The Last Hunter - Collected Edition

by Jeremy Robinson

  I focus. Hard. The giant’s progress is arrested. A manacle of stone rising from the floor binds one of his legs in place. It’s the same technique I used to trap Pan, but only one leg to conserve energy and time.

  He swings at me, not knowing what has happened and misses without me needing to dodge. I am out of range. Despite having altered the world in an unnatural way, I’m not exhausted by the effort, but I think that’s thanks to adrenaline. I’m going to feel this later. But for now, it’s my turn to press the attack.

  He swings again, grunting with confusion. I leap up, bending Whipsnap back as far as it will go. As the ax blade passes beneath me, I let go of the mace end. The shaft springs straight, adding its force to my strike. The spiked mace strikes the monster’s wrist, shattering it. The result is both disturbing and advantageous. The ax falls away, propelled by the force of the missed strike. But it hurtles straight for Wright. He sees it coming and leaps away, but not before the heavy handle strikes his leg across the shin. I don’t hear the bone break over the warrior-me’s howl of pain and ecstasy, but I can tell it did by the look on Wright’s face.

  Wright lands in knee deep water, clutching his leg.

  Stupid, I think at myself. Stupid! My powers are as dangerous to my friends as they are to my enemies.

  But there is no more time to berate myself. The warrior swings at me again, and I block the strike with Whipsnap’s staff, which flexes. The force of the strike combined with the flexing staff propels me through the air. I land twenty feet away, splashing into the water. A gust of wind picks up around me, bracing me for landing as it usually does, but instead of cushioning my fall, it carves a hole right into the water, and I continue falling through it like it’s not even there. By the time I realize what has happened, I’m thirty feet down.

  I cut the wind and water envelopes me.

  How did I do that? I wonder. The air around my body repulsed the water and I fell through it. But can I direct myself through it? I turn toward the surface, focusing on the water around me, pulling trapped air out of crevices and down from the surface. A bubble forms around me and I can breathe.

  I push the air up, and it takes me with it. Faster. Faster!

  I break the surface, rising from the water like a missile fired from a submarine. As I cross the tunnel, I see Kainda to the left, swinging her hammer wildly. She’s surrounded. In danger of being overwhelmed.

  Em fights on the other side of the tunnel, keeping her enemies at bay with an array of flung knives, but several of the perfectly aimed projectiles are struck from the air before reaching their targets. The spindly clone has drawn the original Whipsnap and blocks the knives with perfect accuracy. Then he turns my weapon on Em, using its reach and his long arms to open a straight gash across her lower back. She grunts in pain, but presses her attack. She will fight until the end, which I think might come sooner than later.

  I see Kat last, now by Wright’s side. He’s propped up against the wall. Both are firing their weapons at the warrior, who is about to throw his second ax at the pair. Kat might be able to dodge the strike, but Wright is lost.

  A gust of wind directs me toward the giant and I announce my presence with a battle cry, drawing his attention and convincing him to keep the ax. He turns to me, but he’s too slow. I plunge the bladed end of Whipsnap into the giant’s eye, shoving it through to his brain.

  I draw my blade back out and aim to strike again. With the blade tip just inches from the monster’s other eye, my attack is stopped. I glance back in time to see the end of a whip wrapped around the staff, and then my weapon is yanked from my hands.

  One of the hunters has stopped me, and taken my weapon. I leap away, out of the giant’s reach. His eye is already healing, but he acts disoriented by being blind in one eye. “Aim for his eyes,” I say to Kat. “It will slow him down.”

  I land and face off against the hunter. For a moment, I’m concerned it’s the dual whip-wielding Olympian I let go and sent to help the escaped prisoners. But I quickly see that it cannot be him. This whip-wielder is a woman. And now she has Whipsnap.

  “I don’t want to kill you,” I tell her.

  “Nor I you,” she says, pointing the blade end of Whipsnap at my chest. “Yield. Now.”

  “You can join us,” I say. “Fight for your brothers and sisters again.”

  “I am fighting with them,” she says.

  “Not with them. For them.”

  She scoffs at the idea, and I can see I’m not going to get anywhere. I move in close, preparing to fight her, hand-to-hand, when suddenly her eyes go blank. She drops Whipsnap at my feet and collapses. There’s a knife in her back.

  Em. I turn to thank her, but she’s fully engaged with four hunters and the clone. Not engaged, I realized. Retreating. She’s out of knives. She used the last one to help me. The wiry clone moves in fast, striking Em’s shoulder with the mace end of the original Whipsnap. The blow is hard and sends Em reeling back toward Wright. She clutches her shoulder.

  I pick up the new and improved Whipsnap and rush to their aid. I leap over the giant’s back and feel a rush of air as he swings and misses. When I land, Kainda is at my side, hammer at the ready. She’s covered in cuts and bruises, but the hunters that had surrounded her now lie in a heap.

  Had this just been hunters, we would have won this fight, but the Nephilim clones are too much in this small space. A mass of shouting voices turns my eyes further up the tunnel. More hunters.

  The fight is lost.

  Wright echoes my thought, shouting, “Retreat! Get the hell out of here!”

  I’m not sure how that’s possible. I look over my shoulder at the water.

  The water...

  The Nephilim, who can drown, will not follow us there.

  “In the water!” I shout. Em and Kainda take defensive stances as they walk backward into the slowly rising waters. Kat wrestles with Wright, trying to get him up. They hobble toward us, but every step is agony for Wright.

  “Leave me,” he says, shrugging away from his wife.

  Kat growls out her words. “I’m not going to—” A stone flung by a slingshot-wielding hunter strikes her. A direct hit could have killed her, but the glancing blow only knocks her unconscious.

  Standing on one leg, Wright thrusts his wife toward me. “Take her! I saw what you can do with the water. Take them all. Now!”

  I don’t argue, but I stand and stare dumbly. “Solomon,” he says, looking me in the eyes. “This is war. People die. Find the shofar and get back to the FOB. That’s your mission. Now go!”

  He turns away from us, slapping in a new magazine, and opens fire on the hunters advancing into the water. “Go!” He shouts one more time, spurring me into action.

  I wade back. When I’m waist deep, the warrior shouts, “No!” He raises his ax, and for a moment, I think he’s going to throw it at us, but then he screams, swings down and severs his own leg. Purple blood sprays from the severed limb, but it quickly starts to grow back. Free of the stone binding him in place, he charges forward, into the water, limping on his half formed leg bones.

  I wrap my arms and Whipsnap around Em, Kainda and Kat. “Hold on,” I tell them, “And to her.”

  Em and Kainda hold on to my weapon with one hand each, and grip Kat with their other hands. We push back into deeper water, sinking below the surface. The warrior clone’s angry shout chases us beneath the water. His face plunges into the water, staring at us as we sink out of sight.

  As we descend, my thoughts turn to Wright’s fate above. He’s dead, I know, perhaps dying right this moment—the recipient of the giant’s rage. It’s my fault, I think. It’s all my fault.

  15

  I’m so lost in my despair for Wright that I forget where I am, who I’m with and the fact that all of us need to breathe. Like a Nephilim, we’ll drown in the water. A sharp elbow in the side reminds me.

  I close my eyes and focus. The first and only time I tried this I only had to transport myself thirty feet. This
time, there are four of us and the opposite side, which could also be completely flooded, is miles away. I address the most immediate concern first, drawing air from the stone walls of the flooded High River tunnel. A bubble forms around our upper bodies, providing air to breath. Pulling the air toward us is tiring, but keeping it in place is far easier.

  Em and Kainda are momentarily stunned by what’s happening. Neither knew I could do such a thing. That makes three of us, I think.

  “What should we do?” Em asks after catching her breath. I can tell that she’s uncomfortable about leaving Wright behind. As am I. And it takes all of my will power not to race back up to save him. What keeps me in place is that, one, he’s likely already dead, and two, his dying wish was that I complete the mission. He understood better than all of us that this fight, this war, isn’t about any one person, but about all people. If one of us dies, so be it. If all of us have to die to save the world, then that’s the cost.

  Wright was a good man. I could have learned a lot from him. So I’m not going to ignore his last lesson. “We need to finish the mission.” It’s what Wright wanted, but I can’t help feel like I’m the one condemning him.

  “But how?” Em asks. “We can’t just stay here. And we can’t go back up.”

  “We move forward,” Kainda says.

  Blood drips from a wound on her lip. I want to wipe it away, but my hands are locked in place, holding Whipsnap so the others can cling to it like a rollercoaster-ride safety bar.

  Kainda looks at me, oblivious to the blood on her face. “You can do it.”

  Her confidence in the wake of our defeat is kind, but I’m not feeling it. She must sense this because she quickly changes tactics. “Push forward, Sol. You owe it to Wright. To Em. To me.” She nods to Kat. “To her.”

  Guilt is a strong motivator for some people, but it kind of just sucks my strength. The sphere of air closes in around us as I lose focus.

  “Solomon,” Kainda says, her voice growing harsh. “Look at me.”

  I look all around her before finally settling on her eyes, burning with something I can’t quite place. The strangeness of the look keeps my attention on her. “You have become someone I thought you would never be, and you have made me someone I believed was impossible, but I cannot love a man who refuses to finish a fight. Win or lose this war, you will take this to the end, or you will lose me.”

  She’s just spoken forty-nine words, but all I heard was something like, “blah blah love blah blah.” The rest of it slowly sinks in, leaving me confused. Is she talking about the possibility of loving me? Is she saying she loves me now? This is not only a huge step for me—a girl, or woman as the case may be, has never professed love for me before. That it’s Kainda, who I figured would never use the word, makes it even more powerful.

  It centers me.

  Gives me strength.

  “Hold on,” I say. “Tight.”

  When I’m sure that everyone is secure, I expand the bubble a bit, rotate us so we’re facing downhill, and push deeper into the flooded river. I move slowly at first, using most of my energy to weave through the stalagmites and stalactites turning the tunnel into an obstacle course. Twenty minutes later, we leave the tunnel behind, entering the massive chamber containing the ruins of New Jericho.

  The city is below us, but out of sight, concealed by the liquid gloom. My first time here, I was just a boy, and I was chased away by the Nephilim, Ull, who would later become my master. My first return was after Ull’s death at my hands, and I discovered a statue of the beast, erected in his honor. On my third visit, the chamber was flooded, and though I did not see the city again, I felt its dark presence below. But this visit is different. I’m not fleeing the underworld. I’m heading deeper. On a mission. And the ghosts of the past, including this dark place and the memories it holds, can’t distract me from it.

  I accelerate slowly, cutting through the water like a hot needle through wax. The bubble is hard to maintain while moving, but the air around us reduces the friction of the water on our bodies, creating the perfect environment for cavitation, which allows us to move very fast—best guess, we’re at fifty-two knots, or roughly sixty miles per hour.

  We travel in silence, each lost in our own personal train of thought. Em is thinking of Luca. I can’t read minds, but I’ve seen that worried look on her face before, and every time I’ve asked, her mind was on my younger clone. Kainda, on the other hand, is likely replaying our last battle in her head, over and over, imagining ways it could have turned out differently. Her clenched jaw says as much. Me? I’m not thinking about anything.

  I’m focused.

  And not on the mission. Or on avenging Wright. Or finding the shofar. My thoughts are narrow: keep the bubble open and keep moving. With each passing minute and mile, I push harder and harder, because the effort is taking a toll. I can’t do this forever. And if I stop, we’re all going to drown.

  What a way to go that would be. Solomon Ull Vincent, the last hunter, the first and only natural human child born on Antarctica, bonded to the continent and gifted with extraordinary powers, capable of killing Nephilim and dinosaurs, and the only human to set foot in Tartarus and return...killed by drowning. Something about the idea feels like the taunting of past schoolmates, and it fuels my effort for another minute.

  But exhaustion is catching up to me.

  How far have we come? Five miles? More? It’s impossible to tell without knowing our true speed. The other side of the chamber could be several miles away or a hundred feet. I start to consider our options, when I feel one of my passengers shift.

  Without looking, I know it’s Kat. She’s between Em and Kainda, but pulled up against my body. She shifts again with a moan. She’s waking up.

  “This might not be good,” Em says as quietly as she can over the rush of water flowing around the air bubble.

  I’m not sure what she’s talking about until Kat wakes up and says, “Where’s Wright?”

  I feel her head turn back and forth. She can’t see a thing, I’m sure. Even by my standards, the abyss is dark.

  “Where’s my husband?” she asks, growing angry.

  “We—had to leave him,” I answer.

  Honesty is supposed to be the best answer. Even liars say so. But in this case, trapped in a bubble, surrounded by endless water, I think a temporary lie might have been the best option.

  “Go back!” she shouts.

  “We can’t,” Kainda says, then with a more scolding tone adds, “Calm down.”

  Kat reacts to the demand about as well as I’d expect Kainda to, which is to say, not well. She leans forward and then drives her head back into my gut, knocking the air out of my lungs. She has no idea what kind of danger she’s in, only that her husband has been left behind to die.

  “Stop,” I say, but the words get lost as I gasp for air.

  Kat twists, taking Em and Kainda’s grasp as restraint rather than support. “Let go of me!”

  Rather than breathing, I focus on slowing down. I can’t maintain this speed without any air in my lungs, and the bubble around us is rapidly shrinking. I take a deep breath, hoping to explain when Kat manages to wrench herself free, plant a foot against my chest and shove. She slips out of the bubble and is sucked away into the water.

  My surprise at this is so severe, that my concentration breaks. The bubble supplying our air bursts. Water envelops us. The pressure is intense. I can feel the weight of all this water pushing on my chest, urging my lungs to let go of that last breath, while my lungs are still urging me to gasp after being struck in the gut.

  I reach out for the fleeing air bubbles, trying to draw them back. If I can just reform the bubble, I might be able to get moving again. I might be able to get back to Kat.

  But it’s not going to happen. The bubbles bounce through the water, rising toward the surface somewhere above. My energy is gone. I have pushed my abilities to their limit several times over the past few days—stone manacles, flying, and now cavitatin
g through water with three passengers—and while I can do more with each attempt, the end result is still the same. Mind numbing exhaustion.

  I need more time, I think, as my vision fades. I need to practice, to build skill and endurance. I’m not ready to fight a war yet. These despairing thoughts and a thousand others flash through my mind as the dark, wet world around me turns black and my consciousness slips away.

  16

  I awake from my dreamless slumber with a gasp. Last I knew, I was about to drown. But since I’m breathing, I’m pretty sure I’m not dead. Which is good, but confusing. The first question that needs answering is how I survived—a question that is directly tied to answering my second question, where am I?

  The space is lit by a single glowing crystal embedded above me. It reveals the brown stone just inches from my face. I’m floating face up, on my back. My ears are partly in the water, so the echo of my breathing sounds funny. I remember floating like this when I was a kid. Not in pools. I had issues going to pools. The water was always too cold and my scrawny body embarrassed me. But I loved to float in my parents’ tub. It was the big kind. A Jacuzzi tub with heated jets. I would float there, daydreaming, until my fingers and toes looked like raisins, or until my parents feared I’d drowned and came to my rescue.

  I rub my fingers together. Raisins.

  The memory brings a smile to my face. Then a frown. Will that world ever exist again? My frown deepens with the knowledge that my childhood, despite the teasing and bullies, was a paradise compared to kids in other parts of the world. Compared to what Em and Kainda endured, it would have been something closer to Heaven.

  Something bumps my foot and I flinch away. My hand goes instinctively to my waist and I find Whipsnap locked in place on my belt.

  “Solomon?” It’s Em. “You’re awake?”

  I lift my foot out of the water and push off the ceiling, bringing my body upright. Em is just a few feet away. Her head is tilted up so that her chin is just above the water line. She has a hand jammed into a crack in the ceiling so she doesn’t have to tread water, like I’m doing now.