The Last Hunter - Collected Edition (77 page)

21

We stand at the precipice of a waterfall where the Low River drains into a massive chamber, and by massive, I mean I can’t see the end of it. I can’t even see the ceiling because it’s obscured by a layer of fog—more commonly known as clouds. A bright yellow light filters down through the white mist. It almost looks like sunlight, but I think it’s more likely a dense deposit of yellow crystals.

The waterfall pools fifty feet below us before carving across the chamber as a wide, lazy river, disappearing over the horizon many miles away. The land is lush, similar to the cavern in which I spent two years hiding. But this is different somehow. More…pure.

I breathe the air, feeling energized by it. It’s wet, and clean, and smells of life.

But not death.

That is the difference. A pack of cresties stalked my cavern, slaying the giant albino goats on a regular basis. The place, like much of the underworld, reeked of blood and decay. But there is nothing like that in the air here. Not even rot.

The others seem equally stunned.

“What is this place?” Kainda asks. She actually looks a little uncomfortable.

Em crouches at the edge of the falls, clinging to an outcrop of rock. She leans her head out a little further and breathes deep. “There is no corruption here.”

Kat is more practical. “How do we get down?”

“We jump,” I say, holding out Whipsnap. “Just like moving through the water.”

“You have enough juice for that?” Kat asks.

I take a deep breath of the electrifying air. “Actually, I’m feeling pretty good.”

Kat, Kainda and Em step close and I wrap Whipsnap around them. When everyone is holding on, I say, “Jump together. Ready?”

Nods all around.

“Jump!”

As one, we leap over the edge, falling beside the waterfall. A gust of wind slows us and then swirls around our bodies, depositing us on the soft grassy floor next to the shimmering pool at the bottom.

When we separate, I notice that Kat is sweating. “Is it hot?”

“Gotta be around ninety degrees in here,” she replies. “You can’t feel it?”

“I don’t feel any temperature changes,” I say. “I can walk through fire or swim in ice water. It’s all the same to me.” I motion to her black military garb. “You don’t need to wear all that. The dress code in the underworld is a little less strict.”

She looks me up and down, and then Kainda and Em. We’re all dressed for a day at the beach, if you ignore the weapons.

“No thanks, kid,” she says, and I’m surprised by her modesty. “Most of the underground is a lot colder than this. I can handle a little heat.”

“Um, Sol,” Em says.

She and Kainda are standing a few feet away. Both have their weapons drawn. I didn’t see them recover the knife and hammer from the Nephilim they killed, but then again, I was pretty preoccupied. I step to the side and see what has them on guard.

A lion.

A
big
lion. It has clean tan fur that shimmers when it moves. Its dark mane flows with streaks of yellow. The cat just stares at us, twitching its tail.

“It must be at least twenty feet long,” Kat says, slowly drawing her pistol.

When the lion takes a step forward, everyone tenses. Kainda raises her hammer. Em brings the knife back, ready to flick it forward. Kat takes aim.

But something is wrong. I’ve seen enough nature specials to know what a hunting lion looks like—low to the ground, ears back, claws splayed—and this is not it. If anything, the cat is mildly curious about our presence.

Kainda’s muscle’s tense. She’s about to strike.

“Wait!” I say, placing my hand on Kainda’s hammer.

“If we don’t strike first—”

“Watch,” I say, moving forward, toward the cat.

“Sol...” Em says, using the tone reserved for when Luca or I decide to try something stupid.

I’m just feet from the lion when the brush at the edge of the clearing rustles. The lion turns its head toward the sound and lets out a roar, but it’s more of a friendly sound than a threatening one. A deer prances out of the jungle and skips up to the lion.

I tense. I have my suspicions, but a deer in front of a lion seems like too tasty a treat for the big cat to resist. But the lion doesn’t budge. In fact, the deer comes right up next to the lion, leans its head into the big mane and nuzzles. The lion leans its head down, rubbing the deer’s back. The big cat purrs, the sound so deep and powerful that I can feel it in my chest.

Then the deer trots on its way, stepping into the pool for a drink.

“I find this so much more strange than giants with six fingers and two rows of teeth,” Kat says.

I think I agree with her. This would be odd behavior in the outside world, never mind in the underground where absolutely everything is either killing or being killed.

The lion steps toward me, lowering its head.

I recognize the gesture. It’s similar to what the big male cresty did when I killed the dominant female, Alice, to save Kainda. I stab the blade end of Whipsnap into the grass and step away from the weapon, reaching a hand out. The lion’s fur is softer than I would have guessed. I rub the giant’s forehead, right between its eyes.

The lion purrs again, stepping forward, rubbing its head against my chest. I nearly stumble back, but the big cat lifts its head over my shoulder and pulls me closer. My face is buried in the thick mane as the cat nuzzles me. When it squeezes me tight, I realize that it’s not just nuzzling me, it’s embracing me. With a laugh, I wrap my arms around the beast’s large neck and squeeze. The lion lifts its head and steps back.

“You’re a friendly boy,” I say, and it licks my cheek.

I look back at the others. Em has a hand over her mouth. Kat wears a subtle smile. Kainda has a single eyebrow raised. “Disgusting.”

I turn back to the cat. He’s staring at me with his big brown eyes. There’s intelligence in those eyes. “I’ll call you...” When the name comes to me, I smile. “Ookla.”

Thundarr the Barbarian
was one of my favorite cartoons growing up. It featured a barbarian, Thundarr, who I actually now resemble—blond, muscular and primitive. His friends were Ariel the sorceress, and Ookla the Mok, a lion-man like beast who roared a lot and bashed wizards’ heads. I always liked Ookla, not because of his ferocity, but because of his loving, loyal allegiance to Thundarr. The name is a compliment.

The lion lets out a gentle roar. His breath smells clean. Almost fragrant. Then he turns and enters the jungle. Before disappearing from sight, the lion turns back and roars again.

“This is going to sound ridiculous,” I say, “but—”

“He wants us to follow him,” Kat finishes.

My surprise is evident.

Kat shrugs. “I’ve seen enough episodes of Lassie to know when an animal wants to be followed.” She heads after the lion and he steps deeper into the jungle.

I motion for Kainda and Em to follow before starting after the cat.

“I am tiring of these outsider references,” Kainda complains to Em. They’re ten feet back, but I can hear them fine.

“Agreed,” Em says. “And why must he name every creature we come across?”

I can’t see her, but I’m sure Kainda is shrugging. “He is a mystery to me.”

“A mystery worth solving,” Em teases.

I turn around in time to see Em ribbing Kainda with her elbow. At first, I just smile, making eye contact with both of them, sharing a laugh, but then I’m struck by the strangeness of what is happening. Kainda is not only allowing herself to be teased, but seems to be enjoying it. There is no embarrassment and no angry response to it.

It’s this place
, I think, looking around. The jungle is thick and alive with life. Creatures move all around, just out of sight, but I have no fear of them. The lion leads us through, pushing past giant ferns and rubbing against the thick bark of trees as it walks. The yellow glow from above becomes a diffuse, green shimmer as the thick leaves of the canopy shift in a breeze that carries the scent of flowers. I don’t know if there is something in the air, but this place is having an effect on us, melting away our tension and putting us at ease.

We clear the jungle a moment later, entering a field of tall green grass that rises up to my knees. The grass bends and sways in the breeze, rising up a gentle hill. At the pinnacle of the hill stands a towering tree, full of lush green leaves and twisting branches heavy with fruit.

The lion turns in a circle, smelling the grass, then satisfied, lies down. It flops onto its side and closes its eyes. The lion’s chest rises and falls slowly, but otherwise it’s motionless. Sound asleep.

“Maybe it didn’t want us to follow it?” Em says. “Maybe it’s not like your Lassie lion?”

Kat grins. “Lassie was a dog.”

I’m about to join the banter when I notice the grass near the top of the hill is bending, as though blown by a hard wind. But there is something odd about the grass. As it bends, it’s forming a path, as though something were moving quickly, just above it, leaving a trail of flattened grass in its wake. But there is nothing there. I focus on the air above the grass and see it just before it arrives—a shimmer, like heat rising from summertime pavement.

I take a defensive position and realize that I’ve left Whipsnap back at the waterfall pool, stabbed into the ground.
I can’t believe I did that!
Has my guard been lowered that much by this place?
Remembering I have the original Whipsnap attached to my belt, I pull the weapon free and take a defensive stance.

With a gust of wind, the shimmer arrives. A voice says, “You have come close enough.” The voice is commanding and baritone, but somehow soft and gentle at the same time. Then it reveals itself and I’m undone.

My legs go weak.

I fall to my knees.

My face turns to the grass.

I’m...terrified.

22

“Do not be afraid,” the voice says, but I am afraid. I’m not sure I’ve ever been so afraid in all my life. Sure, I’ve been horrified and disgusted by the tortures of the Nephilim. They’ve taken me from my home, broken me, made me do evil things, posed as my mother and made me the vessel for the physical essence of Nephil, which I swallowed, whole. I have been afraid for most of my time in the underground, but never like this. I have never been reduced to inaction.

“Solomon,” it says.

That it knows my name causes my arms to tremble, and I nearly fall flat on the ground.

Quieter now, it says, “You have nothing to fear from me, son of man. Look.”

My eyes turn up just a little and I see two feet standing before me in the grass. They glow brightly, as though composed of light, but the recognizable form reduces some of my fear. I look up slowly. Its legs are solid, but the energy contained within roils with power. Brilliant light obscures the thing’s waist and lower torso, but I catch a glimpse of a white robe. Its chest is broad and powerful. Its arms like solid, living ivory. Its face, if it has one, is lost in a flickering white flare that crackles with electricity.

As I feel my arms begin to weaken again, I wonder if this creature really thought its form would put me at ease. If so, it was gravely mistaken.

“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. Your
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.”

That this being knows about Cronus, and what he told me, is baffling. I don’t think he gets out much, if ever. 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 trustworthy, 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.”