I focus my eyes in the distance, searching the canopy of lush trees that somehow manage to grow green in this underground tropical Shangri-La, far away from the sun—a subterranean rainforest, sans the rain. Despite my genius intelligence and photographic memory, I have yet to figure out how this is possible and have chalked it up to being one more magical mystery that is the underworld. Trying to understand how grass, trees and flowers can grow green without photosynthesis from a scientific perspective is maddening. I gave up the task long ago.
Movement catches my eye. That’s when I see her. Alice. Her head, shaped similarly to the large palm fronds, stands fifty feet away, her yellow eyes staring at me. Despite my being here for some time, she still sees me as an intruder. Perhaps it’s because I escaped her wrath before, or maybe it’s the scent of my hair. Originally a stark white blond, my shoulder length hair turned dark red, like the Nephilim’s, as I was corrupted by them. A blond streak had emerged—some of my innocence recaptured—but for the most part, my hair is still blood red. And the scent of it, of the Nephilim in me, offends the cresties.
And there is Nephilim in me. The spirit of Antarctica. The physical body of Nephil. And I became one of their best hunters, serving under the Norse house. They transformed me into Ull, and while I was him, I reveled in their violent, mankind-hating culture. And a part of Ull still lives in me, calling for blood and for dominance. But far more frightening than that dark side of myself, is Nephil. His voice, buried deep, surfaces in my weakness and in my dreams. He is hunting for me, too.
Everyone is. “Including you,” I say to Alice, letting her know I’ve seen her.
With a snort, Alice ducks back. I hear her feet pounding away. She prefers to ambush prey. And I’m pretty sure she realizes that’s the only way she’d be able to kill me.
“Someday, Alice,” I say, “you and I are going to have it out.”
A distant roar responds. I don’t know if she heard me or not, but I find humor in the moment, and allow myself an uncommon smile. Then I jump from my cliff-side hideaway and drop thirty feet to the ground.
2
A sudden wind kicks up just before I land, slowing my fall. Then I’m on the ground and running. Staying still in this cavern, other than on my perch, invites trouble. My scent is strong and easily tracked by the cresties, who have come to know it well. But they’ve just eaten and are no doubt lounging with full bellies.
Except for Alice. She never seems to rest.
But even she can’t follow where I’m going.
Low hanging tree branches slap me as I pass. Brush clings to the leather clothing I wear. The best phrase I can think of to describe it is a loin cloth, but I find the term embarrassing, even in my own subconscious. If the kids at the high school I attended—several years ahead of time—saw me now, their teasing would never end. Not that it ever did, but it would be magnified to a scale I can’t even comprehend.
Would it? I wonder?
My body is strong now. Athletic. I can kill (and have killed) dinosaurs. What would a few stupid jocks be to me?
Nothing! The voice of Ull shouts from inside me. They would bow before me.
Images of football players strung up and filleted fill my mind’s eye. But these thoughts are not from Ull. He would simply run them through. I fought with the dark thoughts conjured by my imagination long before coming to Antarctica, but since taking in the body of Nephil, they’ve reached a new level of depravity.
The graphic images cause me to stumble for a moment. I pause, sucking in a deep breath. I’m growing accustomed to the images, and I’m sometimes able to push them away with thoughts of Mira, Aimee or my parents. When all else fails, I look at the photo.
I pull the Polaroid photo out of the watertight pouch I made for it and look at the two smiling faces. The first blond haired kid is me, sporting an uncommonly genuine smile. The second blond, with pouffy hair and dark skin is Mira. She’s the first girl that took an interest in me, and we came close to kissing once, though it was accidental. Still, the sight of her squeezes my chest even after all this time.
The darkness fades and my thoughts clear. I’m me, I remind myself. Solomon. Not Ull. Not Nephil. I am in control.
I secure the photo back in its pouch and set out again, but I don’t have to run for long. The lake is just ahead. I normally come here to fish these waters, but not today. Since arriving in this underground sanctuary, I have searched for a way out. The walls here are as solid as they are vast, and I have been unable to locate a single tunnel leading out. The only obvious exit is the one I came in through—the waterfall pouring into the lake from two hundred feet above. But even with the wind at my beck and call, I haven’t been able to leap high enough nor scale the cavern’s polished walls. I believed myself stuck in this place forever, until this morning.
The waterfall pours a continuous stream of water into the lake—thousands upon thousands of gallons every hour. But the water level never rises. And the air in the cave is far from humid. There is an exit beneath the water. I’m sure of it.
I just need to find it.
Which is easier said than done because the lake is nearly a mile long, half as wide and deeper than fifty feet (which is the deepest I’ve swum).
I plunge into the water and relax. Other than my perch, this is the safest place in the cavern. There are no large predators in the water—only fish. A mix of albino species I’ve never seen before and some ocean dwelling species, like Cod, that seem to have adapted to living in fresh water far below the Earth’s surface. I kick out into the lake, hoping to feel the tug of a current. I never have before, but I wasn’t paying attention until now. In the middle of the lake, I lay on my back and float, staring up at the crystal covered ceiling.
And…nothing.
Other than the small waves created by the water fall, my body is the only thing stirring the waters. It must be deep, I think. Maybe too deep.
I tread water again, laying out a mental search grid. I’ll dive as deep as I can again and again until I find it. I wonder if I can use my abilities to aid the search—maybe create an air bubble around my head or propel myself through the water like I do through the air.
Twenty feet away, the surface of the lake ripples. The movement catches my full attention. The waterfall is far away. And I am the only thing in this lake that should be disturbing the surface. None of the fish grow over ten pounds, nor do they school. Which means something else—something large—is in the water with me. And I suddenly feel vulnerable.
I am confident on land, against cresties, Nephilim warriors and unknown dangers. I can hold my own with the best of them one on one. But I’ve never had to fight in the water; my movements will be slowed and my coordination will be thrown off by the need to stay afloat.
Don’t back down, Ull says to me. Fight! And for once we agree. Fleeing is rarely the right choice in this underground realm. Turning your back on an enemy means certain death.
My weapon of choice is called Whipsnap. It’s a shaft of highly flexible wood with a spear tip on one end and a spiked mace ball on the other. The original had a bone blade and a stone mace, but it was upgraded when Ull—when I—was accepted into the Nephilim ranks. I usually have it wrapped around my waist and clipped to my belt, ready to spring into action. However, the blade tip and mace make staying afloat a chore, so I’ve left it back at the perch.
That leaves me with my climbing claws. I made them myself, as well. Inspired by Justin’s ninja magazines, the claws have three triangular, shark-like, “egg-monster” teeth on the palm-side that are great for climbing. On the knuckle-side are three spiked teeth that make convenient slashing and puncture weapons. Whatever side of my hand you get while I’m wearing them is going to hurt. I pull them from my hip-pack, slide them onto my hands and cinch the leather tight.
The water ripples again, this time just ten feet away. Whatever this thing is, it’s showing no fear, which is typically a very bad sign. It means it’s never had a reason to be afraid bef
ore; never known a reason to be wary.
Until now, Ull says.
Not now, I think back. Let me focus.
And he does, because in the heat of battle, he often surfaces as the dominant personality. Usually just for a few moments, but he is part of me. The part that hunts and kills—and takes pleasure in it.
Weapons in place, I let out a breath and slide beneath the surface.
The creature is large and only feet away. For a moment, I’m filled with dread. How can I fight something so big with just climbing claws? Then I see its black eyes and recognition slaps me in the face. We surface together, eyes locked.
He lets out a steamy breath that smells of fish. His way of saying “hello,” I suppose.
“How did you get here?” I ask, not really expecting an answer. He is a Weddell seal after all. The creature’s brown skin pocked with gray spots makes him nearly invisible under the water’s surface. His ten foot length is imposing, but his upturned mouth makes him appear as though he’s constantly smiling. But that’s not why I let my guard down. I suspect this is the same Weddell seal that saved my life so long ago after I plunged over a different waterfall into an even bigger subterranean lake, bordering the ancient ruins of a city the Nephilim call New Jericho. My perfect memory scans every nuance of the seal’s face and confirms my suspicion. This is the same seal!
The creature just stares, his whiskers twitching.
I sense he recognizes the claws as weapons, so I take them off and put them away. He moves closer and some part of me tenses. But I know this creature. He is the first and only thing I’ve met in this underground world that I trust.
“You need a name,” I tell him, running through a list of options. He’s a male. I can tell from the broad head and muzzle, which with seals, like with dogs, helps in identifying the males without getting personal. Dr. Clark would have named him something ancient, but given the number of ancient names already littering the underworld, from gods to cities, I scratch those options off the list. I decide to stick with my 1980s pop-culture references. This time I choose the Herculoids. “I’ll call you Gloop.”
The seal sniffs me and my hair, his whiskers tickling my skin and getting a laugh out of me. Then he moves back with three gentle twitches of his flippers, sliding away from me.
“Gloop, wait,” I say. “Don’t go.”
And he doesn’t. Instead, he turns to the side as the water all around us comes to life. A second Weddell seal surfaces. Then another and another. They keep on coming until fifteen seals, two of them pups, hover on the surface.
They dance around me, swirling through the water, spinning their large bodies in an act of play that is innocent and makes me smile. After a moment of watching, I join in, slipping through the water, twisting around the seals’ bodies as they slide by mine. It is an elaborate dance with no leader, but when it ends I realize it had meaning. We are bonded. Like family. For some reason, these benign creatures, perhaps the only benign creatures in the underworld, have chosen to accept me.
Which is strange.
After seeing or smelling my red hair, most denizens of the underground flee or attack. But these creatures seem to see right past it, to my core, and they know I’m no threat to them. Ull would have been, but he’s not in control right now. He’s buried in my subconscious, pouting about not being able to kill anything.
With the dance done, all eyes are on me.
My mother sometimes referred to strange moments or coincidences as being “cosmic.” I think she got that from the sixties. But for the first time in my life I feel the word makes sense. Because this is cosmic. I can feel these seals. Not just the pressure their bodies exert on the water around them—the water I’m bonded to—but I can feel them in my mind. In my soul. They’re not speaking to me. Not like the Nephilim gatherers, who can communicate directly mind-to-mind. But I sense them. Their feelings. Their desires. And I understand, somehow, that they came here for me.
Why? I wonder. Then ask aloud, “Why?”
A distant shriek replies and I understand. The cresties are hunting, but they’ve only just recently eaten which means—
A shout echoes in the chamber, feminine and angry.
I am not alone.
The others have found me.
The hunters are here.
3
I start for shore, but I’m blocked by several large bodies. The seals sense the danger and they want to keep me from it. But I can’t leave Whipsnap behind. While I’m dangerous without it, I’m not at my best. If I don’t retrieve my weapon I will regret it.
Gloop rises in front of me, pleading with his black eyes. I reach out and put my hand on his wet forehead, which is softer than I was expecting, and say, “I will be quick.”
I can see he’s not happy about it, despite the perpetual smile, but he slides beneath the surface and disappears. The others follow his lead and within seconds it’s like they were never there.
I dig into the water, swimming for shore as fast as I can. I know I’m heading toward danger, but based on the human shouts—belonging to just one human female—and the multiple dinosaur shrieks, I think my enemies are preoccupied with each other for the moment. It’s possible the hunters don’t even know I’m here.
They will eventually. I can’t mask my scent or the evidence of my campfires after being here for so long. But if they don’t know I’m here, or how to get out, I should be able to disappear long before they realize how close they came to finding me.
I move silently through the cave’s jungle and reach the base of my perch moments later. Climbing the perch might expose me. It’s thirty feet high. But I need to risk it. Leaving Whipsnap behind would be like severing a limb. I scale the wall quickly and then lay flat on top. I gather my few belongings, including the telescope Ninnis gave me for my last birthday, and take hold of Whipsnap. My plan is to roll off the perch and fall to the ground, but I can't help sneaking a peek at the action as the sounds of battle get louder. I turn toward the noise and find the combatants on a treeless grassy hill.
I see only one hunter. A scout. But there are fourteen cresties. Not even Ninnis, who is a master hunter and killer, could face those odds and survive. I might be able to escape such a fight—I have escaped such a fight—but I could never win. Strangely, this hunter doesn’t back down.
The telescope extends between my hands. I put it to my eye and feel my gut tense. The hunter is a woman. She’s dressed as I am, in minimal leathers to allow free movement through the sometimes tight confines of the underground; her white skin glistens with a sheen of sweat. I blink, taken aback by my response to her…femininity. I’d never been interested in girls before. Mira was the first to stir anything in me. But just the sight of this one has me feeling nervous.
I’m older, I think. Then I groan. Puberty. Great. At least the Weddell seals won’t comment if my voice cracks.
I put the telescope to my eye again. The woman is fierce, fighting a younger, ten foot crestie, and winning. She leaps in the air and strikes the dinosaur on the head with a large stone hammer.
I’ve seen the weapon before. Many of the hunters, who are fully human and subservient to the half-human, half-demon Nephilim warriors, mimic their masters by dressing the same (as I once did) and by carrying a smaller version of their master’s preferred weapon. In this case, the stone hammer favored by my former master’s father, Thor. The woman’s name is Kainda. She’s Ninnis’s daughter. And she has a serious reputation. Worse, I offended her by turning her down as my bride—not to mention a few more insults I heaped on top of that. She is a woman scorned and she’s no doubt out for my blood more than any other hunter. It’s not surprising she tracked me down first.
The young cresty falls beneath the hammer strike, its thick skull crushed. Five other cresties move in for the kill, but they’re stopped by Alice’s roar. Kainda has killed one of the pack and Alice wants revenge.
The pack parts and Alice pounds forward, pausing for a moment to sniff the air, maybe
testing the scent of Kainda’s red hair. Maybe searching for my presence.
Kainda, to her credit, stands her ground in the face of certain failure. Even the Nephilim think twice before taking on a fully grown cresty.
She wants to die fighting, I think. It is the Nephilim way. The hunter’s way, too.
Kainda raises the hammer and charges.
Alice steps away, like she’s surprised, but it’s a feint. And Kainda falls for it.
The thick dinosaur tail whips through the air and strikes Kainda in the side, long before the woman has a chance to strike. She will not survive.
Alice, who has been my enemy for so long now, is about to help me without even knowing it.
I watch as Kainda pulls herself away, leaving a trail of grass matted down in her wake. Alice steps toward her, confident, but still wary. It will all be over in a minute.
Now’s my chance. I slide the telescope into its pouch on my belt and leap from the ledge. The wind slows my fall, as always, and I run.
Away from the lake.
At first I don’t even notice it, but when I do, I can’t stop.
I’m headed toward the battle.
Toward thirteen meat-eating dinosaurs.
And I’m going to save her. Kainda. The woman who would love nothing more than to set my head upon the tip of a pike and roast me over an open flame.
I struggle with my sense of urgency. Could I really have feelings for a woman like this? What about Mira? My feelings for her have only magnified during my time down here. How is it possible that I’ve forgotten all of that? It’s not.
That’s when I realize these feelings don’t belong to me. Well, not to all of me. They belong to Ull. In his eyes, Kainda is no doubt the perfect woman. The beautiful killer. Or do I just see something there I haven’t yet realized? How much do Ull and I really share in common? It’s all so confusing, so I decide to ignore the why and focus on the how.
The Last Hunter - Pursuit (Book 2 of the Antarktos Saga) Page 2
