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

For some reason it hadn’t occurred to me that Xin was controlling all these cresties. The concept of controlling so many minds at once seems positively daunting, even to someone who can control the entire continent’s elements. “You’re doing this?” I ask.

“They have simple minds,” he says. “And they are willing participants. I simply send out the command and they obey. But that is rarely required. They follow Grumpy’s lead and he often obeys without the use of my—” he taps his head, mimicking my previous gesture. “They are good soldiers.”

“Good dancers, too,” Luca says with a laugh.

“You didn’t?” I say, smiling wide.

“The boy missed his family,” Xin says with a shrug. “I did what I could.”

Shaking my head at the mental image of Grumpy doing a jig, I thump his sides with my heels and move forward, if only to spare my prehistoric steed from further embarrassment. “Let’s go.”

“I think I would like to see the dancing dinosaur,” Kainda says with a trace of humor.

“I’d like to see you dance,” Luca says to her, which gets a laugh out of Em.

“That might be even stranger than a dancing cresty,” Em says.

The good humor lasts all the way up the tunnel as the group discusses who would make the worst dancer. In the end, the winner is me, on account of my lack of rhythm and clumsiness when embarrassed. I try to defend myself, but Luca knows these things better than the others do, because he’s the same exact way. “But I’m a kid,” he says, “So it’s okay if I look silly.”

We slow at the exit and our humorous exchange fades.

“Are the men outside hunters or outsider military?” I ask.

“Most of the sentries are what outsiders call Army Rangers,” Xin says, “but the entrances to the underworld are watched by hunters, who are more familiar with what lurks below. They have been trained to use modern communication devices, though, and could call in an attack if they feel we are a threat.”

“They wouldn’t attack us themselves?” I ask.

“The old ways are changing,” Xin says. “Freedom makes men less willing to throw their lives away.”

I take the lead and motion for the others to hang back a bit. I squint in the bright light of a noonday sun, shading my eyes with my arm. Grumpy steps into the light cautiously, perhaps because he senses danger, but more likely, because his eyes are adjusting to the light, too, and his stubby forearms are incapable of shading his eyes.

I don’t see anyone, but there are a thousand hiding places in the thick jungle surrounding the small clearing at the cave’s exit. I’m no doubt being watched, if not targeted. “Do not be afraid,” I say, finding it strange that I’m using the same words of greeting as the Edinnu Kerubim.

No response. Not a greeting or a thrown weapon. Of course, it would take a minute for a missile to get here. I decide to put them at ease as quickly as possible to avoid any confusion. “I am Solomon Ull Vincent,” I announce. “Your...leader.” Still feels funny saying that, but that’s the way it is for all of us, like it or not. “Show yours—”

I turn around and find one man and one woman standing above the cave entrance. They are dressed in brown leathers and coated in mud, impossible to see in the shadows, but easy to spot in the glaring bright sun. Both of them bow.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say, feeling instantly uncomfortable. “Really. You can stand up.”

When they stand, I realize they’re just obeying, not relaxing. Ugh. “What are your names?”

“Mellitt,” says the man. He’s tall, bearded and carries a long spear. His blood red hair is mostly covered by mud, but I can see it clearly enough. What I can’t see, is any streak of reclaimed innocence. It could be there, but the mud obscures it as well, which might be the point. Not all hunters are with us. Which also means that this could be a trap.

“Turner,” says the woman. She is lanky and slender like a snake. The perfect body for the underworld. Her skin is pale, which hints that she’s only recently come to live in the sun. The sunglasses covering her eyes confirm it.

Do you know them? I think to Xin.

They are with us, he replies.

“There are five more with me,” I tell them. “Xin, Kainda, Em, Luca and Kat, one of the outsiders.” I pat Grumpy’s head, which makes the woman fidget uncomfortably. “And about three hundred more of these guys. They are friends. All of them. You’ll let them pass.”

Both nod, bow again, and slip back into the jungle shadows above the cave.

The others exit the cave and Xin takes the lead.

“You handled that well, kid,” Kat says. “Authority suits you.”

I laugh at this, but my humor is short lived when Xin says, “Follow me closely. Do not stray far from my path. The jungle is full of traps.”

“Traps?” I say.

“For the Nephilim,” Xin explains. “They were Clark’s idea.”

“Traps won’t kill the Nephilim,” Kainda points out.