The Legacy of Gaea Volume I: The Underworld

by S L Gassick

  Heretic was caught not long after, he tried grabbing and pulling the hands away from him, but there were too many. “Not now. Not like this!” but the hands slowly rose up his body and across his face as he screamed into the sky and fell back to the ground. Nayakax did all he could to keep his eyes open, a small smile etched across his face before he finally passed out.

  Rose watched the dark Herald she had been fighting with suffer the same fate as the others. Unlike the others, she felt pity for the creature as she watched it attempt to flee like a trapped bird. It was clearly in distress, and for some reason, Rose wanted to help it. She didn’t know why, but she did. Yet she found it strangely fascinating, it was like she was watching a dance. A magnificent final performance by this exquisitely beautiful creature. But soon, it was pulled into the ground like the others,

  “What is this?” Rose wondered out loud. It was a disturbing and terrifying sight and one that she would not wish on anyone, even these monsters.

  Mere seconds after each Herald entered the ground, the cracks soon came back together and there was silence. It was over.

  Back on the battlefield, the black mist of hands began pulling down the Undead. None of the walking corpses put up a fight, but this caused such a horrific fright that most of the soldiers on both sides ran back to their homes.

  Even though the Dark Clans were on the brink of victory, the fact that Shui was nowhere to be found, and the sheer sight of their comrades, Undead or otherwise, either falling or being dragged down into Hell by a mist of hands, was enough to make even the toughest Clan soldier want to run a mile.

  The Knights of Gaea did not understand what was happening, but they did not want it getting back to the Valhalla either. “People of Gaea! Fellow titans! Hold fast!” a voice rang out and, although fearing that the very ground beneath their feet may fall away at any moment, they all stood completely still and unmoving; daring not even to breathe until another order was given.

  What little was left of the Dark Clans army knew that their numbers had dwindled significantly. It was a fight they were not sure they could now win, and without a leader they decided to retreat.

  “Dark Clans! Fall back!” a voice echoed across the field and then, with that, the battle was finally over.

  Suddenly the rain ceased, the sun came out, the sky became clearer and the people of Norheath knew they had been saved.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Clumsily and merely trying to survive, Shui continued trying to fly up as high as he possibly could, with Hemero clinging to his back like a limpet.

  It did not take long before he saw a tiny light up ahead, like a beacon signalling where they had fallen from. But behind them grew a disturbing darkness - something was chasing them.

  Shui had no choice but to encase both himself and Hemero under a purple protection shield while they flew towards the pinhole of light above them; the deep darkness behind dissolving into the lighter darkness ahead; the groans and cries of the lost, tortured souls that were sent to kill them chasing behind as they struggled to reach the daylight of their own world.

  Hemero found himself squeezing his eyes shut and clutching to Shui. Shui looked down and in that moment, realised Hemero was still but a child and thought, “he is not ready. But it will not be long until he must choose to join me or die.”

  Just then they flew into the daylight as the screams and billowing echoed through the sky right behind them in that black, torturous mist. It gained on them, the hundreds of hands almost within reach as they flew into the sky. Then they heard another rumbling and turned to watch the mist retreat and the hole close up as if it had never existed.

  Gently, Shui brought them back down and they both collapsed on the ground. Hemero had momentarily forgot that he was still in the enemy camp and that he had taken a chance on escaping with the enemy. But right now, he was just glad he survived.

  Shui was more interested in what had happened around him. Clearly something had happened in the camp, and in the distance he saw a small group approaching them both. Shui didn’t want to be a pessimist, but he expected the worst had happened. It looked as if his Clan had retreated back through here. Shui tutted to himself, ‘Bloody Lirilius.’ He looked at Hemero. There was little time to talk to the boy, but he needed to make him understand.

  “Hemero, you must remember what I said to you down there. Don’t think that your Valhalla is this beacon of truth and justice – because it isn’t. If you hate me, then so be it. But I want you to know that you can always come find me if you want to talk. You’re special Hemero, don’t let others make you think otherwise. Just keep in mind that if you feel your place is not with them, then where else might it be? Don’t be fooled, Hemero. The world will always try to fool you. Never let it get the upper hand. I must leave, but I am never far.” And with that Shui disappeared in a ball of purple flame. Hemero turned round suddenly to see Phin and Rose running up to him.

  “Hemy!” Rose shouted and threw her arms around him. He looked up to see the rest of them staring back at him. “Was that …?”

  “Don’t worry,” Hemero said, “he’s gone.”

  “Where have you been?” Phin asked. Hemero unexpectedly burst into tears and Rose’s hugs of joy soon turned into hugs of comfort. There they all sat for the moment, Hemero sobbing whilst surrounded by the dead bodies of the Dark Clans and their burning tents.

  Phin looked around quizzically. “Where’s Lirilius?”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  The remaining soldiers of Gaea returned back to Norheath victorious. They went straight to their homes and loved ones and soon there were parties in the streets. The whole land celebrated the victory, but it was bittersweet, for a great number had died during the battle. The sounds of laughter and happiness were soon engulfed in sobs of pain and screams of misery as the families of the dead ones were told of their loss one by one.

  Some of the men came back carrying the injured, or worse, the dead, back to their families, not uttering a word. Soon the air turned from one of great relief to one of great misery. Thousands sat at the Valhalla gates to see who would come back alive.

  Cyrene was with the other wives and mothers, all full of hope waiting to see their loved ones’ faces. She prayed for Milius to return and tried to ask those who came back if they had any news. But every wife and mother had the same question and soon, they had to set up barricades to keep from overwhelming the poor soldiers who had returned.

  Then, the waves of men returning from the battlefields ceased coming and the crowd started to peter out. Many lost hope and accepted the death of their heroic loved ones, returning back to their homes to salvage what little of their lives was left. Cyrene still sat in hope until an order was given to close the doors. The guards began doing so and Cyrene jumped up to stop them.

  “No wait! You don’t understand! Not everyone is back yet! What of Milius? And where is Theus?” she said, grabbing one of the guard’s arms.

  “Sorry, love,” the guard responded, “Didn’t you hear? I was told neither survived the battle.”

  “No.” Cyrene pulled away from the guard and put her hand over her mouth. She shook her head in disbelief and broke down into tears. She collapsed onto the ground and started to become hysterical. One of the guards ran over to help her until another called him back.

  “What are you doing? You have to help me close the gates! Leave her be!” Then from up by the watchtower a shout was heard.

  “Wait! Do not close! There comes another!”

  Cyrene jumped up with excitement and ran to the doorway. The other guard caught her.

  “No you don’t missus, no-one is allowed out right now I’m afraid, everyone must be safely behind these walls until we hear otherwise.”

  “But it’s him! I know it’s him!” Cyrene pleaded, but the guard was having none of it. She waited with baited breath until she saw the small, hunched over, crooked figure coming towards her. With each step she sensed a growing unease, as if she was watching a
horrible accident occurring in slow motion. As the figure passed between the gates and removed its hood it was clear who stood there.

  “Theus!” The guards suddenly started cheering. “Everyone! Theus has returned!” The word took like wild fire, but the old man did not spare a smile nor say yet a word. Cyrene pushed past the guard and confronted the man. She sensed he was somewhat battle weary as there was a change in him, something different than when she saw him last.

  “What of Milius?” she asked.

  Theus sighed and looked at his feet. It seemed many moons went by for Cyrene as she awaited the answer. He slowly shook his head. Her worst fears were confirmed - Milius was truly dead. A tiny gasp left her mouth and she began crying. The old Headmaster took her in his arms, letting her nestle her head into his shoulder.

  “See to it that in the morning we get every man we can to help bring back the dead. I want the fallen knights to take priority, especially the man who saved us all – young Milius.”

  “Yes, Sir,” the guards noted and began to send the word out.

  “I’m sorry, child. I truly am.” Theus ran his hand over her golden hair and kissed her head. She wept uncontrollably into his body, but had she been less distraught, she might have sensed that his words felt empty and dead.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  After two days, Milius’s body was given a special funeral procession, where he would be honourably placed among his comrades, representing all those who had fallen upon the battlefield.

  Whilst people waited, they discussed the rumours that there was a small group whom had truly saved the day, that they had ventured to Hell and back, and that they were just mere children. But as soon as the trumpets were heard, everyone became silent.

  From atop the Valhalla came Theus dressed extremely elegantly in a beautiful white tunic, half his face covered in a white mask to hide the burns. The sun was hot and intense and shone against the bright white flowers and flags that had been placed everywhere around the Valhalla. Upon a white stone table was placed a white wooden coffin, inside which lay Milius. All around, flowers had been spread, and cards and messages to fallen heroes were placed at his side, as was custom, so that he may convey them to their loved ones upon reaching the Heavens.

  “My fellow people of Gaea!” Theus declared, “today we mourn those whom we lost upon the battlefield just a few days ago. In our darkest hour, we had the strongest weapon … hope. And the man who instilled this hope lays dead before you now. Known to everybody as Milius Drinigard, this young man came from nothing, to lead the armies of Norheath in but a few weeks. Gaea chose his path for him and by doing so, helped keep the Dark Clans at bay.” At this, a sudden shudder seemed to come over the Headmaster. “Until he finally collapsed in battle. To him, we owe everything.”

  The orchestra piped up and a fanfare sounded as white doves were flown into the air and, all around the coffin, white petals were scattered. Four knights, dressed in white and gold attire like everyone else, grabbed each corner of the coffin and carried it upon their shoulders. They took it outside of the Valhalla gates to where the burial land was kept. Under a white angel statue, something the locals had worked on endlessly through the night, and into a hole in the ground, his coffin was lowered. The workmen shovelled the soil onto the casket as people began to slowly leave. Only Cyrene remained, along with three others, Phin and his parents. Phin smiled at Cyrene as she walked up to greet them.

  “When did you get back?” Cyrene asked as she hugged Phin. He started to blush, “Miss! Don’t! My parents are here! I got back last night. Hemy is still on his way.” He sniffed, trying to hold back more of the tears that lay beneath his brave smile.

  “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Drinigard. You must be very proud,” Cyrene managed to say.

  “You must be Cyrene,” Mr. Drinigard stated, almost emotionless. He looked just like an older Milius, it was uncanny. She was slightly taken aback at the resemblance.

  “Yes, I am. I’m Phin’s teacher,” she replied

  Mrs. Drinigard held out a small, folded bit of creased paper. Cyrene took it and opened it out. It was a letter.

  “To Mum and Dad,

  I hope you enjoyed your time away, I did not think you would be able to return until this would all be over. This is why I have to write this letter. There’s a part of me that hopes that once the battle is over, I will be throwing this away and laughing it off. But I doubt this will be the case.

  Since you left, my life has changed inexplicably. Not only did I watch my friends die and come alive again to try and kill me, but I have also been installed as an advisor to Theus himself.

  By doing so, I have now found myself leading Norheath into battle to protect everything we hold dear. I don’t know how, but I have exhausted myself to do what you both taught me to do – what is right and just. I only hope we do not die on the battlefield for nothing, for I would have then brought shame to your name. I have tried, Mum and Dad. I really have.

  I also have not had time to clean the house, as you could imagine. We were attacked by these creatures and Phin, Hemero and a strange man called Moros saved me. That is why it is in such a state.

  I want you to know I am not scared of the battle ahead but the biggest fear for me is that, in your time away, you will lose both sons. Phin has gone after Shui into the very darkness of this Earth. However, I have utmost confidence Phin will come back alive and in time bear you grandchildren. But I cannot say I will be able to do the same.

  I have not admitted it to the others, but the battle ahead is something we cannot win and I will surely die. I am still hoping that something may arise to change our fortune, but unless it does, I cannot see any other fate than death.

  I just wanted you both to know that I love you very much and that my life has changed in another way the last few weeks. I have fallen in love with Phin’s teacher, Cyrene. Never before have I felt this way about another human being and, if I do not survive this, tell her I love her and that I can assure her, in my last few moments, I would be thinking of the little time we had together and only wishing we could have spent more time with each other. For I have never had anything to fight for apart from Gaea, until now.

  I love you all. Stay safe, and stay strong.

  Milius”

  Cyrene handed back the note and very calmly said, “thank you,” before turning away and heading back to her room in the Valhalla, whereupon she cried for the rest of the day and the rest of the night until she fell to sleep.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  The road back to the Valhalla was swift for Hemero for he was carried on a makeshift bed between four Valhalla knights. He swept in and out of consciousness; in his worst thoughts he could see Lirilius screaming and looking up to see the dark shadow of the Lord of the Underworld and the darkness that surrounded him. In other dreams, he was resting at Rose’s house, lying beside her in their garden eating fresh fruit and sipping on cool juice under a hot sun.

  When he finally awoke back at the Valhalla, he was in a bed looking up at Theus in his usual white attire.

  “Welcome back, stranger!” Theus chortled, pipe in hand, suddenly launching into a coughing fit. Hemero sat up and looked around him.

  “Where am I?” he asked

  “In our medical facility. You were quite badly injured and malnourished. We needed to get you back here as quickly as possible.”

  “By Gaea! My head!” Hemero clutched the pounding in his head to quell it. Theus sat on the end of his bed and looked out the window into the lush green fields of the mountains.

  “Thank you, Hemero.”

  “You shouldn’t thank me. Lirilius should be thanked.”

  Theus nodded quietly. “I heard. I will make sure his legacy will last. Do we know what happened to the brave knight in the end?”

  “Yes. He is suffering an eternity of pain as his reward for ridding this world of the Kalad. He had no other choice… Neither was he a Knight of Gaea. He died but a man, nothing more, nothing less.”


  Theus again nodded quietly to himself and sighed.

  “I cannot imagine what he must be going through…”

  “Neither can I, Sir. But yet I cannot rid my dreams of it.”

  Theus looked confused. He was not normally a man without words, but there was no comfort to be given in this situation. There was only one resolution. Theus stood and before he went out of the door stated in a low voice, “yet you must,” and walked out.

  Hemero reached over and downed a glass of water before getting up to refill it and settling back down to his bed. Something had changed in Theus and it wasn’t the strange mask he was wearing. But his head felt heavy and soon he fell back to sleep.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  A few days later, Hemero was released. Outside waiting for him was Nayakax, Rose and Phin. The latter two ran up to hug him and Hemero winced with pain as the sudden physical contact reminded his body what a fragile state it was still in.

  “Oh, sorry!” Rose giggled. Hemero smiled and punched Phin in the arm. He looked up to see Nayakax standing a little distance away. He nodded and let out a smile. Hemero returned the gesture. Nayakax had clearly been severely beaten up, and Hemero couldn’t help but want to give him a hug.

  “Look!” shouted Rose, “you have to see this!” She rushed him to the front of the Valhalla courtyard and there, where Nayakax had fought the shadow what had seemed like an age ago, stood a statue of Lirilius in shining bronze. His pose looked slightly surreal, like he was facing a storm with his fists rested on his hips. Rose was jumping up and down and pointing at it.

  “Don’t you think it looks just like him? The sculptor was friends with him! Isn’t that lucky?!” Rose squealed. Hemero smiled, he knew there was nothing lucky about this statue. He did not have the heart, or the energy, to argue with her or taint her with his dark memories of Lirilius’s final moments. But just then, a hand rested on his shoulder, much the same as it did back in the burning village. “Lirilius?!” Hemero thought and swiftly turned to see Moros standing there.