The Last Hunter - Lament (Book 4 of the Antarktos Saga)

by Jeremy Robinson

“What is it?” Kainda asks, her voice full of unusual fear.

  “I am one of the Kerubim,” it replies, “guardian of Edinnu. Daughter of man, I mean you no harm.”

  I don’t miss the fact that this is the third time it has assured us we are safe. The glow emanating from its body fades. The bolts of electricity snapping around its face pull back and disappear. Human features emerge. Muscles beneath skin. Fingernails. Silver hair. Eyebrows. It’s all little things, but they help put me at ease. The light pulls inward, contained by a human form complete with almost luminescent blue eyes, a full silver beard and a pure white smile. “It has been a long time since I stood in the presence of your kind,” the being says and then bows his head. “I am honored.”

  “H—how did you know my name?” I ask.

  “All things have been written,” he says. “I have been waiting for you.” He looks at the others. “All of you.” He turns to Kat. “Katherine Wright.” Then to Kainda, “Kainda Ninnis.” The use of Kainda’s last name throws me. To me, Ninnis has always just been Ninnis, but it was his last name, not his first, so it is Kainda’s name as well. She frowns at its usage, but stays quiet.

  The being turns to Em, dips his head and says, “Rachel Graham.”

  What? Who is—my mouth drops open and I blurt out, “That’s your real name.”

  Kat seems surprised. “Graham is her last name?”

  Em looks stricken. “What?”

  “The name you were given by your parents. You’re real parents. In the outside world! If we know your name, we can—”

  “Stop,” she says, eyes damp with tears. “Just stop. I don’t want to hear any more.”

  My mouth clamps shut.

  “Where you are and how things are possible are not important,” the being says. “The mysteries of creation are often best enjoyed without the knowledge of all things.”

  Is he trying to tell us something?

  “Solomon,” he says, turning his blue eyes on me. “You have been chosen.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “Cronus was not mistaken.”

  The fact that this being knows about Cronus, and what he told me is baffling. I don’t think he gets out much, if ever. His not seeing people comment revealed as much. But he has knowledge about me. About Cronus. About things no one on this Earth should know about.

  “Your commitment to stopping the dark one—”

  “Ophion,” I say, just to make sure we’re on the same page.

  He nods and continues, “…is without question. Yet your quest is in peril. The shofar is nearly lost to you.”

  “Nephil is here?” Kainda asks, fire returning to her voice.

  The being points a glowing fingertip toward the ceiling. “He is above. Crossing the perch.”

  “Can’t you stop him?” I ask.

  “I could,” the being replies and looks back at the tree atop the hill. “But it is not my task. It is yours.”

  I take a step away, intending to find a way to chase Nephil down.

  “Wait,” he says. “There is more and still time to tell it.”

  “What is it?” I say, growing impatient. “Tell me.”

  “You are incomplete,” the being says, taking me by surprise. Sensing my brewing argument, the creature adds, “You have mended your soul. You have found your passion, your focus and your faith. But you lack the hope that binds these things together. You will not be strong enough to defeat Ophion until you find it.”

  “I don’t suppose you could be less vague about this?” I ask.

  “Revealing such things would reduce the impact of discovering them for yourself,” he says. “But be warned, there will come a time, when hope seems lost. Do not turn your back on it, or you will be lost.”

  I sense the conversation is about to shift back to the task at hand, but Em surprises everyone by asking, “Are they alive? My parents?”

  The being turns to her and just stares.

  “You know,” she says. “You must. Tell me.”

  He regards Em, looking her over.

  “Tell me now!”

  “Yes,” he says. “Your parents yet live. As do your three siblings. Two older brothers and a younger sister.”

  That last part was a gift. Em smiles. “A sister.”

  A question strikes me like a lightning bolt. This being might know about my parents, too. I open my mouth to ask, but the glowing man holds his hand out in the universal motion for, stop.

  “Knowing the answer to your question, one way or the other, will only serve to distract you,” he says.

  I close my mouth. It’s a horrible answer. A painful answer. But I can’t argue the logic. If I knew my parents were alive, I might try to reach out to them, or at least spend time thinking of our reunion, or what their lives were like and if they had any more kids. But if I find out they’re dead... Depression would grip me. I would eventually overcome it, but right now, at this moment, a lapse in strength or focus on my part could be disastrous. Of course, that doesn’t mean I won’t push for more information on Em’s family.

  “Where?” I ask, desperate for the knowledge that could reunite Em with her family. “Where is Em’s family?”

  The being turns his head to Kat. His eyes glow brightly. “Tell them.”

  I nearly fall over when I yank my head toward Kat. What could she possibly know? Has she met this creature before? Is she not who she claims to be?

  Kat stares at the grass, lost. She looks up slowly, first at me and then at Em. “They’re in New Mexico.”

  “How can you possibly know that?” I ask.

  “It’s where I grew up,” she says.

  Em is stunned. “You know them?”

  “I work in a dangerous business,” Kat says. “The people I know, the people I love, they’re always in danger. I do what I can to protect them. Including changing my name.” A tear trickles down her cheek. “My last name—maiden name—isn’t Ferrell, it’s Graham. My name is Katherine Graham.” Tears flow freely. “I’m...” She looks at the being and he nods. “I’m your sister.”

  Em gasps. Both hands go to her mouth. “No,” she says. “You’re lying.”

  “I was a baby when you were taken,” Kat says. “You were only two. But I’ve seen your picture a thousand times. I didn’t see it at first, but I do now. Your eyes. You have our mother’s eyes.”

  “She speaks the truth,” the glowing man says.

  Em lowers her guard and approaches Kat. She regards her slowly, inspecting her face, the hint of freckles around her eyes, the shape of her lips.

  They do look similar, I think.

  Em smiles, crying now as well. She puts her hand on the back of Kat’s neck and lowers her head. Kat does the same, lowering her head until their foreheads touch.

  “Sister,” Em says. It’s just a whisper, but it carries the weight of familial recognition.

  Kat confirms the new bond, repeating the word. “Sister.”

  Even Kainda is getting a little misty eyed. I started crying around the same time Kat did, but it doesn’t take much to turn on my tear duct faucet. For Kainda, this is a powerful moment. She’s not used to seeing a true family bond at work. I take her hand, and she squeezes me tight.

  “Family bonds the four of you with a strength that cannot be broken.” He motions to Em and Kat. “Sisters.” He motions to Em and me. “Brother and sister.” Then he motions to me and Kainda. “And betrothed.”

  My face reddens and I nearly crack a joke to change the subject, but Kainda’s grip on my hand tightens. She was offered to me by her father, Ninnis. I turned down the offer then, but from what I know about hunter custom, the offer still stands. I look at Kainda, and nod.

  She doesn’t gush. Doesn’t break down in tears. She just sniffs, straightens herself up, and with just a hint of a smile, says, “Good.”

  I realize I’ve just made a huge life decision, but honestly, who else could stand by my side for the rest of my life? She’s beautiful, and strong, passionate and tr
ustworthy, and we share the pain of being broken by the man she called father. We share an understanding that no one else could. There is no one else like her.

  The being’s tone becomes deadly serious. “It is time.”

  He reaches to a belt I had not yet noticed and takes the hilt of a sword. When he draws the blade out, it glows with an intensity that makes me squint. As I grow accustomed to the light, I see the blade more clearly. It’s a long, ornate sword, unlike any I’ve ever seen before. The sword itself is normal, almost common looking, but the light blooming from it comes from a fire that even I can feel.

  “I have never released this sword,” the being says. “Nor do I want to, but the choice has been made.”

  “All things are written,” I say.

  He nods and turns the handle toward me. “Nothing can stand against the power of this blade. Not even the dark one’s spirit. Take it and turn Ophion away.”

  “I can kill him?” I ask, eyes going wide. “I can stop him, right now?”

  “No,” he says. “Death cannot come to this place. Not Ophion’s. Not yours. Do not kill him. Do you understand?”

  I nod, feeling a mixture of confidence and disappointment.

  He places the handle in my hand. The sword, despite its size, feels light. I can feel the heat from the fiery blade, but it does not burn me.

  “Go,” the being says. “Retrieve the shofar and return the blade to me. Quickly.”

  I look up toward a ceiling I cannot see. “But how? He’s up there.”

  “Solomon,” the being says, a smile appearing on his face. “Sorrow. Weariness. The hardships of mankind. They cannot be felt here.”

  “What about pain?” I ask.

  “Pain and death are a condition of man that cannot be avoided in this life, though death is forbidden here.” The being looks at me more intently. “Listen to my words. Hear me. You will not grow tired in this place.”

  My eyes slowly widen. “Are you sure?” I ask, but don’t give him time to respond. I form a wind around me, lifting my body off the ground. Before I get too high, I focus on the clouds above. They quickly swirl, forming a hurricane overhead. Lighting flashes. Rain pours down. It’s big and bold, and effortless. I smile wide.

  “Try not to destroy my valley,” the being says.

  I turn my head upward and fly. Five seconds into my flight, I break the sound barrier and a boom rips through the cavern. I am a living missile tipped with a flaming sword. Despite all of the energy I am exerting, I will not grow weary. But none of this power can leave this place with me. Only the shofar. I pour on the speed, punch through the swirling clouds and see my enemy high above, moving quickly across the ceiling.

  “Ophion!” I shout, and pour on the speed.

  23

  Tactically, shouting out your enemy’s name just before attacking is a bad idea. Even people who have never been in a schoolyard fight know this. Maybe honorable medieval knights would give warning, perhaps even give the enemy time to prepare, but I suspect that’s more of a fiction created by storytellers, or if not, a good number of knights died because of their noble ways. I’m far from noble and have no qualms about attacking a Nephilim from behind, but Nephil’s tendrils were just feet away from an alcove in the ceiling that I suspect might be the shofar’s hiding place.

  Shouting stopped him.

  But it also prepared him.

  And I pay the price. My ascent is too fast, my flying abilities far from perfected, and my plan of attack—well, I hadn’t got beyond flying fast and shouting. So when two black tendrils shoot at my chest, there’s little I can do, but try to dodge.

  I jerk to the right, narrowly avoiding the first tendril, but I’ve maneuvered directly into the path of the second. The blackness strikes my chest hard. The blunt force of the blow knocks the air from my lungs and breaks my concentration. I sprawl upwards and crash into the ceiling.

  The impact knocks me silly, but it also spooks one of the valley’s smaller residents. A flock of tiny birds, hiding in holes in the ceiling, bursts out, clogging the air like living smoke. This is the roost Hades told me about.

  I fall, first through the swarm of birds and then through the open air. The swirling clouds below slow to a stop. It’s only been seconds since I shouted Ophion’s name, but he’s managed to staunch all of my bravado.

  My head is spinning.

  My body aches.

  But...I’m not tired. Not even close.

  My fall comes to an abrupt halt. The wind gathers round me again.

  Nephil’s voice echoes through the chamber, frustration billowing down as though spewed from a volcano.

  The birds, I think, he can’t see the alcove because of the birds.

  On one hand, this is a good thing. If he can’t see the alcove, he can’t find and destroy the shofar. On the other hand, he is likely to kill the birds. The Kerubim’s words are still fresh in my mind. Death cannot come to this place. He was talking about Nephil when he spoke those words, but I suspect it applies to the animals living here, too.

  I don’t think the birds have ever been frightened before. And I don’t think they would have been frightened by me. It’s Nephil’s dark presence that’s scaring them. Instead of flying away, or flocking for safety, they’re just circling erratically. Sooner or later, two of them are going to collide and break their necks without any help from Nephil.

  Hovering thirty feet below the tumult, I generate a wind at the core, right around Nephil, and gently push it out. The birds move with the air, further and further away from Nephil, who is watching me through Ninnis’s eyes.

  “You fear for these creatures,” he says.

  It’s not a question. I’ve exposed a weakness. But he’s too late to do anything about it. The birds are now a hundred yards away. I cut the wind and the birds quickly settle into new ceiling perches. Safe, for now.

  I point the sword at Nephil and slowly rise toward him. That I didn’t drop it when he struck me or when I hit the ceiling is something of a miracle, but life in the underworld has taught me to never, not ever, lose my weapon during a fight. It’s a lesson that has saved me several times in the past.

  “Leave this place,” I say. “Now.”

  “Leave?” Nephil says, sounding honestly confused. “You want to kill me. You want to kill this body. I can feel your radiating hatred for us both.”

  “I don’t hate Ninnis,” I say, and it’s true. I have forgiven the man, despite his despicable actions, on more than one occasion. “He is not the man you made him.”

  “All men are evil,” Nephil says. “We just remove the shackles that bind it. Like we did with you. Like Ninnis did with you. It’s still there, you know. I can taste it. How many people have you killed?”

  I’m nearly within striking distance now, slowly closing the distance. “I have not killed a human being,” I say. “And I will not.”

  He chuckles. “You have killed billions.”

  “That was you.”

  “You allowed it, Solomon. You could have repelled me at any time. You had the strength before I changed the world, just as you did afterward, but you waited. Why? Because you wanted it. You wanted all those people to die.”

  He’s trying to make me upset. And it’s not working. I have been freed of my guilt. His tactic can’t work. He must see it, so why is he—

  He’s keeping me talking.

  The shofar’s hiding place is behind him!

  I glance around him quickly and see a tendril snaking out toward the alcove. It’s almost there!

  I propel myself forward, swinging the flaming sword in an arc, not so much to strike Nephil, but to force him into action. He lunges to the side, pulling himself just out of reach. I circle the monster, keeping track of its ten black tentacles. Three cling to the ceiling, the rest flail about like agitated snakes. But one still reaches for the alcove. That’s where I focus my attack.

  I feign a charge at Nephil. He drops back and leaves the single limb exposed. A gust of wind carries
me sideways, and I swing without looking. I feel nothing as the blade slices through the air, but Nephil suddenly lets loose a scream that is unlike anything I’ve ever heard before—one part human shriek, one part...something else. The scream of a demon.

  It’s so charged with energy that I think Nephil has never truly experienced pain before. He once had a Nephilim body, a warrior like the others, but pain is a delight to them. And it wasn’t Ninnis’s body that I cut, so the pain he’s feeling isn’t human pain.

  I look to the side and see the severed two-foot length of tendril turn to dust, scattered by the wind holding me aloft.

  I didn’t just remove a limb. I cut away part of his spirit.

  I could kill him. It would be easy.

  Though it would likely mean killing Ninnis, too. As the temptation grows, I realize that Nephil is right. There is still darkness in me. I might have been freed from the Nephilim corruption, but I am still human, capable of making mistakes and doing evil. But I can also turn away from it. Killing Ninnis, and Nephil, in this pure place goes against everything I’m fighting for.

  But I have no problem causing the beast pain.

  When I set my angry eyes back on Nephil, I see fear in his eyes. It lasts just a moment. But it was enough to swell my confidence.

  With the sword held high, I charge, hacking at the air, aiming for his limbs. Each swing comes closer than the previous, but he is on the defensive now, acutely aware that this weapon poses a very real threat.

  Our dance shifts across the ceiling, but never moves far from the shofar. He’s not giving up. Is the shofar really that powerful?

  I swing hard at a tendril, but it pulls away just in time. The missed blow twists me in the air. Before I can right myself, a second tendril lances out like a spear. The black needle-sharp tip pierces my chest, punching through muscle and striking the bone of my ribs. A gust of wind carries me back before it can go any further.

  I wince in pain, but don’t shout. I won’t give Nephil the satisfaction. I glance at the wound. A killing shot, directly over my heart. If I’d been just a little closer...

  This sword might be capable of destroying Nephil’s spirit, but he is, and always has been, capable of killing my body. We are both at risk. Nephil shifts away from me. The tendril he used to strike my chest coils back. He extends Ninnis’s tongue and swipes the tendril across it. A streak of red is left behind. My blood. He closes his mouth and revels in the taste. A smile emerges. “I will miss the taste of human blood when you are all gone. Perhaps I will keep some of your friends alive that I might drink of them.”