They tore through the underbrush, knocking weeds and branches out of the way. Duncan felt a stinging twig snap against his left cheek, knocked it away, and continued running. His comrades kept up.
Five more bodyguards turned, prepared to sacrifice their own lives in order to grant their master just a few more minutes. Duncan and his companions struck them in a flurry of long blades. Though the Atreides wore no shields of their own, they fought with surety, penetrating the enemy body shields. Duncan already knew that the mercenaries were competent fighters, but the Atreides had more finesse. These men beside him were the best in House Atreides.
Even so, three of his companions fell in the fighting, but they made the enemy pay dearly. Now only a handful of bodyguards surrounded the fleeing drug lord as they bolted with him into the tall barra trees, ducking through the maze of fronds and making a beeline into the wilderness. Duncan put on more speed. Perhaps Marek had a hidden escape ’thopter?
Duncan vowed the drug lord would not get away.
The spiky mature ferns towered around them with fronds splayed out like sharp fans. Duncan slashed through a wide frond, burst into a small clearing, and could see his target at last. He paused in surprise.
Chaen Marek was a small man in gray robes, and he scuttled along, dodging the fern-tree trunks. In a flash of panic, the drug lord glanced over his shoulder, and Duncan saw pointed features and a clear grayish cast to the skin. His heart lurched.
A Tleilaxu!
Chaen Marek was a member of the Bene Tleilax, reviled experimenters, genetic manipulators, torturers. Duncan had seen them before, fought them, and reviled them. What were the Tleilaxu doing on Caladan?
“I know who you are, Chaen Marek!”
Duncan sprang forward, and swiftly killed one more of the bodyguards who turned to stall the pursuit. The rest of the Atreides fighters were right behind him, more than evenly matched with the few remaining mercenaries. The drug lord could not get away.
While two of Duncan’s companions engaged Marek’s man, the Tleilaxu halted for a last stand. Only three of his protectors remained. They stood in a tight circle, weapons raised, shields shimmering, ready to sacrifice their lives.
If necessary, Duncan would take them all. Chaen Marek had no place to go.
Cornered, the Tleilaxu man glowered at him. “Are you the Duke’s man?” Surrender was not even a flicker in his hard eyes.
“I am Swordmaster Duncan Idaho. The last time I fought Tleilaxu was in the caverns of Ix. We restored House Vernius after your takeover.” He grinned. “I killed many of you then, and now I plan to add one more to the tally.”
Anger darkened Marek’s pinched, gray face as he looked out between his clustered bodyguards. “You do not know the enemy you are fighting, Duncan Idaho. You cannot imagine the repercussions of your actions.”
“I know we are eradicating your ailar operations here. Is Caladan a Tleilaxu test operation? We will stop the drug shipments, and that will prevent more deaths.” Duncan strode closer. “Duke Leto has decreed it.”
Marek’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “Duke Leto is not a man who sees opportunities.” The drug lord seemed to believe he had all the power in this situation, though he had clearly lost this battle.
The Tleilaxu reached into his gray robes and removed a small handheld lasgun. His expression became wily. “Consider my situation, Duncan Idaho. If I let you capture me, your Duke will execute me anyway. You know it. Even more so, I know the Atreides Mentat will interrogate me. I cannot allow that. There is too much at stake.” His thin lips formed a smile. “Instead, I think you will let me go.”
Holding his sword, Duncan tensed like a laza tiger ready to pounce. “We can kill your bodyguards and bring you to justice.” His own soldiers had their weapons out; some even carried projectile weapons, which would not work against the shielded bodyguards.
“No, I think you will let me go,” Marek repeated. “You should have learned your lesson when we vaporized your four attack craft. I had to show you how serious we are, how devoted our followers are. We have a cause you cannot understand. I was stung by the loss of one of my fields, but House Atreides was stung worse. You know what I am willing to do.” He raised the lasgun. “Now you will let me go. Back away.”
Duncan scoffed. “I am a Swordmaster of Ginaz, and I intend to take you prisoner.” Even against the lasgun, he and his fighters could press forward and take the drug lord before they all fell.
“I see your men do not wear personal shields even in this battle. A wise precaution.” Marek activated the power button of the pistol. “But my men do have shields.” He swung the weapon toward one of his own bodyguards. “Lasguns and shields. You know exactly what will happen—and it does not have to be an enemy shield. These men will do. They are willing to die anyway.”
The fierce-looking bodyguards did not flinch.
Duncan froze. He knew this man could do exactly as he threatened.
Marek mused, “We live with the rules of kanly, the binding laws of the Great Convention, rigid strictures for a War of Assassins.” He laughed. “Who could even conceive that a person would fire a lasgun into a shield on purpose, knowing the pseudo-atomic explosion that would result? What act of desperation would provoke such forbidden behavior?”
“No one would…,” Duncan said, but he felt a rush of cold. These people, bound by some kind of fanaticism, had already proved what they were willing to do.
Then he realized an even greater consequence. A lasgun-shield detonation would not only kill Duncan and Marek but all the Atreides soldiers, vaporize the entire site. And Duke Leto.
The Tleilaxu laughed at his expression. “You said that you consider my race dishonorable. I know that you despise us for our very existence. You honestly think I would not consider it a worthy end, a flash of glory? If I touch this firing button, the lasbeam strikes my guard’s shield. Then you, I, and everything for a kilometer around vanishes in a flash of white heat. Everything.”
He paused, his eyebrows arched. “Ah! Is your Duke here with his army as well? Of course he is! Duke Leto Atreides would not sit at home while he sends others into battle. One touch of the firing button, and I will be forever known as the man who obliterated the Duke of Caladan and the House Atreides troops. A far better legacy than being interrogated and tortured to death, don’t you think?” Marek let out a louder chuckle. “As I said, you will let me go or you, your soldiers, and your Duke will all die.”
Duncan strained against the manacles of fury, trying to find a way out. The Tleilaxu was right; Duke Leto was within blast range. Even with the speed of a Swordmaster, he could never move faster than a lasbeam could strike the nearby shield. It was a set of impossible choices.
Two Atreides soldiers moved up on either side of Duncan Idaho. He growled in frustration.
Marek didn’t wait for Duncan to answer. Knowing he had the upper hand, he bolted away, taking a pair of mercenary guards with him, while one remained to give his life and delay pursuit. Duncan hesitated at the prospect of the lasgun-shield explosion, but then he threw caution to the wind. He bounded after the Tleilaxu.
Marek would not obliterate them all in a pseudo-atomic flash, so long as he felt he had a chance of escaping. Duncan killed the lone remaining bodyguard, then surged after the drug lord who was already dodging through the enormous full-grown ferns, weaving between slatted shadows and straight, spiny trunks.