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

“Be sure to point them out to me, then, so that I do not offend.” I fake a laugh and give Ninnis a punch in the shoulder the way Justin used to do to me, the way that says, we’re friends.

We’re in a part of the citadel I’ve never seen before. The hallway is lined by massive, forty foot doors. Ancient statues fill house-sized alcoves. And carvings, as detailed as those found in the world’s ancient tombs, decorate the walls. I can hear voices and footsteps beyond the doors. But we see no one else. He leads me to a set of double doors so vast I think you could fit a 747 through them.

He shouts out in a language I don’t understand, then notes my attention. “Sumerian,” he says. “The original language of the Nephilim, which was then taught to men. You’ll learn it soon enough.”

A loud creaking echoes in the vast hall as the doors open inward.

On the other side is a space built like, and as large as, a football stadium. A staircase descends to the floor, perhaps fifty feet below. Lining the edges of the space are skins and furs arranged into human and Nephilim sized lounging areas. Spread throughout are creatures cooking on spits. Bowls of food I don’t recognize are arranged around the rooms. And the smell, even to my newfound self, makes my stomach rumble. I may no longer be Ull anymore, but I am still accustomed to the food here. And it has been some time since I ate.

But the creaking of the door has captured the attention of the fifty-odd creatures in the room. There are ten Nephilim warriors, some wearing masks I recognize as the heads of more famous gods: Anubis, Zeus, Odin and others. Ull is there, too. There are a few gatherers staring up at me with their big black eyes, but I don’t feel them in my head. There are bulbous sickly looking things with rolls of fat that cascade like waves when they move. Their round faces are feminine, but few other features are apparent. Even their arms seem to have been overtaken and absorbed by their fat. There is a group of humans, dressed for some ancient battle. These are my fellow hunters. When I see Kainda standing among them already, I make a mental note that she is fast. I see others in a flash. Strange creatures, some of which appear to be half man, half animal, but I don’t have time to get a good look.

One of the warriors has stood. His hair is red, like the rest, but his eyes are yellow. When I see the dark leather garb that matches that of Ninnis, I know who he is: Enki, first son of Nephil.

When his eyes meet mine, even across a distance of more than one hundred feet, I have to fight to not show my revulsion. But the stare is short lived. He bares his teeth in a snarl, turns his head to the ceiling two hundred feet above and lets out a howl. Soon everyone in the room is howling, even Ninnis.

For a moment, I’m dumbfounded. What’s going on? Then I realize this is their applause. They are praising me. I feel a swell of pride as the intensity of the sound shakes me to the core.

Then I’m howling with them.

A smile creeps onto my face.

Ull is rising.





36



Energy courses through my body. I feel bonded to all in the room. The howl, just now ending, creates a strong sense of belonging to the pack. Like wolves. A tingle rolls down my spine and my hair stands on end. And when the chamber has fallen silent again, I stand in awe of what I have just experienced. When the energy fades, so does Ull, and that awe is replaced by repulsion. But that dark side of me arrived at an opportune time. When Ninnis claps me on the shoulder, I know joining in was the right thing to do.

Enki bows his head slightly and opens his arms, motioning to the room as if to say, this is all for you. Then he sits and begins to eat once more. The menagerie of Nephilim follows his cue, and the feast begins anew.

I am thankful for this. There will be no speeches. No idle chit-chat. This is a time of primal bonding.

I follow Ninnis down the staircase and into the stadium-sized lower floor. The first creatures to greet me look like gatherers, but are covered in green scaly skin, almost like a cresty’s, and have yellow eyes, like Enki’s. The things ooze malevolence, but they bow as we pass.

“The seekers,” Ninnis says to me. “They work closely with, but do not always get along with, the gatherers. They have been subservient to the gatherers since their coup failed.”

This news astonishes me. I pictured the Nephilim as one big happy—yet exceedingly evil—family, bound to a common goal. Ninnis senses my question. “The Nephilim have warred among themselves for centuries, culling the weak as they do.”

“Have the hunters ever revolted?” I ask.

“We are not fully Nephilim. It is not our right,” he says, and I think, revolution is never a right, but is always an option. I stay silent though, because he continues, “…though we may take part in battle if commanded by our masters.”

“Aren’t all the Nephilim our masters?”

“No. Ull is your master. Enki is mine.”