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

I complete the spin, and call the wind to me. Kainda, Mira and I are carried out and away from the cliff, angling down toward the jungle below as though hang-gliding. Despite our whipping hair, the passage down the two-hundred foot drop to the jungle is smooth, and we are quickly concealed once again.

We pause in the shadows to catch our breath. I look back, craning my head up toward the waterfall, and the unthinkable happens.

The berserkers, lost in frenzy or just uncaring, pour over the side of the cliff. Some are in the water and will land in the river. But others, the majority of them, crash to the ground below, broken by tree limbs or slapping wetly against the large flat stones lining the river. Like lemmings, they keep flowing over the side, dying one on top of the other.

Maybe it’s their last bit of free will? I wonder. They’ve lived in nightmares for so long, maybe now that they have the chance to end their lives, and suffering, they’re eager. Or maybe they really just have no minds left. Whatever the case, it sickens my stomach.

Kainda mutters a curse in Sumerian. I turn to her, but she’s not watching the river of death. Her gaze is turned higher, to the sky. I follow her eyes and see them. Three winged warriors circle toward the ground, no doubt attracted by the scent of blood and the sight of so many berserkers committing mass suicide.

I take hold of Mira’s arm, but before I can speak, she says, “You’re bleeding.”

I look down at the arm and see a one-inch slice. It’s not horrible, but it’s not going to heal without attention either. Still, there’s no time to worry about that now.

“Doesn’t matter,” I say. “Remember when I said things were going to get harder? That hasn’t really happened yet. But it’s going to. We need to run again. Faster this time. Can you do that?”

In response, she runs. Kainda and I follow, glancing at each other to communicate the same unspoken fear: they’re going to find us.





15



Mira is getting tired. She hasn’t slowed down yet, but I can see the signs. She’s not raising her arms as high with each step. Her breathing sounds shaky. And she’s leaning to one side. It’s slight, but I’m willing to bet she’s running through a cramp, which isn’t easy, even for a hunter. Our pace is not sustainable.

On the bright side, the Nephilim pursuing us from the skies above have yet to find us. The jungle canopy has done a good job at hiding us. They’ve also split up, widening the search, a fact I learned by sensing the air above. Nephilim warriors, with their thirty-foot tall bulk and giant flapping wings, displace a lot of air. Once I found them, tracking their movements became as easy as feeling someone blowing on the back of my neck.

On the not so bright side, the lone warrior still behind us is dropping down toward the jungle. I don’t think he’s spotted us, I just think he’s tired of trying to see through the endless curtain of green leaves. Either way, once he punches through the canopy, we’ll be far more exposed. With most of the direct sunlight blocked in this stretch of jungle, the floor is relatively free of growth. We can run faster, but the tree trunks are our only cover. We could head underground again, but I don’t feel any natural tunnel systems heading in the direction we need to go, and using my connection to the continent to create miles of subterranean passages will sap my energy to the point where I might need to be carried.

Unless we can channel our inner ninjas and disappear, this is probably going to end in conflict, which shouldn’t be too bad. I can handle a lone warrior. But the scent of his blood, as well as his disappearance into the jungle, might garner further attention. I might normally open up a pocket of earth to hide in, but I’m still feeling spent, and I really don’t want to exhaust my abilities, just in case they’re needed for something even more urgent later on.

“Behind this tree!” I shout, catching Mira and Kainda off guard. Kainda reacts quickly, diving behind the sixteen foot wide tree. The massive tree, with its rough bark, looks like it’s something out of the forest of Endor. Mira stumbles, but I catch her arm and yank her hard to the side.

She shouts in complaint, but I slap my hand over her mouth a second before the canopy a hundred feet behind us explodes. Leaves shake free. Branches shatter. And then, as the Nephilim lands hard, the ground shakes. He’s a big one.

Loud sniffing fills the air. Then a booming voice. “I can smell you, humans. Reveal yourselves and your suffering will be short. Exquisite, but short.” That last bit is followed by a laugh.

Kainda leans in close, cupping a hand around my ear. “I know his voice,” she says. “Ares.”

Ares! Great. Of all the Nephilim that had to chase us into the jungle it had to be Ares, the Greek god of war. He’s not only known for being ruthless and bloodthirsty, but he’s also a very skilled fighter. I’m going to have to make this as unfair a fight as possible.

More sniffing. A branch cracks. He’s getting closer.

Running isn’t a choice now.