Hunters of Dune - Brian Herbert [102]
“Never underestimate a Reverend Mother, no matter what she looks like,” Bellonda called cheerfully from the ornithopter’s cockpit door. She eased out of the ’thopter like a whale being born.
At the rear of the landing pad, the Mother Commander waited to meet them and receive their report. Seeing the brewing altercation, however, Murbella swept toward them like an approaching thunderstorm.
Doria didn’t care. Unable to control her rage, she sprang to her feet, knowing that all semblance of civility between them had ended forever. As the big woman dropped to the landing pad, Doria circled, ignoring Murbella’s shout. This would be a fight to the death. The Honored Matre way.
Doria’s black singlesuit was torn and her knee scraped bloody from the awkward tumble to the rough pavement. She limped, exaggerating her injury. Also deaf to the Mother Commander, Bellonda moved with surprising speed and grace. Seeing her seemingly lamed opponent, she closed for the kill.
But as Bellonda sprang forward in a combination fist-and-elbow attack, Doria dropped flat on the ground to let her adversary storm past—a feint—then flipped to her feet and sprang, using her whole body like a thrown kindjal. Now momentum worked against the heavyset Sister. Before she could turn, Doria slammed into her back, using hard fists to pound her kidneys.
With a roar, Bellonda turned, trying to face her attacker, but Doria remained like a shadow on her tail, hammering hard-knuckled punches into her. Hearing ribs crack, Doria slammed harder, hoping the sharp bone shards would puncture Bellonda’s liver and lungs through all those folds of flesh. She matched each move Bellonda made, always remaining out of reach.
Finally, when dark blood bubbled from the big woman’s mouth, Doria allowed the face-off. Bellonda charged forward like an enraged bull. Though she was already suffering from massive internal bleeding, Bellonda feigned an attack, then sidestepped Doria, striking her with a hard kick in the side. The smaller woman skidded away, thrown to the ground.
Murbella and several other Sisters approached them from all sides.
Glowering, Bellonda circled to Doria’s left, looking for the next opportunity to strike. The Honored Matre leaned into her opponent’s strength, a tactic designed to confuse the Reverend Mother.
Doria had only a fraction of a second. Seeing the muscles of her adversary slacken just a little, she sprang like a coiled serpent and plunged her fingers into Bellonda’s neck, digging her nails through padded folds of skin until she reached the jugular. With a yank, she tore the blood vessel, and crimson fluid jetted upward, spurting with the force of a pounding heart.
Doria stepped back, frozen in delighted horror as the spray struck her face and dark bodysuit. The lumbering woman’s face wore a look of surprise, as she lifted a hand to the gushing neck wound. She could not stop the flow, or adjust her internal chemistry against such a grievous wound.
In disgust, Doria shoved her away, and Bellonda collapsed to the ground. Smearing her opponent’s blood from her eyes, Doria stood over her in triumph, watching the life drain away. A traditional duel, the way she had been raised. Her skin flushed with the thrill. This opponent would not recover.
Holding her bleeding neck with feebly twitching fingers, Bellonda stared up in disbelief. The fingers slipped away.
Mother Commander Murbella gave Doria a spinning kick, bloodying her mouth. “You’ve killed her!” Another kick drove her to the ground.
The former Honored Matre scrambled to her hands and knees. “It was a fair challenge.”
“She was useful! You do not get to decide which of our resources we discard. Bellonda was your fellow Sister—and I needed her!” She fought to articulate words through her anger. Doria was sure the Mother Commander wanted