The Last Hunter - Collected Edition (16 page)

26

“You were watching me the whole time?” I ask Ninnis before taking a bite of the meat I’ve just prepared over a fire of dried dung. The cresty is tender and juicy like pot roast and I have to slurp the juice from my lower lip after biting it.

“You weren’t in eyeshot the entire time.” He takes a bite and talks with his mouth full. “That’s impossible down here. But I was never more than a few hours behind you, following your tracks, inspecting your kills, gauging your progress. You almost caught me once.”

My eyes widen at this revelation. I had no idea Ninnis had survived, let alone remained close by. “When?”

“You found the photo, yes?”

“I did.”

“I noticed you were exploring every tunnel and knew you’d head toward the surface. I was leaving the photo behind, when you returned.”

“Where did you hide? I didn’t see any cracks or tunnels above that spot.”

Picking his teeth, Ninnis reveals, “I was outside. Above you. Be glad you never looked up or your test would have come early.”

Before I can ask what he means by that, he asks, “What did you do with the photo?”

“Destroyed it,” I say. The lie comes easily. I see no reason to tell him I kept the image. I still don’t know why I did it, but I think telling the truth will somehow fail one of his tests.

“Why?”

“The image revolted me.” This, at least, is the truth.

“You didn’t recognize the people?”

“Should I have? Who were they?”

“Relics from your past, but you’ll never see them again.”

“Good,” I say, tossing my meat to the ground, my appetite sapped by the memory of the two smiling faces. “Why did you expose yourself?”

After a good burp, Ninnis rubs his stomach and says, “It wasn’t my intention to expose myself.”

I squint at him, suspecting the truth before he confirms it.

“I was to kill you.”

“But you failed.”

He nods. “And you passed.”

I sit straighter, puffing out my chest.

“Don’t get cocky, boy. Besting me was a simple thing compared to what comes next. You’ll lose the next fight you’re in. There is no way around that.”

This news deflates me, and I can hear the truth of it in Ninnis’s voice. He’s not trying to frighten me. There’s a look in his eyes, too, like he’s remembering his own test.

“Then what’s the point?” I ask.

“The test isn’t about winning. It’s about how you lose. There are only two possible outcomes. You’ll die, or you’ll be broken.”

“Broken?”

“You remember your first days with me?”

I remember the dog days well. Ninnis’s commands were like the very word of God to me. My obedience was unquestionable. “I do.”

“But you are not that frail boy anymore. You are Ull, the hunter. Confident. Skilled. But obedient? Not anymore.”

I cross my arms. “You haven’t asked me to do anything.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “One look in your eyes says you’re more likely to gut me for asking anything of you than to obey. That will change tomorrow, but it won’t be my voice that commands you. It will be your master’s.”

I pick up a cresty leg bone that’s been picked clean and play with it in my hands. “My master... What can you tell me about him?”

“You tell me,” Ninnis says. “You’ve already met him.”

My stomach clutches. I nearly regurgitate my meal. “The giant.” The words escape my mouth like a gasp. “At the temple.”

“We call it, New Jericho,” Ninnis says with a nod. “As a reminder.”

“A reminder?”

“Of the treachery of man.”

“Who is he?” I say, unable to hide the quiver in my voice.

“It’s good that you’re afraid,” he says. “Shows you still have some common sense left. You might just survive the breaking.”

I lean forward, anger filling my eyes and bunching my muscles. “Ninnis, who is he?”

The old man actually relaxes under my harsh gaze. He leans back. “Your master is your namesake.”

My nose crinkles. This makes no sense. “Ull? How can I meet myself or be my own master?”

The question sends Ninnis into a fit of laughter. I wait it out as patiently as possible, realizing that he was speaking of the giant. A giant who shares my name. Ull. Norse God of the hunt.

Norse God of the hunt!

I launch to my feet. “Ull is
real
?

Still snickering, Ninnis says, “All the ancient gods are real, though they are not gods in the sense that men believed them to be. They are certainly godlike, having supernatural fathers and human mothers, but they are not all powerful creators. Some would have you believe as much, but it’s just not true. They are, however, our superiors in every way. And they’re nearly as old as mankind. Our half-brothers.

“At first, we worshiped them. Their size and strength set them apart and above us. They were the heroes of old.”

“The men of renown,” I add.

He gives me a hard stare. “How do you know these words?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve retained a lot of information despite having no memory of where or when I learned anything.”

He accepts the answer and continues. “Despite their heroic feats, mankind turned against them. With numbers too great to count, a flood of humanity forced the masters underground, long before this continent lay at the bottom of the world. And then the world shifted and Antarctica froze over, trapping the masters here, where they wait for a thaw, and freedom.”

“Why don’t they wage war on the surface?” I ask.

“They will,” Ninnis says. “When their leader returns.”

“When will that be?”

Ninnis shrugs. “I don’t know. But I suspect you will have something to do with it.”

“Me?”

“You are a child of Antarctica. The first and only human child born on the continent in thousands of years, since before the shift. Their magic—they call it spirit—courses through Antarctica to the core. The creatures you’ve seen. The gigantic caverns. This whole world couldn’t exist without it. And when you were born, some of that spirit merged with you. The moment you returned, they knew, and I was sent to bring you home.”

This was all fascinating, but my mind has wandered back to my impending meeting with the true Ull. “Then he can’t kill me.”

“Oh, he rightly can,” he says. “And will without hesitation if he thinks they have misjudged you. And you have a lot of ground to make up.”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t make a good first impression.”

I remember my meeting with the giant (Ull) at the temple (New Jericho). I had been terrified. Confused. Unhinged. I frown at the memory of his laugh. The deep bellow had permeated my core. And I must face that laugh again. Tomorrow.

My hunter’s instincts return. Before any successful hunt, I must rest. My intellect wants to spend the night asking Ninnis questions, but my instincts tell me to sleep because tomorrow I will face death, and if I’m to die I want to do it well rested.

“Then I will make a better second impression,” I say before lying back and closing my eyes.

I hear Ninnis laugh again. “And how will you do that?”

“Simple,” I say. “I will draw first blood.”

27

Five minutes after waking, we start walking. And we keep walking. For hours. Then we’re squeezing, climbing and swimming. All in silence. Ninnis’s attention is on the journey and all the potential threats along the way. I focus on these things as well, but I’m also thinking about what will happen when we reach our destination.

Ninnis claims to not know our destination, only that we must enter the master’s territory. Once there, he’ll find us.

Some time ago, we crossed the border of my mental map and entered the unknown. I’ve been extending the map in my mind, but for any other purpose than backtracking, it’s useless without exploring the side tunnels. I make note of all the tunnels, cracks and crevices we pass, along with rivers, bodies of water, pitfalls and other important markers, but I’m not sure if I’ll ever return.

I think that’s what bothers me. I hate not knowing. It must be some kind of core personality trait because the less I know about this day, the more I’m consumed with irritation.

Ninnis’s hand slaps against my shoulder. He’s ducked behind a boulder at the end of the tunnel. The space beyond is hidden from view, but the ceiling is vast. He spins back to me and hisses. When danger is near, this is his way of saying, “Shut-up and stay put.”

But as he observed the night before, I’m no longer subservient to him. I sniff the air. It’s a cresty. I look at Ninnis and feel sorry for him. The scent of cresty blood is easy to detect. The dinosaur is injured. And close. There is nothing to fear.

I leap over Ninnis, Whipsnap held high, and land on the boulder. I scramble silently up the stone. Near the top, I crouch on my feet, preparing to leap out and attack. The size of the cresty doesn’t matter. If it’s injured, it will fall as easily as a pup. I glance back at Ninnis, who is now up and smiling, and charge over the boulder.

As I move, something about Ninnis’s smile strikes me. It’s so subtle I nearly miss it. And it’s not so much in the shape of his mouth but in the shape of his eyes. A little pinch of his crow’s feet that says I’m about to learn a lesson.

Look before you leap, I think.

And I do.

And nearly too late. But I’ve managed to stop myself just as the blade of an axe bigger than my body whooshes up from below. Had I jumped out as planned I would have been cut in two.

The giant stands. He’s monstrous.

His red hair extends from his head down to a full beard that is braided and decorated with human skulls. A large cresty head rests on his head, just above a thick band of gold covering his forehead. The cresty head is attached to a skin hanging down behind him like a cape, containing a quiver of arrows the size of a pole vaulter’s pole. He holds a massive bow in one hand and the axe in the other. His red haired chest is bare. His upper arms are adorned in gold bands, and cresty skin gauntlets cover his forearms. He wears tall, brown, soft-soled boots. A gold-buckled belt holds up a brown-scaled skirt.

He is every bit the giant god-man you’d expect...if you could fathom such a thing. Before this moment, I’d thought I could. I’d seen his back side before, though dressed differently. But nothing could prepare me for this monstrous form.

I look at Whipsnap. My weapon is pitiful. I steal a glance at my pale body. The physical prowess I’ve earned during my time underground seems wholly inadequate.

For a moment I wonder if submission is the point of this test. To acknowledge his superiority over me. Pledge my allegiance to him.

As he nocks an arrow (I didn’t even see him attach the axe to his belt, but there it is) I know this is wrong. Everything Ninnis taught me has led to this point and the biggest lesson he has taught me is ruthlessness. Ull will be no different. And I can’t be either.

I focus on the bow. The string goes taut. The silver tip of the arrow fades from view as it lines up with the spot between my eyes. This is when I act, arching back as far as I can without falling over. I see the giant arrow pass over my face. I feel the tickle of its large feathers against my stomach.

Then I’m up again, and just in time. The axe is back out and crashing down toward me. I dive to the side. Bits of stone shrapnel sting my back as the boulder explodes under the blow.

I hit the stone floor in the massive chamber and roll. A quick glance at my surroundings reveals an arena of sorts. The ceiling is perhaps a hundred feet high. The circular space—not a natural formation—is perhaps three hundred feet across. And all around us are the faces of ancient gods, some of which I recognize, carved into the walls. The Egyptian gods: Set, Anubis, Isis and Osiris are the easiest to recognize. Some look South American. Others are clearly Norse. There are Roman gods. Sumerian. Asian. Deities from all of the world’s mythologies are represented.

But I have no time to dwell on these things. There is only time to run. Which I do.

The laugh pursues me again.

But this time I don’t feel its effect.

Instead, I work out a plan. I told Ninnis I would draw first blood, and that’s precisely what I intend to do. I just need to get something out of my pack.

I expect to hear the pounding footfalls of Ull behind me, but he’s not giving chase. That’s when I remember the bow. I look back and see my death approaching. A burst of fear grips me, but a sudden wind throws off the arrow’s trajectory. The projectile passes over my back and buries itself in the solid stone wall on the other end of the arena.

I return my attention to my pack as Ull roars in frustration. I resist the urge to taunt the giant. I need him to think I’m fleeing.

I grip my thirty foot braided skin rope and take it from the pack, which I then drop to the ground. Still running, I place the loop over my shoulder and find the end weighted with a dense stone. As I reach the far end of the arena, I turn and find Ull taking aim once more. He fires. I duck left as a second gust of wind comes and the arrow slams into the wall behind me. When I stand up again, I realize the shot would have been off even if I hadn’t moved. Given the renewed roar of frustration coming from the giant, I guess he’s not accustomed to missing.

But he’s not going to give up. And I need him closer. Much closer. As he nocks a fourth arrow, I pull myself up onto the third arrow, stand atop it, look back and give Ull a cocky little wave of thanks before taking to the wall like a spider.

The effect is immediate. The giant throws down his bow and arrow, takes up the axe again, and charges. As he thunders across the arena, the cresty headdress and cape falls away, exposing the gold ring on his forehead. Seeing the ring on its own struck me as odd. It wasn’t decorative. In fact, unlike the rest of Ull’s garb, it looked a little silly and out of place. It must have some other significance, I think, and decide to add it to my list of targets—after I draw first blood.

My climb ends when I reach the long snouted carving of Anubis. I stand on the forehead and loose my rope.

Ull is halfway to me. I have just seconds to act.

I spin the line and throw it out. I see the weighted end wrap around the tusk of a god-head I don’t recognize. I would normally test the line and make sure it’s secure. But I don’t have that luxury. Ull, and his axe, are upon me. I leap out and away as the axe comes down. Shards of stone once again pound my back, but I swing away quickly, one hand on the braided line, the other clutching Whipsnap.

As my swing arcs down and away from Ull I think about the arrows that nearly killed me. I would like to say I dodged them on my own, but I don’t think that’s the case. In both circumstances I felt a gust of wind strike just as I flinched. A theory comes together in my mind and I think back. When I fought and killed the cresty, a gush of water aided me. When Ninnis was nearly killed by an avalanche, I felt strong emotions—emotions I fought to bury. A hundred smaller examples fill my memory as my swing reaches its apex. Bursts of wind. A surge of water. A cloud of snow. All seemingly in response to my emotions and reactions.

Ninnis said Antarctica was infused with the magic—with the spirit—of the masters, and being born here, I was too. Maybe that magic somehow bonded me to the land, water and air?

As I swing back toward Ull, I decide to test the theory. It’s probably the worst time in history to try something like this. It might get me killed. But I can’t resist.

I had planned to let go at the base of my return swing and plunge my spear tip into Ull’s foot, quickly do whatever damage I could to slow him down and then keep moving. My new plan is much more direct.

The return swing takes me back to where the head of Anubis used to be (it’s a heap of stone on the arena floor now). A cloud of stone dust fills the space between Ull and me, which is convenient because it keeps him from swatting me out of the air like a fly. And when I let go of the rope at the apex of my swing and take to the air, that’s as close an approximation of what I am to the giant as I can conceive. I am a bug in his sight.

But I pack a nasty sting.

Putting my theory to the test, I wish with all my being that I would be carried higher. The request isn’t forced or phony. If I fall, I’ll die. For a moment, I start to fall, but the sinking in my stomach, churns a surge of emotion through my body and a gust of wind catches me and carries me higher, straight toward Ull’s head.

The dust parts for me. I emerge from it and let out a howl. Ull turns toward me, the briefest look of surprise in his black eyes. Then his confidence returns, but only for a moment. I see his eyes reflect fear. I unleash Whipsnap, striking an upward blow to the golden ring surrounding his large head. There is a clang of stone on metal. The ring springs free from his head and flips away.

I sense several things that mark a change in this encounter. First is Ull’s brief fear. Second is Ninnis’s gasp, audible all the way across the arena. Third is the pulse I see beneath Ull’s forehead. It’s a soft spot. And Ull is hardly human. Whatever it is, it must be vital.

I twist as I fall, facing Ull’s body. I stab out with Whipsnap. I merely meant to impale the scaled leather skirt and slow my fall, but I pass the skirt and stab deep into the meat above his knee. The spear tip catches and I slam into his booted shin.

The tip comes loose and I fall the rest of the way to the stone floor.

Ull steps back, glancing down at his bleeding leg while testing his bare head with his other hand, searching for the missing metal ring. He’s not holding his axe. He’s paying no attention to me. This is my chance.

I get to my feet, take aim with Whipsnap and let the spear fly.

A moment later, it plunges deep into Ull’s flesh.