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

“The sword works differently in my hands,” Adoel replies. “Being slain is not the same as being unmade.” He points his finger in the direction we originally came from. “Go now. Ookla will take you.”


The lion stands, stretches, and heads for the jungle. I start after him and then stop and turn back to the ancient Kerubim guarding this eternal garden. “Wait, what? Ookla?”

A faint grin emerges on the angels lips. “It is a good name.”

I nod, offer a smile of thanks, and then head off after Ookla with Kainda, Em and Kat. As we cross into the jungle, I give one last look back. Adoel is there, but he’s shimmering now. Six glowing wings extend out around him. Each wing is covered...in eyes. And he’s not alone, four others are with him. They stand there, still and silent, watching me leave.

I rub a hand over my healed chest, and say, “Thanks.”

It might be an illusion created by the brilliant light and heat like waves rolling from the beings, but I think Adoel nods. I turn away from four angels and the tree they guard. I’m pretty sure that Nephil didn’t know what this cavern was when he entered. If he had, that tree might have been his first stop, though I’m sure he wouldn’t have made it that far. Of course, maybe that’s why he didn’t try for the tree. Being unmade is basically what Nephilim fear already. Pondering these things and many more, I let the jungle close behind me and run to catch up with the others. We still have a long, very upward road ahead of us.





26



As we near the edge of the jungle, I’m struck by a nearly overwhelming sense of loss. It feels like the last day of summer camp, saying goodbye to new friends, who you promise to keep in touch with, but subconsciously know you’ll never see again. It’s like a weird kind of death. Those intense relationships, forged during daytime capture the flag matches, trailblazing, canoe races, nighttime stories and pranks are suddenly torn away as you’re thrust back into the real world.

The real world. It’s full of death and misery, suffering and blood. But here, in this Eden, there is life, peace and something else I can’t quite peg. I feel...loved, like the very air is embracing me.

If the first humans really did come from this place, I can’t imagine how horrible they felt when they left. I’ve been here for just a short time and the temptation to never leave grows with every step I take toward the waterfall entrance.

But the knowledge that Nephil is headed back to the surface, never mind the fact that if I tried to stay I would be unmade, keeps me moving. I stretch my hands out, letting the foliage brush against them, coating my skin with clinging dew. I breathe deeply, trying to saturate my lungs with the air. I want to absorb as much of this place as I can.

All too soon, we leave the jungle behind and step into the clearing by the river. Em, Kainda and Kat are standing still, like a wall, blocking my path. Why have they stopped? A surge of panic grips my chest. “What is it?”

Em turns back. She’s smiling, which instantly puts me at ease. She steps aside. “I think they came to see us off.”

There in the grass by the river are some fifty animals, all different. Some I recognize: rabbit, tiger, fox and such. Others I don’t recognize from the modern world or the fossil record. And still others are extinct, like the ten foot tall flightless bird deemed Phorusrhacidae by paleontologists, but more commonly referred to as “terror-bird”.

“Do not even think about naming them all,” Kainda says. Her voice is stern, but I see a small smile on her lips. Even the hardened warrior can be softened here. As I step out next to my friends, the docile menagerie parts down the middle, providing a path to the water’s edge. Ookla accompanies, or maybe escorts, us past.

The animals just watch us. Some call out gently, but none of them move.

“What are they doing?” Kat asks.

“I don’t think they’ve ever seen people before,” Em says.

“Actually,” I say, stopping half way through the crowd. I kneel down and lower my open hand to a red squirrel. It hops onto my hand and scurries up my arm. The little claws tickle as it climbs. When it reaches my shoulder, it dips its head down and nuzzles into my cheek in the same way the deer did with Ookla. Goodbye my new friend, I think and then say, “It’s just been a long time since they saw a person. They miss us...if that’s even possible here.”

Ookla gives a gentle roar, prodding us to follow. The squirrel scampers back down my arm and we continue toward the water. A small finch suddenly appears and lands on Kainda’s shoulder. She’s surprised by its arrival and nearly swats it away—she might be happier here, but her instincts haven’t been dulled. The bird chirps at her, hops twice toward her head and gives her neck a quick nuzzle before flying off again.

She slows, watching the bird fly away. When I walk up next to her, she whispers, “Do we have to leave?”