The Last Hunter - Descent (Book 1 of the Antarktos Saga) (31 page)

Living among cresties is a risk, but there are several other animals living here, and more than a few of them are prey for the cresties. As long as they don’t detect my scent, which seemed to have set off the first mother cresty I encountered, I should be fine.

And the risk is worth it. Not only are there fish and other prey animals to eat—birds, both in the air and flightless, what appear to be herds of hairless mammals, and if necessary, the cresties—but there are also plants. Trees, shrubs and vines surround the lake. Plains of tall green grasses roll into the distance. I have no idea how this is possible, without sunlight. Maybe the stones actually produce ultraviolet light? Maybe the spirit of Antarctica makes it possible.

I don’t know.

I honestly don’t care.

All I know is that I can live here. Maybe long enough to repair my soul. Or come up with a plan.

What I don’t know, is how to get down.

I am perched three hundred feet above the lake. The rocks to either side of the river are slick and impossible to climb down. I’ve already backtracked and searched side tunnels with no luck. Short of spending months exploring miles upon miles of cave systems, this is the only entrance to sanctuary.

Then I remember who I have become.

“I am Solomon,” I say. “Solomon Vincent, the first and only child born on Antarctica. I am home.”

I walk into the river. Like so many other things in this land that seem to crave my death, the water fights to pull me over the edge. But I’ve learned to stand against such things. I can stand in the river and walk against its power. I can focus my will upon it and redirect its flow. Maybe even move mountains when I’m strong enough. Or, if I choose, I can go with the flow—

—and jump.

39

When Ninnis woke, he didn’t open his eyes. He allowed his other senses to reach out first, showing no signs of consciousness. There was a cold breeze on his skin, but not too cold. He’d been brought back into the tunnel. And though his body ached, he could tell his wayward protégé hadn’t beaten him. In fact, it seemed the boy had saved his life by dragging him back inside.

Ninnis could still smell Solomon, but the scent was faint, faded by hours.

He listened but heard nothing more than the distant wind outside.

He was alone.

With his head tilted toward the floor, he opened his eyes. He inspected his toes and remaining fingers. No signs of frostbite.

Why?
He thought.
Why didn’t he kill me?

He must know I’ll find him again. And if I can’t break him, I’ll kill him. Better that he disappears forever than stain my reputation with the truth.

But can I kill him?

He repeated the question in his mind, over and over, and never came up with an answer. He was mortal. That was certain. But the true extent of the boy’s abilities were unknown.

His affronts against the masters couldn’t be overlooked. If he would not serve them, he would die, and the battle against the human race would have to be fought under Enki’s rule—something that had been proposed in the past. Only Enki’s insistence that they free Nephil had stopped the movement.

But with Nephil’s blood consumed by a hunter turned rogue, what was to stop them? The hunt for Solomon would continue, but at some point, whether he was never found or found by Ninnis and killed, the war would have to be waged.

And what could stop them? What force on earth could stand in the way of the mighty Nephilim?

Ninnis looked up and found the answer to his question etched in the stone wall.

I forgive you
.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

JEREMY ROBINSON
is the author of seven thrillers including Pulse and Instinct, the first two books in his exciting Jack Sigler series. His novels have been translated into eight languages. He is also the director of New Hampshire AuthorFest, a non-profit organization promoting literacy. He lives in New Hampshire with his wife and three children.

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