Pure Requiem - Aja James Page 0,28

lore and literature. She suspects that Tristan’s sword is the original Excalibur. But none of us knows the details of his history. Perhaps only his Mate, Ayelet, does.

“I thought you might,” Adam returns. “Project Excalibur is in fact a program intended to develop a laser sword that extends at different lengths and even widths, depending on the calibration, strong enough to cut through diamonds.”

A whistle pierces the air from Aella’s direction. She follows it up with a query, “Pretty sci-fi, Morgan. I’m envisioning Star Wars Lightsabers.”

I do not understand the reference, but I imagine she is talking about a movie. I have listened to a few “Blockbusters.” But I prefer audio books.

“Close,” Adam acknowledges. “A couple of scientists at Harvard and MIT University stumbled upon a way to control the interaction of different photons. Long story short, the military took their science, combined it with the laser technologies they were already developing for rifles, guns, and long-range energy weapons, and came up with a tubular core that can extend a sword-like, controllable laser from both ends, as a hand-held weapon.”

“Why was the project canceled?” Inanna asks.

My daughter and her Mate, Gabriel, whose previous incarnation was a warrior under my command called Alad, joined the Elite warriors relatively recently. On that basis alone, I feel it my duty to be here as well.

I cannot protect my loved ones from afar.

“No human can wield the thing,” Adam says in a half-growl borne of frustration. “Lives have been lost in the attempt. First, the light from the laser is blinding, at the very least debilitating. The wielder has to wear thick, protective head gear, which is not conducive for combat mobility.”

This would not be a challenge for me, I think immediately.

“Second, the laser, while focused and controlled, is too powerful and heavy to hold steady. Humans are simply not strong enough. Hence, the accidents that led to several deaths.”

Also not a challenge for me. Or perhaps for any Immortal.

“Third, the core or sword hilt has to recharge before reuse. No material can hold that kind of energy indefinitely. There is no such thing as an Energizer laser battery.”

I do not understand the “Energizer battery” reference either, but I get the gist.

“But you think we immortals can wield it,” Aella deduces, just as I did. “It still sounds too powerful to use as a regular weapon though. Not very handy, and only for one-time use, assuming we do something about the blinding bit.”

“One time is all you need if you can get close enough to behead a dragon,” Adam counters. “I have a plan to get my hands on a working model of the prototype.”

Silence descends upon the room.

So this is what the Chevalier has in mind.

Since Sophia and company’s return from their trek in the Middle East, Cloud has spoken about an aberration in the Universal Balance. He shared the dying words from the Snake King that Medusa’s army got to before the Pure Ones could.

She has transformed herself into an earth-bound dragon, a creature that has not existed since the beginning of time. They should not exist, for they are too powerful. They are fabled to have the spark of the Goddesses themselves.

But I have always thought they were myth until Cloud Drako revealed that he used to be a celestial dragon, a warrior who takes dragon form once in a lifetime when it is absolutely necessary for the protection of the Balance.

We do not have intelligence about her monstrous form, but Cloud warns us that no human weapon would be able to take her down, unless we are also willing to decimate an entire civilization along with her, using something called a “nuclear bomb.” There are other powerful weapons as well, but the same collateral damage would be wrought.

She is too difficult to pin down by missiles and other long-range weapons powerful enough to make a dent, for she can shift forms and elude any target lock. In addition, we do not know what other powers she wields, but Cloud senses that they are strong.

Furthermore, we cannot afford to launch a full-scale assault on her and her army without declaring our presence to humans at large. Our only hope is to get close to her, in any of her forms, and deal the death blow in close-quarter combat.

“I can wield it,” I speak out, as the inhales of breaths tell me that others are also preparing to volunteer.

“It has to be me,” I assert before anyone can object. “The flare from