's movement was growing louder, though. It had turned, sensing their movement on the sand. They were pursued now, hunted by the largest predator in the universe. Around them the winds were whipping dust and sand into the air, and to the southwest the darkness of the night sky was blocked by a wall of yellow-grey, the stormfront approaching on the coriolis winds.

Caught between the desert's oncoming fury and the approaching worm's wrath, Marid paused and wrapped an arm around Hersilia.
"Not far now. The cave entrance is there, between the rocks." He pointed at a narrow gap between two sharp sections of basalt jutting out from the rock wall.

Behind them the sand hissed and slithered, the soft rumble of the sandworm growing louder as it ate up the distance between them. The wind was beginning to gust, dragging along the line of the ridge and throwing clouds of dust into the air that stung the eyes and cut their visibility until they could scarcely see the sharp-toothed cliffs rising before them.

Marid was exhausted. His muscles ached from the punishing crossing, and his lungs burned as he gasped for air to feed his oxygen-starved tissues. The worm was close now, only a few hundred meters behind them. Close enough that they could smell the chemical smell each time it exhaled. The scent was heady, redolent with melange and the complex alkaloids that were at the heart of the life cycle of these great beasts.

"Run!" Marid pushed Hersilia on through the sandstorm, stumbling as his feet caught an outcropping of rock but then forcing himself back up with hardly a pause.

Shoving her along, limping from twisting his ankle but clenching his teeth and biting back a cry of pain, the Fremen closed his eyes and remembered the way. In this dust they could be lost for days only meters from the hidden entrance, their bodies scoured to shards of bone a few steps from safety.

They contacted the rock wall and Marid pulled his charge along, feeling with one hand, searching the hidden markers carved into the rock. The worm was close now, hidden by the storm but still seeking them out. Static lightning crackled, the thunder warring with the worm's roars to deafen them.

There!
"This way!" Marid kept hold of Hersilia's wrist and dragged her into the crevice. It was narrow, and in his haste he bruised himself on the stone but after a few meters it widened out and twisted downwards. While the storm and the worm hammered against the ridge above them, Marid led her down into a dark chamber. Even with the sand and dust on the floor, her feet could tell that the stone had been smoothed with tools, and as Marid lit a glowglobe she saw that a hidden airlock had been set into one wall of the small chamber, the stone carved out with a cutteray.

Slumping down against the wall and panting into his filters, Marid closed his eyes and listened. The sandworm was pounding the ridge, but here beneath it the shuddering only shook the ground a little, dislodged a small amount of dust from the roof.
"That," he said, drawing on his catchtube, "was the worst crossing I have ever known. My father would take my water if he had seen it, and I would thank him for the mercy." It was only haste that had carried them here so quickly, but the young Fremen reminded himself that haste was of Shaitan. It would have been wiser to be patient, to weather the storm before crossing. It would have been wiser to have come in company, and not alone.

There were many foolish things about this lone journey... but she had survived, and one more test passed.

~tag~