The Last Hunter - Descent - Jeremy Robinson [61]
I look up at him, meeting his eyes.
My body wobbles. I giggle. The funniest quote has entered my mind. I don’t know what it’s from, but I know it’s funny and I speak it aloud. Mimicking Ninnis’s proper accent, I say, “Please sir, can I have some more?”
Then I laugh hysterically.
The last thing I remember about this day is Ull saying, “You have earned the use of my name today, little Ull.”
Then he honors my request, and gives me more.
29
After a long time not feeling hot or cold, the burning that courses through my body upon waking makes me scream. Ninnis is above me a moment later. I can’t hear his words over the pain, but his open palms are urging me to stop.
I see my arms then, flailing like wounded fish, splashing something red that could be my blood, but looks more like fruit punch. I focus on my arms and stop them.
But I’m still screaming.
Ninnis is right above me now. He’s enunciating very clearly and though I can’t hear his voice over my own, I can read his lips.
“Calm down,” he says. “It hurts less if you don’t fight it.”
I try. I try my best. And reduce the scream to a whimper.
But the pain is so intense, permeating me to the core, that I think bottling it up completely might make me explode.
“What’s happening?” I manage to squeak out.
“You’re being healed,” he says. “The technique is typically used on a limb or wound, but your whole body was broken. You almost died. We had to immerse you.”
I manage a look down. I’m lying in what I can only describe as a stone tub. It’s full of watery red liquid. “What is it?”
“Ull’s blood diluted with water. Straight blood would kill you.”
“Feels like it’s killing me.”
“If we left you in there, it would. In fact, if you hadn’t been born here, I think it would have already. But you seem to have a little bit of their blood in you already.”
I give a weak nod. “The spirit of the Nephilim.”
Ninnis leans in closer. “Where did you hear that name?”
It’s hard to focus on an answer, mostly because I don’t know, and that’s what I tell him.
He stares at me. I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
Then it comes to me. “Heroes of old. Men of renown. There were Nephilim on the Earth in those days, and I am like a grasshopper in their sight.”
I know I’m paraphrasing. Probably butchering whatever it is I’m quoting. But my mind has put together some puzzle pieces. “I must have read it somewhere before I came here.” I can see Ninnis believes me now. “Is that right? Are our masters the Nephilim?”
He nods. “They are.”
My head spins, but I don’t think the cause is the revelation of my master’s identity. The pain is dulling, or my consciousness is fading. I feel my heart skip a beat. “How will you know when to take me out?” I ask, but it comes out garbled. The brown stone room swirls around me.
I feel my head lull back as my vision fades.
Ninnis says, “That’s how I know.” And I feel his arms slide under me. Then nothing.
* * *
When I open my eyes again, I no longer feel pain. In fact, I’m positively comfortable. I’m lying on my side and can see the gray skin of an egg-monster beneath me. Actually, it must be a stack of skins, because when I shift my weight, the cushion conforms to my body. Two soft skins cover me like blankets. Since my life underground began, I’ve slept without cover. The weight feels good.
For a moment, I think I will drift back to sleep, but I force myself up as memories of my bloody baptism return. I remove the blankets and inspect my body. My wounds are healed. I move my arms. They work without a hitch. I take a deep breath. There is no pain, so my ribs must be healed, too.
I slide out of the bed and stand. My balance is good. A few good leaps confirm my legs are strong. I fall forward like a tree cut by Ull’s axe and catch myself just inches from the stone floor. Strong as ever.
Hopping back to my feet, I inspect the room. The brown stone walls are similar to what I saw from the tub, but