“The blood of an army is the blood of its commander,” repeated another Grumman warrior, advancing with his blade.
“You can’t kill me! I am the heir to House Harkonnen!”
“You are a failure.” Brom raised his sword. “And you have led
Rabban activated his body shield just in time to deflect the slashing blow. As the other warriors plunged toward him, he wheeled his stallion about, desperately slapping at the behavioral controls. The animal bolted. Brom pursued hotly, while the other Grumman warriors ran howling after them.
Rabban fled, knowing he was out of his element. With the attached controls, he commanded the armored stallion to take him up the steep hillside and around the fortified city, along a trail that wound through stunted evergreen trees that offered little cover.
He had intended to prove himself to his uncle in this War of Assassins, had hoped to return to Giedi Prime as a conquering general. Now he’d be lucky to make it back at all. He didn’t know if he would rather face the wrath of the Baron, or death on this faraway world.
The stallion galloped up the rugged slope with surprising grace and smoothness. Rabban felt the animal’s powerful muscles pulling beneath him, and despite the incline, the horse didn’t seem to tire. At a fork in the trail, the Genga darted to the right into a grove of taller trees that offered slightly better shelter. The horse forded a narrow stream and kept climbing.
Rabban headed up into the rocks, following a narrow valley in the parched hills, through which a stream ran. He found a game trail and followed it; other wild horses must have come down to this water to drink. He was panting hard himself, though the horse did all the work, gaining higher ground where more tangled trees covered the hilltops. The farther up he went toward the headwaters, other streams converged, making a rough white torrent that cut a deep gorge.
Rabban’s body ached so much he could barely sit in the saddle, and the rough terrain wasn’t helping. Brom was behind him somewhere and had surely summoned other Grummans to continue the pursuit. The stallion struggled past trails that branched off into side canyons. Rabban looked back, expecting angry Grumman warriors to be on his heels.
By the time he heard the humming of the enemy scout cycles, it was too late to hide.
Two men in Atreides uniforms streaked up from the valley, chasing him with cycles that skimmed over the ground, barely touching it. Rabban spun and lurched back, grabbing onto the saddle’s pommel. His fingers fumbled for the neural control buttons, but the horse was already planning its escape. The stallion reared. Unable to maintain his hold, Rabban tumbled from the horse’s back, landed hard on the rocky path and rolled partway down the hill. The animal bolted, and within seconds Rabban found himself alone.
With jet-bursts the Atreides scout cycles went airborne over the widening canyon, then headed toward him.
“BY THE SEVEN Hells, that looks like Beast Rabban!” Gurney shouted. In the slave pits, Rabban had humiliated Gurney, scarred him for life, killed his sister. “Can it possibly be him?”
Hunched over his cycle controls, Duncan had seen the same thing. As a little boy, he’d had his own experience with the man, surviving Rabban’s staged hunts through the catacombs of Barony and in the dangerous wilderness of Forest Guard Station. “It
After his tumble from the horse, Rabban had regained his feet, and was running as fast as his burly legs could carry him up the long hillside. He was heading toward the shelter of rock outcroppings that stood above the fast-flowing cascade. No doubt, Rabban intended to hide like a rat.
Side by side, Duncan and Gurney raced their scout vehicles up the slope, skimming over the land. On a flat, rough patch of stone, they set down their cycles and proceeded on foot, running. Duncan drew his sword when he saw Rabban’s black-tufted helmet wedged into a crack between the boulders where the man had discarded it. Not far ahead, they could hear him plunging forward, knocking rocks loose, blundering along a ledge.
The pursuers took different paths around the lichen-covered stones, which thrust upward and created many barriers, like a labyrinth. Duncan thought he smelled fear in the air. He licked his dry lips, tasting the faintly alkaline dust of Grumman. Earlier, he had been engrossed in the main battle, shocked by the sudden turnabout with the Viscount’s appalling tactics on the dry seabed. Now he could only concentrate upon the memories of his childhood: the terror and rage he had felt at being chased by Rabban and his fellow hunters. He had barely survived by outsmarting Rabban and escaping… but in the intervening years, how many other victims had this man killed?
Too many.
Duncan put on a burst of speed, knowing that Gurney Halleck hated the Harkonnen brute as much as he did. Though they were friends, Duncan did not want to surrender the satisfaction of the kill, even to his bosom friend.
The outcroppings of stone channeled Rabban’s flight into particular directions, and as he ran, he would have chosen the easiest route. Every time Duncan rounded a towering pinnacle, he expected to see his enemy there, waiting to ambush him.
Finally, the path petered out among towering talus boulders. Duncan passed a dead tree, rounded a tall rock, and found an open ledge — a cliff, forty feet above the rushing cascade that raced down the gorge toward the dry plains. Rabban stood at the dead end in dismay, looking over the precipice. He turned toward his pursuer, desperately clutching a fighting knife that seemed to have more jewels than blade, a clumsy ornament rather than a deadly weapon.
Duncan lifted his sword and stepped closer to him, feeling a deadly calm inside. “I would rather run you through, Rabban. But if you choose to stumble and fall off the cliff, that would be satisfactory as well.”
Rabban spat forcefully at him, but the wad of spittle struck to the inside of his personal shield and went no farther, dripping and sparkling against the invisible barrier.
“You don’t even recognize me, do you?” Duncan said, thinking Gurney might have made more of an impression on the so-called Beast. “He’s over here!” Duncan glanced quickly aside as his comrade approached.
While Duncan’s attention was diverted for an instant, Rabban plunged at him with the dagger. “Don’t need to remember you,” the other man grunted. “I can kill you.” Duncan easily parried, and Rabban did not compensate enough for the presence of the shield, so that his dagger was deflected. Duncan was much more proficient at close-in fighting, and his new razor-edged sword slashed along the meat of his opponent’s upper arm, drawing a bright scarlet line of blood.
Rabban growled and swung the dagger again, but it slid ineffectually off Duncan’s blade. Duncan pushed, shield against shield. “Second time I’ve beaten you — and this time I’m not just a child.”
Rabban’s heel slipped off the edge of the cliff, and the close-set eyes flew wide open as he lost his balance. Duncan instinctively reached out to grab the man, but Rabban fell, dropping into the foamy white torrent below.
Gurney shouted, more in disappointment than concern. The two men stood watching as Rabban flailed helplessly in the sweeping water, narrowly missing one of the wet dark boulders, and was swept tumbling down the cold stream. His shield continued to shimmer, protecting him from rocks, but he could still drown.
“Now how are we going to fetch him?” Duncan said in disgust.
“Maybe there’s a big waterfall ahead,” Gurney added. “We can hope.”
They heard angry shouts, more horses coming. Duncan spotted other Grumman warriors approaching up the hillside and converging from a side canyon. “We have to go,” he said.
Gurney nodded. “The Duke needs to know that the Harkonnens are involved here as well.”
“I would rather have Rabban’s head for proof, but our word will be good enough for the Duke.” Duncan looked at the fresh stain on his new sword. “At least I’ve blooded my blade.”
“Wipe the blood on your sleeve. Maybe it can be tested.”
As the Moritani forces came closer, he and Gurney made it back to their scout vehicles and used jet-bursts to fly out over the canyon. As they raced away, they looked for any sign of Rabban’s battered body in the rocks. But to their disappointment, they did not see him.
