6:04 minutes

She was too late.

“Father, you need medical attention,” Zingara said. In the darkness, she knelt with a bright chemical torch. Blood pooled around her knees.

“The closest medic is dead,” whispered Yew to Zin.

“Both. Take … the packet … my right breast pocket,” Krest wheezed.

Yew Rue pulled out a bloody wad of stuff and shoved it in his war kit. The perforated packet punctured by a finger-sized stone projectile.

“Zin, goodbye, my Desert Princess,” Krest breathed out.

“What to say?” said Zingara. As she spoke this dismal finality, Somer Krest, the wise old man, never inhaled again.

Dusty silence dispersed.

Zingara didn’t say farewell. It wasn’t right. Nothing glamorous, mere explosives on the door. Boom! He’s dead.

Zingara smothered her grief hating who wired the door: Lamia’s goons.
Her father helped Zingara discover her beauty and intelligence. His gift of confidence to succeed at anything. Now, her precious feelings gone in an instant. Her eyes closed tight. Angry blood vengeance must lie on this same cold white marble floor.

“You, men. In here,” commanded the solemn Yew.

A white carrying cot presented to remove Somer Krest’s broken body.

“Wait,” commanded Yew Rue. He withdrew a shining red feather from a secret pocket sewn in his pant leg.

“I return this sacred talisman,” he said. He spread a handkerchief across Krest’s silent chest. Folding Krest’s hands, he placed the long feather there. The warriors stared at the shiny feather in disbelief.

“It’s always been true,” whispered one.

“It’s the flight feather of Benu,” breathed a young uniformed woman.

“We never doubted the legend, sir,” said the drill leader.

“It’s more than legend now,” said Yew Rue, “Bury The Wise Old Man in full battle dress. The feather bears testimony of his sacrifice. Any questions?”

“No Sir.”

“His spirit guides us still!” Yew Rue shouted.

The soldiers memorized the moment, “The Wise One’s spirit guides us still!”

And outside a spontaneous battle chant grew and repeated, “Guides us still. Guides us still.”

Zingara noticed the new boldness in Yew’s voice. Returning the generous Phoenix feather was an honor. No desert man ever bestowed such a gift. She was in shock. Her trained military composure eroded in turmoil. A sob welled up deep inside.

Sad yearnings echoed in the silent vacuum. Her knees collapsed as she spoke, “Daddy, don’t go.”

Yew stepped among the assault team … and stood in the middle … in the proper teaching stance.

“I am Yew Rue. My battle name means sorrow. Here, you and I, we all, sorrow the loss of our valued leader – together. Our mission is to liberate this golden city. We will make Shiloh free again – or die.”

In silence, gloved fists began to rise, showing soundless battle consensus. So, promised by all: freedom – or death. And, without a word or struggle, Yew Rue became the unanimous chosen as new battle leader.

His eyes gleamed. The corner of his mouth curled in a treasonous smirk of treachery.

5:44 minutes

6:29 minutes

Dusty carved leather covered the antique book – front and back. Zingara couldn’t read the cover’s strange cultist symbols. Dead fungus stained the worn leather a whitish powdery color. Inside, on creased pages, the faded words were old speak. Hard to unravel – but better than the blood-rock writings of the ancients.

The stained title page said, The First Book of War. A bloody thumbprint smudged the dogeared corner.

It smelled musty – and magical.

Scrawled inside the cover page some numbers detailed topical contents. She scanned down the list.

“Here it is,” she said to herself, “Benexus.” She caught her breath speaking the word. A taboo word she’d heard whispered in hushed voices. Was it evil?

Why did she tremble? Excitement? Dread?

“Benexus? included in a war book? Strange,” she thought. A hidden book buried underground beneath the earth for centuries. Was it forbidden language? And what did it mean?

And then – here now in front of her wide green eyes. Written in big black ink letters.

“Benexus: The mind touch.”

Zingara pulled the candlelight closer and squinted at the letterforms.

She whispered, “Benexus is a telepathic technique. The minds of two individuals become a single entity.”

She stopped and puzzled. “Telepathy?” She wondered, “Thought transference? How?”

She scanned down the tan page and turned another crumbly paper leaf.

“Benexus: The art of being present, being together. Deeper unspoken conversation when souls and minds speak direct between partners.”

“This smacks of love poetry,” Zingara thought, “Not battle language at all. Foolishness,” she snorted.

Benexus: a bond or connection.

The conversation between partners involving body language, eye contact, emotional awareness, and rhythm.

1. The first definition of Benexus is “to be manifest.”

2. The second definition is “to come in sight.”

3. The third is “to appear in proper character.”

4. The fourth is “to appear without disguise.”

“Without disguise — how curious?” she thought, “Did that mean unprotected? Armor-less?”

This didn’t sound like warriors. Wrinkles crossed her forehead and she scowled. “Vulnerable?”

Uncomfortable she read more.

Benexus means “to show yourself in your true guise,” or “to show your soul to another,” or “to make your spirit manifest to another,” or “to show your true SELF to another.”

Her lip curled in disgust.

It also means deep resonance or flowing together.

Now she tasted a taint of bitter in her mouth. “Warriors don’t do Benexus,” she scoffed.

Benexus is a conscious choice to manifest your spirit in a spiritual dimension.

Benexus requires trust in oneself. And the courage to be vulnerable when revealing one’s soul without disguise.

Benexus is a blessed joining.

She slammed the book shut.

A marriage word! Absurd.

The slow cloud of dust drifted and settled. In disgust, she stomped out of the dark library.

“Mind rot,” she shouted back at the closed book, “The truth of Benexus is weakness! There’s no power here.”

Zingara was dead wrong.

Talent

Voice-over-artist: Chloe Wigmore

Illustration: Levi Teare