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

“You smell weak,” Ares says, sniffing deeply. “Untainted.” He laughs again, like he’s just heard a great joke. “You will taste delightful.”


Kainda tenses, and I sense she’s about to charge the giant. I take her hand and squeeze, mouthing the word, “Wait,” to her.

Ares’s own personal brand of Nephilim stink, which I note includes the scent of human blood, reaches us. He’s not far now, maybe twenty feet from the far side of the tree. Does he know we’re here?

No, I decide. I can hear him shuffling around, looking in all directions. He smells us for sure, but can’t pinpoint our location. To make it harder on him, I shift the natural breeze some, pulling our scents upwind. He grunts with the wind shift, no doubt thinking we’ve begun to move. When he does, I slide to the side and slowly peek around the tree.

Ares is massive. Perhaps one of the largest Nephilim I’ve seen, both in height and in muscle tone. He’s dressed simply, wearing only a tunic, but its blood red coloration, which matches his ponytailed hair, reveals he is one of the commanders in charge of ten thousand troops. Killing him will help disrupt the Nephilim ranks, though not drastically.

His body is facing me, but he’s got his head craned to the side and his nose raised. Despite the simple garb, he is intimidating. He carries a thirty foot long spear in his left hand and a shield in his right. I have never seen a Nephilim use a shield before. They generally prefer to absorb blows with their regenerating bodies. The pain suits them. But perhaps war is different, especially when the enemy—modern humans—have things like anti-tank missiles. Then I see the gleaming, razor-sharp edge of the shield, and I realize it’s not just a defensive weapon. But the most dramatic statement is his red crested helmet. At first I think that the hair is either his own, or from a feeder, but then I see it move, as though on its own, and I realize the brazen god of war has decorated his helm with behemoth hair.

I’m so entranced by the thirty foot tall warrior dressed like a Spartan Hoplite, that I forget to pull back when his head swivels forward again. But Kainda is still thinking and pulls me behind the tree.

“Ares is no ordinary warrior,” she whispers in my ear. “He is not to be trifled with.”

A metallic zing rings out from the other side of the tree. A loud clang and a snap follows. I duck instinctively, but nothing happens for a moment. When I look forward, I see Ares’s shield embedded in a tree directly across from us...which means...

I look up at the tree giving us shelter. The line of bark has burst outward.

He threw the shield through—a tree! A fourteen foot wide tree! It hasn’t fallen yet because the branches high above are thickly mingled with those of other trees. It will likely stay almost upright for a long time to come, or until the behemoths make their way through.

The exploded bark is just a few feet above us. Had he aimed a little lower, we’d all be dead. Thing is, I don’t think he wants to kill us. I think he wants to toy with us first.

Which isn’t going to happen. I step out from behind the tree. He sees me, but I don’t give him time to react or even recognize me. A compressed column of wind strikes his side and lifts him off the ground. The giant’s body slams into a large tree trunk, folding around it backwards. Several loud cracks issue from his spine.

The wind lets up.

His body falls.

And then, he heals. Each vertebrae that cracked pops back into place, one by one. And with each pop, the Nephilim warrior moans in ecstasy, relishing the pain. I really hate that these guys enjoy pain so much. Kind of takes away any pleasure I might get out of beating them up. Then again, his attitude will change when he realizes he’s going to die. For the soulless Nephilim, death means nonexistence. A permanent end. It’s the one thing they fear.

Kainda rushes in, fueled by bloodlust. But Ares has mostly recovered and never let go of his spear, even while his spine was shattered. He sees her coming and growls, “Betrayer!”

Ares thrusts the spear at Kainda, but she rolls around the sharp tip like a football running back and continues her charge. Ares’s massive wings give one big flap and he’s carried up onto his feet, bringing his head out of Kainda’s range, but I think that’s what she expected him to do because she’s already diving forward, bringing her hammer hard against his kneecap. I see the bone swivel to the side, making the leg momentarily useless.

Ares shouts in pain, but he’s got a big grin on his face. Pleasure, pain or both, he drops to his knees, while the bone repositions itself.

While he’s down there, I direct a gust of wind toward his head. The helmet is knocked free and cast aside, revealing the golden ring protecting the weak spot at the center of his forehead.

The giant’s laugh becomes sinister. “The prodigal son.” He knows who I am now.