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

The place is just as I left it. And judging by the smell of dry blood and long since decomposed feeder bodies, the place hasn’t been used for another breaking since.

Because I’m the last hunter, I remember. Ninnis told me that. After me, there won’t be a need for human hunters anymore, because the Nephilim will no longer hide in the tight confines of the underworld. They will rule the overworld.

I step up to the ledge and look over the edge of the fifteen foot deep pit. Yellow crystals glow all around, like stars. I had such a hard time seeing in here during my breaking, but it seems bright to me now. I can see my bed of feeder skins against the far wall. The sight of it reminds me I’m exhausted. I leap the fifteen feet down and land with little effort. I had such a hard time climbing out of this pit. I could now make it out with three quick lunges, or just command the wind to lift me up.

But not now. Now it’s time to sleep. I sit down on the bed of feeder skins and remember how to position myself on it for optimum comfort. After unclipping Whipsnap and placing the weapon between my body and the wall, I lie down. With my head on my hands, I open my eyes one last time and take in the sideways view of my former prison. There is no egg-monster here. There never will be again. Gaia is gone. Ninnis is not waiting outside the door. And after I sleep, I will finish my journey to the surface. I allow myself a brief smile, and then fall asleep.

When I awake, everything is different. I’m still looking at a sideways view of the feeder pit, but it smells different. The odors are…fresh.

“I knew you’d come here, Solomon.”

My insides twist. It’s Ninnis. I’m too frightened to reply.

“You always did make my job easy,” he says. “Well, except for when you remembered who you were, but now that we’re here, we can correct all that.”

“I can leave whenever I want,” I say, the words far more bold than I feel. But I have Whipsnap in my hands and am ready to defend myself. “You can’t stop me.”

“I won’t need to,” he says.

I hear a flicking sound. My memory says it’s a lighter.

“You’ll stay as long as it takes. Gaia will let me know when you’re ready. Standard feeders won’t break you this time, so she’s prepared something special for you.”

A hissing sound fills the chamber, but it’s not organic. I quickly climb the fifteen foot wall and look across the pit to the exit. Ninnis is gone. In his place is a bright flame shooting bits of orange like a Fourth of July sparkler. A wick.

He’s going to collapse the tunnel!

I take two steps toward the feeder den’s only exit when the dynamite explodes. The force of the blast slaps me backwards. I slam into the wall and then fall fifteen feet back into the pit. I’m unconscious before I hit the floor and don’t feel the pain until I wake up again.

But the pain wracking every inch of my body holds my attention for only a moment. A wet slurping sound draws my eyes to the ceiling where a large wet sack slides out of the gloom and into view. Gaia is giving birth.





14



My heart rate hits hummingbird speeds as I watch the oozing, fleshy sack descend to the floor. I reach for Whipsnap, searching around with my hands, afraid to look away for even a moment. When I can’t find my weapon, my panic skyrockets. I have no choice but to turn around. I see it lying five feet away among a pile of discarded feeder bones. A pile I accumulated during my stay here.

I dive for the weapon, snatch it up and spin around. Despite my belief that the feeder is already upon me, the thing has not yet hatched. The teardrop womb rests on the floor, still connected to Gaia far above by a pulsing umbilical.

This is the best time to strike. When the feeder is still trapped in the womb, defenseless and unaware of the danger. But I can’t bring myself to attack. Not yet. I’ve faced feeders and killed them as myself—as Solomon—when I was first brought here, but it was in self-defense at first. And then for food. This would be neither, because I still have rations and can easily hide from the feeder at the top of the fifteen foot wall. My rations will eventually run out, but I don’t want to kill something if I don’t have to. Even if it is a Nephilim.

The birth sack stretches as the thing inside tries to break free. But the shape is all wrong. This is no feeder. It’s something else. Something taller.