Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [48]
With faithful Chani beside him, he stood outside the hatch that led into the great sand-filled hold. He had told no one else what he intended to do. Over the past two years, security had been tightened as much as the Bashar and an eager Thufir Hawat could manage, but no one guarded the entrance to the cargo hold. The seven sandworms were considered sufficiently dangerous to act as their own watchdogs. Only Sheeana could safely go among the large creatures, and the last time she had done so, even she had been briefly swallowed up.
Paul gazed at Chani’s beautiful elfin face and her thick, dark red hair. Even without prior knowledge, without knowing his destiny was to be with her, he would have found the Fremen girl strikingly attractive. In turn, she ran a methodical eye over his body, his special new suit, his tools. “You look like a real Fremen warrior, Usul.”
After studying records and working with a fabrication station in the engineering levels, Chani had fashioned an authentic stillsuit for him—probably the first one manufactured in centuries—and provided him with a rope, maker hooks, and spreaders. The unusual tools felt oddly familiar in his grasp. According to legend, Muad’Dib had summoned a dangerous monster for his first worm ride. These creatures in the hold, though stunted by their captivity, were still behemoths.
The hatch opened, and he and Chani stepped into the artificial desert. When the flinty odors and arid heat struck him, he said, “Stay here, where it’s safe. I have to do this alone, or it won’t be effective. If I face the worm and ride it, that may jar my memories.”
Chani did not try to stop him. She understood the need as well as he did.
He climbed up the first rise, leaving footprints in the sand, then raised both hands and shouted, “Shai-Hulud! I have come for you!” In this confined space, he did not need a thumper to summon the worms.
A quality in the air changed. He sensed a stirring in the shallow dunes and saw seven serpentlike shapes coming toward him. Instead of running away, he sprinted toward them, selecting a place where he could set up his approach and mount one. His heart pounded. His throat was dry despite the stillsuit mask covering his mouth and nose.
Paul had reviewed holofilms to study Fremen sandriding techniques. Intellectually he knew what to do, just as—intellectually—he knew the factual details of his past. But a theoretical understanding was far different from actual experience. It occurred to him now, as he stood small and vulnerable on the sand, that the most effective form of learning was in the actual doing, which ensured a more thorough comprehension than he could derive from dusty archives.
I shall learn well, he thought, letting fear wash past him.
The nearest worm surged toward him with a rushing sound of scattered sand. The sheer size of the worms grew more incomprehensible as they approached, cresting the dunes.
Infusing his heart with courage, Paul forced himself to face this challenge. He held up his hook and spreader and crouched for the first leap. The noise of the monsters’ approach was so loud that at first he did not hear the woman shouting. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sheeana bounding across the dunes, throwing herself in front of him. The largest worm exploded through the dust and reared up, its gigantic round mouth glittering with crystalline teeth.
Sheeana held up her hands and shouted, “Stop, Shaitan!”
The worm hesitated, and quested from side to side with its fleshy head as if confused.
“Stop! This one is not for you.” She placed a firm hand on the chest of Paul’s stillsuit and pushed him behind her. “He is not for you, Monarch.”
As if sulking, the largest worm backed away, keeping its eyeless head turned toward them. “Get back to the hatch, foolish boy,” Sheeana hissed at Paul, using just enough Voice to make his legs respond before he could think.
Duncan Idaho was also there at the hatchway, glowering. Chani looked both fearful and relieved.
Sheeana marched