The Last Hunter - Collected Edition (17 page)

28

Ull lowers his hand. He had raised it at the last moment, allowing the spear-tipped end of Whipsnap to pierce his hand, rather than his forehead. I stand there, stunned, as the giant looks at the weapon buried in his hand and smiles. His teeth are yellow and sharp. When he lets out a laugh I see multiple rows of teeth, just like the egg-monsters.

He turns his eyes on me and holds out his wounded hand. With his other hand, he takes the spear and pulls it slowly out of his flesh. Blood drips as my weapon slurps out of his hand. The blade bites for a moment, but he tugs at it quickly and the whole thing comes free.

He tosses Whipsnap aside like it’s a used-up matchstick and holds the wound out for me to see. Blood oozes from the hole in his hand for just a moment. Then as quickly as Whipsnap pierced his hand, the wound seals over and disappears.

A shudder runs through Ull’s body. His smile widens. And his eyes are back on me. “Pain is delightful, don’t you think?” The deep bass of his voice shakes my insides.

For a moment, I wonder how it is this ancient man-monster can speak English, but decide it is one of the least perplexing things about this world. Ninnis could have easily taught him the language.

When Ull takes a step toward me, cutting the distance between us in half, I know there is nowhere I can run. With no weapon, I have no defense. My only consolation is that he’s not nocking an arrow or wielding the axe. But when his arm reaches back, I know he’s going to strike me.

I could run and might avoid his reach for a time. I might even make it to Whipsnap.

But what he has just shown me makes the effort useless. Ninnis told me that this was a fight I could not win. And he’s right. Killing Ull would be impossible.

As the swing descends I think I should try to relax my body as tense limbs can’t flex and break more easily. But no matter how hard I will myself to stay limber, my muscles cramp up with a sudden twitch.

Two things run through my mind before the blow connects.

This is going to hurt.

And,
if he’s not trying to kill me now, I passed!

A grin spreads on my lips a moment before he sends me flying. I feel my arm and several ribs break. I see the floor passing beneath me. There goes Whipsnap. How far did he hit me? I spin around and see the stone floor of the cavern rising up to meet me. Landing may hurt more than being hit, and my insides cringe. With the twist of fear comes a burst of wind. It doesn’t stop me, but it certainly slows me down.

I hit the stone, roll for several feet and then slide to a stop on my back.

The pounding of Ull’s feet is hard to ignore, even with my body screaming out in pain. I turn toward him, wondering if he’s done. The look in his eyes says he’s not.

So I stand to face him again.

There is no pause when he arrives. He simply strikes me and sends me flying. I land near the entrance.

I think both arms are broken now, but my legs are fine. It’s hard to say, as I feel the pain from my wounds from head to toe. I turn and see Ninnis’s feet nearby.

Then Ull is pounding toward me again.

I sit up and try to stand. It’s harder without my arms.

“Stay down, you fool!” Ninnis hisses at me.

But I won’t stay down. My body may be broken, but my will isn’t. And I know what I want. Ull has revealed the true nature of the spirit living in me.

Anger. Hate. Pain.

I crave it.

It fuels me.

I spit blood at Ninnis’s feet and face my master.

Ull stops above me, pausing. I can feel my face swelling and I’m sure he can see it. I smell my blood seeping from countless wounds. My arms dangle uselessly. I am beaten. I am broken.

I look up at him, meeting his eyes.

My body wobbles. I giggle. The funniest quote has entered my mind. I don’t know what it’s from, but I know it’s funny and I speak it aloud. Mimicking Ninnis’s proper accent, I say, “Please sir, can I have some more?”

Then I laugh hysterically.

The last thing I remember about this day is Ull saying, “You have earned the use of my name today, little Ull.”

Then he honors my request, and gives me more.

29

After a long time not feeling hot or cold, the burning that courses through my body upon waking makes me scream. Ninnis is above me a moment later. I can’t hear his words over the pain, but his open palms are urging me to stop.

I see my arms then, flailing like wounded fish, splashing something red that could be my blood, but looks more like fruit punch. I focus on my arms and stop them.

But I’m still screaming.

Ninnis is right above me now. He’s enunciating very clearly and though I can’t hear his voice over my own, I can read his lips.

“Calm down,” he says. “It hurts less if you don’t fight it.”

I try. I try my best. And reduce the scream to a whimper.

But the pain is so intense, permeating me to the core, that I think bottling it up completely might make me explode.

“What’s happening?” I manage to squeak out.

“You’re being healed,” he says. “The technique is typically used on a limb or wound, but your whole body was broken. You almost died. We had to immerse you.”

I manage a look down. I’m lying in what I can only describe as a stone tub. It’s full of watery red liquid. “What is it?”

“Ull’s blood diluted with water. Straight blood would kill you.”

“Feels like it’s killing me.”

“If we left you in there, it would. In fact, if you hadn’t been born here, I think it would have already. But you seem to have a little bit of their blood in you already.”

I give a weak nod. “The spirit of the Nephilim.”

Ninnis leans in closer. “Where did you hear that name?”

It’s hard to focus on an answer, mostly because I don’t know, and that’s what I tell him.

He stares at me. I can tell he doesn’t believe me.

Then it comes to me. “Heroes of old. Men of renown. There were Nephilim on the Earth in those days, and I am like a grasshopper in their sight.”

I know I’m paraphrasing. Probably butchering whatever it is I’m quoting. But my mind has put together some puzzle pieces. “I must have read it somewhere before I came here.” I can see Ninnis believes me now. “Is that right? Are our masters the Nephilim?”

He nods. “They are.”

My head spins, but I don’t think the cause is the revelation of my master’s identity. The pain is dulling, or my consciousness is fading. I feel my heart skip a beat. “How will you know when to take me out?” I ask, but it comes out garbled. The brown stone room swirls around me.

I feel my head lull back as my vision fades.

Ninnis says, “That’s how I know.” And I feel his arms slide under me. Then nothing.

When I open
my eyes again, I no longer feel pain. In fact, I’m positively comfortable. I’m lying on my side and can see the gray skin of an egg-monster beneath me. Actually, it must be a stack of skins, because when I shift my weight, the cushion conforms to my body. Two soft skins cover me like blankets. Since my life underground began, I’ve slept without cover. The weight feels good.

For a moment, I think I will drift back to sleep, but I force myself up as memories of my bloody baptism return. I remove the blankets and inspect my body. My wounds are healed. I move my arms. They work without a hitch. I take a deep breath. There is no pain, so my ribs must be healed, too.

I slide out of the bed and stand. My balance is good. A few good leaps confirm my legs are strong. I fall forward like a tree cut by Ull’s axe and catch myself just inches from the stone floor. Strong as ever.

Hopping back to my feet, I inspect the room. The brown stone walls are similar to what I saw from the tub, but are covered in graffiti. Swirls, circles and intersecting lines. The symbols look vaguely familiar, like those on the obelisks from New Jericho. Hanging from a hook next to the bed (which, as I suspected, is made from a stack of at least thirty eggy skins) is a cresty head and cloak that matches Ull’s. I try it on.

The teeth are sharp and bite into my forehead. But I don’t mind, the pain feels good and the grip helps it stay on. The cloak hangs over my shoulders and stops just before the floor. I wish I had a mirror.

“It suits you,” Ninnis says from the doorway.

I turn toward him and find him dressed in black leathers, though much of his body is still bare. He notices my inquisitive look. “When we are in one of the citadels, we are to dress as our masters do. It’s a sign of respect, but it also protects you.”

“Protects me?”

“From the others. Until you are branded, the cloak marks you as the property of Ull, son of Thor, son of Odin. A strong bloodline that the others will not dare violate. If you misstep and require punishment, it will be handled by your master, or your master’s brethren alone. The Norse will not go lightly on you, but they won’t kill you either. Certainly not after the promise you showed in the arena.”

I brighten at his words. “I did well?”

“You did exceptional. In fact, I have never heard of one of the masters being wounded in the trial. Ull is quite proud. He has spread word of your deeds across the continent over the past month.”

“A month? I’ve been unconscious for a month?”

“Roughly. I think. Thirty wakings and sleepings. That’s how you keep track of time, yes?”

I’m not sure I ever told him as much, but he had watched me for quite a while. It’s possible he figured it out.

“My injuries took that long to heal?”

“Your wounds were healed the moment I took you out of the bath. But the effect of the master’s blood on the mind is powerful. And your exposure was intense. How do you feel?”

“Never better.”

“Good,” he says. “Your final test is tomorrow and while it will not be as painful as the last, it will require all of your skills. When you pass that test, this room will be yours along with one like it in all the citadels. You will be part of the Norse house and receive all of the benefits of the bloodline.”

“When will I be branded?”

Ninnis sits on the bed and tests the cushion. “You won’t be.”

“Why not?”

“You will belong to the Norse for a time, but once you are prepared for the task, body and soul, you will offer yourself up to another.”

“Not given?”

“No,” Ninnis says. “You must give yourself over to him willingly.”

“Give myself to who?”

He ponders answering for a moment, then shakes his head. “You have earned the truth. Or at least the small part I dare reveal. You will give yourself to the very first master. He is the oldest and strongest of them, and they are all named for him. Nephil, father of Enlil and Enki, who is my master and ruler of this world.”

“Is he here now?” I ask eagerly. “Can I meet him now?”

Ninnis frowns and looks to the floor. “He is not here. He has not been among us for a very long time.”

“Where is he?”

He continues staring at the floor, like he can see straight through it. “Below us. In Tartarus.”

Tartarus. “I thought that was a Greek version of hell?”

“Tartarus predates the Greeks. It is a physical realm, unlike hell, and is far worse. He is a prisoner there. His spirit is trapped. Unable to escape until bonded with a body strong enough to enter Tartarus and return.”

My eyes grow wide. “They think I can do this?”

Ninnis stands. “I’ve said too much.”

“But—”

“Speak of this to no one,” he says. “You will be told everything when the time is right.”

“Ninnis, please,” I persist, but that just fuels his anger.

“Quiet, Ull! You best focus yourself on the final test! Eat. Regain your strength and wit. If you fail tomorrow you will learn nothing more than what hell awaits you in the afterlife as you are torn limb from limb. You have earned a place of honor here. See that you retain it!”

I bow my head, acknowledging his wisdom. “What is the final trial?”

“A hunt. On the surface.”

My heart races with anticipation. My sleeping body missed the hunt.

“And our prey?”

Ninnis grins now, his anger erased. “The best kind. Human.”