The roar of the chimera echoed in the Square of the Secretariat.

  Compared to its speed on open ground, we might as well be standing still.

  The rational thing to do would have been to make sure that Ur-Namma did not fall behind, since Oak’s chances of finding a way out of the city without the elf were slim to none.

  Unfortunately, his feet were not cooperating with him. He intended to match his speed with the elf, but instead he ran as fast as he could manage. Cold sweat dripped down his back, as Oak sprinted towards the open doors of the courthouse.

  A shadow fell over his mind, and despair took root in him. The square seemed to stretch before him, the distance to the safety of the courthouse never changing, no matter how hard his legs pumped. The air was heavy, and he had to push through it. It felt like the city itself had brought all of its malice to bear upon his shoulders. Mocking faces filled the mists, and their whispers dripped with the poison of hopelessness.

  “You will die here and take your place among our ranks. You will be bone-dust swirling in the wind. Forgotten grief lost to the wastelands of time.”

  Oak shivered so harshly he could barely run. The cold of the grave was in his blood. It slithered through him, made a home of his body. As it settled in his heart, the Ears of Amdusias showed the chimera’s approach in vivid detail. The sound of its charge carried an image of primal splendor to his waning mind.

  The beast’s claws tore up the cobbles. It galloped after them, graceful despite its gigantic size. The eyes of the chimera were wild with rage, and slobber spilled from its lips, which were pulled back in a snarl. In the darkness of the City of God, the gray fur of its coat looked like steel, and the white of its dagger-like teeth glistened like purest ivory.

  Every passing moment brought the chimera closer. Long steps ate up the distance. The end was upon them. Death had come at last.

  Oak stumbled.

  No.

  The thought echoed from the deepest reaches of his consciousness. It was a denial of weakness. A refutation of the mere possibility of failure that made his soul ring like it was a gong.

  I am the Blood-Splattered Fist. The Unholy Mincer of Meat. I am the Slaughterman.

  The Butcher was there. Right behind him, risen from the pit of his mind. Oak could feel a blood-soaked hand grasp his shoulder, and the presence of the Slaughterman steadied him. He straightened his back and found his footing. If he was to die, he would do it on his own terms.

  The wounds that killed him would not be found on his back.

  “Wrath! Wrath, and struggle eternal!” Oak shouted, and turned around to face the chimera.

  Ashmedai. The Last Believer and the First Apostate. Let your eyes feast upon this sight. Let me fulfill your glory, he prayed. Steel whistled a beautiful song as he drew the two-handed falchion from his hip.

  The guiding hand of the Butcher carried him forward, towards the charging beast. Towards glory and carnage. Ur-Namma stumbled past him. The elf gasped for breath, and sweat shone on his forehead. Oak wished he would reach the safety of the courthouse. The chances that he would manage the same were not great.

  The reverberation of Oak’s soul found another like it, and a resonance built between them. Geezer stopped running, and they faced the chimera together. He had given no order, asked for no favor. And yet, his cowardly hound stood by his side all the same.

  It was loyalty beyond anything he had earned.

  The chimera was so close now that he could see the whites of its many eyes. Its steps set the earth trembling, and its jaws opened wide, ready to rip him to pieces. Fur, fang, and claw raced to spill his blood on the cobbles beneath their feet. The beast was an avalanche made flesh.

  A growl shook the world and stole the breath from Oak’s lungs. It did not come from the chimera. He watched in wonder as Geezer stepped forth and growled once more. The fires of hell blazed in the hound’s eyes, and his shadow grew until it dwarfed even the chimera.

  There was something terrible in the hellhound’s growl. Forbidden. Unfit to be heard inside the brittle thing called Creation. Terror. Terror overwhelming. Inside that growl was the end of all things. A memory of the void before the Mother sang the world into being.

  Geezer’s first magical ability had manifested in style.

  The wolf-chimera stopped in its tracks like it had just run into a wall. It yelped in confusion and horror, and bent down, clawing at its ears until they bled rivulets of blood. The tentacles attached to its shoulders convulsed like snakes suffering from terrible pain, and the wolf heads at the ends of them howled to keep the emptiness of the void at bay.

  Oak took advantage. He sprang towards the chimera and hewed a great wound on the beast’s shoulder with his blade. Hot, steaming blood stained the square.

  The chimera rounded on him, but he danced away from its claws with light steps. He was a leaf on the summer breeze, ethereal and untouchable. Twice, the tentacles snapped towards him, fangs cracking shut inches from his face. The Branch of Kimaris kept him alive. He could feel the difference in reaction time as he bobbed and weaved away from the chimera’s fangs.

  Dodging was all well and good, but it would not get rid of the chimera. Even disoriented by the hellhound’s growl, the beast was a tough opponent. Geezer flanked the chimera, trying to find a blind-spot, but the wolf's head at the end of the chimera’s long tail kept the hound at bay.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  The beast did not care a whit about being surrounded. Why would it? It had more than enough heads to fight in all directions at the same time, and it did not seem concerned about injuries. Oak watched in dismay as the wound he had struck on the chimera’s shoulder knit itself together.

  Right. Ur-Namma mentioned some type of regeneration. Just my kind o’ luck. This thing is going to be a bitch and a half to kill.

  If that thing got a hold of him, it would not end well. Oak had seen what wolves and dogs did to small prey. He figured the beast would sink its teeth into his flesh and shake him like he was a bunny rabbit. If he was lucky, his neck would snap instantly.

  Things are going poorly, when that seems like a probable scenario.

  The beast launched itself forward, trying to close its monstrous jaws around Oak. He stumbled back, heart bounding, feet slipping on the cobbles, and smacked the chimera in the snout with a telekinetic blow carried by fire. Whiskers aflame, the wolf-chimera howled in pain and fury. He saw it flinch when the fire licked its face. It did not appreciate being set ablaze.

  Thank the Corpse-God for small mercies.

  Ur-Namma had reached the courthouse steps. The sound of the elf’s sandals slapping against the stairs amidst the chaos was a ray of hope shining in the dark. The courthouse was close now, fifty paces away. They just had to get to it.

  The chimera came at him again. Oak retreated quick like, and the beast harried him, poking and testing his defenses. Probing for weakness. Five, six, seven, eight. He counted his steps as he walked backwards and kept the monster away with bursts of flame. Eleven, twelve, thirteen.

  The beast crept closer, rage and fear apparent in its eyes, locked in a competition for dominance. It wanted to rip him apart. It was afraid of the fire’s kiss.

  Geezer tried to get close enough to bite the monster, and almost got squished to paste for his trouble. The dog hopped back, away from giant paws and snapping teeth. Large claws dragged furrows into stone. Gigantic jaws opened wide, and the beast lunged after the hellhound.

  Oak’s blade flickered like a snake and drew a line of blood on the monster’s flank. Lean left, whispered the Butcher. A tentacle snapped at his face, but he was no longer there. He cut off the head at the end of it and burned the chimera’s flank until the howling monster turned its attention back towards him.

  The beast convulsed and heaved for breath, clearly not used to losing any of its heads. Don’t worry, mutt, I am sure it will grow back. Nineteen, twenty. Thirty paces to the courthouse steps.

  “Geezer. Get going!” Oak shouted. The dog did not move an inch. “Go, you bloody fool!”

  The hellhound roared at the wolf-chimera. Every lantern still holding a flame around the square flickered, and the faces floating in the mists of Ma’aseh Merkavah twisted in agony.

  The horrific sound contained a promise. A cessation of all meaning. The Final Stillness at the end of time, when the last star in the night sky has burned itself out, and the world returns to the cold womb of its Creator. The unbirthing of existence itself.

  That promise sent the chimera stumbling. The beast beat its head against the cobbles, trying to shake out the thoughts causing it such pain. Oak had not even been the target of the roar, and he felt like doing the same thing. A headache pulsed behind his eyes. The meeting of skull and stone was surely nothing compared to the eldritch terror stalking the corridors of the beast’s mind.

  Geezer let up the roar and turned to run. Oak followed in the hound’s footsteps.

  Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. By the Chariot, how can fifty paces take this long to traverse?

  The steps of the courthouse were made of slick marble. With a chimera hot on his tail, Oak stumbled and slipped up the steps in what had to be a record time. He threw himself after Geezer and Ur-Namma, through the wide double doors of the building.

  For the second time that day, he landed on hard stone in a heap. Compared to landing on the cobblestones outside, it was not too bad. At least the marble floor was even.

  A great crash sounded behind him, and Oak turned to watch. The enraged chimera stuck its head through the doors, trying to squeeze its shoulders past the entrance. The door frame snapped, and the beast inched closer.

  Kill it, the Butcher whispered. I will show you how.

  Oak scrambled to his feet. Ur-Namma leaned against the dark wooden paneling covering the stone walls, wheezing like the geriatric he was. Frayed and faded pieces of carpet covered the floor. Despite the serious aura, and the high ceiling, it was not an ostentatious space, and it was not meant to be.

  Both sides of the antechamber had a row of simple benches for people to sit on, and there were some brackets with halberds and the like hanging on them, but otherwise, the hall was bare of decoration or flare. Before the Doom, a row of rectangular glass windows high on the wall would have provided natural light to those visiting the courthouse.

  A single, wide hallway led further inside the building.

  The elf pointed down the hallway. “The fold. That way. In the atrium.” Ur-Namma croaked. “Come.”

  The wolf-chimera snarled and clawed forward, shattering the marble floor in its rage. Its tentacles snaked their way inside, past the broken door frame. The one on the right ended with a stump, and a steady stream of blood pooled on the floor below it.

  Kill it, The Butcher whispered. The Slaughter is not finished. The meat still draws breath.

  The bloody hand on his shoulder gave him a comforting squeeze. Oak saw his own reflection in the pool of blood. No. He saw their reflection. The Butcher stood behind him, eyes wild, panting. His mouth was like an open grave. Inside, Oak saw flashes of the Charnel Pit. Corpses stretching to eternity.

  What a beautiful sight.

  “You go ahead, Ur-Namma,” Oak said, and handed him the rucksack full of rituals. “Take Geezer with you and make sure the fold is safe. I will finish matters with our friend here.”

  The elf blinked. There was surprise in his eyes. “Is that wise?” Ur-Namma asked, struggling with the weight of the backpack. “The beast won’t be able to fit inside these walls. We can just leave it here to vent its fury.”

  Oak gave no answer. He stared at the chimera, fixated on the raging, roaring monster trying to smash its way inside the courthouse. Just a bit further, and the chimera would find itself utterly stuck on the narrow opening. His infernal engine hungered for the creature’s soul.

  Chips of stone peppered his trousers. There was so much to cut in such a large beast. So much blood to spill.

  “Well, if you are certain,” Ur-Namma said. “Follow me, Geezer.”

  The elf straightened himself, and hobbled out of the antechamber, the straps of the rucksack digging into his bony shoulders. Geezer gave Oak a look, but he shooed the dog away, and the hound left with Ur-Namma. It was better this way. Safer. Out of sight, out of mind. He would not feel the temptation to sink his blades into either of them.

  Oak was going to enjoy this kill alone.

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