Dune: The Battle of Corrin
Page 67
When they learned of his plans, several eager young warriors and dissatisfied elders asked to go with him, along with Chamal and a number of Poritrin descendants. The older ones had been mere children during the Wormrider’s time, but they had not forgotten. They all wanted to follow the vision of Selim, continuing his work and remembering his legend. When Ishmael understood that so many people meant to follow him and turn their backs on the unsatisfying ways of El’hiim, he felt heartened.
For the most part, his stepson avoided him and did not gloat over his own victory— at least not in Ishmael’s presence. But the mood of the villagers had clearly changed. Many of those who had been spoiled by unnecessary comforts now wanted to move from their isolated village closer to Arrakis City. Some decided to set up secondary homes within the VenKee settlements themselves.
The thought made Ishmael sick at heart with the certainty that these Zensunnis would eventually lose their independence and identity as a people. They would settle in villages of the pan and graben, no longer nomads, no longer respectable Zensunnis. Ishmael refused to be a part of that.
With his pride boosting his health as much as a steady diet of melange, Ishmael counted his followers and told them to gather their most important possessions. They would leave behind useless luxuries, conveniences, and clothing that could never withstand the rigors of Arrakis. They would find their place in the deep desert.
Ishmael, by far the oldest of all living Zensunnis, faced El’hiim just before departure. “I will lead my people away from here— far from you, and far from all outside corruption.”
El’hiim was startled at first, then amused. “Be sensible, Ishmael. All of you will die out there.”
The old man did not waver. “So be it, if that is the will of Buddallah. We believe the desert will provide for us, but if we are mistaken, we will perish. If we are correct, however, we will thrive as Free Men, determining our own society. Either way, El’hiim, you will probably never know.”
* * *
IN A GREAT exodus, Ishmael took his people and departed from the corrupted village. They left families and friends behind, marching through a pass in the Shield Wall mountain range and out into the wild, dangerous desert known as the Tanzerouft.
With a warm wind caressing his face, Ishmael shielded his eyes and looked far out into the restless, inhospitable landscape. But instead of appearing menacing to him, the great sea of dunes seemed to be open and filled with infinite possibilities.
He gestured to his people, as they walked with him. “Out there, no one will bother us. We will build our own protected settlements and live in peace, without interference from those who trust too much in outsiders.”
“It will be difficult,” said one of the elders who hiked beside him.
Ishmael did not disagree. “Hardship will make us strong, and one day Arrakis will be completely ours.”
* * *
THE BROAD EXPANSE of sand kept its own time. As tides of change and history swept from planet to planet across the galaxy, the endless desert on Arrakis scoured away all attempts to manipulate or tame it. The arid environment preserved artifacts, while ferocious sandstorms erased anything in their path. Spice prospectors came and went, and the worms destroyed many of the unprepared interlopers. But not all of them.
The outsiders kept coming, drawn by the lure and legend of the spice melange.
Even as empires rose and fell, Arrakis, the desert planet, would turn its face to the universe and endure.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Part I: 69 B.G.
Part II:88 B.G.