DUNE-A False Haderach-Ch.5b (Patreon)
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Chapter 5b
DUNCAN IDAHO
Duncan Idaho was a man rarely impressed and even more rarely bested. He was proud of his status as one of the Imperium’s most feared men, his name spoken with the likes of Gurney and the wretched Sardukar.
His resilience, a trait he had always prided himself in, was now tested to its limits. Only now, as he moved through the Sietch, did he truly understand the folly of his ways, having barely survived the relentless onslaught of the Fremen.
He had been sent by his sire, the Duke Leto, to scout and make contact with the Fremen so the Dukedom could enlist their aid in the nearing conflict between House Atreides and House Harkonen.
The Duke suspected that the Emperor had allied himself with House Harkonen, fearing the rising popularity and fame of the House Atreides and that he might even assist the Harkonen with his Sardukar in the eventual assault. A dangerous prospect, for the Emperor as well, for any word of this could cause great chaos in the Landsraad, yet it was even more dangerous for them because the Sardukar were no joke.
Sardukar, House Corrino’s source of strength, was the most feared army in the Imperium, and that was for very good reason. They were not men, they were fanatic beasts that fought like a beast. House Atreides legionnaires were well trained, but Idaho knew that they would not match well with the infamous Sarduakr.
Yet the Fremen would.
The desert dwellers, ignored by the Harkonen in their pride, were another matter entirely. They were the finest fighters he had seen to this day, fighting like beasts, and he believed they could face the Sardukar and emerge victorious.
He had come close to death many times as he had faced them, yet thankfully, no life had been lost. Now, he found himself welcomed into one of their so-called Sietches, a network of caverns carved into the rocks that ran miles and miles deep and housed a community of over ten thousand Fremen.
“How many more of such sietches are there?” he questioned the man who had brought him inside. Stilgar was his name, and he was a leader of sorts, referred to as Nabi.
“We do not know, thousands maybe more. Each sietch is independent of the other,” the man answered, as Idaho felt elation.
Thousands, that meant millions of Fremen, they could do it. They just needed to ally themselves with the Fremen, and they could defeat the Harkonens and the Sardukar.
“Yet all we are one, for we are all Fremen,” he added as he led him to the dining Hall. Blue eyes followed him wherever he went. Eyes of Ibad, they were called, a consequence of constant spice exposure, for on Arrakis even the air was thick with Melange.
Stilgar led him to a massive Hall where people sat on the ground. The stillsuits were another piece of marvel removed as the water discipline was loosened.
Few used spoons and forks, though most ate with their hands. Idaho observed them and decided to try eating with his hand as well, trying to respect their ways as he conversed with Stilgar over various matters.
The man was cautious in his answers, speaking in half-truths. Yet still, just by listening and seeing Idaho had learned much of the Fremen and how they lived, the more his respect for them grew.
Arrakis was a hard planet, and these people had carved out a living for themselves through all that harshness. It was impressive and noteworthy.
“You fight well for an outsider. You should be proud,” Stilgar complimented him.
“Thank you,” he replied with a smile.
“Now tell me about this master of yours, this Duke Leto, and what he wishes for,” the man asked.
“The Duke sent me here to make contact with your people so that he may converse with your leader so we may have an alliance,” and the man scoffed.
“Alliance, you come here, rob us, hunt us, and now you speak of an alliance,” the man shook his head.
“The Duke is nothing like the Harkonens, he is an honorable man, and he shall treat you with respect and dignity unlike the Harkonens.”
“You outsiders are fond of lying muc...”
“I do not lie. The Duke is a fair man. If you wish, you may see him for yourself,” he offered, and the man looked him over.
“That I may,” he replied after minutes of silence. As Idahos’ gaze began to roam, everyone was looking at him, though they shifted their gaze once he looked at them. He observed the people, their ages, how they sat in groups based on age, gender, and...
But he stopped suddenly as his eyes caught a glimpse of a very familiar symbol—the symbol of Kazab, which had terrorized Harkonens.
“Kazab,” he gasped out as Stilgar’s head snapped towards him.
“What did you say?” he questioned, and his voice had a bite to it now, and Idaho knew he had to be cautious.
“Kazab,” he repeated and heard several gasps from all around as he pointed towards the symbol on one of the Fremen’s jackets.
“That symbol, it belongs to the Kazab,” he said, and Stilgar’s apprehension was visible as he followed his gaze and nodded.
“Indeed it is, but what do you know of this Kazab?” the man questioned, and Idaho shrugged.
“Not much, except that he attacks Harkonen ships and Harkonen cities, that he steals from them and has done so for some time now,” and he felt as if his words eased some of the tension, and so he felt brave enough to ask.
“Is he a part of this Sietch?”
“No!” came the answer, and again, Idaho could tell from the tone and the way everyone was reacting that there was some history here.
“Then why does that man bear his symbol?” he questioned. Stilgar did not answer him for a minute as the man stared at him.
“That man is his ‘Apostle,’ a messenger from him. Kazab has no Sietch, not anymore,” the man said, and Idaho was quite interested.
The man had said not anymore. That meant he did belong to one at some point. And Duncan felt that he was inside that very Sietch.
“Yet he has messengers in many, maybe all, to lend aid and pass messages to families of those who left to follow him,” and that meant that Kazab operated another group outside of the regular Fremen Sietches.
“How does one meet the Kazab?” he questioned after much deliberation, and Stilgar shook his head.
“You speak to the Apostle, yet one does not meet him easily. Kazab shall meet you only if he wishes to. And if he does not, then you may scour the whole desert planet yet not see a glimpse of him,” Stilgar replied with a smile, which dimmed suddenly as he motioned for Idaho to come closer.
“Be careful when you speak of Kazab. He is too well liked by many and hated by others. People may not take kindly to you mentioning him and questioning about him,” he nodded.
“I understand, but can I ask why he is liked by others and hated by some?” he whispered, and Stilgar took in a deep breath as he looked at the ceiling.
“He is loved for he fights for us, despite being what he is. And hated for he tarnishes the hopes of many as he lives, and so they call him a Heretic, Apostate,” he answered as he turned towards him.
“I have already said more than I should, for I like you, Duncan Idaho. Just be careful when you mention that name,” he said, and Duncan nodded.
“I thank you for your wisdom, Stilgar,” he said as his gaze turned towards that sigil once more.
A pair of wings, interspersed and moving, drawn in full swing.
“It is called Ajnihat al Hurriyah, The Wings of Freedom,” the man elaborated upon seeing Idaho's gaze, and Idaho was impressed, though the implications of that name were not lost to him.
“Wings of Freedom,” he whispered back as the so-called Apostel turned away from his friends and stared at him. Their eyes met as the man mouthed something before turning away just as quickly.
‘I shall wait for you.’
.
.
Hours later, with much of the Sietch busy, Idaho would make his way to the man with the jacket, the Apostle.
“I have a message for you,”
“Yes,” Duncan answered, surprised by the man’s words as a messenger rod was thrust in his hands.
“Send it to your master.” And he was surprised.
“My master wishes to meet the Kazab,” he replied, for it seems the man was already aware of their arrival at House Atreides.
“But does the Kazab wish to meet him? That is the more important question,” the man said with a smile, and Duncan raised the rod.
“What is in there?” he questioned.
“You may read it. It is advised. For the Kazab does not meet with outsiders without cause.” And Duncan realized just what this rod contained.
“These are his demands for the meeting.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Do with it what you may. I have done as I was commanded.”
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