The Last Hunter - Pursuit (Book 2 of the Antarktos Saga)

by Jeremy Robinson

Fighting exhaustion, I yank Whipsnap from my belt, spin the weapon above my head, and prepare to crush the glob of ancient blood beneath the mace. I begin my downward swing. Whipsnap’s shaft bends from the motion and when it springs forward will add its own energy to the blow.

  I vaguely register a screaming voice. “No!”

  An arm appears between Whipsnap’s mace and the glob of blood. The weapon strikes hard and a loud crack sounds out as the bones within the arm snap. A scream of pain follows and I reel away from it.

  Ninnis stands before me, his left forearm bent at a sick angle. The body of Nephil remains on the floor, unharmed. The black swirling cloud above roils with frantic energy. It needs a host. It needs me. But that’s not going to happen. Not again.

  I step toward Ninnis, ready to fight him with the last strength that I have.

  Strike unfurls in his right hand, glinting in the fire light.

  But when he shouts his battle cry and swings the sword, he is not aiming at me.

  A second hunter has attacked! Is this a friend? One of the hunters that helped Tobias escape with Em and Luca?

  The man meets a quick end at the tip of Strike. The sword pierces the attacker’s heart and emerges from his back. Before I can fully grasp the turn of events, Ninnis yanks the sword from the first hunter’s chest, ducks a thrown spear and swings Strike in a wide arc. Two more hunters, a man and a woman, lose their legs. The scene is horrid. Unlike anything I’ve seen before. People killing people without a second thought. Without hesitation.

  And for what?

  I no longer believe the attackers are on my side. Their lack of strategy and cunning is closer to frenzy than sacrifice. They’re not thinking. They’re—

  A wet slurp interrupts my thoughts. Another hunter has fallen.

  Shouting voices thunder around me as the army breaks into chaos. The warriors sound angry. The hunters, desperate. The others are drowned out by the sounds of battle. I look around. Hunters charge toward the circle, but they’re hacking at each other as they run. It’s every man for himself. And not one of them is looking at me.

  Then I remember the envy in the other hunters’ eyes on the day I consumed the flesh of Nephil. Each one of them craved it for themselves. And now, seeing it again coupled with the presence of Nephil himself, the hunters are slaughtering each other for the chance to be the new vessel.

  Through the crowd of running, falling, and dying hunters I see Luca gripped in the arms of Kainda. His limbs hang limp. Dead or unconscious, there is no way to know. But she has not left the boy to claim the body of Nephil, which I believe she could do. If anyone could defeat Ninnis, it would be her. Is it her sense of duty that has rooted her in place? Or something else? After all , Preeg and Pyke have not left their posts either, but they stare as the scene like hungry lions. It’s likely that the only thing keeping them in place is the knowledge that they wouldn’t make it past Kainda and even if they did, they could never stand against Ninnis, who is now surrounded by the bodies of his fellow hunters.

  Preeg suddenly grasps her throat and falls. The sudden motion turns Pyke around, but he’s too slow. Em is there! She throws a knife that catches him in the chest. He falls to the ground.

  Kainda spins around, facing Em, who has two blades at the ready.

  The situation is precarious. Em could throw the knives accurately, but Kainda is fast and might position Luca’s body in the way. Kainda could also use Luca as bait, drawing Em in close enough to strike her down with the giant hammer.

  But neither move.

  A man falls away from Ninnis, his throat slit. He tumbles back toward me. I roll to the side, avoiding his falling body. But I freeze again, turning my attention back to Luca and Em.

  Neither woman has struck. In fact, they appear to be talking. Then I see surprise register on Em’s face. I know my expression must look similar, because Kainda then hands the boy over to Em, who slings him over her shoulder. The pair duck into the shadows and flee together.

  Luca is saved.

  Em has escaped.

  And Kainda…she has been redeemed.

  A clang of metal on metal draws my attention back to the fight. A body falls. Ninnis stands in the middle of a ring of death. The hunters still alive are too busy fighting each other to stop what happens next. When I try to run at him and stumble back down to my knees, I know that I am too weak.

  Ninnis grins at me. With a twitch of his hand, Strike rolls up. He attaches the weapon to his belt and then crouches. When he stands again, he clutches the body of Nephil in his hand. Without a word or second thought, he puts the gelatinous purple mass into his mouth and swallows.

  A high pitched squeal explodes from Ninnis’s mouth as a violent shaking rises up from his feet and quickly claims the rest of his body. He falls, clutched by the seizure, and disappears within the circle of bodies.

  I push myself to my feet, bracing myself with Whipsnap. I see Ninnis shaking, his mouth covered in white foam. I should kill him, I think. And end this. But I can’t do it. I swore to never take a human life, even one as corrupt as Ninnis. But even if I had tried, it would be too late. The swirling black spirit of Nephil descends like a tornado. It touches down on Ninnis and enters him. The shaking stops, but he does not move.

  Has the merger killed him?

  No, I think, as I see his chest rising and falling from each breath. He is simply unconscious.

  Kill him! Ull is free and shouting to be heard. But he has not yet realized what I have. Nephil’s body has been consumed. The spirit has entered Ninnis. He is the Lord of the Nephilim, at least for now, and I am the enemy.

  The fighting around me has stopped. The surviving hunters stare at me. As do the thousands of Nephilim watching the scene play out with rapt attention.

  “Take him,” Enki says, pointing at me.

  They still need me, I realize. Ninnis will not be able to contain the spirit of Nephil forever. I am uniquely suited to the task—if only they could break me again. They cannot break us! Ull shouts at me.

  When a buzzing sound fills my mind, I realize there is another option that I hadn’t yet considered. If they can’t break me, they can erase my mind, or at least control it. I feel the probing minds of a hundred gatherers trying to penetrate my thoughts.

  I stagger back as more hunters emerge from the wall of Nephilim giants. Fifty. One hundred.

  Even at full strength, I could not hold out long against this many hunters.

  A sharp bark echoes in the tunnel.

  And then chaos returns with a flash of green and red. Twelve cresties pour out of a nearby side tunnel and tear into the distracted hunters. But the attack also spurs the army into action. Some of the hunters counter attack. The rest, come for me.

  Ninnis groans behind me, coming to.

  I hobble around him, running away from the hunters, but there is nowhere to go. The army is behind me. The gates to Tartarus—a land of eternal suffering—stand open before me. I am trapped.

  I turn to face my attackers.

  Three hunters lead the charge, weapons raised. They will reach me within seconds.

  I glance to the left. There is no sign of Luca, Em or Kainda. They’ve made it out.

  The cresties continue fighting, but the tide is turning against them. They are severely outnumbered and when the Nephilim join the fight, the dinosaurs are outsized. I see a number of them quickly fall, heads crushed, bodies impaled. A slaughter. Realizing the battle is lost, Grumpy lets out a bark, and the five remaining pack members retreat, heading in the same direction as Em, Luca and Kainda, perhaps following the familiar scent.

  I’ve been abandoned, but I am glad for it. If the cresties follow Em, they will all be safer.

  I, on the other hand, am doomed.

  The three hunters shout as they lunge.

  I thrust my arms out, sending a gust of wind against them and fling them into some of the other charging hunters. The pack slows, keeping a safe distance. They no doubt thought my extraordinary abilities would
fade when the body of Nephil left me.

  With the gates of Tartarus just thirty feet behind me, the semi circle of hunters tightens. There is nowhere to run. And if they knew how weak I felt, they would have attacked already.

  Enki, Enlil, Thor and Osiris join the ring.

  “You are stronger than we ever imagined, Ull,” Enki says.

  “I am not Ull!” I shout back.

  Enki chuckles. “This is the role you were born for. You are the vessel of Nephil, and you will accept him.”

  The buzzing in my head grows intense. I can feel my will being shattered from within. I grit my teeth and fight against it, but I am not alone.

  You must run, Xin says. He sounds weak. Beaten. And I realize that the only reason the gatherers have yet to claim my mind is because he is shielding me, and feeling the majority of their attack.

  A crazed scream rips through the chamber.

  Heads turn and the wall of hunters parts. Ninnis steps forward. His body looks stronger. Younger. His arm is healed.

  Nephil has found a host in Ninnis, if only temporarily.

  Run! Xin insists.

  Where? I think.

  Ninnis walks toward me, confident and radiating power. He says nothing, but his unblinking eyes never waver from mine.

  Pain throbs in my head.

  I need an escape route. I need a distraction.

  I need Behemoth.

  Focusing beyond Ninnis, beyond the wall of hunters and the army of Nephilim, I feel the air surrounding the wall of fire. I return my thoughts to the molecules of oxygen, the same way I did when I made the wall flare. But this time, instead of pulling the oxygen into the flame, I draw it away.

  When the light in the chamber drops by seventy percent, I know I’ve succeeded. As does everyone else. There is a shift of attention in the chamber as nearly everyone cranes their heads toward the extinguished wall.

  Behemoth bellows with a hungry rage. The meal set out before him is unlike anything he’s seen before. His thundering footsteps shake the chamber and something I never thought I’d see takes place. The Nephilim—this horde of half demon monsters conspiring to exterminate and enslave the human race—panics.

  The buzzing in my head fades. The gatherers, and Xin, are gone.

  The majority of hunters surrounding me break ranks and run.

  But not everyone runs. Enki remains. As do the other ancient kings. They stand among Lord Nephil now and flight is not possible.

  And Ninnis. He doesn’t show any reaction to Behemoth’s approach. He continues his calm walk toward me. I look into his eyes and sense the power there. Even with Behemoth’s distraction, I will not be able to escape. Ninnis on his own would be a challenge, but he’s now powered by the body and spirit of Nephil.

  With the last of my strength, I direct the wind at him, hoping to knock him back and give me a moment to run—if my legs can still manage it. But he walks through the gust as though it’s a gentle breeze.

  “You cannot run,” Ninnis says, his voice more sinister than ever before.

  I step away, matching his pace in reverse so that there is a constant ten feet between us.

  “And you cannot live.” Ninnis unfurls Strike at his side.

  Cannot live?

  But they need me alive.

  Nephil wouldn’t—

  This isn’t Nephil!

  Ninnis contains all of the power and strength of Nephil, as well as the allegiance of the Nephilim, but he has retained control of his body and mind. And to keep it that way, he needs me dead.

  He sees the realization in my eyes and smiles. “Little Solomon, you never were strong enough to claim this power as your own.”

  He feints a thrust and I jump back.

  I look behind me. The depressing darkness of Tartarus is just five feet away.

  If Ninnis kills me, he wins. The Nephilim win. I cannot let that happen.

  I take a step back and ready my weapon.

  Ninnis laughs. “You are weak, boy. You pose no threat to me now.”

  “I know,” I say, “But I will not let you kill me.”

  “You have no choice.”

  “There is always a choice,” I say. It’s a lesson I wish every hunter in the underworld would learn. To punctuate my statement, I take another step back.

  Surprise registers on Ninnis’s face. “You wouldn’t.”

  I take another step. I can feel the darkness tingling around me.

  “Why?” He asks.

  For some reason, I think him not knowing will eat him up inside, so I simply say, “I hope you figure it out someday. Goodbye, Ninnis.”

  I see his face contort with confusion as I take one more step back.

  Then I see nothing.

  The darkness has swallowed me.

  And in an instant I realize I’ve made a mistake.

  I’ve never felt such sadness. Such loneliness. Even the voice of Ull is gone once again.

  I step forward, hoping to stand before Ninnis again. I would prefer a thousand deaths to the sorrow that consumes me. I try to gather my thoughts. I’m still me. My mind is still intact. But when a shiver wracks my body, I realize just how helpless I have become.

  I can no longer feel the land, water and air. This realm is physical, but somehow separate from Antarctica. And for the first time since setting foot on the continent of my birth, I feel…

  Cold.

  Epilogue

  Lieutenant Ninnis felt proud once more. After a lifetime of servitude and submission he had finally proved his worth. As a man. As a hunter. And now, as Lord of the Nephilim. While Nephil had not fully bonded to him, mind and spirit, he contained all of the power and desires of the ancient demon.

  Except for one. Nephil still wanted the boy. Solomon. Only then could Nephil be fully in control. And while Ninnis served the Nephilim with all of his being, he did not want to give up this power.

  He could feel it burning inside him, rotting him from the inside even as he grew stronger. But he believed it would be better to burn bright, like a star, for a moment than to remain in the shadows. He would lead the Nephilim to the surface. He would wage war on humanity. And he would instill a new era of Nephilim rule on this planet.

  Having completed all of that, his death, and Nephil’s, would be acceptable to him. Though he knew the ancient being, whose spirit wouldn’t carry on in death, disagreed. That said, there was also no choice. The boy was gone. Far from their reach in the realm of Tartarus.

  Ninnis frowned as he remembered Solomon’s final act. His willingness to not just die, but endure eternal torture rather than give himself over to his enemies, revealed a strength Ninnis did not believe possible. He’d been wrong about the boy. He wasn’t just strong enough to contain the spirit of Nephil, he’d been strong enough to repel it.

  Pain gripped Ninnis’s chest. He rubbed his hand over the spot, thinking of Solomon’s face disappearing in the dark grip of Tartarus. It was a sacrifice he could not comprehend. His thoughts drifted to the message Solomon had once carved in a wall. ‘I forgive you.’ He’d thought the words hollow. Left to taunt him. To make him feel weak.

  But now? The boy’s convictions proved real.

  And were he not confined in Tartarus, Solomon might actually be a threat. His power wasn’t simply physical, it was also transformative.

  In the aftermath of Solomon’s departure, Ninnis had ordered a census. Behemoth had devoured hundreds. The dinosaurs killed another thirty. Ninnis himself had slain twenty-five before claiming the flesh of Nephil. He wanted to know the state of their forces before the battle was waged. What he discovered was surprising, not because of how many were dead, but because of how many had deserted. Thirty-six hunters were missing, including his daughter, Kainda. He couldn’t be sure they’d all turned against the Nephilim, but it was possible some, inspired by the boy’s sacrifice, found some part of themselves that had been buried since their breaking.

  If that spread, if all the hunters were won over, a war would need to be f
ought here on Antarctica before they could move to the outside world.

  But that would never happen. With the boy gone, his influence would never spread.

  A hot wind surged past Ninnis. He turned his eyes up, looking at the bright sun which now hung in the sky for so long.

  When he bonded with Nephil, he became aware of everything the demon had experienced, including his battle for control of the boy—a battle that identified at least one traitor—Xin, who had thus far eluded capture. But he also recalled the very first moments of the bonding, when Nephil’s spirit nearly took full control of Solomon. As he realized the host was not willing, he reached out and grasped the land, the whole Earth, and wrenched it free from its moorings. It was the opening salvo of their assault on the surface—a first strike that had already claimed countless lives.

  Ninnis smiled as he looked at the scene around him. He stood atop a mountain that just a month ago was covered in snow, but which now held the first signs of green growth. The Earth’s crust had shifted. Antarctica had been relocated to the equator. From his perch, he watched rivers of melt water flow into the ocean. Far in the distance, he could see giant ice shelves floating away. They had reshaped the world and made the Nephilim’s home a paradise once again. And the land became fertile, spurred on by the healing properties of Nephilim blood spilled into the earth. But that wasn’t all. The continent was expanding. Growing. With trillions upon trillions of tons of ice flowing away, the massive weight pushing the continent deeper below sea level had lifted.

  Ninnis let out a laugh that rolled down the mountainside and over the exposed citadel of Olympus.

  Antarktos was rising.

  ###

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  About the Author

  JEREMY ROBINSON is the author of eleven thrillers including Instinct and Threshold, the second two books in his exciting Jack Sigler series. His novels have been translated into nine languages. He is also the director of New Hampshire AuthorFest, a non-profit organization promoting literacy in New Hampshire where he lives with his wife and three children.