Dark Wings Fly Highest - 4

Part 2: Sky

Kerma.
Jinx had envisioned lots of things when thinking of the Ruborian capital, informed as she was by her Ruborians and the tales Seffec and Masud had told her during the time they’d been encamped in the Netherworld at the time of Sayron’s conquest. The jewel in the delta, a city of white towers with tops glistening in gold and sapphire… Seffec had originally hailed from Napata, but he had visited the capital, and Masud had grown up here. Not around the white towers, however. Jinx had heard of a gradual sloping down of the city, both in height and glory. She’d been told the royal palace was built on one of the large islands in the delta, which branched into a complex system of canals here, and was connected to the rest of the city by means of seven elegant bridges. Beyond that lay the grand dwellings of the nobility, the middle class, and finally a tangle of markets, business districts and slums.
Jinx looked out over what she could see of Kerma from the Rapture’s prow. A broken carcass, dark beneath a black sky; no trace of white towers or radiant blue skies. The harbour should be close, however, and after a bit of puzzling she eventually made out something Masud had told her about.
The pirate ship neared an elegantly curved construction sinuously twisting in and out of the sea, like a miniature reef shielding the city. Parts were missing and what remained was broken, inconsistent and half submerged into the glowing water, but Jinx still recognized the shape of the giant water serpent guarding Kerma; the stone beast snaked around the entire harbour and fenced off the city with a wall of raised fins, regularly interrupted by huge barred gates which now lay in the water at lopsided angles. Straight ahead of the prow the sculpture raised up its finned head from the sea, the maw a gaping entryway that’d easily let the Rapture through. The head was battered and chipped, but in some way it seemed to Jinx the beast’s long fangs were sharper now than they’d ever been as Kerma had still been inhabited. The Wasteland was all sharp edges and crazed shapes; the magical plague had made the world that little bit more deadly.
The Wasteland. Jinx recalled all her travels through the northern area, with and without Sayron. She’d hated that blue hell more than any other realm, more than even the Glorious Empire. It’d taken multiple friends from her side. It’d been the last great obstacle between her and the throne. And now she returned of her own volition.
A shiver passed through the deck just before the ship sailed through the maw, and Jinx looked down at the water. Briefly something seemed to stare at her from the almost opaque, fluorescent depth, some great eye with a slit pupil, and a subtle rumble coursed through the water, such a deep sound she felt rather than heard it. She shivered herself, and looked ahead stiffly. I did not see that. She looked back to the stern; Diego calmly stood at the helm, and his fearlessness gave her new courage.
As they docked and Jinx went ashore, all that new courage was still obliterated by the mere feeling of ground beneath her feet. Her Minions joined her, but she knew she’d soon be alone, practically naked in the blue light.
“Grubby found you, Mistress.” As Gnarl spoke, four Minion gates dug through the black remains of the harbour’s cobblestones, in the shadow of a ruined warehouse festooned with strands of glowing moss. A great black Tower Gate joined them, the red light between the claws making a most welcome sight, even though Jinx knew she couldn’t make use of it. That light signified home, the warm shelter of the Netherworld… it calmed her, even though she’d soon turn her back on it.
Diego joined her side. “We’ll stay close by. We’ll sail north, maybe give some Golden Mountain traders a bad time. We’ll be back soon enough when you return here.”
“Alright.” Jinx directed her Minions to their gates, and most were all too happy to leave the upper world. Not all of them, however. Aches kept looking at her from just next to the brown gate for a while, then scanned the harbour with narrowed eyes. Jinx smiled. “It’s okay, Aches.” The new horde leader genuinely seemed to care for her now she was his Mistress, quite the change after the way he’d treated her during Sayron’s reign. “Go. Expand the hordes while I’m away, would you? Enjoy the hunt.”
He tapped his helmet. “Yes, Mistress.” He gave a curt nod, then stepped into the gate.
They gradually all left her side, save for two of them, a blue and a brown. Kniff clearly didn’t want to be here, but his reluctance to leave her was greater. “Want to come,” he grouched. “Last time went fine too.”
“Last time I had no choice. I wanted you in the Netherworld.” Jinx crouched down. “He can only carry one more, and that should be a healer.”
“You can heal.”
She chuckled. “You fancy me too powerful. My grip on all that new magic isn’t all that strong yet.” She looked at the blue, both her friend and Kniff’s. “And Drip’s been looking forward to this… haven’t you, Drip?”
He grinned. “Each and every time.”
“Is he ready, Gnarl?”
The advisor grumbled. “It took a while to get him ready… he doesn’t seem to like the Netherworld as much anymore.”
“Bring him up, then.”
“Gladly, Mistress.” Even as Gnarl spoke the Tower Gate glowed brighter, fiery red and orange like a forge fire, and then the glow took shape, a shape barely fitting between the black claws. A familiar hairy head with huge upturned ears, framed by a shaggy mane… sparks danced over rough fur and gleaming leather as the creature stepped forward, leaning on clawed knuckles ending in great folded wings. Behind Jinx Diego let out an admiring whistle, and the Minion Mistress grinned. “Welcome to the upper world, Zephyros.”
“So that’s the bat on your banner,” Vic uttered. “He’s magnificent.”
“Thank you, Vic.” Jinx stroked the bristly mane, then grasped the saddle’s gear. “Eh. I saw something in the bay just now. I think it’s a good idea to cover you while you sail back.”
Vic paled, but Diego just smiled. “I’m glad my Rapture has a protector in you, Milady.”
A strange, howling and ratting cry resounded from the city, further inland. Jinx jolted, her ears standing on end. “Let’s go. Kniff, to the Netherworld with you.”
He looked at Drip, and his worry for his friend was clear – but there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes too. It depends on you now. Keep her safe. “…Alright.” He stepped to his own gate, then looked back one last time. “Won’t disappoint anymore, Mistress.”
The glow in Jinx’ eyes flickered. She opened her mouth to reply, but Kniff was gone before she had the chance, swallowed by the golden light. She clenched her fist. Don’t call me that! But she had rather been acting the Mistress… she hoped she could properly set that right as soon as this mission was over.
Diego and his crew had gone back on board, and Drip already climbed up into Zephyros’ back saddle, between saddlebags generously filled with supplies prepared by Thud. She’d made that second saddle for Kniff, in the days when she hadn’t yet known she’d ever have the right to fly wherever and whenever she wanted. Now she was taking ever greater risks with her mount, and it was better to have a healer by her side than a warrior. Aside from that, Drip was lighter than Kniff, too; he was younger and far less muscular. She preferred to weigh Zephyros down as little as she could. That was also the reason she was still clad in leather and not arcanium; she preferred to be light, for both her mount and herself. She’d rather not be swinging through the trees in full armour… even though a bit more protection could be a plan… she glanced at the dark crystal in her breastplate with slight shame. There was a reason Overlords were usually so heavily armoured. She was a newborn in comparison…
She cast off her doubts, climbed into the saddle and slid her fingers through the dark mane. Zephyros moved beneath her, replying with a soft sound. His smell surrounded her, and as Jinx looked back at the red glow of her Tower Gate and breathed deeply she almost believed she was ready for what was to come. Then the creature in the city roared again, closer now. The Minion Mistress gulped.
The Rapture moved away from her docking spot. Jinx rubbed Zephyros’ neck. “To the sky, Zeph.”
The huge wings unfolded, and the bat pushed off. With a series of back-breaking movements he clawed himself skyward, black dust spurting away across the docks with the force of his wingbeats. Then they gained enough altitude and he spread his wings, to fly around the ship in a wide circle. The broken serpent guarding the harbour fell away beneath them, and as Jinx looked back out over Kerma she had a better overview of the harbour district; a network of black buildings and alleyways, partially sunken away, crusted with irregular and sharp rock formations and overgrown with tentacle-like, glowing vegetation. She caught a glimpse of the grand, stately buildings further inland, and wondered which of those would be the royal palace, on the island with seven bridges…
…but now her first priority was to cover the departing Rapture.
On her command Zephyros soared down to the water, his wings tilted. His hind legs touched the glowing surface, and his wings cast a noticeable shadow. For even more effect Jinx let her fire roar down to the ooze, and suffocating black smoke rose up. She gritted her teeth and closed her fists to extinguish the flames…
…there was the eye again.
She grasped on to Zephyros’ mane, totally hypnotized. They were flying at high speed, but the eye kept up with them, coming closer from the depths… then the head turned, a movement stirring the viscous water into whirling patterns. Wispy fins passed just underneath the surface. Briefly the other eye stared at them, then the creature turned back, and jaws opened to them, at least as wide as the stone maw through which the ship had sailed into Kerma, full of needly, irregular teeth…
“Zeph, fly!”
The bat flapped wildly and ascended into the air. Jinx gripped on more firmly, felt Drip doing the same, and tightly shut her eyes. She felt the air rush past, heard the creature break the surface with a thunderous roar… spatters of ooze water touched her back and cheek…
A giant maw snapped shut behind them, and Zephyros was still rising. A second deafening splash told her the beast was back in the water. She chanced a look back, and let out a breathless laugh. A huge disturbance in the ooze lay beneath her, glowing rings and foam undulating away, and a giant form slid back into the depths.
Drip slightly relaxed his cramped grip. “That went well,” he uttered.
Jinx looked up. The Rapture was sailing back to the western horizon, alive with light. They’d distracted the beast and lured it away far enough; as Zephyros ascended, she could see the eye with its slit pupil was still fixed on them, following the shadow of the bat’s wings.
She exhaled in relief, briefly closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel she was flying for the first time. It didn’t matter the wind reeked of decay and living death; she was back in the air, and would stay there for a while. She took a last look at the faraway ship with the first bat banner in the world. “Until our next encounter, Diego.” She looked back at Drip. “Are you up for this?”
“I’ve been jealous of Kniff and his part in the quest for the Hearts for a while,” the blue grinned.
“This is going to take at least as long,” Jinx smiled. Drip loved flying, she knew, and he was an excellent healer with a long magical reach. If anything were to happen to Zephyros or herself, there was no Minion she trusted more than him. “I’m glad to have you with me.”
Zephyros flapped his way across the city. The delta was a glowing network from up here, breaking up the countless blackened islands. Broken towers reached up at them, and glowing eyes beheld them from a number of darkened openings and windows… raspy sounds stirred the heavy air, and once a claw-like hand with long grey fingers reached at the bat as he swooped past. Jinx shivered. She just wished she could do something about this now… but that wasn’t the plan she’d forged with her advisor.
She knew the ooze could now be permanently cleared by the blues. Before, when Florian Greenheart had still been alive and undertaking his twisted experiments with the sickened magic, the glowing blue substance had always flowed back as soon as the Minions stopped suppressing it, but now it’d lost its power it could vanish completely. Jinx had tried that out at the huge lake hiding Atrej’s old domain, the day she’d escorted Jack the inventor to it, along with the Minions she’d appointed to assist him – and keep an eye on him. Jack had protested as she’d removed a bit of the ooze to test her assumption… it seemed he was almost as interested in the substance as in the domain itself. She’d warned him to be very careful with it, but suspected her words hadn’t quite gotten through to him.
However, Jinx couldn’t rid Kerma of the ooze with her blues; the river carried it back in faster than she could clean it up. No, to truly cleanse Ruboria she had to journey to the source of this once hallowed, now cursed water, this Kemetis, the river sharing its name with the Ruborian goddess of life. The mythical source in the far eastern mountains. Her Ruborians hadn’t quite agreed on the matter of the source being real at all, or if it was possible for mortals to reach it, but if anyone was up to it it’d be the Overlady… right?
Zephyros scanned the city and let out a shriek as the rattling roar resounded a third time, far behind them now. The Minion Mistress didn’t look back. They flew across the last lower districts of Kerma, and the black Sea of Sand opened up before them, sharply parted by a writhing ribbon of blue light. The river glowed blindingly amidst the dark desert, the glow flowing into luminous green, blue and purple on both sides; the river still supported fertile banks, though with very different vegetation than in Ruboria’s sunlit days. Jinx was briefly reminded of the many-hued, iridescent hummingbirds of Tolindi, and laughed softly.
Across the full horizon the land rose up to the veiled heavens in crazed, razor-sharp figurations. Zephyros’ wings mercilessly carried them into it.
Her first day in Ruboria had dawned… the first of many.

Evening, and though there was no setting sun or falling night in this place, its inhabitants felt the day was ending.
After a long day Kniff allowed himself to find some rest, and climbed up to the private quarters. He stepped off the winding stairs into the great central chamber with its basin and let his gaze wander around.
When Sayron lived here this place had been filled with his Mistresses’ belongings; Kelda’s hunting trophies and furs, Juno’s elegant drapings and golden knick-knacks, all eagle wing and lion’s heads, and Fay’s dark strangling vines and elven artifacts. The Overlord himself had had sculptures created, black works of art depicting Minions, demons and dragons, polished surfaces and complex knotted designs along every wall.
Now all this belonged to Jinx the chambers took on a rougher shape, more in line with the Tower’s outside and the rest of the Netherworld. Water no longer spurted into the basin from the mouths of stylized stone blue Minions, but foamed along the walls in cold waterfalls, like a miniature version of the domain’s walls themselves. Light no longer came from elegant candles and lanterns, but flaming bowls of various sizes lodged in every crack and curvature in the walls… and magma, flowing in from the outside only half-controlled. There were still Minions around here, but they no longer slavishly took to their ruler’s exact wishes; those wishes now overlapped with their own regular affairs. In places characteristic pictures also seen around the Barracks were appearing, depictions of the Minions themselves, and their antics in the upper world. Kniff passed by a few paintings of fairies skewered on daggers, and smiled at the memory of Tolindi.
Then he reached the sleeping quarters he shared with Jinx, and his eyes fell to a much more tangible memory.
The bedroom also functioned as a treasury; Sayron might have taken his own riches along to the Empire, but Jinx had also amassed quite a bit of gold, even though she’d let Diego keep a great part of the treasure from the wrecks. Like Sayron, she kept the riches in a great pile rising up against the wall, and that pile was topped off by the gargantuan pink and blue crystal of Tolindi.
Kniff’s ears shivered at the thought of the price he’d almost paid to get that crystal down here, and how it’d gotten that far. Act like a horde leader. A horde leader didn’t leave behind live enemies so they could stab his Mistress with light magic and just barely miss her heart!
…And a horde leader didn’t sleep in his Mistress’ private quarters when she wasn’t there, and a lower-ranking horde member certainly wouldn’t. Kniff looked around. No, this was not where he belonged. He turned, and slowly walked back to the winding stairs.
Once he’d returned in the throne room, his thoughts returned to the light crystal. He saw Gnarl was still there, watching Jinx make camp for the night on a tall black rock formation, crazily clawing up at the dark Ruborian sky. “I’m afraid we cannot fix any Minion gates for you there, Mistress. You’ll have to let Drip keep watch on his own.”
“We’ll take turns,” her voice resounded. “We’ll be fine, Gnarl.”
The advisor stuck up his ears as Kniff approached, and turned away from the pool. “…Oh, it’s you. What are you here for?”
The Minion looked at the pool, then back to Gnarl. The advisor stood between him and Jinx unrelentingly, and Kniff knew all too well what he thought of Minions rashly speaking through the pool. “…Crystal in private quarters doesn’t fit. Jin… Mistress’ style not pink and blue.”
“I didn’t know you were so concerned with the domain’s colour scheme.”
“Light magic no belong here.”
“And what did you want to do about it?” Gnarl raised a bushy eyebrow. “Treasure is treasure, and it’s up to the Mistress what it looks like.”
“Mistress doesn’t like pink and blue either. Likes black and fiery.” Kniff cocked his head. “Blues changed light crystal.” He’d rather never see the pink and blue crystal again; it reminded him of his mistake, and he could imagine his Mistress felt similarly about the sharp, glistening facets. But he thought Jinx might appreciate a certain change…
Understanding glowed in Gnarl’s eyes. “Darken it? With that size? Hmmm…” He glanced at the mist pool. “Bring it over to our side… it’d certainly be a lot more useful…” He nodded. “I’ll think about it and discuss it with her. Now, shoo, away with you.”
Kniff nodded quickly and slipped around Gnarl. He just managed to lean over the mist pool. “’Night, Jinxie.”
He didn’t see her as the advisor indignantly stepped between them again, but he heard her laughing. “Sleep well, Kniff!” He grinned, and shot out of the throne room through one of the passageways to the Tower’s outside. The abyss lay before him… and far beyond it were the Barracks, glistening in the fiery halflight, the place where he could truly be a Minion.

Later, and in darkened Ruboria Jinx tried to fall asleep in the blue glow of the Wasteland, for the first time since her quest for the Tower Hearts. The black Sea of Sand lay deep beneath them; they’d found and perched on a towering, jagged spire of rock, part of a crazed range that’d been running parallel with the glowing river and its many-hued, unearthly banks for a while. The desert, once a flowing carpet of golden sand, was now a dark and tortured landscape; jagged pieces of land rose up or fell away under the black sand everywhere, so the dunes streamed down like dry, dark waterfalls. The rushing of the sand gave the surroundings a disturbing, eerie touch, even more so than the dry, whispering wind.
And just like in the Netherworld, there was barely any difference between day and night here. Indeed, now the unseen sun had set somewhere in the west, greenish lights flared in the rock, illuminating the surroundings a little brighter than by day…
…and then something else flared, far above them.
Jinx had tightly curled up, but now sat up. A blue light blazed between the black clouds above her, unworldly, and her first reaction was that to a new threat.
Then Drip looked back at her from the edge of their jagged plateau. “It’s beautiful.”
She rose and joined him. Before them a cyan aurora rolled over Ruboria, dancing through the clouds like the day Sayron had unleashed his lightning on Arcadiopolis, undulating and weightless like the moment she’d encountered Synn in the magic room. Jinx could swear it even made a sound – singing, heavenly, very far away.
“This doesn’t belong here,” she spoke. “But… yes, it is beautiful.”
“A whole world of broken magic.”
“The dark side holds many surprises.” Jinx looked back to where Zephyros hung upside down, suspended from a ridge glittering with greenish glisters. This is what I meant with ‘dark wings fly highest’… even though I’m going to wipe it all away.

The morning drum resounded, deep and dark and far below him, and for but a moment the waking brown Minion didn’t know where he was.
Kniff had woken on a sleeping mat on a rough wooden floor, and round stone walls curved around him, rising to a pointy roof topping off the small room. A barrack… his barrack. The barrack he’d shared with Jinx, before she’d taken up residence in the Tower itself… His eyes fell to the paintings on the wall, and he smiled. During their adventures together they’d recorded their memories… the blue, cloaked little figure of Mortis showing Jinx her healing gift, Parch teaching her to climb, Giblet teaching her to fight like a Minion – pictured with his huge hammer and hitting Jinx on the head. Himself, helmeted like an Imperial soldier, controlling a catapult, ripping open an elf, meeting a crouching Zephyros. The bat also spread dark brown wings along the ceiling, above all else.
He was home.
He got to his feet, stepped forward and pushed aside the skins before the entrance. A dark, glistening cliff rose up before him, ending in countless erratic formations. Each of them bore a tangle of small towers and dwellings of the same design as his, piled onto eachother, interconnected and linked to the cliffs by rickety bridges and rope ladders. Faded and ragged banners fluttered in the air currents rising from the abyss. Higher still, a stalactite-strewn ceiling vaulted over everything, overgrown with a network of vines and the woven homes of the greens, festooned with bones and spider silk. Where they built upwards and colonized the ceiling, the brown clan occupied the walls along the utter rim of Minion territory, closest to the Tower. Kniff turned and looked out across the void from the small platform around his barrack, beholding Jinx’ bastion plunging down from the Netherworld’s apex. Then he turned back. He didn’t belong there. It’d never made sense for a Minion - one Minion – to camp in the private quarters. He was part of the horde, and not even their leader.
A rough, rasping shout. “Runt!”
He looked up. On a higher bridge further along the cliff face Aches looked down at him. The horde leader jerked his spiny chin. “Get to work. Have Hive duty.”
Kniff slightly lowered his ears. “Hive duty?”
“Going out hunting with veterans,” Aches rasped. “Mistress wants bigger horde. Perform task in her command.” He stepped across the bridge and onto solid ground with clicking claws. There Scabies, Maul and some other muscular horde members joined him. Kniff climbed the rope ladder leading to the top of the cliff and looked after them. Minions of other clans also joined in, and so formed a proper hunting party.
He turned to the very top himself, where a miniature fortress overlooked a network of openings in the black rock. At the heart of the construction the brown Hive hung cradled in a woven basket, and around it and in the caverns around it were scattered little barracks; dwellings for the newborns where they could stay until proper barracks had been built, or they built them themselves.
Minions were already tending to the Hive, making room for the influx Aches was about to send their way. Migs and Raglam, the usual Hive keepers, were accompanied by a handful of younger Minions now. Not all that long ago Kniff had been of comparable size, as he’d been for the greater part of his life, but he’d grown considerably recently… though he still had a way to go before he’d look like most Minions his age.
He climbed to the top of the fortress. It wouldn’t take long before Aches and the others made their first kill and life force would trickle back to the Hive through the Minion gates. It wasn’t his first time tending to the Hive; as the eternal runt he’d spent the majority of his life in the domain, busy with all sorts of tasks. He’d only been accepted as a horde member just before Jinx had joined them, and even then he’d been the weakest of them all…
…what had he been thinking, trying to become the leader? His Jinx becoming the Mistress wasn’t connected to his own position by any means…
He shook his head and pushed his claws between the Hive’s folds. Was there movement already?
Slime and pulsating flesh, and the strange looks of his fellow Hive tenders, surprised to see him among them. He gave a slight grin. “Been a while, eh?”
“Not out hunting, Kniff? High-ranking horde member now.”
“Not really, Migs.” He grasped around. “Made fool of myself out at sea.”
The Hive tender chuckled. “Ah, not so bad. Still have Mistress’ favour.”
Did he? He didn’t allow himself to assume that.
Ah, there was the first little claw. “Caught something,” he changed the subject. He brought his own claws together and pulled, gradually shifting his grip from the wrists to the underarms, upper arms, shoulders… a head with limp ears and tightly closed eyes came to sight. Then the newborn slid from the Hive, covered in brown slime. Kniff groped backwards for the discarded banners available for this purpose, and wiped open the eyes. “Hi,” he smiled. “What’s your name?”
The Minion coughed and cleared his throat. Raglam brought him black rat fur and a club. “Frebb,” it then resounded in a thin voice.
Kniff could already feel a new claw, but still kept an eye on his first new fellow brown as Raglam led him to one of the barracks around the Hive. The early beginnings of Jinx’ vision… a giant horde that could truly match the armies of mankind, so large all of the Netherworld could be put to use. Frebb could become a builder, a cleaner, a scout to venture further into the tunnels… or, of course, a warrior in the upper world.
He grinned, glowing with pride and excitement despite all that’d happened in the previous days. He’d be there to see that vision become reality, and it didn’t really matter to him which position he held. As long as he and Jinx…
The flood of life force swelled after the next few newborns, and the Hive tenders worked faster and faster. Aches and his group had clearly found a number of large victims, each providing a lot of life force. Kniff had less time to really see the newcomers, but still tried to remember new names and faces the best he could, and to envision where the new Minions might end up. At times his claws inflicted the first injuries, no matter how carefully he tried to work, but even without those first markings he could already tell the youngsters apart. Sleaver, already more muscular than the others, hungrily staring at a rat running by. Hurtle, whose ears swiftly turned with each new sound even before his eyes were open. Twig, who initially seemed to be frightened of the altitude at which he’d been born, but then looked out at the hanging colony beyond the cliff with clear fascination.
Then the flow of life force waned, and Kniff could work at a slower pace. At a certain moment he felt he’d caught hold of his last newborn, and he used his full weight to pull him out. They slid backwards together, and Kniff grasped at one of the banners as he let himself fall back with the new addition. Then he saw his eyes were already open.
“What’s your…”
“Rascal.” The youngster looked around curiously. “And yours?”
Kniff blinked, but then grinned widely. “…Kniff.”

And in the private quarters a number of blues gathered, called there by Gnarl and Zap. The grey advisor glanced at the pale, one-armed blue. “Do you think it’s possible? The runt regularly has strange notions.”
“If it worked in the field, it should certainly be possible here.” Zap stroked his chin webs, his frog eyes fixated on the huge light crystal in Jinx’ treasure pile. “I can feel the light magic struggling, resisting. She’s strong, but the Netherworld is stronger… if we keep up the current situation this crystal won’t be magical for very long. Kniff’s idea is a good one, and it came just in time. It’s the only way to have this crystal hold its power, instead of letting it slip away until it’s simply a pretty shiny thing.”
Gnarl blinked. “Nothing wrong with pretty and shiny.”
Zap gave him a sideways look. “I hear you have good hopes for the ‘runt’. You don’t have to keep up your disdain for him with me, you know.”
“Yes, well. It just never ceases to surprise me, those bright moments he has sometimes. He’s such a moron the rest of the time. I’m serious, Zap, he doesn’t even realize when his ideas make sense himself.”
Zap grinned. “I hope he keeps surprising us.” He nodded at the blues. “Do what you can.”
Blue sparks circled the crystal, and the light it emitted immediately reacted, in fierce flashes seemingly attacking the dark magic. The magic of the blues remained steadfast, however, and soon melted together with the light shimmer. At the razor-like tips of the crystal a hint of darkness crept into the pink and blue…
It was going to take a while, but Gnarl had high hopes for the future. He nodded in approval as he felt the light magic change pitch, and stepped away from the treasure pile. He had business to attend to in the throne room…
As he arrived there he was greeted by a magnificent view of the glowing Kemetis through the mist pool. Jinx was already flying. “Good morning, Mistress. I have good news for you.”
“And I have bad news for you,” her voice came back to him. Gnarl blinked; something black shot across the glowing blue ribbon in the depths. Then another, and another. “We have company…”

Jinx had known this would happen sooner or later, but she hadn’t been looking forward to it. During every journey through the northern Wasteland she’d seen the huge Ruborian vultures in the air, soaring on inky wings… she’d seen them drop from the sky to the bodies they’d left behind, be it foe or mutated Minion. She’d known there’d be more in the actual desert, and now she was proven right. There were so many of them they were brave enough to assault Zephyros, and they made for quite a threat now, too.
In the north she’d seen them from a distance, behind them or high up in the air like black shreds against a blacker sky. Now they soared along very close by, suddenly a lot bigger than she’d thought they were, with four-meter wingspans and three glowing blue eyes on either side of a jagged beak. Like the mutated boombo birds they bore claws on their wings, and used those to strike at Zephyros. The bat was already bleeding from multiple deep gashes along his flanks and wings, and Drip did his best to close every wound as soon as it was opened. Zephyros snapped at every vulture he could reach, making their flight a swerving tumble… but Jinx just clung to the saddle and spurred on her mount to keep at it. She could use every bit of help to discourage the vultures.
She wasn’t idle herself. Her claws were burning, and she flung fireball after fireball up and sideways. She wasn’t as efficient as she would’ve liked from her lying position on Zephyros’ back, however, and her sword was even less useful.
Then her bat shrieked, unmistakably in pain. Jinx abruptly looked up, a moment before her mount started circling down with barely any control. His right wing had been torn open, and part of the membrane fluttered limply…
She hissed, her teeth bared. “Not my bat, you damned poultry…!”
Drip strained behind her. “I’m doing my best, Jinx!” Blue sparks flowed to the gaping, fluttering wound through the veins in Zephyros’ wings, and the membrane gradually zipped itself up, but they were still descending… slowly, an easy target…
Two vultures flapped closer to Jinx, then claws sank through her tunic and into her arm. She growled with pain, beat at them with her free claw, but then a jagged beak suddenly pecked at her face, fearfully close to her eyes.
“Buzz off!” She burned away the vulture around her arm with a flaming eruption, but the other was still way too close, and she instinctively backed away. It followed her, however, forcing her further back…
Before she knew it she’d pushed herself up from the saddle, her feet beneath her body. Her one claw still grasped Zephyros’ gear, but she’d straightened out as far as she could, and before she’d gotten used to that she pushed herself higher. She’d come this far, and they were still flying…
…she might as well make use of this.
“Mistress, this is not a good idea!”
“Have you ever flown, Gnarl? Like this, I mean?” A wild kind of madness thumped through her veins, the vultures circled her head. Zephyros tested his healing wing, stopped circling and ascended with a wild lurch that almost threw Jinx off his back. The beginning of a scream burst from her throat, but she kept standing, and straightened out further still. Flames ignited around her fist. “This is what I live for! Dancing on the edge!”
“The edge of reason, yes! The Heart of Madness is down here, you know!”
She could aim a lot better now she was standing, her one claw white-knuckled around the saddle’s gear, the other half raised. The flames pulled a trail through the dark sky as Zephyros kept flying as well as he could. Fireball after fireball left Jinx’ hand, and the vultures started to lose motivation… or at least it seemed that way. Drip pulled on her tunic from behind. “Jinx, we have to get down!”
The Minion Mistress extinguished the fire around her hand as she realized the glow had blinded her, and suddenly saw the birds gathering around Zephyros’ unprotected belly. “Drip…”
“We won’t hold out much longer!”
“Damn it!” She sent a last fireball into the sky to scatter the birds above the bat, and then carefully lowered herself back into the saddle. She tried to look beneath her mount’s body, but only saw blood-soaked fur. “…Damn it.” Zephyros whined softly. Blue sparks still whirled around his body, but a glance backwards revealed the exhaustion in Drip’s eyes. He was alone, and Zephyros was huge… and evidently, so were his injuries. Jinx lay her hands in her mount’s mane. “Down. Carefully. To those formations.” She looked along his belly again and saw a few vultures had grasped on to him, ripping his flesh with their beaks. She growled in powerless fury; there was nothing she could do about that until she could jump off his back… all she could do now was make sure the birds above them didn’t come back, with the use of a few well-aimed fireballs.
Zephyros was barely flying anymore as Jinx leapt to the ground and immediately charged the vultures, her sword drawn. The majority flew up and escaped, leaving her with her rage. Drip immediately tended to the healing process, but Jinx could just see the entirety of Zephyros’ wounds, and briefly held her breath. It was far worse than she’d thought, and she jolted at the thought of how strong he’d been for her. She knelt at his head, resting on the black rock in exhaustion, and hugged his scarred snout. Blue sparks whirled around her hands as well, soon descending to his belly. “Zeph…”
She clenched her jaws and closed her eyes, her cheek against the bloodied fur. She knew exactly why he was so strong. He didn’t have a choice. She was embracing her first and only dominated victim; Zephyros was hers, with heart and soul, he did everything she asked of him and none of what she didn’t.
She pressed closer to him as she suddenly realized how much more acrobatic and agile the wild bats at the Everlightian roost were. Zephyros could pull off certain maneuvers… but purely on command, and if she didn’t give that command he flew straight. He hadn’t shaken off the vultures because he’d kept stable for her.
She was glad she’d lost her domination magic.
“Well,” Gnarl creaked. “It’s a good thing you didn’t take Kniff along, Mistress.”
Jinx raised her head and gratefully met Drip’s eyes. “We wouldn’t have made it without you. I can’t fly, fight and heal at the same time, not yet, anyway.”
“You won’t have to,” the Minion replied with a small smile. “That’s what we’re for.”
Jinx stroked Zephyros’ head. The yellow-brown eyes betrayed relief, and she pressed her forehead to his with a smile. “I couldn’t wish for better company…” She paused. “How is Kniff doing, Gnarl?”
“Oh, he’s fine, Mistress. No worries about him.”

A few days later, and he’d barely left his barrack before a half-gnawed bone of indeterminate origin sailed his way. An upwards glance revealed Scabies, Maul and Glottis looking down on him from a jutting platform, and even as he watched the rest of the hunting party joined them. Aches lightly ran his claws over the rock wall next to him.
Kniff opened his mouth, but the horde leader beat him to it. “Hive duty, runt.”
His perked ears had dropped down, but not all the way. If Aches thinks I mind… He enjoyed working with the newborns. He kept a silent hope for other tasks, but he wasn’t unhappy at all.
As he arrived at the Hive, however, he didn’t enjoy it as much as the previous times. Migs and Raglam seemed to take notice, and after a while Raglam came to him. “Don’t need you badly, Kniff.”
He gave the Hive tender an uncertain sideways look. “Sure?” He felt it too; Aches and his group clearly weren’t having as much success in the upper world as last time, when the life force had ceaselessly flowed into the Hive. Raglam nodded with a faint grin. “Well…” Kniff had to admit there was something that wouldn’t stop milling through his head. The open eyes of one of the newborns hadn’t left his thoughts for long. He’d never been as strict with orders as most of the other Minions… and that’d be his Master’s orders. The orders of another Minion were even more flexible… “…Where’s Rascal?”
“Don’t know?” Raglam asked in surprise. “Arena, of course. Clear horde member.”
“Tower?”
The Hive tender laughed. “Forgot, been at sea long. No, not Tower. Go back to barrack… then down.”
Kniff gave him a strange look. “Arena… at Barracks?”
“Go look!” Raglam shoved him away from the Hive, and Kniff stepped away hesitantly. Then he moved towards the cliff of the browns more surely. Down, hm?
Now Raglam had mentioned it… the hanging colony did seem to extend deeper down than he remembered from before the sea voyage. And the morning drum… that hadn’t always resounded from beneath his barrack. There was something new in the depths…
He remembered something Jinx had said, not long before they set out from the Reef Gates. How ridiculous it was for Minions to train in the Tower in order to pick the upper world horde, while being born and living in the Barracks… how more things should be joined in the Barracks, and how there should be more room for those trainings, and the possibility for enlarging that space…
He snapped the neck of a passing black rat and skinned the body with his claws. He passed his barrack while eating, and slid down a nearby rope ladder. More ladders and sloping bridges led him deeper and deeper down, amidst sparking torches, ragged banners and more and more Minions… younger Minions. The barracks around him became messier; down here lived young builders, to gather experience. At this depth it wouldn’t matter so much if the foundations were weak and the barrack would fall into the abyss; it wouldn’t take too many others with it.
And then there suddenly was a great thundering of drums, a flare of torches, and a far greater construction than he’d expected down here. Kniff’s eyes widened, and his ears spread in baffled admiration.
Before him the cliff abruptly receded, as though a sharp bite had been taken from the glistening black walls. Stalactites rose from the irregular jutting ledge thus formed, and stalagmites curved down at it. They interlocked like teeth, like claws; but a great space was left free, and in that dark growling maw lay the arena. Beneath it the receding rock walls plummeted down to a dizzying, almost unobstructed view of the orange flare in the depths.
It was bigger than he’d realized, Kniff noted as he approached it across the bridge. Minion barracks had been built in the cracks between the stalagmites and stalactites, the banners were almost as big as those in the throne room, and the torches were roaring firepits that wouldn’t look too bad near the red Hive.
Had the builders created this in the time it’d taken the Rapture to sail to Ruboria? It had taken them weeks… but he hadn’t expected such a big change, right beneath his very barrack. And he wouldn’t even have noticed if he’d stayed in the Tower… he’d really been away from the hordes for too long. It was time to set that right.
As he came closer he could look into the arena, and the ones doing battle in the glistening, crudely engraved ring. The dark rock of the irregular walls and the stalagmites making up the outside were festooned with strings of bones and lanterns, and covered with huge versions of the typical Minion drawings, as inspiration for the youngsters, but the ring itself bore symbols and engravings signifying performance and injury, carved by the young ones themselves.
The ones doing battle were almost all newborns with their first clubs, fighting each other, and the ring masters if they felt sure enough.
Kniff grinned. The ring masters were the same Minions that’d tended to this process in the Tower; Meph, Ricket and Grout. It appeared they’d dragged in a few other middling horde members, but Kniff knew especially Meph would never leave the training ring, unless the upper world horde was to be expanded into a true army and the less experienced Minions were summoned too; in that case the ring masters knew how matters stood with the young ones like no other. Meph’s flail was at once a fearful and comforting sight for most young horde members. He knew how to teach new warriors without accidentally killing them, but his lessons were almost never painless.
From the rising stalagmites the rock ran down to the ring in irregular rippling layers, and the descending levels were used as rough stands by other horde members. Young and middling spectators and even some veterans stood, crouched or lazed about everywhere, looking down on the proceedings of the newest recruits with amusement. Battle cries and painful sounds resounded up to Kniff. He let his gaze wander, searching for the newborn that’d led him here in the first place. Instead, his eyes lingered on the clubs the youngsters wielded. If they proved themselves for the horde with those… that didn’t really indicate their skills in the field at all.
Then a little Minion popped up by his side, and Kniff looked up. A grin appeared on his face. “Rascal!”
The newborn had already modified his gear; a necklace decorated his chest, and Kniff recognized rat bones and the molted mouthparts of giant spiders on the string. Rascal also wore a patch of pale silk across his chest. Kniff beheld him with appreciation. “Been busy.”
“Had to. Couldn’t train me for long, got bored.” Rascal nodded down at the ring. “Horde grows fast.”
Kniff lay a claw against the glistening black rock. “Horde is bigger… but…” He recalled the amount of newborns that’d been pulled from the Hive lately; both the hunting party and the Hive tenders had night shifts, and the work had continued even as he’d been back at sea… Meph and his ring masters couldn’t give the youngsters much time. “…but not ready for upper world.”
Fluffy runt. That was how Aches saw him, and how the horde leader saw almost all new recruits. Kniff knew very well how he looked down on weaker horde members; they were to gain their experience themselves, and if they entered the field unprepared it’d be their own problem… youngsters and weaklings could clarify the enemy’s mode of attack with their deaths, its strong points, and with a bit of luck, its weak points as well.
The current horde leader was delivering a huge horde to Jinx, but not in a way Kniff could agree with. He wouldn’t allow the majority to drift into the Well after their first battle…
He looked around. “Rascal. Get some young ones.” As a medium horde member he wielded a bit of authority over the Minions in this arena; more than he’d ever had aboard the Rapture, even as their horde leader. He stepped down over the layered slope himself and touched the newborns, inviting them to follow. Eventually he and Rascal left the arena with something resembling a horde; Minions of barely a week old, most still only clad in their rat furs. Kniff briefly looked them over. “Leave clubs here.”
“But –”
He grinned. “Soon have better.”

Once they’d arrived in the forge he soon saw why the youngsters fought with clubs. The anvils and work benches were almost all abandoned; Giblet’s assistants had probably joined Aches’ hunting group or gone off for themselves. Kniff’s ears rose as he saw Giblet himself was still there, busy with large pieces of parchment and charcoal… all of which he hastily folded shut as Kniff approached. The forge master looked up and grinned. “Fluffy runt!”
Kniff’s ears folded back. “Not you too.”
Giblet chuckled, getting to his feet. “Kidding. Seen plenty of runts, you not one of them.” He glanced at the newborns accompanying Kniff. “You haven’t been tiny one for some time. Grown quite a bit.”
Kniff smiled. He’d started thinking he’d imagined that ever happening… but his efforts to get Jinx on the throne had paid off after all. He looked back to his newborns. “Giblet… come for weapons. Training with clubs in arena, but not good enough for horde.”
“Ah.” Giblet rubbed his neck. “Will have to get others back. Weapon stores were looted by elder clan members.” He stepped past Kniff and took up his huge hammer, to bang it to his even greater anvil with a thunderous clanging echoing through all of the forge. Kniff barely let go of his ears in time to hear the forge master shouting. “Shotter! Murf! Go get rest, lazing is over!”
By the time Giblet had gathered his assistants and pupils and the forge resounded with hammer blows and hissing metal, Giblet came back to Kniff, who’d led the youngsters around the forge and shown them the forging processes in the meantime. Some of them might belong here, or would at least spend some time here before they joined the horde.
The younger Minion perked his ears as the forge master approached. “Giblet. Thanks.”
“Domain has to function.” Giblet gave a half smile. “Glad someone takes note of young ones.” He took Kniff aside. “…Heard about position.”
Kniff blinked. “…Heh. Is alright. Better this way.”
“Have seen many leaders come and go. Seems yesterday Minas led clan to this domain.”
“Minas…” Kniff recalled his first horde leader; a huge Minion, wearing gilded Ruborian armour and a crested helmet, the long scars of sandworm teeth running down his back. Had he really been that large, or had he himself been so small? “Minas was strong.” He also remembered the old Minion’s death, deep in the Nordbergian mountains on their way to the Netherworld, after the Tower’s fall. “Took snow storm and white bear to kill him…”
“Minas focused on old veterans, but was hard time. Time before Well.” Giblet leant against his anvil and briefly looked over Kniff’s head. “Pitch, no helping with carrying, will melt off sharp edge, idiot!” He chuckled as the young red abruptly dropped the pile of short axe blades he’d been carrying, and a few browns hurried over to pick up the red-hot metal. The forge master turned back to Kniff. “But if he alive now… remember scars?”
“Was in Tower when he got them.” He’d been one of the very smallest newborns of the domain in those days, and he’d only seen Ruboria for the first time on the fateful day Lord Vessperion had perished in the Infernal Abyss.
Giblet gave him a strange, glowing look. “Got scars as he saved younger horde member from sand. Sandworm almost got him instead, but both survived.”
“Younger horde member…” Kniff looked around at the new, glistening weaponry being forged all around him and being carried back to the floating rock. The youngsters ran between the forgers everywhere, many already swinging around their new acquisitions.
Giblet stood by his side and looked out across the forge as well. “Stripe had scar just like Minas’. Became leader on the day Minas died, recovered from wound the bear gave him.”
Kniff did remember that day very well. “Spine lay bare.” Stripe had recovered from that wound on his own, without the blues; those had left the group by then, and Mortis had been in no condition to do any healing yet. The pale scar on his back had earned him his new name, as a title of honour, along with the respect of the horde that’d lasted until his death.
“Stripe also looked to veterans most, but knew skill of younger ones when he saw.” Giblet’s claw briefly zipped past the red shred of cloak Kniff had tied underneath his rat fur. Kniff grinned; that’d been part of a centurion’s cloak, a centurion he’d killed singlehandedly and explosively to earn back his spot in the horde after he’d been banished to Nordberg along with Jinx. He nodded. “That he did.”
“And then Jinx.” Giblet smiled warmly. “Trained her to fight like Minion myself.”
Kniff laughed aloud. “When I heard…” Giblet had wiped the floor with her, broken every bone in her body, hit her with his hammer so hard she’d gone half blind for a few days. But it’d been worth it… she’d become a horde leader with her new know-how, though it’d been unheard of with her fully human appearance and the lowest possible status.
“Jinx was never really leader, you know.”
Kniff blinked. “No?”
“Was always unsure, always looked to Stripe, or me. Knew she was no Minion. Knew weaknesses. Appointed middling horde members to lead young ones where she couldn’t.”
Kniff nodded slowly; he remembered the small companies of Minc and his young archers, Scabies and the little crew that’d learned to sail together and also put that knowledge to use on the Rapture, the veterans she’d always allowed to do their own thing… He’d never really realized she’d barely guided that at all.
“And now Aches.” Giblet gazed out over the forge flatly. “Is strong. Is loud. Little ones listen.”
“Strength is most important trait for leader.”
“Yea?” Giblet gave him a sideways look. “Then why am I not leader?” He let his muscles roll, and Kniff swallowed. Giblet was the largest and strongest Minion that’d ever lived; his crushing hammer blows were widely feared, and it was known he sometimes accidentally cracked the skulls of his assistants if he wasn’t careful while tapping the heads of slackers.
“You… don’t want to?”
“Couldn’t. Needs more than strength. I no step forward for good reason.” The forge master shook his head. “Strength not most important, Kniff.”
“But Minas, Stripe, Jinxie…”
“You think Jinx was stronger than Stripe?”
Kniff blinked. “Held him down. Was there.” He’d even set the fight in motion himself, an unthinking bet… he made a mental note to start thinking before he opened his big mouth and made a fool of himself or others.
Giblet laughed. “Foot on chest. Not enough to keep down Stripe, not for skinny human girl. No… that not why Jinx became leader. Something else.”
“…What?” Kniff felt his eyes glow brighter; this was all new to him.
“Stripe stayed down for different reason. Saw something, maybe glimpse of Mistress… maybe good Master and good horde leader not very different…” Giblet shrugged. “Think work almost done,” he changed the subject, nodding to something behind Kniff.
The younger Minion looked around. There was Rascal, grinning widely, and Kniff was somewhat touched to see the newborn wearing a dagger sheathed in the patch of silk across his chest now; a jagged thing of almost the same design he’d started out with in Nordberg. He turned to the red-hot forge, and the overjoyed youngsters with their new weapons. Load after load departed to the Barracks with the floating rock. He looked around to the forge master. “Thanks, Giblet!”
The larger Minion tapped the steel mask resting on top of his head. “Good luck, runts,” he nodded as the duo joined the other young ones. He could see in Kniff’s eyes the matter of Stripe’s succession hadn’t left him, however. Good.