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

I turn away. To watch any more is to invite intestinal doom.

I see several more different variants of Nephilim, but I never get a chance to ask about them. We have arrived at our destination. A group of ten hunters lounge on the floor, all sharing a roast feeder and cups of water. All are dressed formally in leathers and carry a variety of weapons—swords, knives, hammers, maces, bows and arrows—but nothing quite as unique, or homemade, as Whipsnap and my climbing claws.

Kainda glares at me for a moment, then tears a chunk of flesh from the feeder and gnaws on it. The rest bow and move their limbs to allow Ninnis and me passage to what I assume is my spot. As far as I can tell, it is the only seat in the room, and looks like a throne cut from solid stone. I sit in its fur-covered seat and find it quite comfortable, almost like it can hide me from the monsters surrounding me.

Ninnis sits on the floor next to me.

“Why am I in a chair?” I ask, “While everyone else sits on the floor?”

“This does not please you?”

His question makes me remember that it should please me. I am Ull! I laugh. “It pleases me very much. I was wondering what the significance was.”

“It represents your future throne,” Ninnis says. “After the bonding.”

I see another glare from Kainda shot in my direction, and something inside me snaps. Perhaps it’s a little bit of Ull, I don’t know. But when she takes another chunk of flesh from the feeder, I take hold of Whipsnap, pull it free and send its blade snapping into the meat, pulling it from her hand.

The other hunters fall silent. I bring the meat to my mouth and take a bite. When I’m done, all but one of the hunters is grinning. Kainda is not. So I fix her with a stare of my own and say, “Rude not to offer your future lord something to eat.”

All eyes turn to Kainda and she is forced to bow.

“You are bold beyond wisdom,” Ninnis whispers to me.

He’s right, of course. I can’t say what got into me. Ull is my only excuse, but I can’t say that. To Ninnis, I am Ull.

Before I can respond, a booming voice fills the chamber. It is Enki. He’s speaking Sumerian so I can’t understand what he’s saying, but there is a howl in response to it. The howl brings a surge of energy, but I don’t join in this time.

Neither does Kainda.

Enki walks toward the hunters. He could squash every last one of us in just a few stomps of his massive foot. But he kneels down on one knee, offers a bow and holds out a glass vial that looks tiny in his hand. “It is time, little Ull, to accept your place among us.”

Enki glances at Ninnis and communicates something with his eyes. Ninnis hops to his feet and takes the vial from Enki. He approaches me, holding the now small container like it is a holy relic.

I realize that’s precisely what it is when Enki speaks again. “This flask holds the last drops of blood from our lord, Nephil. It is the last of his body left on this Earth, free from the confines of Tartarus.”

A howl follows this statement.

“With his blood, you will bind your body with his.” He speaks directly to me now. “Over time, it will make you stronger and prepare you for the spirit of Nephil. This is a privilege beyond description and an honor we can only bestow once. Are you prepared to accept the body of Nephil? Are you willing to surrender yourself to his spirit? Will you, as lord Nephil, lead his children against the human race?” This last part is said loudly, with arms outstretched, and it is met with the loudest howl of the night.

I can feel Ull clawing to get out, but I resist him. I need to make this decision, not him, and every atom in my body is screaming, NO! It will mean revealing I am no longer Ull the hunter. It will mean my death.

Not your death, a voice inside me says. Ull?

They will not kill you.

They will break you.

Again.

Say, no.

His agreement with my decision to decline reveals the error of my ways.

No, no, no.

It takes all my effort, but I speak my one-word reply with a grin.

Say, NO!

“Yes.”





37



Ninnis slowly raises the vial toward me. I detect a slight shake in his hands. His eyes are glued, not on me, his future lord, but on the blood. There is an undeniable craving in his eyes.

In all the hunters’ eyes.

I suspect many of them are fighting the urge to take the blood for themselves. Perhaps this was an honor for which all of them were considered? Perhaps they’re just envious?

Whatever the cause, something is holding them back. They’d have to get through Ninnis first, who despite craving the liquid himself, is unshakably loyal to the Nephilim. I would come next, striking with Whipsnap (well, Ull would, I’m not entirely sure what I would do) and perhaps even Enki would get involved. But even then, if they survived all of that and drank the blood, would they survive the physical bonding with Nephil’s body?