The Legacy of Gaea Volume I: The Underworld

by S L Gassick

  He rode into position with Theus as they sat on their horses side by side. The Undead were in a sloppy, chaotic order which could work to their advantage, but there were hundreds of thousands of them. Some had picked up weapons along the way. The sky had turned even darker and with it, people’s hearts. Many were convulsing and being sick over themselves because of the smell of rotting flesh starting to drift into the air, others because of how the Undead looked.

  Scrapes of flesh were left hanging from bone, charred skin moving, eyes rolled into the backs of their heads. But what made people fearful was the sound. It was a dark, monstrous groan of death. Some were high pitched and animalistic, others mere barking. Overall, it shook the army of Gaea to its bones.

  Milius and Theus looked at each other. Theus rode forward slightly and drew in a large breath, shouting above the crowds, “do not fear them! They are dead and you are alive! Send them back from whence they came! They are nothing! You are men of Gaea! And tonight… we will TRIUMPH!”

  As soon as Theus finished, a mighty roar erupted from their army that shook the ground beneath him.

  “I am having doubts, Theus,” Milius spoke softly.

  “As am I. You will not show it though. We will ride and we will fight. If Gaea wills us dead, so be it. But his strength will not falter and we will not be defeated. The word of Gaea will spread long and full into the ages until there is not a man left alive, but it will not stop here on this battlefield.”

  “You are right,” Milius looked up at the burning sky. “ARCHERS! PREPARE TO FIRE!”

  The shout carried down to the back of the army whereby lines of archers equipped their bows. Just then, they felt a cold breeze and with it, pellets of water falling from the thick grey cloud above them.

  “People of Gaea! Hell beckons you into its cold, wet arms. Do not let it take you! The sun rises over our wives and children and we will share it with them!” Milius roared over the approaching storm. “ARCHERS! TAKE AIM!”

  The archers raised their bows into the air.

  “FIRE!”

  The dark clouds became darker as a shower of arrows rained down on the Undead, falling side by side amongst the drops of water that cooled the air. Milius could see many of the forerunners of the group had fallen.

  “CATAPAULTS! FIRE AT WILL!”

  The catapults that lay behind the archers were loaded with explosives and set alight. They launched intermittently and he witnessed these big balls of rock thundering across the sky killing everything in its path and exploding on impact. Bodies flew in all directions and already they had killed a substantial amount of Undead before they had even drawn their swords.

  The enemy was in complete disarray. Many didn’t know what was going on, yet they knew they had to press on towards the direction of danger. They soon began to recognise the smell of flesh on the soldiers; they could hear the beating pulse of their hearts forcing blood around their live bodies and it soon drove the enemy wild. They began to run, crying out in monstrous howls for blood. Not one of the men facing them moved.

  “DO NOT FALTER! HOLD YOUR POSITIONS!” Milius shouted out. He surveyed the area and saw the rest of his men hiding behind the hill tops, flanking their enemy. They would have to time this right. But in the distance, Milius saw a horrifying sight. Already the rest of the Dark Clans were coming in from the horizon, but behind them loomed an even greater threat than Milius could ever imagine.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Nayakax found himself scorched but alive after being hit with fire attack after fire attack; he could feel his flesh was slightly charred along his arm. He had been fighting this creature for what seemed like hours now and it hadn’t even broken a sweat. He could feel his kyu was beginning to deplete to nothing. “I have to take it to water or ice,” Nayakax thought, “hopefully it will extinguish this flame-consumed being.”

  Nayakax was punched in the face and remained lying on the floor and looking up into the sky as the winged creature flew up to look down on him. With his hand on the floor, Nayakax sent a pulse of kyu through the ground and back, it was a technique he had just thought up in the hope it might work as some sort of radar. He knew the construction workers of Norheath used this technique to map out areas and check the ground before they began work, and just hoped something untried like this might work.

  “A river. I can feel it,” he thought. It was just a little north from here, hidden by the trees. If Nayakax could force him down there, then he might have a chance. He rose to his feet.

  “You wish to continue?” Heretic laughed.

  Nayakax let out a scream and jumped right into the air towards him in a flash of blue kyu. Heretic launched a thousand tiny fireballs that just disintegrated in the force of Naya’s energy shield and found himself suddenly wrapped up in the blue force with no sight of Nayakax.

  Suddenly, Heretic’s arms were wrapped behind him. Nayakax had used his kyu to force himself onto the back of the Herald, making them both tumble towards the ground at great speed. Heretic, as a last ditch attempt, set fire to the whole of himself hoping it would burn off the child. Nayakax screamed in agony, but before they knew it they were in the water of the nearby river. Nayakax clung to the Herald under the water who was shaking about violently. He held on with all his might, trying to keep in as much breath as possible; the body of the winged creature shook and twitched and finally lay limp in his arms.

  Nayakax felt a huge sense of relief and started to separate himself from the creature, realising it was still clinging to his arm. He tried to shake it free as his body told him he needed air and he began to panic.

  Gulps of air started to escape from his nose and mouth. He was sinking deeper and Heretic had him held fast by the wrist. Suddenly, Heretic turned and smiled at him. He was alive. He even began laughing.

  Nayakax struggled for air and thought for a second this would be his watery grave. Thinking fast he composed himself long enough to realise a plan. One last way out. Using his kyu to protect himself he released a small electrical shock into the water that ripped through Heretic’s body, stunning the beast. Quickly losing consciousness, Nayakax thrashed his arm as Heretic’s grip loosened, until he was finally able to slip free and swim haphazardly towards the surface.[DG44]

  He broke the water gasping for air and groggily climbed to shore. The river was making a huge noise and it had begun to rain. Not just rain, but pour. He looked in the middle of the river and saw the head, then the body of Heretic rise slowly out of the water into the sky.

  “The water does not affect me, boy. It is useless! You cannot kill me!” the Herald shouted through the din of the downpour. “I’m immortal!” he proclaimed, and flew at Nayakax.

  They began fist to fist combat. Nayakax could only but defend. He jumped backwards and to the side, evading huge punches that were going straight through the trees surrounding them, knocking them over like bowling pins. He caught and locked Heretic’s arm while he was punching and kicked the creature in the stomach, the face and the groin in three successive moves. Heretic let out a shout of pain and tried to grab the boy, but he leaned right back, caught the other hand and using his momentum rolled right over backwards taking Heretic’s body with him flying against a nearby tree. “This can’t go on for long …someone is going to have to save me. Or I’m going to die,” Nayakax thought.

  The rain was making it difficult for either of them to see. The Herald had been wounded by the blow which seemed to annoy him a great deal. Suddenly two streams of flame came from the hands of the Heretic that engulfed the trees that stood between them both. Naya jumped out of the way onto a top branch. The Herald flew up to meet him and as he broke through the treetops, Nayakax jumped on him and ripped through part of his wing with his teeth. As he did so, Heretic screamed out in pain and threw him to the ground. A large cloud was thrown up as he hit the earth beneath them.

  The dust settled and lying in the middle of a huge crater was the tiny figure of Nayakax. He could hardly open his eyes, he knew
his body was broken, his kyu had almost dried out and still the Herald remained strong, looking down on him from afar. “This is what it is like to die,” he thought, “I wonder if I shall see anyone again?” and with that Heretic flew down, engulfed in a fireball, for one final attack that they both knew would kill Nayakax.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Phin flew from branch to branch along the trees under the moonlight, every now and then looking behind him to see if Forlorn was still chasing him. He could not see her, but he had been fooled by her already. Since being tied up in his kyu she had become restrained for a while, which had bought Phin enough time to conserve his kyu. She had been thrashing about trying to get free and was shouting expletives at him to try and get him to let her go; then she tried pleading with him. But nothing had worked.

  When she grew tired Phin started attacking her with kyu bolts from his chest, similar to bright blue lightning bolts, that threw her back against trees and rocks, but she laughed it off and remained unscathed. Again and again Phin hit her with every kyu ability he had, which was, some might say, rather limited. Kyu pins (throwing the charged pins he had strapped to his body) sliced through what unprotected flesh she had and yet still she did not get any weaker.

  He had then used the same techniques but stronger; she absorbed them like they were nothing. Then he decided to try fighting her where she stood and ran up to her with a flying fist. She would swing to the side, grab his fist and fling him against a nearby cliff face. When he came back again to use the ancient fighting techniques passed down by his family with some little tweaks made by his older brother she was able to outguess them and counter-attack them every time.

  Phin soon grew tired and weary and had to sit on a rock to recover. She looked no worse, she had shrugged Phin off like he was nothing. Then suddenly she tugged at her wrist that was tied to the rock; she pulled with all her might and screamed as the kyu ribbon ripped right through her wrist, severing her hand. Down it fell like a discarded heavy glove. Blood dribbled down onto it from her stump and she started screaming. Phin didn’t know whether it was in pain or in laughter, and he did not wish to find out. She had tricked him all along. Instead of Phin waiting for her to tire, it had been the other way round.

  “Bums,” he’d said to himself, and had got up to run away. Through the forest he ran, as she stood there – emotionless and bleeding, watching him. Phin had felt like curling up into a little ball and giving up, but the thought of Hemero kept him going. Just then he felt a whack hit his chin.

  She had appeared out of the darkness and hit him with her good hand, then disappeared. Phin had kept on running, but she persisted with hitting him spontaneously from out of nowhere. This was what Phin feared the most - when he was going to be hurt and how hard, and this is where he was now; flying through the trees, unsure of where he was or where he was going, just trying to stay alive and build up enough kyu to keep him going.

  He had not been attacked for about five minutes now, and suddenly wondered if she had gone or whether it was a trick. This uncertainty drove Phin crazy until he screamed into the night and flew down to the ground.

  “Come at me!” he shouted, “come here! I am sick of running!”

  “Oh, really?” the dry feminine voice sounded from right behind him. Phin flew around, jumped away and braced himself for combat.

  “This is it,” he thought, “I do this now, or I die trying. I’m sick of being scared.” Phin breathed in and suddenly a burst of blue flames surrounded both his legs. Running with great speed he decided he was going to use a fighting technique he read about in one of his brother’s books. It was a technique of the servants that was used against the uprising of Seafair and was said to be dangerous if used with kyu and not mastered properly. Phin had no time now for precautions; he had to give this his all.

  He rolled along the floor towards Forlorn and pushed himself into the air with his hands, launching his two feet like missiles. Forlorn was able to evade them, but Phin had thought she would. Twisting his body around he was able to pull on her hair and swing back around to kick her in the face using the advantage of his short height to great effect. Forlorn screamed out and clutched her face with her hand and bloodied stump spreading the dark red liquid all over her face. She now looked like someone possessed.

  Then they both looked up, the clouds were almost completely black and they started to shoot rain down with such force that within seconds they were both soaked. Neither of them had time for this though and Forlorn had had enough.

  “You fight bravely young Phin,” she rasped.

  “Well… so do you, I guess.”

  “But my fun has ended and I must leave for I have more important things to do.”

  “You cannot leave! I won’t let you.”

  Forlorn sighed. “I was hoping you’d say that. Then you will have to die.”

  A black mist suddenly grew down her left arm towards the stump and formed a solid black blade where her hand once was. With a growl she furiously charged at Phin, her blade behind her ready to use with full force.

  Phin ducked and dived out of the way but felt a sharp pain in his back. She had swung the blade round and had cut him. Phin cried out in pain and tears started to stream down his face. He lay on the ground on his front. It hurt to move as the wound was deep and must have done something to his spine. He felt helpless and so all he could do was cry. For some reason, he half expected his brother to suddenly show up and save the day. Slowly, Forlorn walked up to him and she sniffed the air again for it wasn’t the fresh rain that interested her. It was the fear. The fear of death, and it was strong.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Rose just did not know what to do. Her lessons in battle were limited at best before reaching the Valhalla and she had only one trick left up her sleeve. How she even survived this long was a mystery to both her and the sleek, plastic-looking Herald. He had no qualms about picking up the little girl and throttling her, punching her full in the face until she bled, but as soon as it happened she seemed to fully recover. The reason for this was not through any kyu power; through her genetic pattern she was able to heal at a fantastic rate, the same as her clan. This power did not make them indestructible; the pain would still be there and be real. Neither would it survive, say, a sawn off head, but it made her clan age slower, look beautiful and make them last longer during battles such as this one.

  Rose, however, was still young and not used to the pain. It was a battle she did not want to last any longer. She tried not to cry but it was tough not to shed tears as she felt the Herald’s plastic talons tear through her flesh like it was paper. The Herald showed no mercy, but remained calm and thoughtful throughout, as if it was a medical procedure of torture and pain. She would look at his shiny, sleek body and find something beautiful about its appearance. Like no matter how evil or old it was, it still looked as pure and as sleek as nothing she’d seen before.

  Rose was panting on the floor wondering whether she should use her secret power. “Not unless you are next to death!” she remembered her father saying. Just then she felt the clawed hand pick up her head, crushing her skull, and smash her face into a nearby rock. She felt her face and nose cave into itself and as she got up, she squeezed her nose and blew until all the broken bones fell back into place with retching, horrid sounds of cracking as blood and flesh found its original place.

  “There is nothing left,” she thought, “I cannot keep doing this or he will soon find a way to kill me. I’ll have to call it…”

  Just then she closed her eyes, put her hands together in a moment of prayer and thrusted them up to the sky just before cutting the air in front of her as if she was holding a huge knife. “Felio of the skies! I call you!” she shouted. A cut then seemed to appear in the space in front of her where she had sliced her hands through the air.

  The Herald looked on in interest as out stepped a figure of a man with wings. Out it came in a magnificent white, shining light; it was a terrifying sight, with the he
ad of an eagle and the body of a young, fit man with nothing but a skirt hiding his dignity and a gold armband over each bicep. Felio squawked as if he knew already what was happening.

  The Herald cocked his head again, examining what was in front of him and Felio walked up right in front of him, his head moving from side to side very quickly, just like Rose saw birds do when she feeds them bread. Just then Felio went to punch and bite at the Herald but he was too quick and bent right back out of the way, then stabling himself with his hands, kicked the bird through the air. Rose went to hide in the bushes and looked at the battle in front of her as Felio threw the Herald into the sky and chased after him.

  She looked up and saw two tiny dots up in the air, both silhouetted against the even darker sky and hoped to Gaea that Felio could destroy this creature. Just then, rain started to pour and bounce off the leaves. Rose was quite well covered but felt herself getting slowly soaked while trying to look up through the rain, but it proved quite difficult under the heavy downpour and soon she just looked at the ground and hoped for the best. The toll of the battle fell heavy on her and summoning the creature had expended what little energy she had left. Soon she felt her eyes starting to close as she gathered up her kyu.

  All of a sudden a huge thud shook her out of her dreamy state and she looked up to see Felio lying on the ground. One of his eyes was missing and blood was pouring from his beak, but it was not that which worried her - it was the fact that his body lay like a rag doll and his head was twisted the wrong way round. This ancient protector of their clan, this magical warrior that could only be called in dire circumstances, was dead.

  “Oh no,” was all she could muster.

  Just then, as if out of nowhere, the Herald landed with a loud bang that shook the ground. He was crouched on one knee facing the fallen Felio, his black plastic wings stretched out wide. There was not a cut on him. Rose thought she was somewhat indestructible, but never before had she seen someone completely invincible.