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

“Go,” the being says. “Retrieve the shofar and return the blade to me. Quickly.”


I look up toward a ceiling I cannot see. “But how? He’s up there.”

“Solomon,” the being says, a smile appearing on his face. “Sorrow. Weariness. The hardships of mankind. They cannot be felt here.”

“What about pain?” I ask.

“Pain and death are a condition of man that cannot be avoided in this life, though death is forbidden here.” The being looks at me more intently. “Listen to my words. Hear me. You will not grow tired in this place.”

My eyes slowly widen. “Are you sure?” I ask, but don’t give him time to respond. I form a wind around me, lifting my body off the ground. Before I get too high, I focus on the clouds above. They quickly swirl, forming a hurricane overhead. Lighting flashes. Rain pours down. It’s big and bold, and effortless. I smile wide.

“Try not to destroy my valley,” the being says.

I turn my head upward and fly. Five seconds into my flight, I break the sound barrier and a boom rips through the cavern. I am a living missile tipped with a flaming sword. Despite all of the energy I am exerting, I will not grow weary. But none of this power can leave this place with me. Only the shofar. I pour on the speed, punch through the swirling clouds and see my enemy high above, moving quickly across the ceiling.

“Ophion!” I shout, and pour on the speed.





23



Tactically, shouting out your enemy’s name just before attacking is a bad idea. Even people who have never been in a schoolyard fight know this. Maybe honorable medieval knights would give warning, perhaps even give the enemy time to prepare, but I suspect that’s more of a fiction created by storytellers, or if not, a good number of knights died because of their noble ways. I’m far from noble and have no qualms about attacking a Nephilim from behind, but Nephil’s tendrils were just feet away from an alcove in the ceiling that I suspect might be the shofar’s hiding place.

Shouting stopped him.

But it also prepared him.

And I pay the price. My ascent is too fast, my flying abilities far from perfected, and my plan of attack—well, I hadn’t got beyond flying fast and shouting. So when two black tendrils shoot at my chest, there’s little I can do, but try to dodge.

I jerk to the right, narrowly avoiding the first tendril, but I’ve maneuvered directly into the path of the second. The blackness strikes my chest hard. The blunt force of the blow knocks the air from my lungs and breaks my concentration. I sprawl upwards and crash into the ceiling.

The impact knocks me silly, but it also spooks one of the valley’s smaller residents. A flock of tiny birds, hiding in holes in the ceiling, bursts out, clogging the air like living smoke. This is the roost Hades told me about.

I fall, first through the swarm of birds and then through the open air. The swirling clouds below slow to a stop. It’s only been seconds since I shouted Ophion’s name, but he’s managed to staunch all of my bravado.

My head is spinning.

My body aches.

But...I’m not tired. Not even close.

My fall comes to an abrupt halt. The wind gathers round me again.

Nephil’s voice echoes through the chamber, frustration billowing down as though spewed from a volcano.

The birds, I think, he can’t see the alcove because of the birds.

On one hand, this is a good thing. If he can’t see the alcove, he can’t find and destroy the shofar. On the other hand, he is likely to kill the birds. The Kerubim’s words are still fresh in my mind. Death cannot come to this place. He was talking about Nephil when he spoke those words, but I suspect it applies to the animals living here, too.

I don’t think the birds have ever been frightened before. And I don’t think they would have been frightened by me. It’s Nephil’s dark presence that’s scaring them. Instead of flying away, or flocking for safety, they’re just circling erratically. Sooner or later, two of them are going to collide and break their necks without any help from Nephil.

Hovering thirty feet below the tumult, I generate a wind at the core, right around Nephil, and gently push it out. The birds move with the air, further and further away from Nephil, who is watching me through Ninnis’s eyes.

“You fear for these creatures,” he says.

It’s not a question. I’ve exposed a weakness. But he’s too late to do anything about it. The birds are now a hundred yards away. I cut the wind and the birds quickly settle into new ceiling perches. Safe, for now.

I point the sword at Nephil and slowly rise toward him. That I didn’t drop it when he struck me or when I hit the ceiling is something of a miracle, but life in the underworld has taught me to never, not ever, lose my weapon during a fight. It’s a lesson that has saved me several times in the past.

“Leave this place,” I say. “Now.”