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

I launch to my feet. “Ull is real?

Still snickering, Ninnis says, “All the ancient gods are real, though they are not gods in the sense that men believed them to be. They are certainly godlike, having supernatural fathers and human mothers, but they are not all powerful creators. Some would have you believe as much, but it’s just not true. They are, however, our superiors in every way. And they’re nearly as old as mankind. Our half-brothers.

“At first, we worshiped them. Their size and strength set them apart and above us. They were the heroes of old.”

“The men of renown,” I add.

He gives me a hard stare. “How do you know these words?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve retained a lot of information despite having no memory of where or when I learned anything.”

He accepts the answer and continues. “Despite their heroic feats, mankind turned against them. With numbers too great to count, a flood of humanity forced the masters underground, long before this continent lay at the bottom of the world. And then the world shifted and Antarctica froze over, trapping the masters here, where they wait for a thaw, and freedom.”

“Why don’t they wage war on the surface?” I ask.

“They will,” Ninnis says. “When their leader returns.”

“When will that be?”

Ninnis shrugs. “I don’t know. But I suspect you will have something to do with it.”

“Me?”

“You are a child of Antarctica. The first and only human child born on the continent in thousands of years, since before the shift. Their magic—they call it spirit—courses through Antarctica to the core. The creatures you’ve seen. The gigantic caverns. This whole world couldn’t exist without it. And when you were born, some of that spirit merged with you. The moment you returned, they knew, and I was sent to bring you home.”

This was all fascinating, but my mind has wandered back to my impending meeting with the true Ull. “Then he can’t kill me.”

“Oh, he rightly can,” he says. “And will without hesitation if he thinks they have misjudged you. And you have a lot of ground to make up.”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t make a good first impression.”

I remember my meeting with the giant (Ull) at the temple (New Jericho). I had been terrified. Confused. Unhinged. I frown at the memory of his laugh. The deep bellow had permeated my core. And I must face that laugh again. Tomorrow.

My hunter’s instincts return. Before any successful hunt, I must rest. My intellect wants to spend the night asking Ninnis questions, but my instincts tell me to sleep because tomorrow I will face death, and if I’m to die I want to do it well rested.

“Then I will make a better second impression,” I say before lying back and closing my eyes.

I hear Ninnis laugh again. “And how will you do that?”

“Simple,” I say. “I will draw first blood.”





27



Five minutes after waking, we start walking. And we keep walking. For hours. Then we’re squeezing, climbing and swimming. All in silence. Ninnis’s attention is on the journey and all the potential threats along the way. I focus on these things as well, but I’m also thinking about what will happen when we reach our destination.

Ninnis claims to not know our destination, only that we must enter the master’s territory. Once there, he’ll find us.

Some time ago, we crossed the border of my mental map and entered the unknown. I’ve been extending the map in my mind, but for any other purpose than backtracking, it’s useless without exploring the side tunnels. I make note of all the tunnels, cracks and crevices we pass, along with rivers, bodies of water, pitfalls and other important markers, but I’m not sure if I’ll ever return.

I think that’s what bothers me. I hate not knowing. It must be some kind of core personality trait because the less I know about this day, the more I’m consumed with irritation.

Ninnis’s hand slaps against my shoulder. He’s ducked behind a boulder at the end of the tunnel. The space beyond is hidden from view, but the ceiling is vast. He spins back to me and hisses. When danger is near, this is his way of saying, “Shut-up and stay put.”

But as he observed the night before, I’m no longer subservient to him. I sniff the air. It’s a cresty. I look at Ninnis and feel sorry for him. The scent of cresty blood is easy to detect. The dinosaur is injured. And close. There is nothing to fear.

I leap over Ninnis, Whipsnap held high, and land on the boulder. I scramble silently up the stone. Near the top, I crouch on my feet, preparing to leap out and attack. The size of the cresty doesn’t matter. If it’s injured, it will fall as easily as a pup. I glance back at Ninnis, who is now up and smiling, and charge over the boulder.