Pure Requiem - Aja James Page 0,25

Aella come barreling out, in the middle of shoving each other playfully but with enough force to make the other stagger and stumble.

“That was a dirty move, Amazon,” Tristan booms, pushing Aella’s shoulder so hard, she would have fallen to the floor had I not caught her.

I didn’t even realize I moved into position to catch her.

“Thanks, General,” she says and rights herself immediately, springing back on the balls of her feet as if she meant to fall and use my arms like springboards.

On the rebound, she flips herself forward, leaps onto Tristan’s shoulders with her thighs tight around his neck, twists with enough momentum to unbalance him, and uses the weight of the warrior’s own muscular bulk to nail him to the ground.

Wait…

How do I know this? A tingling shiver courses down my spine.

I didn’t “see” it. I just…expected it.

Or perhaps that’s not what happened. Perhaps she executed a different maneuver. But it seemed real, the way the fight sequence played out in my mind.

“Who’s your Uncle, Tristan du Lac?” she snickers as her strong thighs continue to suffocate her sparring partner. I can hear his belabored breaths.

“Or is it Auntie?” she ponders while Tristan starts choking in earnest. “What do you think, General?”

I shake my head, bemused by their antics, and head inside the training hall, leaving them to continue their playfighting.

They remind me of the soldiers I used to train in ancient Akkad. Now, I help train the Chevaliers, the Pure Ones and humans who know of the immortal races and help the Royal Zodiac safeguard the Universal Balance.

Though Aella is a couple millennia old and Tristan must be several hundred years at least, they seem so young to me. It is not a matter of age. It’s that they have never fought a war. Only battles and skirmishes. They have never known enslavement and true savagery.

I pray they never do.

“’Sup, General,” Liv greets me, the resonance of her voice telling me that she’s about three feet in front of me.

With my other senses heightened to compensate for my blindness, I can visualize my surroundings with accuracy, especially if I am used to a space. It is only when I encounter a place for the first time, and the motions within it, that I feel some confusion at first and take longer to visualize the dimensions in my mind and react to the movements therein.

“Good morning to you, Liv,” I return.

I do not know if I will ever get used to the modern way of speaking. Why do people say things that make no sense? Why is “what’s up” the same meaning as “how are you”?

For more than a year, when people greeted me this way, I never know how to answer. And then, they shorten the words even further, until I’m not sure what they’re saying at all. At least now I know how to return one kind of greeting. There is so much to learn.

“Hankering to get my shot at you,” Liv says, and I can hear the grin in her voice. “Today is the day. I can feel it. I’ll finally get a hit in.”

My lips tilt at one corner. I admire the boundless energy and hopefulness of youth.

But no, she is not going to “get a hit in” today. I respect her too much to ever falsely let her win. She still has a long way to go in martial arts before she can surprise me with a move.

“You can try,” I answer.

We spend the next hour sparring. First without weapons, then adding swords, knives, an Asian weapon called “nunchucks” that Liv likes to wield. It took me a while to learn the weapon, but once I became comfortable with it, it became an extension of my body. In a way, my blindness aided rather than impeded me. I felt the weapon lash out and snap back, and was never distracted by the sight of it.

“I’m beat,” Liv huffs, sounding as if she is folded forward with her head near her knees. “You’re a machine today, General. Have you been humoring me thus far? Cuz dayyaamm! I don’t know how I can ever be even a tenth as good a fighter as you.”

Her words make me feel a bit guilty. She is human, after all. And I am a full-blooded warrior Pure One. Perhaps I should have calibrated my strength.

But no, I always hold back with her. Today has been no different. And yet, obviously, she feels it is.

“You won’t ever beat me