The Dying Moon ( Feyd Rautha )

Chapter 20

                                

                               Part two

I am the sword of the dawn.

Hawk gripped her weapon and teetered on the edge of sudden death. The stalagmites were not dulled by the impact of ships falling. A war still boomed on the palace side of the mountain, cries and drums harkening into the night. If she were a positive girl, she would think the battle had been won.

I am the echo in the light of dusk.

Feyd Rautha did not appear so convinced that there was any war whatsoever to win. Loss looked awful on him, as if the pain of it took physical hold. He had expected the moon to fall, of that much Hawk was certain. Yet, evidently he hadn't considered the gravity of that, in a literal sense. Without the balance of the moon, the waters far to the north banked and poured against the cliffs. She could hear it, either that or the oceans of blood that seeped through the cracked stone were making waves.

I will not fear, for I have no master.

There were no ships still in flight, Moritani or Harkonnen. They lay in smolders deep in the ravines and trenches. Feyd eyed them carefully, their embers burning in his irises.
Hawk could not recall a time she had seen so much darkness. It pulled at the peripheral of her vision as if it were a living entity. She imagined it was something like that, like the sisters that had hidden in the shadows of Collette's chambers; Alive, bursting, waiting.

I walk with gods and man alike.

Hawk had seen many men die, she had delivered the final blow on more than a few occasions. Feyd had likely done her damage tenfold, but it was clear that neither of them had watched the fall of a celestial being. He faltered in his step toward her, eyes still locked on the burning vessels below. The dagger in his back was doing its due diligence; she could see his adrenaline waning. A lack of fight equaled pain, and pain made even the strongest men lose balance.

The loss of balance meant no ships could fly within the atmosphere without their signals going haywire. It meant that Califenat was more than just a moon that controlled the axis and tides, she had been the governing force.

It meant stuck, like the knife in his back.

It meant stuck, like Hawk on a mountainside with no clear route of escape. The collar burned against her throat and she wondered how long she could fend it off before it singed through.

"Is this not what you wanted?" She mocked, "The planets yours, forever it seems. The army is yours if you can go down there and convince them not to slaughter you. I will warn you, the Galicine do fight better in the pitch black."