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

Ull remains silent and I think he must have found strength in my weakness. Nephil is an intruder in my mind, but Ull is a part of me. Always has been. Given the right circumstances it’s possible he could re-emerge on his own. Strength, I think. I need to get stronger, and not just physically.

I stop and lean against the smooth wall of a tunnel carved out by a stream that has long since dried up. A dull light shines down on me from a lone crystal buried in the ceiling. The waterproof pouch at my side opens with a tug. I find the photo inside and remove it. The sight of Mira’s face renews my strength, but even her image can’t really make me stronger, or less afraid. That needs to come from inside.

With my mood slightly improved, I put the Polaroid photo back in its pouch and continue on my journey. But I don’t get far before realizing I need a break. I’ve already covered more miles than the Boston Marathon and all of it was uphill, never mind the swim and the two mile sprint. I suspect I’ve made it beyond the reach of the hunters who are most likely descending toward the gates of Tartarus.

Even still, I’ll need someplace defensible. Someplace no one would think to look for me.

When I think of the perfect place, I say, “No…”

I can’t go there, I think. It’s too—

My thought process freezes. I expect Ull’s voice to rise up again. Maybe call me another name. But the anger I feel toward my fear is my own. If I can’t face something as simple as bad memories, I will never survive, let alone resist the Nephilim. I have to do this.

Doing my best to ignore my rising apprehension, I slide out of the side tunnel and follow the waters of the High River. I don’t stop until I reach the alcove where Ninnis trained me, like I was a dog, to obey and trust him. I did what he said, believed everything he told me, and came to think of him as something close to a father. He gave me the chance to kill him. Put the knife in my hand. But I couldn’t do it. Ninnis had become my world. The idea of taking a life still goes against everything I believe, but if I had to repeat that day, I might plunge the knife into his chest. Everything after that day, including Aimee’s capture at my hands, could have been avoided.

But the Nephilim would still be here, I think, plotting the demise of the human race. I would have only been postponing the horrors to come. Now I have a chance to stop them. If I can overcome the all-consuming fear that has gripped me.

The alcove is just as I remember it—a semicircle of gray stone, perhaps twenty feet in diameter where it meets the river. The only evidence of our having been here is the black ash ground into a divot in the floor. Ninnis cooked his food there. For a long time he made me watch him eat, giving me whatever scraps remained—sometimes just the marrow from bones. Later we ate together, him teaching me the ways of the hunter and me eagerly absorbing his every word.

Solomon was gone by then. I had become Ull. An impressionable Ull.

I wonder if Ull could have been different. If that buried personality had been taught something different, could it have been a force for good? Could it still?

I remember the awful things Ull has done and said. It’s impossible, I think. Ull is just as much a monster as anything else living in this world.

The memories here are strong, and they’ve shaken loose some things I would prefer to forget, but I have not yet reached my destination. That lies through the tunnel at the far end of the alcove. It’s not much more than a large crack in the stone wall, but it was Ull’s birth canal, so to speak. When I entered the cavern on the other side, I was Solomon. When I came out, I was Ull.

Will the same thing happen if I go in again?

Be brave, I tell myself. Face your fears.

I crouch down by the tunnel. The space is small, but I’ve navigated smaller. I steel myself with a deep breath, and enter. I slide through the tunnel, using the handholds I remember from my exit, and make good time. I pause halfway through, looking at the tight squeeze that broke two ribs before I yanked myself through. I shake my head at my stupidity and go around. I can see the best way through tight squeezes with little effort now, but I was blind to them back then.

I’m a creature of the underworld, I think. So much so that I wonder if I could ever adjust to a normal life above ground again. Depression sweeps through me, but my thoughts of living in the outside world are not its source. I’ve reached the birthing ground of the feeders—what I call egg-monsters.

This is where Ninnis broke me. I was left, alone and terrified, with no food, water or weapons. And every three days, a man-eating egg-monster full of shark teeth would dangle down from the ceiling in a gelatinous womb before hatching, and trying to eat me. I found out later that the feeders were actually being birthed by Gaia, a breeder, whose enormously fat body was perched above a hole in the ceiling, far from view.