The Last Hunter - Descent (Book 1 of the Antarktos Saga) (29 page)

“With his blood, you will bind your body with his.” He’s speaks directly to me now. “Over time, it will make you stronger and prepare you for the spirit of Nephil. This is a privilege beyond description and an honor we can only bestow once. Are you prepared to accept the body of Nephil? Are you willing to surrender yourself to his spirit? Will you, as lord Nephil, lead his children against the human race?” This last part is said loudly, with arms outstretched, and it is met with the loudest howl of the night.

I can feel Ull clawing to get out, but I resist him. I need to make this decision, not him, and every atom in my body is screaming,
NO!
It will mean revealing I am no longer Ull the hunter. It will mean my death.

Not your death
, a voice inside me says. Ull?

They will not kill you.

They will break you.

Again.

Say, no.

His agreement with my decision to decline reveals the error of my ways.

No, no, no.

It takes all my effort, but I speak my one word reply with a grin.

Say, NO!

“Yes.”

37

Ninnis slowly raises the vial toward me. I detect a slight shake in his hands. His eyes are glued, not on me, his future lord, but on the blood. There is an undeniable craving in his eyes.

In
all
the hunters’ eyes.

I suspect many of them are fighting the urge to take the blood for themselves. Perhaps this was an honor for which all of them were considered? Perhaps they’re just envious?

Whatever the cause, something is holding them back. They’d have to get through Ninnis first, who despite craving the liquid himself, is unshakably loyal to the Nephilim. I would come next, striking with Whipsnap (well, Ull would, I’m not entirely sure what I would do) and perhaps even Enki would get involved. But even then, if they survived all of that and drank the blood, would they survive the physical bonding with Nephil’s body?

I suspect not. And I think that is the most likely reason none of them acts on their desire.

The vial is warm to the touch, as though the blood has just been drawn. I think about drinking the ancient liquid and become queasy.

Can I do this?

I look around seeing hundreds of eyes turned toward me, some of them larger than my head. I know there’s no choice. I must do this.

To survive.

For Aimee.

For everyone I love on the surface, who will die if the Nephilim invade.

I pull the stopper and hold the vial in the air, instigating a howl that I hope will supply me with courage. As the howl reverberates through the chamber and my body, I place the vial to my lips and turn it up. But the liquid does not immediately fall. Despite being part supernatural, the blood has dried some. It slides down the throat of the vial slowly, a gelatinous blob.

The blood falls into my mouth and I immediately know the squishy mass is too big and too solid to swallow hole. With my eyes closed and my head still turned toward the ceiling, I give Nephil’s blood three solid chews and then swallow.

I can feel it, sliding down my throat, but there is no other change aside from the tears of disgust building in my eyes.

Then it hits my stomach with the force of a giant’s fist. I pitch forward, screaming in pain. A burning flows through my veins, moving down my legs and then back up. My torso is next, then my neck and finally my brain. The burning speeds my thoughts and heightens my awareness. But I am still me. Nephil’s body has no effect on my thoughts.

And I can only think of one thing as I curl into a ball, gritting my teeth and wailing with pain: run!

Now is the time. I am the carrier of Nephil’s blood. They cannot kill me. With it, I may be strong enough to resist breaking if I’m captured. I may be strong enough to undo everything they have spent thousands of years preparing for. But I must run.

Now.

I focus this burning energy far beyond myself, reaching out to something beyond my intellect. The burning in my veins is matched by a strong wind now roaring through the underground tunnels. The snapping of my over-tense muscles is mirrored by the cracking of the continent’s stratus layer as water finds a new path.

My only chance of escape is chaos.

And to do that I must give the Nephilim something they have never seen before. Something they do not enjoy. Something they fear.

I hear Ninnis speaking to me. I cannot hear his words, but I detect concern. Was I supposed to experience this pain? Did any of them know what, if anything, would happen when I drank the blood? As the pain subsides, a grin replaces my gritted teeth. They fear they have chosen wrong. That I am not strong enough to contain the essence of Nephil.

Assuaging their fears, I uncurl and stand. Something about me must look different, because they stare at me with wide eyes. Even Enki looks stunned. But I am not concerned with what they think. My energy is focused above them.

It’s only a few seconds before someone notices and shouts out in Sumerian. All heads turn up. Including mine.

Swirling at the top of the chamber is a black cloud. It’s small, but it quickly grows in size as water pours in from above. When the cloud fills the upper atmosphere of the chamber, the temperature suddenly drops.

I hear Enki growl. He’s not enjoying this. But he also doesn’t know if this was caused by my bonding with Nephil. In fact, he may be wondering if it’s Nephil doing this.

The warm air at the bottom of the chamber mixes with the cold air above. The friction builds quickly. A blinding light flashes across the ceiling accompanied by a crack of thunder so loud even the seasoned hunters sitting before me cup their ears.

Then, miles underground, where the temperature is a steady sixty-five degrees and weather doesn’t exist, it snows. And not gently. The whiteout is as intense as anything ever seen on the surface. And the wind whips around the chamber like a cyclone.

Everyone is blind.

Except for me.

The wind parts the snow for me, creating a path to the stairs and then to the massive doors above, which have blown open. I run to the stairs and take them two at a time, shedding my armor and cloak as I go. Where I’m headed, it will only slow me down. I leave on my leather undergarments and the belt which holds my weapons, everything else remains on the stairs.

I enter the tunnel beyond the exit and find it empty. There are a hundred ways to flee from here, many better than the one I choose, but I must see Aimee before I leave. I find the spiral staircase and charge up.

The storm has ended. I can feel it. If not for the energy provided by Nephil’s blood, I would have never been able to pull the storm together this far underground. Even now, I can feel my energy falling back to normal levels. I’m just thankful the storm didn’t exhaust me, like it did on the surface when I took Aimee.

But even at full strength, I may not be able to escape. Once they recover from the storm and find me missing, the search will begin. I need to be gone from this place when that happens.

At last I can see Aimee’s room ahead. I sprint for the door and open it without knocking. She’s sitting on the bed. Her head snaps up, and for a moment she smiles. Then she sees the look of panic on my face.

She stands. “What happened?”

“I need to go,” I say. “But I needed to thank you first.”

“For what?”

“For saving me. For forgiving me despite the awful things I did to you. I’m not sure how you can.”

“Solomon,” she says with a slight smile. “Nothing is unforgivable. And it was not you who did those things.”

I embrace her hard and then step back. “I might be gone for a while, but someday, we’ll both leave this place. I promise.”

She squeezes my hand and says, “We’ll leave together,” but I can see the doubt in her eyes. “Go,” she says. “And don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

My
look of doubt is impossible to hide, too.

“Just like living in a lion’s den,” she says.

I have no idea what she’s talking about, but her smile is genuine. I step back into the hallway and am stopped in my tracks by a booming voice that sounds more confused than angry. “What are you doing?”

It’s Ull. He’s not wet from the snow. I hadn’t seen him leave the banquet hall, but he must have. And now he’s seen me with Aimee.

Far from being stupid, Ull puts the pieces together quickly. I’m no longer dressed for the feast. I’m saying goodbye to the human I captured. And I’m terrified by his presence.

I think it’s my fear that tips him off. He sees the change in me. Knows I’m me again.

But I’m not as weak as he thinks. I may not be a savage killer, but I will defend the people I care about. And if Ull lives, Aimee will surely die or be tortured. And I will not allow that to happen.

I step out into the middle of the hall and face my master. With one hand on Whipsnap, I look him in the eyes, pour on an English accent and repeat the quote I used in the arena, which I now remember comes from
Oliver
. “Please, sir, may I have some more?”

I have no doubt he remembers the odd phrase composed of the last rebellious words I spoke before he broke me, body and mind, endearing my will to his.

His response is immediate.

And violent.

His axe cuts through the air so fast I barely have time to respond. I leap up and the axe passes below me, so close that I actually roll off of its blade and back to my feet. I know what’s coming next, so I’m already focusing on creating a strong wind. Three arrows, each a kill shot, are deflected away from me at the last moment. Two slam into the far wall and stick. The third ricochets off.

Losing his patience, Ull tosses the bow to the side, most likely recalling he had to get up close and personal in our first encounter. I remember it too, and decide I would prefer to stay out of his reach. I need to reach his head, remove that golden crown and see how well that protected part of the warrior body heals. But there are no god-heads carved into the stone and I don’t have my rope.

Still, there might be another way. Not all of the energy delivered by Nephil has left. I still have some strength. And if I can deflect massive arrows...

I take Whipsnap from my belt. It springs to life in my hand, like a living thing, eager once more for the hunt. But this is no hunt. It’s a fight.

To the death.

I charge, bending Whipsnap in my hands. Ull charges too. His arm is raised back, ready to smash me to the floor like a fly. One good hit, that’s all it will take, and this will be over.

Whether it’s him striking me, or me him. Either way, one of us is going to die.

Twenty feet away he begins to swing.

I jump.

For a moment I can see his swing is going to connect. Then the wind picks me up and carries me higher. His eyes go wide with the realization that he has missed. This tiny insect can fly, albeit briefly.

He tries to duck to the side, but Whipsnap has a good reach and when I let it loose, it connects with the crown as it did in the arena. And just like then, the crown flies from his head. I think,
what a fool
(for not securing it tighter) and then concentrate my energy far behind me, far down the hallway where one of Ull’s arrows lies on the floor.