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

It could be another cresty, I think. They don’t eat their own kind. Not that I’ve seen anyway. But it would have to be another small specimen. The stalagmites couldn’t possibly hide a large cresty.

Of course, it could be something new. Every time I think I’ve got a handle on the strange creatures living underground, I run into something new. This might be one such occasion. And if that’s the case, I’ll need to be extra careful.

With the dead crusty ready for butchering, I drag it to the shore. I pull it half way behind the largest stalagmite I can find, leaving the lower body still visible from the river, but hiding the upper torso, and my body from view. I cut into the dinosaur, making sure the tear of skin is loud. The cut tells the hunter that my attention is on the kill, that this is a good time to strike.

This is not at all true. In fact, I have never been so focused on the world around me. The river fills the cavern with a ceaseless bubbling. The air is clean, but tinged with a mineral scent. The breeze, carried by the water, tickles my skin. There is no sign of the hunter. And this is the moment most creatures in the underworld would shrug their shoulders and return to their meal, only to become a meal themselves a moment later.

Not me. I slide in the dark maze of stalagmites, working my way quickly upriver, then across the water, shifting from one stone pillar to the next like a monkey in the Amazon. In complete silence, I work my way downstream, cross the river again and come up behind the hunter.

I’m downwind. I’m silent. I’m home. A smile creeps onto my face. Whatever predator I’ll find has been down here longer than me. It has most likely evolved to life in the underworld. I’ve been here just over a year, and I’ve got the thing beat.

I close in slowly. The hunter is still hidden from me. But I find it right where I expected it to be. The thing is concealed in shadow, crouching low, but it is approaching my kill, ready to pounce.

The distance between us is less than ten feet. Two leaps from stalagmite to shore will close the distance in silence. And then, Whipsnap will finish the job. I picture my movements like I do before any kill. One leap. Then another. In the air I’ll flex Whipsnap in my hands and upon landing, will let the mace spring loose and sweep out the predator’s legs. Once it’s down, the spear tip will finish it off.

Had the hunter turned around it would have seen my white teeth spread in a smile. But it didn’t turn.

I leap once. Then again.

Whipsnap bends. And snaps!

I hear a roar of pain as Whipsnap sweeps its legs. The creature falls back. A cough escapes its lungs as the air is knocked from them. I pull the spear back, lining up my strike, aiming for the thing’s core. My muscles tense, ready to thrust the spear home.

“Wait!” the hunter screams. The voice rolls down the Deep River cavern. I pause, which is strictly against my rules of engagement, and had the voice been any other, I would have struck. But I recognize this voice. It disarms me.

“Ninnis?” I ask.

“Help me up, Ull.” A hand emerges from the shadow.

I take hold and pull my mentor to his feet. Despite being dead and nearly killed again, his smile is infectious.

“Well done,” he says.

I eye him up and down suspiciously. There is no hugged greeting. No cheerful reunion. I am a hunter now. “I thought you died.”

“I know. But it takes more than a little snow to kill old Ninnis.” He leans against a stalagmite. “Not that it didn’t take its pound of flesh.” He holds up his left hand. His pinkie and ring finger are missing. “Frostbite.”

I know I should feel some kind of compassion about my friend losing his fingers, but think, if he’d been faster, he’d still have those fingers.

He seems to sense my assessment of his injury and gives a nod. He wouldn’t be soft on me, either.

“Why didn’t you come to me earlier?” I ask.

“This was the first of three tests,” he says.

“Surviving on my own?”

“That was part of it, yes. But you also beat me.”

“You had to do the same thing when you were trained?”

He nods.

“What happened to your trainer? Is he still alive?”

He laughs. “No, no. I ran him through.”

He sees the shift in my gaze and my tightening grip on Whipsnap. He knows what I’m about to do.

“You can kill me if you’d like. I’ve seen the way you handle that weapon. But it’s not necessary.”

Our eyes lock. “Why did you kill your trainer?”

“The man was a savage. A brutish relic from the past. He deserved to die. I’d like to think I’ve done right by you, Ull.”

I loosen my grip on Whipsnap. “You have.”

“Besides, if you killed me now you might never pass the next two tests.”

“Tell me about them. The tests.”