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

I let the warrior pick up his axe. He’s grunting and angry, eyeing me carefully. This one’s not going to be big on the pre-fight banter, which is fine by me. This isn’t a Spider-Man comic book. But, I do perform the classic challenge to fight barehanded by tossing Whipsnap to the ground and raising my clenched fists. Sure, the giant hasn’t ever seen a movie in which such a scenario plays out, but I’m pretty sure he understands.

He glances from me to his fallen brethren. He was too busy choking on the business end of an arrow to see how they died, but it’s enough to convince him that throwing away his axe would be folly. He lets out a battle cry, punctuating it with a spray of spittle, and leaps toward me. His wings beat the air once, lifting him up, but also propelling him forward. For his size, he’s quick. But not quite quick enough.

As his feet touch down and he swings hard with the axe, I sidestep. I don’t have to use any special abilities to dodge the blow. Any hunter worth his while could have. It was an obvious attack meant to bring us in close, because once a human being is within arm’s reach of a Nephilim, the fight is pretty much over. Avoiding the axe is just the first part of my plan. The second part comes next.

Before the giant can heft the oversized blade from the earth, I turn toward it, draw my fist back and punch. As my fist covers the few feet to the axe, I focus on my arm, bunching the molecules more densely, pulling in atoms from the surrounding air and powering my knuckles with the kinetic energy that fills the very earth of Antarktos.

My fist connects with the six-inch thick base of the metal blade where it intersects with the handle.

There’s a loud clang, like when a blacksmith hammers a blade.

A throb of pain moves up my arm like a shockwave.

And the axe...

It launches from the warrior’s grip as though shot from a catapult. It sails away into the jungle, lost in the trees until it strikes something solid with a distant bong.

The warrior is disciplined and wastes no time wondering what just happened. He raises his fists into the air, laces his fingers together and then brings the joined fists down like a mace. The effect of the strike would normally be like a human punching a rotten banana.

I lift my hands up, repeating my focus from the punch and intensifying it, filling my body with all the power I can muster, if only for a moment. The warrior’s boulder-like hands land in mine.

And stop.

I feel the force of the strike vibrate through my body and out into the ground beneath my feet...which is technically part of me. The impact presses my bare feet into the earth, and I feel the connection to this continent, and all its vast power, like never before.

The warrior is far bigger than my human body, but what he doesn’t know, and what I’ve just realized, is he’s fighting a force more ancient than the Nephilim and larger than the United States.

Actually, I think he’s starting to figure it out. He separates his hands and looks down at me. Seems even Nephilim can sometimes have the ability to speak with facial expressions, because this big guy has “how?” written all over his face.

A blur of movement streaks out to my right.

The confused face was a ruse!

No time to move.

Focus!

Whack! The scorpion tail strikes my side. A single sting would have caused me intense pain, and eventually death. Instead, it strikes my ribs, and shatters.

Now the giant is truly stunned. And before he can recover, I leap up, propelled by wind, covering the thirty feet to his head. I grab hold of the metal ring protecting him. Standing on his shoulder, to the side of his face, I pull. He roars in pain and spins his head, trying to bite me with his double rows of sharp teeth, but I’m gone before his jaws close. And I’ve taken the ring with me.

Purple blood flows from four deep wounds on the sides of his head where the spikes held the crown in place. As the skull and skin knit back together, I wander over to Whipsnap, pick it up and take aim. One good throw and this is all over.

But before I can kill the warrior, something huge roars and pounds out of the jungle shadows. I see a flash of green. And teeth. And then, blood.





21



I flinch back, surprised by the violent new entry into the fray, but then I recognize the green-bodied, maroon-striped dinosaur as Grumpy. He’s got his powerful jaws locked over the warrior’s head and is thrashing him back and forth. To make matters worse for the Nephilim, Zok, has just stomped out from behind a tree and taken hold of one of the warrior’s legs.