The Last Hunter: Collected Edition (Antarktos Saga #1-5)

“You’re a friendly boy,” I say, and it licks my cheek.

I look back at the others. Em has a hand over her mouth. Kat wears a subtle smile. Kainda has a single eyebrow raised. “Disgusting.”

I turn back to the cat. He’s staring at me with his big brown eyes. There’s intelligence in those eyes. “I’ll call you...” When the name comes to me, I smile. “Ookla.”

Thundarr the Barbarian was one of my favorite cartoons growing up. It featured a barbarian, Thundarr, who I actually now resemble—blond, muscular and primitive. His friends were Ariel the sorceress, and Ookla the Mok, a lion-man like beast who roared a lot and bashed wizards’ heads. I always liked Ookla, not because of his ferocity, but because of his loving, loyal allegiance to Thundarr. The name is a compliment.

The lion lets out a gentle roar. His breath smells clean. Almost fragrant. Then he turns and enters the jungle. Before disappearing from sight, the lion turns back and roars again.

“This is going to sound ridiculous,” I say, “but—”

“He wants us to follow him,” Kat finishes.

My surprise is evident.

Kat shrugs. “I’ve seen enough episodes of Lassie to know when an animal wants to be followed.” She heads after the lion and he steps deeper into the jungle.

I motion for Kainda and Em to follow before starting after the cat.

“I am tiring of these outsider references,” Kainda complains to Em. They’re ten feet back, but I can hear them fine.

“Agreed,” Em says. “And why must he name every creature we come across?”

I can’t see her, but I’m sure Kainda is shrugging. “He is a mystery to me.”

“A mystery worth solving,” Em teases.

I turn around in time to see Em ribbing Kainda with her elbow. At first, I just smile, making eye contact with both of them, sharing a laugh, but then I’m struck by the strangeness of what is happening. Kainda is not only allowing herself to be teased, but seems to be enjoying it. There is no embarrassment and no angry response to it.

It’s this place, I think, looking around. The jungle is thick and alive with life. Creatures move all around, just out of sight, but I have no fear of them. The lion leads us through, pushing past giant ferns and rubbing against the thick bark of trees as it walks. The yellow glow from above becomes a diffuse, green shimmer as the thick leaves of the canopy shift in a breeze that carries the scent of flowers. I don’t know if there is something in the air, but this place is having an effect on us, melting away our tension and putting us at ease.

We clear the jungle a moment later, entering a field of tall green grass that rises up to my knees. The grass bends and sways in the breeze, rising up a gentle hill. At the pinnacle of the hill stands a towering tree, full of lush green leaves and twisting branches heavy with fruit.

The lion turns in a circle, smelling the grass, then satisfied, lies down. It flops onto its side and closes its eyes. The lion’s chest rises and falls slowly, but otherwise it’s motionless. Sound asleep.

“Maybe it didn’t want us to follow it?” Em says. “Maybe it’s not like your Lassie lion?”

Kat grins. “Lassie was a dog.”

I’m about to join the banter when I notice the grass near the top of the hill is bending, as though blown by a hard wind. But there is something odd about the grass. As it bends, it’s forming a path, as though something were moving quickly, just above it, leaving a trail of flattened grass in its wake. But there is nothing there. I focus on the air above the grass and see it just before it arrives—a shimmer, like heat rising from summertime pavement.

I take a defensive position and realize that I’ve left Whipsnap back at the waterfall pool, stabbed into the ground. I can’t believe I did that! Has my guard been lowered that much by this place? Remembering I have the original Whipsnap attached to my belt, I pull the weapon free and take a defensive stance.

With a gust of wind, the shimmer arrives. A voice says, “You have come close enough.” The voice is commanding and baritone, but somehow soft and gentle at the same time. Then it reveals itself and I’m undone.

My legs go weak.

I fall to my knees.

My face turns to the grass.

I’m...terrified.





22



“Do not be afraid,” the voice says, but I am afraid. I’m not sure I’ve ever been so afraid in all my life. Sure, I’ve been horrified and disgusted by the tortures of the Nephilim. They’ve taken me from my home, broken me, made me do evil things, posed as my mother and made me the vessel for the physical essence of Nephil, which I swallowed, whole. I have been afraid for most of my time in the underground, but never like this. I have never been reduced to inaction.

“Solomon,” it says.

That it knows my name causes my arms to tremble, and I nearly fall flat on the ground.