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

Which is easier said than done because the lake is nearly a mile long, half as wide and deeper than fifty feet (which is the deepest I’ve swum).

I plunge into the water and relax. Other than my perch, this is the safest place in the cavern. There are no large predators in the water—only fish. A mix of albino species I’ve never seen before and some ocean dwelling species, like Cod, that seem to have adapted to living in fresh water far below the Earth’s surface. I kick out into the lake, hoping to feel the tug of a current. I never have before, but I wasn’t paying attention until now. In the middle of the lake, I lay on my back and float, staring up at the crystal covered ceiling.

And…nothing.

Other than the small waves created by the waterfall, my body is the only thing stirring the waters. It must be deep, I think. Maybe too deep.

I tread water again, laying out a mental search grid. I’ll dive as deep as I can again and again until I find it. I wonder if I can use my abilities to aid the search—maybe create an air bubble around my head or propel myself through the water like I do through the air.

Twenty feet away, the surface of the lake ripples. The movement catches my full attention. The waterfall is far away. And I am the only thing in this lake that should be disturbing the surface. None of the fish grow over ten pounds, nor do they school. Which means something else—something large—is in the water with me. And I suddenly feel vulnerable.

I am confident on land, against cresties, Nephilim warriors and unknown dangers. I can hold my own with the best of them one on one. But I’ve never had to fight in the water; my movements will be slowed and my coordination will be thrown off by the need to stay afloat.

Don’t back down, Ull says to me. Fight! And for once we agree. Fleeing is rarely the right choice in this underground realm. Turning your back on an enemy means certain death.

My weapon of choice is called Whipsnap. It’s a shaft of highly flexible wood with a spear tip on one end and a spiked mace ball on the other. The original had a bone blade and a stone mace, but it was upgraded when Ull—when I—was accepted into the Nephilim ranks. I usually have it wrapped around my waist and clipped to my belt, ready to spring into action. However, the blade tip and mace make staying afloat a chore, so I’ve left it back at the perch.

That leaves me with my climbing claws. I made them myself, as well. Inspired by Justin’s ninja magazines, the claws have three triangular, shark-like, “egg-monster” teeth on the palm-side that are great for climbing. On the knuckle-side are three spiked teeth that make convenient slashing and puncture weapons. Whatever side of my hand you get while I’m wearing them is going to hurt. I pull them from my hip-pack, slide them onto my hands and cinch the leather tight.

The water ripples again, this time just ten feet away. Whatever this thing is, it’s showing no fear, which is typically a very bad sign. It means it’s never had a reason to be afraid before; never known a reason to be wary.

Until now, Ull says.

Not now, I think back. Let me focus.

And he does, because in the heat of battle, he often surfaces as the dominant personality. Usually just for a few moments, but he is part of me. The part that hunts and kills—and takes pleasure in it.

Weapons in place, I let out a breath and slide beneath the surface.

The creature is large and only feet away. For a moment, I’m filled with dread. How can I fight something so big with just climbing claws? Then I see its black eyes and recognition slaps me in the face. We surface together, eyes locked.

He lets out a steamy breath that smells of fish. His way of saying “hello,” I suppose.

“How did you get here?” I ask, not really expecting an answer. He is a Weddell seal after all. The creature’s brown skin pocked with gray spots makes him nearly invisible under the water’s surface. His ten foot length is imposing, but his upturned mouth makes him appear as though he’s constantly smiling. But that’s not why I let my guard down. I suspect this is the same Weddell seal that saved my life so long ago after I plunged over a different waterfall into an even bigger subterranean lake, bordering the ancient ruins of a city the Nephilim call New Jericho. My perfect memory scans every nuance of the seal’s face and confirms my suspicion. This is the same seal!

The creature just stares, his whiskers twitching.