Jeremy Robinson - The Last Hunter - Ascent (Book 3 of the Antarktos Saga)

The Last Hunter
ASCENT

By Jeremy Robinson

2011 Jeremy Robinson. All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For more information e-mail all inquiries to: info@jeremyrobinsononline.com

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FICTION by JEREMY ROBINSON

(click to view on Amazon and buy)

The Antarktos Saga

The Last Hunter - Pursuit

The Last Hunter - Descent

The Last Hunter - Ascent

The Jack Sigler Thrillers

Threshold

Instinct

Pulse
Callsign : King - Book 1

Callsign: Queen - Book 1

Callsign: Rook - Book 1

Callsign: Knight - Book 1

Callsign : Bishop - Book 1

Callsign: King - Book 2 - Underworld

Origins Editions (first five novels)

Kronos

Antarktos Rising

Beneath

Raising the Past

The Didymus Contingency

Short Stories

Insomnia

Humor

The Zombie's Way (Ike Onsoomyu )

The Ninjas Path ( Kutyuso Deep)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Lieutenant Ninnis looked at the blade in his hand. The bright sun overhead reflected off its surface, the intensity of its gleam burning his eyes. But the pain didnt bother him. Not because it was insignificanteven after spending nearly three months above ground, the sunlight still hurt his eyesbut because the pain delighted him.

Delighted Nephil.

The body and spirit of Nephil that resided in his body had been meant for another. Solomon Ull Vincent. A boy. The first and only child naturally born of a human being on the continent of Antarctica. The child bonded with the land on a supernatural level. Beyond understanding.

And now, beyond reach.

Ninnis turned his eyes away from the blade, and looked at the soft earth beneath his bare feet. His soles had become so thick with calluses from living underground that he couldnt feel the softness of the fresh leaf litter. But it smelled raw. Alive. Hed always believed that subterranean life was ideal. Hed never understood why the Nephilimthe half human, half demon ancients he once called mastersobsessed about taking the surface back from the human race. But after spending the last week feeling the burn of the sun, moving through the young forest and hunting in a way thats impossible underground, Ninnis understood.

The surface is wide open. Limitless.

And beautiful.

He didnt admire sunsets, flowers or the glimmering ocean that now filled the previously frozen bay to the north. He didnt watch the butterflies or birds that now filled the warm Antarctic air. He didnt marvel at the herds of underworld creatures adapting to life under the sun. None of this interested him.

A twitch brought his attention back to the man at his feet.

Blood flowed through the mans fingers and mixed with the soil. Hungry worms rose to the surface, feasting on the blood. Drowning in it. This is what Ninnis liked about the surface. The color.

Life underground was muted by darkness. Even when lit by torches, glowing crystals or the large electric bulbs in the Nephilim libraries, the world underground looked dull. But here, in the light, vivid colors danced with every shift of the breeze. And the blood the blood it glistened with the most delicious hue of dark red. The sight of it delighted him almost as much as the smell.

A tattoo of swirling spikes covered the large, bald mans head. Ninnis wasnt sure if they represented anything, but he was positive they were meant to intimidate. Covered with a splash of the mans own blood, they looked silly. He wore black clothing from the neck down and much of his face had been painted black. At night, or underground, the man would be hard to see. But in the light, reeking of sweat, the man stood out like a beacon. He carried two knives, a handgun and a long black rifle Ninnis had never seen, but recognized as a sharpshooters rifle.

A soldier.

A hunter.

Ninnis chuckled at the thought.

Defeating this man had been no more difficult than defeating a newborn feeder. The man bore sharp blades, moved quickly and struck hard, but he lacked knowledge about the true world around him. Seeing Ninnis dressed in nothing more than tattered leathers had actually made the soldier laugh. The man mocked him in Russian before realizing Ninnis didnt speak the language, and then switched to English. Ninnis showed no reaction to the mans taunts. Instead, he circled the man, gauging this newcomer to his land.

They race to claim my continent, Ninnis had thought, only to find it already taken.

Fools.

When Strike appeared in Ninniss hands, the shocked expression on the mans face was comical. And as the soldier fumbled to draw his pistol, Ninnis closed the distance, and eviscerated the man.

He now lay on the ground, clutching his belly to keep his insides from sliding out. Two seconds and one strike. The man had faced a god, and lost. As did anyone, or anything, that stood up to Ninnis. As the vessel of Nephil, he commanded the subterranean armies. More than that, he had the devotion of creatures that have lived for thousands of years before he was born, before he was taken captive in 1911 and turned into Ninnis the hunter, subject to Enki, son of Nephil. And now Enki, who along with his brother Enlil, previously ruled over the Nephilim, served him . They didnt realize this, of course. He contained the physical body and spirit of Nephil, whod been imprisoned in Tartarus and recently freed. The ancient spirit possessed unimaginable power, but it couldnt control Ninnis. Instead, he decided to take the power for himself and use it to lead the Nephilim to victory over the surface world. While his goals aligned with those of the Nephilim, he would age more quickly on the surface. Death would claim him eventually. To obtain immortality, he would wipe out humanity quickly, and become legend, remembered for eternity as the savior of the Nephilim.

He could feel the power eating at him from the inside out. Eventually, the spirit of Nephil would be released, most likely upon Ninniss deathbed. Without the boy, Solomon, willingly offering himself to Nephil, the spirit would die. And there is nothing Nephilim feared more than death. Within the realm of Tartarus, the spirit of Nephil had existed in a state of eternal torture beyond comprehension. It was a place designed to contain and punish the Nephilim, who had so long ago corrupted mankind before being chased underground and buried beneath Antarcticas ice cap. Outside of Tartarus, if a Nephilim died, they simply ceased to exist. Their spirits were different from human souls. They lacked something, some kind of substance, and would simply fade away.

Ull, the Nephilim who had shared Solomons middle name and become his master, had suffered such a fate after the boy killed him. No hunters other than Ninnis and Kainda knew about his fate, but

Kainda.

Remembering his daughter brought a glimmer of discomfort to his chest. It was a kind of pain in which he did not delight. Because he didnt understand it. She betrayed him. Left with the boy, Luca, and his sister, Emilietraitors all three. They were why he now stalked the freshly grown wilderness. Preparations to invade the outside world would continue in his absence. He didnt foresee humanity putting up much of a struggle. They had been devastated by the massive shift in the Earths crust that had repositioned Antarctica at the equator and returned the land to the lush paradise it had been so long ago.