The Last Hunter - Collected Edition (113 page)

Absolutely! At some point in Earth’s future—possibly the near future—it’s almost a guarantee that an asteroid will strike. Or that the mega volcano beneath Yellowstone will erupt. Or any number of other horrible events that have happened in the past and are likely to happen again. As for the specific event featured in
Antarktos Rising
—crustal displacement—it’s one of the more unlikely scenarios, but it’s possible. Crustal displacement, also known as Polar Shift, is when the entire Earth’s crust, which rests upon a thick layer of molten lava, slips free and rotates. It could slip just a few feet (which would still be enough to cause worldwide havoc) or shift North Dakota to the North Pole and Antarctica to the equator. There is evidence that this has happened in the past, though some argue that it happened gradually, over long periods of time, rather than in a single day. So the severity and suddenness of the event in
Antarktos Rising
is me taking things to the extreme, but some do believe it’s possible.

Question from Steve Webster: Did you have all your ideas for the entire series (including creature design) or did bits fall into place while you were writing mid series?

Well, the Nephilim had been created for
Antarktos Rising
already, as were the cresties (Crylophosaurus). I can’t take credit for the cresties, though, since their fossils have actually been found on Antarctica. For the most part, I created the creatures living in Antarktos’s subterranean realm as I wrote. That’s generally the way I write my stories too. It all just kind of comes to me, either as I write, or while I’m daydreaming in the shower, or in bed. I don’t go through drafts of creatures, they just kind of spill from my subconscious, which is great fun, but also a little freaky. Where does all this dark stuff come from, anyway?

Question from Jim Williams: What ever happened to the
Antarktos Rising
movie?

Well, that’s something both of us would like to know! For those that haven’t heard about this, the mass market paperback of
Antarktos Rising
was published with a “Soon to be a major motion picture” star on the front cover, with basic info about the project at the back of the book. I’ve always felt horrible about including that on the cover, but I was assured on several occasions that the movie had been given the green light and that I should have no fear about announcing it on the book cover. Clearly, that was incorrect. The way I understand it, everything was going great, and the movie was about to start production. Then the banks went nuts, the economy tanked and all of the investors, whose other money was suddenly at risk, pulled out. Antarktos, along with a few other films, were dropped.

Question from Kyle Mohr: How much research did you have to do to ensure the accuracy of the story (from the archaeology, geography and military tactics) stayed in place? And also, how did you manage to make sure the story stayed realistic without muddling it up with monotonous detail?

I did research throughout the book, as I wrote it, but only when it made sense. While the series takes place in the modern world and is based on recorded history, a large part of it is fantasy. So while I researched things like Crylophosaurs, crustal displacement, Sumerian gods, McMurdo Base, and Lieutenant Belgrave Ninnis’s life (yeah, Ninnis was real guy!) I was also free to create most of the subterranean realm straight out of my head. Even the topography. Most of Antarctica is still covered in snow and ice. Who know what could be beneath it! In terms of realism versus boring detail, I think this is something I’ve worked on over the course of my writing career, not just for the Antarktos Saga. But it has never been a case of cutting detail for me, it’s remembering to add detail. I have to remember that the reader can’t see what’s in my head. At the same time, I’m very careful to not go into too much detail. I’m conscious of my own short attention span, but I also want to give the reader some imaginative freedom. I think my job is to lay down the blueprints and give the reader freedom to fill in the details, based on the limited suggestions provided by me. I think most readers prefer this, and it keeps the story moving at the pace I like best: fast.

BONUS SHORT STORY

Introduction

At the end of The Antarktos Saga, we’re treated to a look at the future, where Solomon is King, characters have passed away, Kainda is a mother and Ninnis is received as a hero. This all takes place twenty years after Nephil’s demise and leaves a large window of time in which to tell more stories about Solomon, Kainda, and other characters of Antarktos, as they build a new world, raise and train children hunters, and scour the underworld for Nephilim in hiding. This story takes place fifteen years after the end of Onslaught and introduces some fun new characters as well as visiting an old friend, while creating the possibility for future adventures in the Antarktos realm. I hope you enjoy The Children of Antarktos, a short story, which is only available in this collected edition.

—JR

THE CHILDREN OF

ANTARKTOS

The air is thick and clingy, like a hot summer day in my home state of Maine, if it weren’t now just a frozen wasteland. But it’s not July, August or even September. It’s November. Here on Antarktos, there are no fallen leaves to rake, no turkeys to baste and no pilgrims to remember. We’re tropical, three-hundred-and-sixty-five days a year. Fifteen years ago, Antarctica was still at the South Pole, covered in ice. Fifteen years ago, the world still made sense.

Not that I haven’t become accustomed to this new world, where I have supernatural powers and I’m recognized as the King of Antarktos. It’s not a title I aspired to, or ever wanted, but I was given a gift on the day of my birth, and some—okay,
many
—believe that I was chosen for this role. And I’ve grown into it, as Kainda, my wife and Queen, has grown into hers. I might have been chosen for this position, but she was
made
for hers. Strong, opinionated, unflappable. When she speaks, people listen. When she acts, they run for the hills.

Not that there has been any unrest on the continent since the events that set the human race free from the Nephilim. There has been tension, to be sure, between my fellow hunters, who believe the continent is rightfully theirs, and those of the outside world, who have slowly been immigrating to Antarktos. Early on, there was also tension between outside nations as they set up towns and vied for prime locations. I stopped that problem by forbidding outside nations to claim anything on
my
continent. I might be uncomfortable with my position as King, but I am physically connected to the land. What is done to the continent, is done to me, and I take it personally. And since I can literally control the entire continent, I don’t get much argument.

The only real danger on Antarktos remains the Nephilim. Although most of them died in the final battle, many of the lesser classes, who didn’t participate in the physical combat, have gone into hiding. Many are out in the wider world—shifters mostly, but humans are seeking them out and destroying them. Those that remain on Antarktos reside in the underground, banished once more to the depths of this continent, pursued by the hunters they once enslaved.

Here on the surface, things are—for the most part—safe. And as such, the children are allowed to wander and explore. Today, we’re exploring the Xin Woods, which grew up around my half-clone’s grave. The woods have grown so thick that the remnants of the United States Forward Operating Base that once dominated the area, have been swallowed up. All that remains in Xin’s gravestone. The trees would have taken it, too, but I forbade them. Some sacrifices should not be forgotten.

I kneel before the grave, remembering Xin and his final gift to me. If not for the squealing laughter of our two girls, I would be lost in the memory. As tears threaten to spill out, I feel a presence in the tree behind me.

“Never before in the history of this planet has there been a king who wept as much as you.” Kainda’s voice is powerful, commanding and a delight to my ears.

I laugh. Loudly. Kainda’s wicked sense of humor is a nice balance to my admittedly more emotional personality. I wipe the single fully formed tear away from my cheek and stand up, the haunting memories once again retreating to the recesses of my mind. “You love my softness.”

Kainda leaps down from a branch, thirty feet above me. A strong wind buffets her fall, placing her gently on the ground before me. She knew I would catch her. But instead of falling into my embrace, she takes hold of my bicep and gives it a squeeze. “I believe there is such a thing as too soft.”

I pull my arm away with a grin. “Hey!” But I don’t argue. While I’m still strong and agile, and thanks to my supernatural abilities, downright powerful, I haven’t had to face a rigorous physical challenge in nearly a decade. My beard and now hairy chest help hide the lessening definition, but Kainda sees it.

She places her hand on my bare chest, smiling wickedly. While we wear more, and finer, clothing in public, we dress as hunters when exploring the wilds of Antarktos. I’m wearing my leather loin cloth, a belt and Whipsnap around my waist. I haven’t had need for the weapon in a very long time, but it will always be ready to defend my family, and all of humanity, if need be.

I glance around nervously as she pushes me back against a tree. “Kainda, I’m not sure this is the best place for—”

She tilts her head and makes a pouty face, which is so unnatural on her I nearly start laughing. “Aww, am I making the big strong King nervous?”

“A little bit,” I say, “Yeah. The girls are—”

“The girls will learn that their mother is twice the hunter their father is.”

Oh no.

I’ve totally misread what’s happening here.

This is going to hurt.

Her pout becomes a mischievous smile. By the time I snap out of my confusion, she’s already unclipped the Viking hammer from her belt and cocked it back. I manage to duck the blow, but just barely. I know a second swing is coming, so I go the only direction I can.

Up.

A gust of wind carries me twenty feet up. I cling to the tree’s rough bark, looking down at my smiling wife.

“Really?” Kainda says. “You’re going to use the elements?”

“I wasn’t planning on training today,” I say, staring down at her.

This statement seems to make her genuinely angry. “To think you were once a hunter! Danger does not announce itself, Solomon!” With a grunt, she throws the hammer at me.

Once
a hunter!

I leap from the tree. Wood and bark explode behind me. I land in time to see her catch her hammer.

I’m almost surprised when I find Whipsnap, at the ready, in my hands. Almost. I might have been kidnapped from my comfortable, normal life in the outside world, but since then I have been, and
still am
, a hunter. And now I’m insulted.

Without using my elemental powers, I lunge forward, sweeping the bladed tip out at her. It’s a dangerous strike, a killer blow to most, but this is Kainda. I have faith that she’ll avoid the blow, and if I hold back... Well, I’d rather face an army of Nephilim warriors than be on the receiving end of that verbal barrage.

She slaps the spear tip away and swings her hammer toward the side of my face. I quickly spin Whipsnap up, grip it with both hands and block the blow. But the staff of my weapon is flexible. It bends with the hammer’s impact, slowing the strike, so the hammer’s head gently kisses my cheek.

I glance at the hammer, resting against my cheek, then at Kainda. She frowns. “That was half strength.”

I flex Whipsnap in the opposite direction, letting the energy stored in the bent staff fling the hammer, and Kainda, away. I follow through by kicking her hard in the back. She slams into a tree, striking her face.

I cringe. Fighting my wife goes against all my instincts. In the outside world, I’d probably be arrested and put in jail. Luckily, the laws of the outside world don’t apply to hunters. Or Antarktos.

Kainda wipes some blood from her lip, and I can’t help remembering Bruce Lee doing something similar in his movie
The Chinese Connection
. I only saw it once, on one of the few Saturday mornings I didn’t watch
Creature Double Feature
, but I don’t really forget much...or anything.

“Better,” she says and points at me. “But I’m going to knock that cocky grin from your face.”

I didn’t realize I was smiling. Or enjoying this. But I am a hunter. Combat is as much a part of me as it is Kainda. It’s just a part I’ve been ignoring for a very long time.

I spin Whipsnap with a flourish, ending in a pose of readiness. “You can try.”

She charges.

I rush to meet her.

A scream stops us in our tracks, weapons raised.

“The girls,” I say.

“Hurry,” she says.

I summon a powerful wind that sweeps us up into the air and carries us toward the sound of the scream. Trees bend in our wake, creaking and swaying. My fear has summoned a wind so powerful that trees begin cracking. I reign in my powers, so I don’t accidentally summon a tornado.

We clear the forest and reach a river that empties into the ocean with a dramatic waterfall. My two girls are just ten feet from the continent’s end and a hundred-foot drop to the ocean. Normally, this would not frighten me—Kainda has trained them well—but the girls are not alone.

They’re surrounded.

By Nephilim.

At least, I
think
they’re Nephilim. I’ve actually never seen anything like the bevy of creatures below. But the red hair on their heads reveals their Nephilim corruption.

Several tactics for handling the situation flit through my mind, but I quickly dismiss them. The small creatures, each about three feet tall, wield an array of weapons. A taller pair, standing closer to four feet, hold blades against my daughters’ throats.

I place Kainda and myself down on the warm stones lining the river, just ten feet from the small horde. They eye us warily, their jet black eyes—like a feeder’s—are wide with surprise. We were not expected. The girls must have stumbled upon them.

Before speaking, I scan the group. Aside from height, the creatures are nearly identical to one another. They’re slender, almost malnourished in appearance, but twitching beneath their pale, nearly translucent skin, the sinewy muscles look strong. They wear the ragged skins of underworld animals covered with plates of giant-centipede carapace for armor. Their blood-red hair grows in gnarly patches. Their faces are nearly featureless—nubby noses, holes for ears. But their mouths are wide, stretching from one side of the head to the other, full of sharp triangular teeth. “They’re like feeders, with bodies.”

“Kill them,” Kainda whispers to me. The only thing holding both of us back are the knives at our daughters’ throats.

“I need to focus,” I reply. Finding a way to attack all of these things without injuring our girls is going to be hard, even for me. I decide that a distraction is in order. “I am Solomon, King of Antarktos and you are—”

“Solomon!” the largest of the bunch, holding my eldest, shouts. He narrows his eyes and hisses.

The group tenses.

Kainda takes a step forward, but even she is not fast enough to save the girls.

I put my hand on her arm, holding her back, hoping to buy time while I pull the oxygen out of the air surrounding the group. The girls will fall unconscious, along with these monsters, but they won’t be harmed.

“Solomon!” the largest of them roars. “Destroyer! Thief! King of light! Enemy of the dark!
Solomon! Ull!
” His eyes go wide. His head turns down, focused on my daughter’s chest, as though only now realizing the significance of the prize he has captured. Whatever these things are, they’re not very bright. You think they would have realized who I was when I dropped out of the sky. The knife comes up in the beast’s hand.

“Norah! Aquila!” Kainda shouts our daughters’ names. “Defend yourselves!”

I’m surprised when I see all of the fear in my daughters’ eyes disappear at the sound of their mother’s commanding voice. I’m even more surprised by the swiftness of what comes next. As the knife plunges down toward Aquila’s chest, she lifts an arm and blocks the blow. While spinning to face her adversary, she flicks out her wrist and suddenly there’s a sword in her hand, glinting in the afternoon sun’s light. I quickly recognize the weapon. Strike. Her grandfather’s sword, dropped in our realm before he entered Tartarus. The blade is unlike any other, amazingly strong, yet so flexible it can wrap itself into a tight coil. Easy to conceal and uniquely deadly. The blade slips into the monster’s chest before the creature can react.