Verena's Whistle: Varangian Descendants Book I by K. Panikian (top android ebook reader txt) 📕

At the end, she nodded her head and said, “Okay, I will help you make the Greek fire.”

“That’s it?” I asked. “You believe me?”

“My mother, she has the second sight as well, though it is not very strong,” she lifted her chin in Theo’s direction. “She told me to come and help you. She had a dream and Mesyats, the Moon God, spoke to her. So, your story is not so strange to me.

“She told me to pack my bikini and my hunting knife too,” she finished self-consciously.

“Marry me,” Theo declared and fell to his knees before her. She sniffed at him but didn’t turn away. “You see,” he continued, “this guy,” he gestured to Julian, “does not have a scientific mind like you and I do. With your help, we’ll figure this out by lunchtime.” He inched forward on his knees and grasped her around the waist, smiling up at her winsomely.

Zasha relented and smiled. “Okay, show me your results so far.”

Julian, Owen, and I backed away from the pair and headed into the house. Owen whispered to me, “Do you think we can have the tea cakes now or should we wait?”

I elbowed him and smiled. “We’ll wait for the mad scientists.”

“Then,” he replied emphatically, “I want my crossbow lesson.”

A little while later, I stepped back from the tree stump in the side-yard, pulling Owen’s bolt with me. He’d hit the stump four times out of his last five. My Sharpie-drawn beast face was sporting several gashes.

“Seriously,” I told him, “you’re doing great. You’ve settled right into how to use the sight on the crossbow. I’ve got nothing else to teach you.”

“With crossbows, okay,” Owen settled in beside me as we walked to the garage. “What about a knife?”

I shrugged at him. “It takes years to learn how to fight with a blade. I’m not being arrogant. I’ll try and help you learn some moves, but realistically, I think you’re going to feel better with the crossbow for now.”

I went into the house and strapped on my nightingale knife while Owen found his long knife in the garage. I waved at Julian, who was watching, and he grabbed his knife too.

“Okay,” I gave Owen the basics. “First, these are not practice weapons, so we go at half-speed.” I demonstrated a slow, methodical thrust, stopping a few inches away from the impact point.

“Second, a knife fight means you are very, very close to your opponent. In this fight, your opponents have claws, horns, sharp teeth, and magic. They don’t have to reach for a weapon to hurt you. Knife fights are short, brutal, and scary. So, before you commit to one, you have to decide if it’s worth it, and once you decide, you have to move quickly. In and out and away.” I demonstrated stabbing forward and then spinning away.

“Strike first, strike hard,” added Julian with a smirk.

I motioned Julian over to me and pointed at his arms and legs. “Julian,” I said, “has super strength. You will not be able to block a thrust from him. Instead, move out of the way of the thrust and strike from the side.” I demonstrated.

Owen watched me carefully and said, “I’ve been trained in hand-to-hand. I know that it’s chaotic. Let me try.”

We faced each other in the snow in the side yard. Each of us held our long knives in our right hands. I crouched slightly, bent my elbow so my knife was at a blocking angle in front of my chest, and waited.

Owen waited too, looking uncertain.

I stood up and told him, “You can strike like a hammer, from above, or like a hook, from below.” I showed him.

“You can slash, and slash wounds from knives look intimidating.” I slashed with my knife at his torso. “But stab wounds cause more damage.” I showed him a lunge with a stab. “Slashes, while bloody and large, tend to be superficial, with only the skin that is damaged. Stab wounds, however, go deep into the body and are more likely to injure an internal organ.”

I stood again. “Bottom line,” I said, “in a knife fight you know your range and you decide whether you’re in it to kill or not. If not, don’t fight.

“If you’re competing against someone with a longer reach than you, then you have to attack faster or you defend, and you try to get away.”

“With someone like me,” I gestured to myself, “I am close to your height and your reach. I don’t have claws. Your best attack is slashing at my arms, while I try and defend myself. I can’t attack you if I can’t feel my arm muscles.”

I settled back into my semi-crouched position, right arm bent, and waited.

Owen held his knife loosely in the hook position and then lunged at me slowly. As he stretched into the lunge, however, he raised his arm up. If I stood still, it would slash across my chest, heading for my face. I stepped left and forward, turning my shoulder to him, and shoving his elbow to the side with my left hand, also slowly. I brought up my own knife under his extended arm and pressed the tip against his armpit.

“Good first attempt,” I said. “Next time, remember I’m going to try and move out of the way, not necessarily block your knife with my knife. So, don’t leave yourself open. And don’t forget about your feet. You can move around.”

I danced forward and back, slowly, slashing, stabbing, and weaving. Owen grinned at me. I rolled my eyes. “Let’s try again,” I said.

Owen mimicked my bent knees and starting pacing around, waving his knife hand up and down. I watched him slowly inch closer but didn’t back up, deciding to let him try his maneuver. Suddenly, he dropped his shoulder and charged, tackling me into the snow. My breath wheezed out.

Owen sat up and reached out an arm to help me up. His hand was cold but his eyes were laughing.

Julian stepped forward and said, “Okay,