Yew smiled when Krest recognized him by the doorway. They approached and solidly embraced. Those present admired their great respect for each other’s talents and knowledge.
“How are the rocks you sleep on?” asked Krest jokingly.
“Not as hard as the one you pillow your lumpy skull on,” retorted Yew.
Somer permitted this joviality with Yew, but with most others, he was a serious Shaman, the medicine man. Because both men knew these were warring times, their camaraderie was made more precious when death breathed at the portal.
“It’s been a hard year and still more storming and killings going on,” said Yew. “What’s the battle plan for tonight. Do we raid the Dragoness’ stores for supplies again?”
“No, Yew. Much more serious, but let me address the group. You’ll hear soon enough.”
Krest moved toward the center of the group. He preferred giving instruction from the center, never on some stand or pushed to the end of a room like a preacher or professor. Krest taught, standing like the warrior leader he was. Yew made a note in his mind he would teach that way someday.
Youthful Zingara’s combat garb and masculine like body movements had fooled more than one person, but not Yew. When he met her in the desert, her femininity was not disguised in the least.
Youthful Zingara pretended ignoring Yew Rue’s glances across the rock room. She seems sand rough now, he thought, remembering her desert tenderness.
“Your attention, please. Darken the room,” said the commanding voice of Somer Krest, “I want to inhibit discovery. Give me your full attention. No gawking at charming people.”
Yew blushed realizing his affection was so apparent. Zingara glared at him in mock insult. His feelings towards her were always so confused.
“Sorry, Yew. Be sharp. Put your mind on your work.”
There were some predictable chuckles about “attraction distraction”.
“Our mission tonight is most serious. We must stay here in this cave and do nothing,” stated Krest.
He paused a moment for this absurd idea to settle. It was not the expected plan.
“We’re the last out of the big city. By morning, Shiloh’s few inhabitants will be destroyed by the she-dragoness. We may be the only godly people alive in the city. Naturally there is a plan,” assured Krest, “After this night, Lamia’s powers will wane. No more human blood to live off. Unless she catches a few of us, she’ll be weak and desperate.”
“Why such cruel damage to our people?” questioned Zingara.
A quick hush gripped the group. Everyone assumed Zingara privy to Somer Krest’s thoughts and plans.
Krest cringed at her question. He regretted not sharing that information before with his daughter. He hesitated. He marked the shrill nighthawk cry in the outer darkness. A night sentry gallantly died to save all inside.
“Extinguish all lights. Battle silence. Arms ready,” Krest breathed the orders rehearsed a thousand time. They crouched by the walls and prostrated themselves on the floor. They were an elite force trained since childhood for destruction.
One person was not near the wall or floor. Yew Rue dangled spread out in the huge circular iron light suspended from the cave ceiling. Below he could make out the shapely form of Zingara.
In the dim, he smiled admiring her squirming silently for belly comfort on the rock. At least, if I am here for hours I’ll have a nice view.
Waiting ready yielded no sound from the outside. Tension and anxiety were mounting, yet they continued waiting inside until secure. After some time, silently Yew dropped from the ceiling like a cat and flattened himself next to Zingara. She was feigning sleep. She quickly drew a sharp blade to Yew Rue’s exposed throat. Pressed on top of him, she yanked Yew’s dark hair back towards his broad shoulders.
“Planning to assassinate my sleeping father?” she growled.
“You know me better, Zin. I’ve been thinking of your desert offer. Remember? To unite with you.”
“Mocking me like this is despicable,” she whispered, “You make light of sacred joinings.”
“No. I just wish things were different.”
She rolled off him and lay close beside him, defenses eased.
“What do you mean?” she whispered, her eyes searching his face for truth.
“I wish I had accepted you.”
“You say this now because this is probably our last night alive. You want an offering before you die.”
“Don’t you desire the same?”
She paused before speaking, glaring at Yew Rue.
“No. You humiliated me in the desert. I’d rather toss my bones away to sandmaggots than be humiliated by you again.”
“Rejection is too weak of a word to equal my fear. I’m afraid of the strong power you have over me. I was afraid you’d manipulate me and twist me. See. I’m addicted to your charms,” said Yew.
In the dark, unseen, Zingara touched Yew’s face. Her small hand felt cool stroking his flushed skin. In the sandy desert, she thought him proud and arrogant. He was never passionless or as distant as she supposed. And tonight he reacted as if hungered by deprivation or starvation. She now glimpsed a fear closer to reverence or awe for her and her ability to fog his mind and cloud his reason.
Zin’s mind drifted back to the day they first met. She relaxed into a powerful sleep as Yew caressed her and a vivid dream of recollection came back to her mind. A shocking dream to be repeated over and over. Again and again.