Riding the Worm

[Paul Atreides]

Paul nodded solemnly.

“Sallamaka al-lahu wa-nasaraka.” He intoned, softly pounding his hand, still gripping the bloody crysknife, to his heart before offering a small bow. Paul’s men mimicked the gesture, having returned after arranging the bodies and painting the words “Muad'Dib” with their blood on the outside of the damaged base doors.

“The phrase is a Fremen one, which was suitable for someone who has done the desert a service.” Paul explained, knowing he would not understand Chakobsa or its modern descendant languages.

“It means, in simple terms, ‘May Shai-Hulud protect you and grant you victory’ and may only be spoken between those who have partaken in the hunt together. Shai-Hulud is a great worm like the one we rode, but much larger, that is worshiped by the Fremen people. I suspect he is more a manifestation of deep rooted traditions and possibly even a morphology of some ancient Islamic binary god-figure... but it will suffice as a gift of my intentions... that is to say... Marix- be well. Call on me if you need me.”

And with that, Paul vanished as a shower of dusky sand swept across the great desert of the Endless Dunes. He who was one with the sands cannot be distinguished from its lesser parts and Paul was a creature of the desert. Afterall, Muad'Dib was just the word for a “desert mouse”.

Paul had found a new desert, a new Arrakis, now and he would set things right here. He had seen today that he could rely on others, for there existed a rare breed in this world that were not as twisted and cruel as the Harkonnens. Still, he could not shake the feeling that he had more cruel work to do before things got better for the Dune. Perhaps his work would never end...