The Last Hunter - Descent - Jeremy Robinson [66]
I want to remove the hood and look into the eyes of my prey, but I’m not sure I should. Not following the test parameters exactly as described might lead to failure. So I leave the hood on and cinch it shut around her neck. I’ve never been in this tunnel before, but I know the general direction I need to go to find Ninnis again: up.
As I carry the woman deeper, I will the storm to last a few minutes more, long enough for the woman to have conceivably wandered off. Just another victim of Antarctic whiteout conditions.
I find Ninnis about an hour later. He’s still at the tunnel exit, scanning the area below with his binoculars. His distraction is so intense that he doesn’t hear me approach. I clear my throat.
Ninnis whirls around, ready for a fight, but then sees me.
And then the woman.
He is honestly stunned, but not disappointed like I had worried.
“How did you—I don’t—what...” He pauses, shaking his head. “I’m having a hard time believing what I just saw, and what I didn’t see, and what I’m seeing now. The storm, it just came and went precisely when you needed it to.”
I shrug.
“How did you know?” His voice is growing angry. He suspects I had something to do with it. Maybe he remembers how Ull’s arrows somehow kept missing me. Maybe my sudden stop at the bottom of the mountain wasn’t convincing. Or maybe it’s just the convenient timing of a whiteout storm. But he’s starting to suspect.
So I lie. “I felt a cold breeze on my back about halfway down. You saw me roll over?”
He nods slowly.
“I was watching the storm, gauging its speed as it rose up over the mountain. It came in fast, so I slid down in time to take advantage. When it struck, so did I. There was a crack in the valley floor. It led to a tunnel, and here we are.”
He stares at me for a moment. A hint of a smile appears.
“Did the man see anything?” I ask.
“See for yourself,” Ninnis says, handing me the binoculars. I step outside and look down the mountainside. The man was still in the valley, which was coated with a thin film of snow. He’s pacing, hands cupped to his mouth, screaming. He saw nothing. All he knows is that the woman is missing. It’s all he’ll ever know.
When I re-enter the tunnel, Ninnis is kneeling down next to the woman, checking her pulse. “She’s alive,” he says before standing up and offering me his hand.
I shake it.
“Congratulations,” he says. “You passed in rare form. As seems typical for you.”
The woman stirs. Ninnis strikes her without pause and she falls limp again. “Come,” he says. “Let’s get you back to the citadel and clean you up.”
“For what?” I ask.
“Your banquet. I’ve heard it will be like no other, in honor of Ull the hunter, vessel of Nephil, Lord of the Nephilim.”
32
I’m feeling pretty good. Actually, I can’t remember ever feeling so happy. So proud. I have overcome the hardest challenges of the underworld. I have joined a people whom I respect, and who will one day worship me. And I have discovered my bond with the land of Antarctica. Despite being the smallest of my kind, I am larger than life. I could see it in the way Ull looked at me when Ninnis related the story of my final test.
When we returned to the citadel, I saw many more Nephilim warriors, some smaller than my master, Ull, some larger. All of them bowed to me as a sign of respect. But I wasn’t introduced to any of them—though I see symbols and headdresses that look familiar. I was led back to my quarters, given a bowl of fresh water and told to wash. Which I did.
And now I’m sitting on my bed waiting. I’ve been waiting so long I start to think this is really the final test. If it is, I’m about to fail. I stand and turn toward the door. At that moment, there is a knock.
I rush for the door, swing it open and find no one. There is, however, a bundle of clothing on the hallway floor. I scan the giant hall, looking for someone, but find the space empty. Who could hide from me so quickly? It doesn’t seem possible.
The clothes are a smaller scale of Ull’s. The leather scaled skirt. The gauntlets. And a golden ring for my head. But what holds my