Verena's Whistle: Varangian Descendants Book I

by K. Panikian

  “Not really,” I shrugged.

  “How about with the bear? Were you trying to scare it away?”

  I thought about it. I remembered being scared for the dog, but not any specific action that caused the piercing whistle. It just came out of me. “Sorry, no.”

  “Okay, well, let’s not get discouraged. I absolutely think this is your magic and like any skill, you’re going to have to practice.”

  He was probably right, but I wasn’t sure how to practice something that I couldn’t seem to control. “Let’s go talk to Uncle Alex.”

  Chapter 4

  On the shores of frozen Lake Chebarkul, on the slopes of the southern Urals, Russian Federal Space Agency Scientist John Kuznetsov paced behind the police barrier. His toes were frozen in his sneakers and he was going to be late for a meeting with the university’s astronomy department. He wanted to use their lab for a couple of weeks while he was in town, but if he missed this meeting the department head would likely ignore his request.

  On the other side of the barrier, he could see the circular hole in the lake ice where the meteorite fragment hit; it was more than 20 feet across and the blue sky reflected off the black water like a mirror. A local fisherman found it a few hours after the main explosion over Chelyabinsk.

  The police barrier was holding back a hundred or so spectators from walking onto the ice to peer into the hole. John tried waving his Roscosmos badge at the officer in charge when he arrived but had been turned away. They weren’t sure if the ice was stable enough to walk on or if the heat from the blast had thinned it. Come back tomorrow, he was told.

  There were a handful of islands on the lake and he could see some smoke plumes in the distance, meaning some of them were inhabited in the winter months. Maybe he could rent a snowmobile and go knock on some doors, see if anyone managed to get a video of the flaming meteor hitting the lake.

  For now, he turned to head back to the parking lot. He would send one of the junior staffers out to talk to the police tomorrow. He wanted his team to have first dibs at whatever meteorite fragments survived the blast in the mud on the bottom of the lake. They would likely need to borrow a dive team from the university as well.

  As he drove out of the parking lot and headed for the highway back to Chelyabinsk, John made some decisions about priorities. His team needed to help with the fragment recovery efforts at the lake and also search the surrounding area for more meteorite pieces. It was likely that the locals were already doing the same and anything they found would end up for sale on the internet instead of being studied in a science lab. The military response team had reported that, so far, no elevated levels of radiation were on the ground along the meteor’s path, but that would need to be verified as well.

  His team was already studying the cell phone videos flooding the news channels and it appeared that there were at least three impact points: the main fireball in the air over Chelyabinsk, this lake impact, and one more site to the northwest of the lake.

  The fact that no one had located the third site yet meant that it was probably in the middle of the wilderness. Even if his team sent up drones to scan from the air, it would be a lengthy search. Perhaps he could put a request in for a satellite flyover, though it was unlikely that his superiors would rate it a high enough priority for the expense. Maybe if he could swing some positive media coverage out of it?

  Feeling frustrated that he’d gotten nowhere after driving all the way to the lake, John pulled over and dug his cell out of his pocket. He called his deputy and told her to take the university meeting and then called his secretary to tell him the change of plans. He was going meteorite hunting.

  TWO hours later, John regretted his earlier enthusiasm. The snowmobile he’d rented in Zlatoust was old and noisy and really, who was he kidding? He was just going to drive around in the forest for a while and find an impact crater?

  Following a hunting trail through the trees, the snowsuit and facemask he’d rented with the machine were keeping him relatively warm. Still, the exposed skin on his cheeks just below his goggles was tingling. He should stop and adjust his mask. He had about another hour of daylight before he would give up, he decided. The drone idea was sounding better and better.

  Just then, he noticed the swath of trees in front of him was burnt at the tops. Further along, a line of blown-down firs bisected the hunting trail. Based on the way the trees fell and the direction he knew the meteor had been traveling, John turned and steered the snowmobile off the trail to follow the flattened trees deeper into the woods. After a few hundred feet he realized that the undergrowth was too dense to take the snowmobile any further. He didn’t want to steer it down the cleared meteor path either, in case there were meteorite fragments on the surface of the snow that the machine would crush or bury.

  John climbed off and grabbed the backpack that came with the snowmobile rental. He knew it contained a compass, some water, and a first aid kit. He would only go a little farther he told himself.

  The snow was deep but not so deep that it covered his rented boots. He was in pretty good shape and it wasn’t hard to tramp along. John felt invigorated. The woods were silent but after enduring the throbbing snowmobile engine noise, it was peaceful despite his crunching footsteps. The sun was low in the sky and cast a beautiful luminosity over the frozen landscape. The blown-down trees created a barrier, almost like a wall, between him and the deeper woods. John took a breath and then puffed it out, feeling satisfied with himself as he watched the white mist dissipate.

  It took him a moment to recognize that the second puff of breath he’d heard hadn’t come from him.

  When he did realize that another creature was breathing near him, he was not afraid, at first. He turned to see and then he was very afraid. Standing just a few yards to his left, in between the tall trees, was a thing of nightmares. A humanoid torso sprouted from a horse’s back. It was draped in a tattered cloak that obscured its face with dense shadow. Pale fingers with long, sharp fingernails dangled from wiry, withered arms. Its equine legs were thin and black. The cloak rippled in an invisible wind and in the murky shadow of the creature’s face, John could see one pale, violet eye glowing.

  It was a being straight out of his grandmother’s fairy tales. A todorat. John fell back a step. It was impossible, he thought. Someone on horseback must be playing a trick. But the proportions were wrong and there was definitely no horse head in sight. The creature’s shape under the cloak was skeletal and upright. He took another step back.

  The todorat stomped and the ground shook. John staggered as an echo rattled the tree branches. It stomped again and let out an aggressive hissing noise.

  John began to slowly back up. He tried to remember the story. Did todorats eat people? Did they have magic powers? If he could just reach the snowmobile, he could probably outrun it. He started taking bigger backward steps. The todorat stayed in the same spot and watched him. As soon as the trees obscured it from sight, he turned and broke into a sprint. John ran so fast he felt like his heart was going to burst. He reached the snowmobile and risked a glance over his shoulder. The creature wasn’t in sight.

  He climbed on the machine, started the engine, and reversed it out of the woods. Back on the trail he shot one last glance through the trees and thought he caught a glimpse of the tall, cloaked figure, still watching him. He gunned the engine and sped off. He didn’t see the second beast step forward to stand beside the first. When the red bolt of pure magic shot through the trees and stopped his heart, he didn’t feel a thing as he died.

  Chapter 5

  We found Uncle Alex in the living room with Grandpa Basil. They were watching the news coverage of the meteor streaking across the sky over Russia. The commentators were talking about damages on the ground; it sounded like a lot of broken windows. One shot of a large hole in the ice of a frozen lake, with throngs of people around, was particularly compelling.

  Grandpa Basil muted it and pointed at the couch across from where they were sitti
ng. “Verena and Theo, good. This is what we know so far,” he started. “The meteor ended up in at least three pieces. One fragment exploded in the air over Chelyabinsk, so we don’t think that a portal, if one was created, would be accessible to anyone in the other world. Uncle Alex doesn’t recall any flying besy.”

  Uncle Alex took over. “The second fragment impacted the lake in the video just now. That site will have to be examined as I definitely remember some creatures that lived in or near the water.”

  “What about the third site?” Theo asked.

  “We don’t know yet,” Uncle Alex answered. “It doesn’t look like they’ve found the third crater yet. We’re thinking you should base yourselves out of Chelyabinsk at first, since it’s the biggest city in the area, but after you pick up some necessities, you’re probably going to want to move closer to the sites.”

  I agreed, thinking about the supplies we’d need to tramp around the Russian countryside in February. Plus, we would need weapons, just in case. The idea that the meteor impact opened portals and monsters followed through was still unbelievable to me, but we needed to be prepared. Uncle Alex’s intuition was trustworthy.

  Theo took over with some questions about our travel itinerary and I zoned out, making packings lists in my head, until Theo poked me hard in the side and gave me an expectant look.

  I gave him a blank look back and he asked again, “Did you want to tell them about the bear, Very?”

  I quickly went through what happened with the dog and then the black bear, with Theo interjecting here and there to add his perspective. When we were done, Grandpa Basil looked as perplexed as I felt and Uncle Alex beamed.

  “A Nightingale! How wonderful! I remember stories of nightingale magic. It’s a rare power that doesn’t pass along genetic lines, and I don’t remember ever meeting one.”

  “So how do I learn how to use it?” I asked.

  Uncle Alex frowned. “I’m not sure, actually. Like I said, it’s pretty rare. Let me think about it for a bit, see if there’s anything buried deep.” He tapped his forehead, stood up, and started to wander toward the kitchen.

  “Very’s been using it subconsciously. I bet that now that she’s aware of it, she’ll be able to direct it,” Theo pointed out and stood too.

  “That’s a valid idea,” Uncle Alex agreed. “What if….” I stopped listening as they stepped into the kitchen and disappeared from sight.

  I turned and smiled at Grandpa Basil. “While they figure that out, I’m going to spend some time in the basement. At least down there I know what I’m doing.”

  AN hour later, I was soaked with sweat and feeling much more in control of my life. I’d started with some stretching, then the weight machines, and finally a long run on the treadmill. Now I was nice and loose. Julian had come down after a little while, but he was still in the weight area. Julian’s magic was strength-based; he could bench press a car if he wanted to show off.

  Great Grandma Joanna installed the gym and training area ages ago when she was still young enough to use it. Separated by a cinderblock half-wall, one side was full of weight machines and a couple of treadmills, and the other side had mats, punching bags, and a weapons rack full of practice swords. The barn behind the chicken coop was where we practiced with projectiles, like the bow and arrow, crossbow, and for those that had the skill, magical energy bolts.

  I picked up my favorite practice sword, a spatha. It was around 30 inches long, which was a good length for my height but still maneuverable. I’m tall but my height is in my legs, so I like bladed weapons that give me a long reach. Swinging the wooden sword, I loosened my wrist and then did some lunges with forward thrusts. Smoothly, I stepped into the rhythm of a basic kenjutsu kata. My sword felt comfortable in my hand and my muscles moved effortlessly. I added complexity to the kata and closed my eyes, losing myself in the rhythm.

  I’d been practicing with swords since I was little but for the past few years, once I accepted that I hadn’t inherited any of the family’s offensive magic, I’d really focused on it.

  Someone stepped into the space to the right of me and I reflexively spun away and opened my eyes. Julian was there with a heavy gladius and raised eyebrows. I nodded and we began to spar.

  Julian preferred heavier swords because of his strength; the lighter ones were prone to break on him. The advantage in the heavier weapon was that, if he struck me, I would be out of the fight immediately. However, he sacrificed speed and I was already the faster fighter. The last time we sparred he’d beaten me with a combination that lulled me into a strike that he’d anticipated and parried, allowing him to knock my sword away, and I’d yielded. This time, I would not make the same mistake.

  Julian had a few inches on me, so I needed to respect his reach. The trick was to engage from a distance, dance around, and tire him out, then attack with rapid slashes, striking at both sides of his body, forcing him to swing that heavy sword back and forth to parry. Then, when he slowed down, attack in earnest.

  We began and the sounds of the wooden swords clashing and scraping filled the basement space. We moved back and forth and around, testing with feints and short slashes. Julian began a combination that I knew would end with a head strike; when it came, I ducked under it instead of parrying and pivoted away; Julian smirked at me.

  A few moments later when he tried another strike, I stepped to the side and punched him in the solar plexus. He laughed. I shook out my hand.

  We spun around and for some time, neither of us made any significant hits. My breath was coming in pants and my sword arm was aching. Finally, I started to see some slowdown in Julian’s strikes. I waited a few more moments; he’d tricked me before. Finally, on a feint to his torso, he let my blade scrape along his and to the side, instead of parrying it away, and so I whipped my sword away and back overhead in a rapid figure eight, and stopped an inch from his neck.

  We smiled at each other and he patted my shoulder, “Nice fight, Very.”

  I walked over to the small fridge to snag a couple of waters and handed one to him. He was lying flat on the mats, taking deep breaths, and I sat beside him to stretch. I liked Julian’s silences; he was very peaceful to be around. He was a high school guidance counselor down in California and had perfected the art of whole body listening. With his handsome face, kind blue eyes, and shaggy blond hair, he looked like a surfer. I bet the California girls ate him up. I laughed to myself.

  “I was supposed to tell you, you and Theo leave tonight.”

  I laughed again. “Did you get distracted? How much time do I have?”

  He shrugged. “You have lots of time. Your flight to Seattle isn’t until 10pm. You were relaxing down here, and I didn’t want to ruin it.”

  “Well, thanks. I do feel calmer.”

  “Are you worried?”

  I thought about how to answer. Julian was gifted at getting people to talk about their feelings and I knew he would keep my secrets.

  “I’m not worried, I’m excited, and that’s worrying me.” He waved for me to continue. “I should be scared. I’m traveling to somewhere I’ve never been to look for monsters. That should be terrifying. I should be frustrated about missing school. I should be worried about my new magic…” I trailed off. “But I’m not. I’m thrilled. I can’t wait to go.”

  “I don’t think it’s bad that you’re excited. We grew up listening to the stories of heroic monster battles, great magic powers, and our superhuman ancestors. Now you have a chance to do something epic too.”

  “Are you disappointed you’re going to Paris instead of with Theo and me?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Not really. I’ll get there eventually and, in the meantime, I’ve never been to Paris. Plus, while you’re tramping around in the snow, I’ll be Indiana Jones, following clues to the great treasure.” He grinned at me.

  AFTER my shower, I packed a small bag. Most of my luggage allotment would go toward my winter gear. At the last minute, I added Theo’s two gifts to my pile. I couldn
’t walk around a modern city with a sword by my side or a bow on my back, but I could strap on a small knife under my coat. And I needed reading material for the flight.

  I started to head back to the living room to say my goodbyes when my dad motioned to me from the sunroom at the back of the house. I sat down next to him on the old couch and looked at our reflections in the glass, our hair the same dark brown, and the evening black outside the windows. Dad looked worried. I laid my head on his shoulder and he tilted his head to rest on mine.

  “Verena, I want you to know you don’t have to do this. I know the family I married into and I love them all, but they can be very pushy. I’ve had my eyes opened to the wonders of the universe and seen them do amazing magic, and none of that obligates you to take this step. You’re my only child. If you want to stay, I’ll support you. Your mother will support you. We can try and find another way.”

  My vision filled with images of supernatural beings lumbering through a snow-filled valley. The bauks, with their ape-like, hulking gait, picked up speed and the giants breathed fire. A few brandished clubs. Their claws and fangs were sharp. Ahead was a group of people, and I stopped my vision abruptly. I didn’t want to see what would happen. I could never tell with my visions whether they were true or just my imagination, and if this one was true, I had no desire to witness a slaughter.

  “No, Dad, I can do this. I will do this.” I let my voice reflect the confidence I didn’t feel. I was genuinely excited, like I told Julian, but I wasn’t stupid. This would be incredibly dangerous. Or possibly all a bust. Which prospect daunted me more? I couldn’t decide.