Verena's Whistle: Varangian Descendants Book I by K. Panikian (essential reading txt) 📗

bauks, are brutish and stupid, the others are not. They will not be easy to find or to kill.”

“I will be careful, Uncle,” I answered him. He let me go and I moved on to Grandpa Basil. He had no words of wisdom but instead held me close.

Aunt Sophia cleared her throat loudly and everyone paid attention. “Theo has the keys to the storage locker in Seattle. You have enough time before your flight to New York to stop by and take a look, and then ship what you think you’ll need to Chelyabinsk. Julian emailed your itineraries. Don’t forget your passports.” She stopped. “That’s it. Be careful. Try to stay in touch.”

Chapter 6

We landed in Seattle around 2:30 in the morning. We had a six-hour layover before our flight to New York, so we dropped our carry-ons in storage, grabbed an Uber, and headed for the storage locker. Theo was an easy traveling companion and we’d both managed to sleep a couple of hours on the flight. I was tired but energized. It felt good to have a concrete task to accomplish.

The storage site was next to a grocery store just a few minutes from the airport. The parking lot was empty but the area looked safe and well-lit. Theo waved his key fob at the front gate and we walked into the parking lot.

Rows of bright orange doors surrounded us and I followed Theo down one of the alleys. He stopped in front of a door, crouched to unlock it, and then pulled it up and open. He flipped the light switch on and we walked inside. It was pretty empty except for some wood crates against the wall. I yanked the door shut behind us, locked it again, and Theo started pulling the crates open. Inside were the contents of Aunt Irene’s arsenal, or at least the arsenal the French lawyers had tracked down. Uncle Constantine was adamant that she’d had another, but we’d never found it. Maybe Julian would uncover something when he found the missing journals.

Soon, we were surrounded by a pile of weapons. There were bows: long, compound and cross, as well as bracers, quivers, string, and a whole crate of just arrows. There were swords and long knives, a handful of spears, some melee weapons, a double-headed axe, and what looked like a foot-long bronze tube or syringe.

“What is that thing?” I asked Theo. He saw I was pointing at the tube and got excited.

“Isn’t it awesome? It’s an actual Byzantine flamethrower, for when they needed portable Greek fire.”

“Portable?” I repeated questioningly.

“Most of the Greek fire projectors that survived to the present day were the larger ones mounted on ships. But the field armies carried them too. Dad found this one on eBay a few years ago. It’s in great shape.” He patted the tube fondly.

“Of course,” he added, “no one knows the recipe for Greek fire itself anymore. It’s been lost for centuries.”

I moved over to the projectile pile. “I think we should take at least two crossbows and probably the longbow too. The crossbows are easier to disguise in public, but if we’re spying from a distance, we’ll need the longbow. What do you think?”

Theo agreed and started filling one of the empty crates back up with our selections. He added the appropriate strings and arrows and threw a couple of bracers on top.

I bent over the swords and started moving them around. I was looking for either a rapier or a cavalry saber, I decided. Something light and long and well-balanced. Rapiers were straight-edged and sabers curved, but both were excellent for self-defense.

I found a 1796 light cavalry saber. Jackpot. This was the sword the British cavalry used during the Napoleonic Wars. The blade profile had a pronounced curve and the hilt was bound in silver wire. It would allow brutal slashing moves, which would likely be useful against opponents that might be scaled or armored.

Theo snatched a shortsword and a sovnya, a single-edged blade mounted on the end of a long spear.

“Don’t forget to pack something for Julian,” I reminded him.

“He’s got a long knife in his suitcase already, like you, and he told me to try and find a mace. I wasn’t sure if I remembered seeing one last time I was in here.”

I looked around. I knew I’d just seen one. “There,” I said as I pointed out a pernach to Theo.

“Nice,” he said and seized it. It had a steel shaft and a flanged metal head. “Julian swinging that thing will be unstoppable.”

We added some padding and then nailed the top onto the crate we’d filled. It wasn’t too heavy and Theo carried it out into the alley while I hailed another Uber on my phone. Theo locked up and we went back to wait by the entrance. It was almost 6am at this point and I was exhausted. The excitement had worn off while we nailed up the crate and now, I was ready for our next flight so I could sleep.

At the airport, we stopped at the UPS counter near the baggage claim and shipped the crate to the hotel in Chelyabinsk. We grabbed our carry-ons, and then breakfast, and then found our gate. I emailed Dad an update and Theo texted Julian. He was about to head to the Anchorage airport. Theo told him about the mace and Julian was pleased.

I kept my eyes open until I found my seat on the plane and then I was out.

FIVE and a half hours later, we landed in New York. It was 5pm local time and I was energized once again. I’d slept nearly the whole flight and I was starving for lunch, or dinner, I guessed. Our flight to Moscow was in just a few hours, so we bought some more food and then decided to pace around, stretching out. It would be a nine-hour flight to Moscow and then a really long train ride to Chelyabinsk. We’d tried to find a