I do not claim the brilliantness that is this story, all credit and respect to Sunjinjo.

The Serpent and the Worm Part 2

Not very far from there, the blue Minions were struggling with the heat.

They'd found themselves in a hellishly lit chamber, almost in the top of one of the great pale towers of the palace. Above and below them a winding stairs cut through the tower, separating floors, but every step consisted completely of stained glass. The same was true of the floor; the stairs and the floors below were clearly visible straight through a complicated, glistening image reminiscent of a sun with angular rays reaching for the walls.

Almost every bit of wall not hung with red and golden tapestries was opened to the outside world in geometrically shaped windows, and an overwhelming amount of sunlight fell into the tower, reflecting off gilded, jewel-studded pillars, and arriving at the Minions in dazzling colour. With the light came the heat.

The blues would have complained if they'd had the energy for it, or if the dwarven overseers hadn't been there. They weren't armed, not even with whips, but there had been threats of throwing every Minion that didn't fulfil his task out of the city. That was probably not far enough from the Hive to die, but a half-dead blue didn't stand much of a chance of walking around the city through the desert and reaching the river in time.

Right now, the blues were chained together by means of connected collars. They formed a pitiful group in the heart of the chamber, and they ceaselessly performed their task.

People were coming into the tower continuously; people with missing hair, tainted skin and missing limbs. Some were blind and assisted by another. They shuffled up along the colourful stairs to be healed by the blues, but the Minions didn't get much satisfaction from a job well done, as the healed patients left the tower the same way they came in, closely along the diseased.

Zap, the old, pale Minion with the missing right arm, had been most clear-minded during their assembly into the palace and had heard one of the dwarves say the lepers were to pay the Ruling Hammer for their healing. It was clear that money was more important to the Napatese ruler than the lives of the Ruborians he ruled; it was only advantageous to him if they were infected again. They'd be here for quite a while; Borvar wanted to milk his city for a little longer before he'd hand them over to Stodir.

But they were alive. The blue clan had been thinned to about twenty members, they were dying of heat and thirst, and they'd fallen into enemy hands, but they were still alive, and apparently valuable enough to the dwarves to stay that way. And as Zap kept insisting: Evil would find a way.

"This isn't so bad," Silt, a younger individual, remarked. "I could get used to this. I mean, the clan has had it worse between Masters."

"Not much will ever be as bad as the Imperial dungeons beneath Arcadiopolis' Arena, where I lost my arm," Zap nodded, "but do you really want to heal dwarves for the rest of your life? Never see the others again? We belong to a Master. And I think we'll have it worse once we get transported to Stodir." He glanced at the two dwarven overseers, seated on cushioned benches at the passage in the airy wall, leading to the rest of the palace. The entire wall consisted of windows and passages, increasing the tower's transparent theme. The old Minion was under the impression this part of the palace symbolized light and colour, and the opposite part had more to do with coolness and water. Lord Borvar possessed a sense of humour he recognized.

Zap looked away again. "And not everyone could get used to this, Silt. Look at what it's doing to Thud."

The blue clan was attached to each other with chains, but halfway down the group the line collapsed. A single, almost spherical blue Minion had slumped down to the colourful glass floor, like a senseless blue puddle. With that, he pulled down the Minions next to him, but they were trying hard to stand upright – the dwarven overseers had made quite clear what would happen if they gave up. They hadn't managed to get Thud back on his feet, however – he'd slump down as fast as they hoisted him up, incoherently rambling about cool ice cubes and colourful little umbrellas.

The ceaseless stream of lepers cast a strange glance at the barely conscious Minion every now and then, but mainly reacted to their healing with grateful mumbling and low bows.

The blue Minions did understand Ruborian, but barely reacted to this gratitude.

Zap briefly laid his one pale hand on the shoulder of the Minion next to him; Drip, the field leader of the blue horde. As such, he had the responsibility to ensure the clan's safety and health, and it was clear from his expression that he also blamed himself for the poor state of both. "At least we're out of the desert, Drip."

The larger Minion opened his mouth to answer, but then shut it again. His amber gaze was suddenly rigid, fixed on a point above the doorway the dwarves were in. Zap followed his gaze, and his round frog eyes widened.

In the geometrical, flower-like opening above the doorway an elf was crouching; an elf with long, pale hair and piercing blue eyes, his fingers tensely closed around the hilt of a familiar-looking sword. Zap's four fingers tensed. Why not. The elf from the desert. Apparently light magic was trying to get a foothold again… and after what had happened in the previous age, they certainly would not have the intention of sparing the Minions.

The elf looked back, nodded briefly, and then everything suddenly happened very fast. He and two others let themselves fall down, and two slender blades and a blinding, broad gilded cleaver stabbed and hacked at the dwarves. They had been wearing armour, but it consisted only of a steel breastplate and shoulder pieces – it was very hot and the blues weren't going to harm them in any case. The elves took the advantage of a surprise attack and cut through to the dwarves' throats after the exchange of a few blows.

The trespassers turned to the inside of the tower. More elves came in through the flowery opening, to land behind the white-haired leader and his blonde and black-haired companions. Briefly, the sound of their feet to the glass floor was the only sound, but then panic arose. The Ruborians didn't know how fast to rush down the stairs again. The elves looked down, through the floor, but it was clear the people didn't pose a threat.

The white-haired leader stepped forward, to the blues. They stared back coldly, and backed away slightly – there was nothing they could do. The blue clan wasn't built for battle, and even the horde leader was unarmed.

As the elf really came too close Drip stepped forward in desperation, spread out the fins at the sides of his face and hissed, his mouth open wide, showing all his needle-like teeth.

More Minions followed that example. The horde leader saw, with a bitter kind of satisfaction, how the elf stepped back, but then something happened that made his hiss die away and his mouth remain open in bafflement.

"Boys, boys, I'm so proud of you!"

A creaky, very familiar voice, unheard for over two years, and for a moment Drip was certain the heat had finally made him snap. He closed his mouth and swallowed. "…Gnarl?"

"The one and only! Meet your new Master!"

Nineteen pairs of round, glowing eyes fell like bricks, off the elf's face and to his left hand. A leather gauntlet, a soft amber glow…

A new Master. Gnarl found him. We're back in action. Drip's mind reeled for a moment, then he looked back up into the blue eyes, a very different expression in his own. He laid back his fins and bowed his head. "Master," he spoke solemnly. "It's an honour. We will serve you, loyal beyond death." He had mixed feelings about the fact their new Master was an elf, but there was only one thing a Minion could do in this situation.

A jolt coursed through Estell's body with those words. The other blue Minions followed their leader's example and submitted to him, without him having to prove himself, without them even knowing him. They trusted him completely. It baffled him. Is this… also what it means to be an Overlord? Not just darkness and death, but also trust? This unconditional support? He looked down on the biggest Minion. "I'm Estell, the son of… Overlady Jinx' predecessor." He was unable to read anything from the blue faces as they rose back to him. The round, glowing eyes were utterly alien to him, the rubbery lips betrayed no emotion he could recognize – the Minions might have sworn loyalty to him, but they didn't seem happy. Estell shook it off. "We'll get you out of here. Let's hurry. Where's your Hive?"

"They took her all the way up… she's probably with Borvar." The one speaking now was pale blue and fragile, and his right arm ended almost immediately at the shoulder. "I don't doubt the fact you will succeed in getting her back, Master."

"This is Zap, the horde leader," Gnarl spoke. "I can't wait to welcome you here, old friend."
Zap smiled. "I missed you too." Then he frowned briefly, and looked at a point above Estell's shoulder. "What's this?"

Estell looked up, to see Shadow floating forward hesitantly. "This is Shadow, my… counterpart."

"Yes, we haven't completely sorted that out yet," Gnarl remarked. "All in good time."

Zap outstretched his hand, and Shadow descended to him. The pale, webbed fingers touched his shoulder, and didn't pass through. Shadow froze, and then pulled back very rapidly, without uttering a word.

Estell stared at the Minion, then the others. "You can touch him?"

"Blue Minions are the most magically gifted of the clans," Gnarl spoke. "I've seen them strangling the souls of your dead with their bare hands." He chuckled. "We didn't mean anything by it at the time."

What did this mean for Shadow? Would every new encounter with Evil turn into new revelations? Did his heritage really lie here?

Estell shook himself. "It can't be long before they find out. Let's go."

"I advise you to take a few Minions with you, Lord. You never know what's waiting, and it's often for the best if they carry their Hive."

"Fine." Estell turned away. "Isil, do you think you can handle the lock?"

"I'm not that precise yet." The boy was already holding a seed, and sang it to life with a few words. "I need a little help."

Every elf could manipulate plants; plant singers were unique in the fact that they could call them to life. Queen Fay had taken that to another level by managing to call every type of vegetation out of nothing, but very few elves had ever achieved that amount of control. That didn't make Estell feel any better, however, as Talmar knelt down and led Isil's shoot into the lock securing the blues' chain. A few seconds later it shot open and the chain rattled through their collars and onto the floor. The blues were free, save for their collars.

They were his. He could command them. "You, come along," he spoke with a gesture at the healthy Minions around the largest one. "Sora, Isil, Miril, you're coming as well. The rest stays here. Pull the chain back through the collars and hide, but keep both eyes on the Minions. We'll be back as soon as we can."

"That does seem useful," Talmar remarked. "Though it seems not much attention is being given to the people running out of the palace."

"If they come to check it must seem as if nothing's happened…"

"We'll be fine! Go!" Arandor flapped at them. As Estell and his group hurried away through the passage to the rest of the palace he crouched down next to the Minions to tend to the chain. "Very strange to see you like this. I remember you frenzying in Orntal, in the palace lake…"

"We're a bit more capable in water," one of the Minions nodded.

"Not all of you, I wager," the golden-blond elf remarked, glancing at Thud.

"He's a special case," the blue sighed. "We'll get him up if we really have to…"

"Master, this is Drip, Trickle, Silt, Clam, Gills and Shark. Drip's been field leader for a few years now," Gnarl spoke with more than a hint of excitement as the elves and the six Minions hurried up immaculate white marble stairs. Estell remembered how the palace had looked from the outside; a blinding mountain of a building, increasingly taller towards the heart. He assumed he'd have to get used to climbing stairs as an Overlord, even though he didn't have a tower of his own.

"I don't know if I'm going to remember all your names," he spoke. "I've met so many new people –"

His voice faltered only as it was already too late. He'd heard the rumbling voices a little further away, but he'd also been heard already. Metallic footfalls on marble halted, the elves ran on too far and arrived at the top of the stairs, and they were face to face with two new dwarves, steel tips to their boots and halberds across their shoulders. Briefly elf, dwarf and Minion were frozen in place, then pointy ends were pointed both ways. The eyes of the dwarves fell to the Minions, and widened. "An outbreak?" it rumbled. "That shouldn't be possible…"

"Seems it is," Estell replied, and lunged. His weapon grazed the dwarf's arm piece, however – this one was better protected, perhaps because he kept guard closer to his commander – and he stumbled, towards the second guard. He, in his turn, stabbed his halberd forward and Estell felt the cool steel break his skin just below his collarbone in an explosion of pain.

Miril yanked him back and rammed his silvery dagger into the dwarf's neck. The other guard slumped to the ground as well, but that was also true of Isil – the boy had come too close in his overconfidence and had suffered a massive gash to the chest. Blood gulped over his tunic – too much blood.

The now slightly less immaculate hallway quieted down, save for the painful panting. Isil whimpered.

"Well, we got that over with," Gnarl remarked dryly. "Get used to it, Master. This isn't your last injury."

Estell realized he didn't know a swear word powerful enough for this situation. Instead of venting his rage towards his advisor, he dropped next to Isil. "Isil, look at me. It's going to be fine." He could almost forget his own pain…

…perhaps because it was actually gone.

He looked down. All that remained were some blue sparks flying around the torn fabric of his robe. He looked around.

The largest blue Minion, Drip, waved his webbed hand to lose the sparks. As Estell looked on a second one stepped around him and treated Isil.

"Did I mention blue Minions are first-class healers?"

"I didn't know they were this good," Estell uttered. "And to be honest I wasn't paying perfect attention to what you told me."

The advisor chuckled. "I noticed. Now, do I have your word that you'll listen when I tell you something?"

"Yes," the Overlord replied. "You do now." He turned back to the Minions. "Thank you. This is invaluable."

"A Master does not thank his Minions," Drip snickered. "This is an obvious thing."

"Well, Mistress Jinx just kept going," Gnarl remarked.

"She was… a special case."

Estell hoisted himself and Isil up. The boy was trembling, but more out of fright than anything else. He strode forward at a brisk pace. "A special case?"

"Part Minion. She was a part of the horde, didn't stand above it completely. She designed her domain for us, not for herself and some power-hungry Master lusting after money and pretty trinkets."

Estell glanced around. "So the average Overlord follows Borvar's method?"

"You could say so."

They were clearly approaching the heart of the palace. These great, sunlit halls were almost caked shut with gold and jewels, many of them worked into snake-like designs reminding Estell of what they'd seen on the walls of Kemetis' temple. As the elf looked harder he recognized actual water serpents, with scaly bodies and fanning head fins reminding him of those of the blue Minions. As he looked harder still, however, he noticed something was off, a mistake returning again and again…

Something was wrong with the snakes' mouths. No teeth, but instead a strange form he was briefly unable to place, but then recognized as something fundamentally dwarven. Taps. The walls were covered in beer taps.

Sora chuckled. "Well, it's true. Half the palace consists of pipelines."

"He's an Ucat Zuden, he's supposed to have them," Gnarl replied. "Dwarves have no word for 'alcoholic', but the brewer clan takes it to unexplored depths of the glass – they drink more than Minions."

"Minions drink a lot?" Shadow asked.

"You're joking? A Minion, given the chance, will outdrink dwarves of any other clan. They know the same berserker rage." Gnarl paused. "But they won't go as far as constructing beer baths."

"Beer… baths?"

"Hum, Estell…"

The gleaming golden walls had opened up in a huge vaulted passage, framed by silky, pale curtains and an explosion of blue and golden mosaic. Shadow was the first to see what lay beyond.

A huge chamber, the walls dominated by giant gilded reliefs of water serpents, snaking up from frozen marble waves. In the corners of the hall the animals curved off the walls and over that which dominated the floor; a great basin, filled with foaming water of a very strange colour…

It took a moment before Estell realized he'd never seen this much beer in one place before. That was also the moment he realized what dominated the ceiling. A huge copper contraption curved down above the beer bath, hollow at the bottom and crowned with a flattened lever at the top, for which an elf would need his entire weight to shift. A giant tap.
Straight underneath the tap, in the beer bath and amidst the foam, his hairy chest just visible, was a single dwarf with a full auburn beard. He sat upright under their gaze, but seemed too surprised to speak for now.

"I give you Lord Borvar, Master. Probably."

"Borvar," Sora growled. Her eyes narrowed. "So you thought you could order me down to amuse you at your next drunken party? I thought something else."

Estell quickly grabbed her shoulder and held her back. "Don't… attack," he spoke with emphasis. "He probably has quite a few guards on this floor. Let's not complicate matters…"

His eyes shot to the right, and he heard Gnarl gasp in exhilaration. There, sitting in a smaller bath filled with clear water, was a blue, coral-like growth, about as tall as himself. It was topped by cup-like structures, filled with pink orbs resembling eggs. "The blue Hive!" the advisor exclaimed. "Grab her!"

"I had not expected the new Overlord to be an elf," it then rumbled from the beer bath.

Estell jolted back and saw Borvar hoisting himself up. He clearly wasn't capable of walking in a straight line, but that soon wouldn't matter anymore. Small eyes beneath bushy eyebrows bored into his. "I hadn't thought you'd go after this bunch of milk-drinkers first. No matter. It'll be your last mistake… Nazush!" he roared.

"He's calling his guards, Master," Gnarl remarked.

"Over my dead body!" Sora shouted. She sprinted forward, her gilded blade raised up high. She arrived at Borvar, but he rose to his feet with an unexpectedly fluid motion and beat her back with a single blow of his hammy fist. That move had him fall backwards into the foam.

Estell had tailed her and caught her as she fell. "Don't fight!" He nodded upwards. "Can you jump that far?"

"Nice idea," she grinned. Not a second later she'd vanished from his arms, bouncing up along the gilded snake heads lining the walls like a spring. Estell followed her with his eyes as she jumped for the giant tap straight above Borvar, strained her entire body and opened it.

A roaring golden waterfall was unleashed from the ceiling. Borvar uttered the beginning of a furious sound, but then disappeared in an explosion of foam.

"Get the Hive!" Estell called at the blues above the rush of the beer. "We're done here!" He could hear Gnarl laughing as if he hadn't had this much fun in ages. "What's so funny?"

"Do you have any idea how long it's been?" the advisor uttered. "Minions! Chaos! Guards with pointy weaponry!"

"What?" Estell spun around, cast a glance at the bejewelled passage and backed away. Gnarl was right; whatever Nazush had meant, Borvar's guards had reacted to it, and they didn't just consist of dwarves they could jump over; at least half of them were Ruborian, and even the dwarves once again compensated with tall halberds.

However, before one of both parties could react, the beer bath behind the elves overflowed, and a few of them lost their footing and fell backwards. A heartbeat later the beer reached the dwarves and Ruborians, and some of them fell into the foam face-first as well. The dwarves needed a moment to raise their faces and shake the foam from their beards. At that time Sora and Miril had already reached them and the sound of metal to metal sang through the hall.

Estell looked to the side. The blues were swimming through the beer towards the Hive with surprising speed, and the coral-like object was gently lifted from her own bath by the current. Then, before his eyes, something very strange happened; the Hive unfolded long, elegant flaps on her underside, and then moved through the rising fluid by herself, like a strange sea creature. The blues only had to steer.

"So that's how they could escape swimming," Estell heard himself say.

"Not the first time they did so," Gnarl replied. "Very good, Master. Swim! Swim back to the glass tower!"

The white-haired elf realized he'd indeed have to swim; even though the beer was gushing through the gleaming, sunlit halls and down stairs everywhere, the level was still rising and his feet were gently lifted off the marble floor. Isil, being shorter than him, was already treading beer. The blues and the Hive swam past them, Drip pushing down Ruborians and dwarves to all sides. A younger individual brought his hands to his jaw, but the horde leader pulled his fingers away. "Not here, if you swallow that much we're sure to lose you!"

"But the beer rage!" The young Minion looked at his horde leader with gleaming eyes. "I already want to disembowel them, Drip…"

"We're blues," the leader sighed. "We're not built for battle. If you'd have been a brown you could have." He planted his webbed hand on a dwarven helmet again and lifted himself over his opponent; the dwarves, being heavy and armoured, didn't float so well. Behind him the elves were still fighting furiously, the foam splashing up higher and higher. Even further back Borvar was roaring in rage. Drip realized the elves were having trouble with the fight and blood was starting to mingle with the beer. He grimaced and dove under the surface, followed by Trickle and Silt, all carefully keeping their mouths shut. Once down, he spread his hands and let his magic flow.

The elves fought with everything they had, whirling, hacking and stabbing with a speed the dwarves and Ruborians would never be able to match, even chest-high in rising beer. However, they were as good as surrounded and could shield themselves less and less well. Estell's tunic had been ripped and torn all over and the pain of many superficial injuries made it hard to focus. How did the soldiers and warriors from the old stories do this?
Then a wave of coolness washed over him, having nothing to do with the beer. The pain ebbed away, and even as he fought on he felt his wounds closing. More than that, the new injuries he suffered closed as soon as his opponents' weapons opened them…

"A healing field, Master! As long as the blues keep this up, you could do anything you felt like doing, you could even light yourself on fire and not suffer a scratch! Do make use of it soon, they won't keep this up for long…"

"Thank you for this information, Gnarl," he gnashed. He breathed in deeply, and then threw himself squarely at the weapons of his opponents. He used both his sword and arms to work himself over the heads of the palace guard in a great wave of beer, struggling to emerge on the other side where the beer flowed faster, but wasn't as deep. He skidded briefly, into the gilded hall, looked back to see the others struggle free as well, including the blues and the Hive, even as the guards hacked away at them, and then started running at the head of the group.

Sora reached him, completely soaked and with foam in her hair. She grinned more wildly than ever. "Back to the glass tower?" she asked.

"Yes," Estell panted. "But what then? Isil won't be able to sing a Gate there!"

"We have to reach the riverside, that's the closest fertile soil," the boy uttered as he caught up with them. "But there's kind of a wall between the blues and the river."

Sora's eyes started to shine. "There won't be for long," she spoke guilefully, tapping her belt. Then she laughed, ran along the wall and opened all the taps worked into the reliefs of snake heads. The beer rose ever faster.

(TOWER)

"So you can't really breathe under water?"

The blue Minion shook his head, making his chains jingle. "No. We don't have gills and have to rise to the surface for air, but we can hold our breath for longer than you… and certainly longer than other Minions. The other three clans can't swim and mostly drown immediately."

"Strange," Arandor pondered from the high window overlooking the rest of Napata. His legs dangled into the tower. "You'd think they could learn."

"We've tried for a few thousand years," the Minion grinned. "It's not working."

A hiss rose from opposite the golden-haired elf, but not from any of the blues in the tower; another, black-haired elf crouched in the opening above the passage to the rest of the palace, with purple eyes and murder in his gaze. "Will you be quiet, Arandor? Guards could turn up at any minute! And hide!"

"Easy, Talmar," Arandor smiled. "It seems Estell is keeping them quite busy."

"Not funny!" Talmar furiously wondered how Arandor could be so interested in the Minions – he'd fought in the battle for Orntal, he should hate them even more than the younger elf did! But instead he'd been chatting with the more active blues for a while…

Then his purple eyes caught movement on the glass floor. For a moment he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, for how could glass flow? Then he realized something was actually flowing across the floor – a yellowy fluid, mixed with foam…

The blues lifted their webbed feet and stared at it briefly. One of them dipped his finger in and tasted. "…Beer?"

"Beer?" it echoed, very feebly. Some Minions looked around at their fattest clan member. "Thud, you're awake!"

Thud flopped over in his chains, so his face pressed against the floor, a mighty slurping sound arose, and then, so swiftly the elves could barely follow it, he was suddenly standing upright and in combat position. "What's happening? Where are we? Where's the meat?"

Talmar perked his ears. From behind him and the other elves keeping watch, deeper into the palace, running footsteps were coming closer. He caught urgent shouting. "I think the meat's about to arrive," he remarked. "Guys, into the tower, now!" He let himself fall down with the Minions, followed by Arandor and the others. Not a moment early; half a second later the seeping beer turned into an actual wave which started flowing down the stairs, and Estell, Sora, Isil and Miril burst into the tower, followed by the six blues they'd taken along, carrying the Hive on their shoulders. Talmar stared at it as the Minions started cheering. Such a strange shape, so essential for Evil... He shook himself and joined his panting friend. "Trouble?"

"More than enough," the young Overlord uttered. He looked back feverishly, just in time to see the first steel-clad dwarf thunder down the stairs, followed by the rest of the palace guard. Behind them, in turn, came Lord Borvar, wearing a lopsided robe. His beard stood up in beery spikes and he was clearly furious, and not even just because of the beer he'd had, but also because of the beer he hadn't had.

"You'll never get out!" he called over his guards. "The way out is past us!"

"Not the only way," Sora countered. She raised a hand, clutching a gleaming spherical bomb. Then she shot past the blues, down the winding stairs, and the others didn't know how fast to follow her. They descended down the tower in dizzying circles, lit by ever-changing light, past too many jewels to count and golden reliefs of devouring jaws and armour plates. Where Borvar's part of the palace had featured water, water serpents and – a recent addition – beer, this tower seemed to feature sunlight and sand worms. Estell didn't have time to ponder the Ruborian architecture and symbolic meanings of this, however. The beer made the glass stairs slippery, and it didn't take long for him to slip, falling into Talmar, and a heartbeat later the same happened to Arandor behind him. Before they knew it the entire group was tumbling down the stairs, to land on the glass floor of a lower story in a disorganized heap – fortunately, they'd almost been there to begin with.

Their fall had slowed them down, however, and they didn't get up fast enough to let the blues pass, who were miraculously still on their feet and carrying the Hive in six cases. Estell and Sora were among the first to get up again, and the two exchanged glances. "May I?" Sora asked.

Estell nodded, paling. He looked back at the Minions. "Can you create a healing field again?"

Drip stared at him, but then nodded and briefly shut his eyes. A moment later the characteristic cool washed over the elves again. Estell turned to Sora. "Go for it," he uttered, with a much steadier voice than he'd expected.

Sora pulled bombs from her belt with both hands and flung them at the marble wall before them, but before the point where the stairs ended. The dwarves tailing them shouted and tried to turn back, but too late, too late…

The explosion blossomed, blinding and deafening and devouringly hot, and Estell felt his tunic and skin being burnt off his body, but he was healing at the same staggering rate. In the inferno he could barely see how the same applied to the other elves, the Minions and the Hive… but it didn't happen to the dwarves, and certainly not to the walls and the floor.
As she fell Sora yanked the other two bombs from her belt and threw them into the fire. The flashing light fell through all the stained glass in the tower even as it shattered, spinning around them in thousands of lethal shards, unable to harm them regardless.

Then gravity grabbed them by the scruff of their neck too, and Estell almost couldn't focus on the pain through the dizzying sensation of his stomach flying up into his throat as he, the others and the Hive were flung out of the tower. The explosion died away, the street came up to greet him, and another variant of pain shot through his body.

It probably was mere seconds later as he stared up at a blue face against a smoky blue sky, framed by translucent fins. Drip shook his shoulders. "Master, are you alright?"

"No," Estell groaned.

"No matter!" Gnarl called out far too close to his ear. "Run!"

The elf scrambled to his feet. He'd been lying in the centre of a wide circle of debris, in a logically deserted square next to the palace – all the people had probably fled and were now beholding them from the building close to the palace. He looked around. "Where…" His gaze focused. His companions and Minions were still busy getting up and healing each other, though it seemed the blues were having increasing trouble with that. The ones already standing upright were clearly eager to get going. Isil was among them. Estell caught his eyes.

"Run," he uttered. "To the river, sing a gate!"

Isil nodded and flew off, followed by Arandor and Miril, their weapons drawn to protect him, and enough blues to carry the Hive. A blue aura of healing still floated around the coral-like object, and Estell could only hope it hadn't been damaged too extensively.

Sora and Talmar lay draped over a few chunks of debris, busy waking up under the hurried care of a few blues. Both were no longer hurt, but it was clear they had been; part of their hair and clothes had been singed off and they were covered in soot like everybody else.

Estell ran to them and helped them up. Sora opened her eyes. "That was fun," she muttered with a painful grin.

"Let's never do that again." The white-haired elf cast a glance over her and swore quietly. They'd taken a detour to get out of the palace, but the remaining guards were still after them. The sunlight falling in through the cloud of smoke above them gleamed on steel breast plates and sharp weaponry coming closer rapidly. He looked around. Everyone was conscious. "Can you run?"

"We'll have to," Talmar nodded. He tested his legs and sprinted a small distance. "Come on!"

Estell supported Sora worriedly for a moment, but she waved him away. "I'm fine!" She ran after Talmar. "Are you coming or what?"

He did as she said, but still kept an eye on her. Together the elves and Minion sprinted around the palace, and into a wall of people. Before them was a broad street lined by white buildings with flat roof terraces, loud market stands and perfumed tea houses. All at once the elves were considerably slowed as they had to squeeze between the people. "Sorry!" Estell shouted. "Assif… assif!" He looked around feverishly, but didn't see Isil or the others anywhere. Then he caught a shimmering light, all the way at the end of the long street; sunlight on water, and he briefly thanked both the Mother Goddess and the twin gods of Ruboria. That's where Isil would be. That's where the Flower Gate was. That was the light at the end of the tunnel…

He was so enthusiastic he completely missed the rumble, and didn't even hear Shadow's warning cry before it was too late. Ruborians leapt away in panic all around him.

To his left, something monstrous rolled into his field of vision. Steel towered over him, shining blindingly in the sunlight; spiked treads, an eight-sided turret, and the barrel, extending towards him straight out of his nightmares. It was the last dwarven tank of Napata.

The thing moved fast, but not fast enough; it took a moment for Estell to realize what was coming at him, but he could get away in time, half running, half diving, coming to a skidding halt on the cobblestones. Behind him the machine belched forth a devouring stream of flame.

They really wanted to kill him badly. Someone had to have escaped the palace to inform the tank's driver… perhaps as soon as the moment Borvar had called for his guards, just in case he'd escape the palace…

Do we have to deal with… this?

"Estell!"

He almost broke his own neck, he looked back that fast. The flames died away, but the machine rolled on, and there were still elves on the other side of it. Sora was among them. He tripped as he turned around. "Sora!" He ran to her, but backed away as the turret started turning. A hatch opened, and a dwarven crossbow was pointed at him even before the barrel could be aimed. Estell almost danced back, and a heavy arrow ricocheted off the street. "Jump!" he called out at the elves on the other side. "Come on!"

But the palace guard was already with them, and the elves were forced to defend themselves. He saw how Sora tried to jump over or under the barrel, but she didn't manage; she hadn't recovered completely, and now she too had to use her blade again. A new arrow came Estell's way, and now someone else dragged him back. He looked around and into Talmar's eyes. "We have to get out!"

"He's right, Master," Gnarl blared. "They'll discover the Gate! Nobody's back yet!"

"But…" The young Overlord desperately turned back. "Sora!" he shouted in anguish.

"Run, Estell," it resounded from the other side. Sora sounded exhausted and broken, but still hard as nails; it was clear she meant it. "You can do this without me!"

"No…" Estell was aware of his Minions pulling at him, but he was still fighting them. It was only because of Talmar's pure strength of will that he was eventually dragged away. "No!"

The tank's barrel turned to them completely, but they were moving too fast and the flames didn't reach them. White walls and dark people flew past in a haze and turned to emerald undergrowth, and suddenly there were the glistening petals of Isil's Flower Gate…

The next thing he felt, through the burning of his entire body, was the coolness of the cave of the sandstone tower, miles and miles south of Napata. He struggled wildly in Talmar's grip, turned back to the central Flower Gate, but a firm whack to the back of his head had him fall down, his arms outstretched to the blue glow.

"None of that. We need you alive." Irritation resounded in the familiar creaky voice.

Sora. Sora. Sora.

"I curse you to every hell there is, Gnarl…" Estell rolled over and furiously stared up into his advisor's yellow eyes. "Let me go back! Let me save her like I saved your Minions!"

"That's a very bad idea, Master," the grey Minion growled. "And they're not my Minions, they're yours! They're an invaluable addition…"

"Worth more than Sora?! Do you want me to trade her for them?!"

"Yes!"

For a moment they stared at each other in blind fury, Estell from his back, just below Gnarl's eye height. Then he sprung to his feet and drew his sword. For a split second it seemed as though he was about to run it through his advisor, but then it became clear he could not, and he lowered it with trembling hands. Gnarl beheld him with an icy gaze. A little further a gleaming bomber beetle scuttled along the waterside.

Talmar grabbed his shoulder. "In any case we have the Minions," he spoke helplessly. It was clear he didn't really mean this, but it was all he could do to calm himself.

"But at what cost?!"

Gnarl stared at his Master. His expression betrayed nothing, but his bony hands were trembling slightly. "Unholy Lord, boy, contain yourself. Your father lost two of his Mistresses before he was your age. One elf is a small price to pay for an entire Minion clan."

The fire in Estell's eyes flared again, and now he was clearly too furious to speak another word. His sword came up again, he turned around with an unarticulated cry and rammed it through the bomber beetle without thinking. A shocked hiss rose from the mortally wounded creature, but Estell didn't seem to care, not even as the others dived away. Blue Minions hurried towards him, but they did not reach him before the shock wave blasted them back. Water, mud and rock flew up, and suddenly Estell was in free fall again, into a much deeper crater than he'd expected… Darkness swallowed him, a shady underground rushed towards him, he heard the breaking of bone even before the pain got through, and then the deepest darkness of all washed over his mind.

In Napata another elf was struggling in another iron grip. She wasn't the only one. Sora and the few other elves that'd stayed behind stared at Borvar and his guards furiously, but helplessly.

The Ruling Hammer did a bad job of hiding his worries. He'd just barely gotten a hold of the Hive, and the king expected him to hand her over to Stodir as soon as he could. Now he'd lost her, to a new Overlord he'd let escape as well. He had to let Thorlond know of this, but didn't feel like it at all. The king had made it his personal goal to capture and kill the new Overlord while he or she searched for the Minions – as there was no doubt a new one would rise. In the long history of the world, Evil had always found a way. It'd happen again, but it was Thorlond's intention for it to be the last time. The blue Minions had been good bait, but Borvar hadn't anticipated their Master well enough.

In any case he now held a few of the new Overlord's companions. He'd personally hand them over to the king; perhaps information could be tortured from them, and in any case he wanted to beg his own forgiveness. Perhaps there'd be news of Kerma's surrender and the dethroning of the Ruborian 'king' by then, which would brighten Thorlond's mood...

The Ruling Hammer growled at the thought of his ruined palace and wasted beer. This new Overlord was quite annoying. He'd have to warn the king, and make sure the other Minions were guarded better...

Estell opened his eyes and immediately shielded them with his hands. A golden light shone straight into his face and blinded him. He blinked and focused his gaze.

Sora was standing right in front of him, her gilded blade raised up high so it caught the sunlight. She looked up at the weapon in admiration, shining almost as brightly as the sun design in the metal…

Before Estell could react the image faded, and the weapon's glow turned into an actual sun, a red-golden disc slowly sinking over Napata, into the Sea of Sand. The elf looked up. Something rose to greet the sun; a mountain… a mountain crowned with a giant crater. A volcano.

Stodir. The sun was setting into Stodir.

At that moment the young Overlord knew exactly what that meant, with the same certainty with which he knew these were not normal dreams.

The orange light of sunset flowed over him and then turned smoky and flickering, like fire. The bloody claw from his previous dreams loomed up ahead again, hanging limply over a dark stone edge. He ascended, above the edge, and his eyes slid over the wrist, the arm…

He gasped.

A woman lay on the dark stone surface, clad in decorated leather armour and red fabrics.

Black hair was spread out around her head, but her face was inhuman. Her dead, staring eyes were too large, too round, and a trace of golden light still gleamed in their depths. Her ears were long, pointy and frayed. Bony spikes punctured her skin along her jaw line.

He was dreaming about Overlady Jinx, his predecessor, and had done so even before he'd met Gnarl.

"No!" Estell pressed his fists to his forehead, overtaken by horror. He'd been forced to trade Sora for Minions he did not want, and now even his dreams were betraying him. "I won't become what she was! I'm not her successor!"

Follow the setting sun to Stodir, boy. Win her pride. A dark snicker rose from the depths below him, to which he did not dare to look. You're already making so much progress. I'm sure you won't make her mistakes.

"I…" Estell faltered. The dream started fading to a blue haze he recognized. Pain started getting through to him. He was busy waking up.

Welcome to your new domain, Lord Estell.

… Good grief. Personally I am really enjoying this story and hope you are as well. Rather odd that I get to review and upload the story at the same time. Anyway, a massive thank you to Sunjinjo for her fantastic story and please review readers.