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

I tire of looking at my face and haul myself out of the water and onto the lowest step. I then set myself to the task of climbing the steep staircase. Eight steps in all. Thirty-two vertical feet. At the top, I need to stop and catch my breath. I bend over, hands on knees, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Did Ninnis teach me that?

When I stand upright I’m looking at something I would have never thought possible. The staircase is just the beginning of something huge. Something ancient. It can best be described as a temple complex. There are several small step pyramids surrounding a larger, spiraling tower, like a Sumerian ziggurat. Its top is concealed by darkness. Obelisks and statues line the streets, though many are broken. In fact, the place looks like it has been through a war. A few wars, really. The buildings are scarred with gouges and impact craters. A wall that once surrounded much of the site is now a crumbled pile of stones.

As I approach the ancient metropolis I am dwarfed by its scale. Like the four-foot steps, this place was made for, or by, giants. The only standing city gate must be sixty feet tall. The ruined walls, which looked small from a distance are still piled twenty feet high. How tall were they when they still stood? I now know how a mouse feels when it looks at a house. I could disappear inside this place. Hide like a rodent in the nooks and crannies.

I enter the temple court, walking through the massive gates feeling smaller than ever. And more exposed. I pause to get my bearings. I hold my breath and listen. A faint breeze is rolling over the temple from the lake. The air smells clean, like it does after a rainstorm. I see no hints of movement. I am alone, I think, which is good. Without my pack and climbing claws I am defenseless. In fact, I’d better find a weapon of some kind in this place. I will soon need to make a kill and eat.

As I round a black obelisk covered in circular symbols that look vaguely familiar, I come upon the most massive statue I can recall seeing. It’s like the Colossus of Rhodes, I think. But this giant isn’t standing guard over a harbor, or even looking out at the water. He sits atop a fallen obelisk, back rigid, head looking straight. I cannot see the face, only its back.

As I walk slowly closer, details resolve and something starts nagging at my subconscious. The statue has been painted in dull colors. Brown armor. Gray skin. Red hair covered by a Viking-esque helmet covered in what appear to be rows of upturned teeth that remind me of the dinosaur’s open jaws.

Red hair.

When my subconscious finally breaks through, it’s screaming.

Who builds a statue on a fallen obelisk!

I stop.

This is no statue.

The red hair is not painted.

This giant...is alive.

I take a nervous step back. My footing is firm. My step silent. I pause before stepping again, sensing a shift in the breeze. It’s now at my back. At his back, too. The movement is so subtle I almost miss it. The giant’s head cocked to the side.

For a moment I think my presence has gone unnoticed, but then see a twitch in the mammoth man’s calf muscle. He is shifting his weight to stand. Once on his feet, the giant would stand nearly twenty-five feet tall and could cover the distance between us in four strides.

Though I feel a tinge of shame for running once again, I see no alternative, and put my feet to the stone. Silence pursues me, but I suspect the thing is simply playing with me, giving me a head start. A moment later, my suspicion proves correct as the first thundering footfall gives chase.

I don’t look back as I pass back beneath the gate. My eyes are on what’s in front of me. A small section of cave wall to my right is essentially a dead end. To my left are the four foot steps. Even if I manage to make it to the steps and vault down them without twisting an ankle, what would I do then? Swim like the world’s slowest minnow. The giant would pluck me from the water.

I head for the wall, hoping for a crack in its surface. The ground beneath me shakes. Unlike the large dinosaur, this giant is heavy and far from light-footed. As he gets closer, the vibrations nearly knock me forward.

As I near the wall, its details leap out. I see two large cracks, but both are five feet from the cave floor. Getting inside would take time. And I don’t have any time to spare. In fact, I think the giant is right behind me.

Then why hasn’t he squashed me or picked me up? I wonder.

Not caring about the answer, I focus on the wall again and find my escape route. At the bottom of the wall is a horizontal crevice about a foot high and six feet wide. I can fit. And quickly.

A few feet from the wall, I dive forward and slide across the gritting stone floor. I ignore the pain as several wounds tear open on my chest and hands and pull myself into the wall. Just as my feet slide in behind me, a thunderous boom shakes the tunnel. I glance back to see the giant’s large, six-toed bare foot just behind me.

Was he trying to crush me? Or taunt me?