Ban'Koliath flew through the heavy double doors that lead back to Justiciar Law. He rolled through the mess of cubes and came to a stop at the sad remains of his desk. He spat out a mouthful of crimson and wearily hauled himself to his feet. The goliath frame of Dakon followed him out at the lazy pace of a stalking predator waiting for its meal to expire.

“I expected better from a Partner. Your reputations are so highly regarded amongst us office peons,” The minotaur said, his tone just shy of taunting. It was not his normal recourse in battle to goad his enemy. Battle was sacred to his people and even more so to himself. It was a constant test of his self mastery against the battle lust of the minotaur; the arrogance so prevalent in his people. He treated every foe with respect. When Ban’Koliath, or any minotaur, resorted to battle banter, it was a sign of fear.

Dakon responded to the taunt by pouncing. His supernatural speed gave Ban’Koliath no time to dodge. The man-mountain’s enormous arms closed around the minotaur and tackled him to the floor. Punches, kicks, hammer blows, and headbutts were exchanged as the two rolled across the office space. With supreme effort Ban’Koliath threw off the armor-clad bastard and scrambled to his feet.

Dakon rolled into the remains of a desk and pulverized it. “You are beginning to grow irksome,” His voice was still as deep and calm as it ever was as he got to his feet.

“Good," Ban’Koliath spat out another mouthful of blood. Several of his ribs were broken, one of his hooves had cracked, and his right eye was swollen shut. He was tired and his body was telling him to close his one good eye and let unconsciousness swallow him. He shook his head in defiance; he needed to buy more time. His eye came across the dead chimera and a desperate plan sprouted.

Growing up on the Isle of Pa’nipia, home to the minotaur race, Ban’Koliath had dealt with some of the most lethal creatures on Paragore the chimera chief among them. The beasts are highly regulated magical creatures for a multitude of reasons. Its horn, for example, was able to pierce through almost any material which made it desirable for smiths, tailors, and a whole host of other professions. In fact, the horn was so desirable one of the ways a minotaur could earn his First Blood was by slaying one of these beasts and bringing the horn back as proof. And while it earned high honor for the calf’s clan, it was not a popular choice due to the extremely low survival rate.

Dakon’s next move cemented Ban’Koliath’s plan. Dashing to gain speed the Partner leapt into the air. His head brushed against the ceiling at the apex of his jump. The feat made all the more impressive with the two-hundred or so pounds of armor Dakon wore. He shifted his body to aim one sabaton-clad foot at Ban’Koliath’s head coming down with meteoric force.

Ban’Koliath dodged the attack, barely, by recklessly diving for the chimera. The pain of his ribs grinding together threatened to steal his consciousness as he landed. Dakon’s foot slammed through the floor sinking him to his mid-thigh. Ban’Koliath could hear the wooden floor groaning in protest as the man sought to free his leg. He reached the fallen creature and with the grip of a titan on the horn Ban’Koliath brought his hammer to bear on the ram’s skull. Once, twice, the dull thudding impact of hammer against bone filled his ears. On the third strike, the horn tore free along with a bit of skull and scalp in his hand. The tip was still honed to a deadly point. Dakon ripped his leg free of the floor at last and spun to charge his quarry. Ban’Koliath gripped the horn in one hand and lifted his hammer in the other, hoping for a miracle.

Dakon closed the distance between them in a few bounding strides.

Ban'Koliath let out a roar of defiance and brought his horn-bearing fist up against the exposed neck joint in Dakon’s armor. The impact jarred his hand and he could feel the sharp edges of the horn digging into his calloused palm. Dakon’s armor dented and then gave way to the all piercing tip of the chimera’s horn. The horn sank into his neck releasing not blood but an angry hiss of sound.

Before Ban’Koliath had time to determine what had gone wrong, the Partner seized his wrist. He wrenched Ban’Koliath’s arm back pulling the horn out of his neck and crushed it from the minotaur’s grip. Enraged, Dakon grappled the minotaur into a tight bear hug. As Ban’Koliath’s broken ribs grated against each other, he blacked out. The wild laughter of Dakon ringing in his ears.

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…...

Ian and Vale ran toward the door that led back into Justiciar Law. From there the pair recklessly dashed down flights of stairs. Vale had been vaulting, sliding, and otherwise displaying the acrobatic grace that her race was known for the whole way down. Proving to Ian again that not all fantasy on Earth had missed the mark. They hit the lobby, crossed the space, and shoved on the glass doors leading out to freedom. They were right on time to watch as a fireball engulfed Roland.

“No!” Ian shouted.

Vale jerked him back inside the lobby and away from the glass facade. The pair darted behind the check-in desk as the front windows shattered. Cobblestone chunks and glass shards peppered the lobby converting it from posh upscale to total ruin in seconds. Ian rushed out onto the street gun at the ready, before the dust had even settled. Vale right behind.

Outside the scene was quite contrary to what they’d been expecting. The Court mage, Talazar, hung suspended in the air rotating slowly like a spit pig. White bands of light squeezed his chest, arms, and legs to his sides. And there stood Roland his index finger outstretched and turning in time with the rotating Talazar. The two appeared to be engaged in a quiet conversation.

Mal bounded over to Vale passing Ian as he jogged toward Roland. Vale knelt down and couldn’t help but noticed the bloodstains on her companion’s muzzle while he licked the side of her face. She scratched between his ears as she caught her breath. She had questions but they would have to wait. Mal wasn’t injured and that’s what mattered.

Roland ceased his conversation as Ian drew near. A band of light slipped around the bound mage’s mouth keeping the man silent. He offered no explanation. Instead, he glanced back to the shattered lobby doors, then to Vale, and then Ian, “Where’s Ban?”

Before Ian could answer the sounds of glass tinkling on the sidewalk grabbed their attention. Their eyes followed the waterfall of glass upward as two figures tumbled out from a broken window. Even from down on the street it was easy to make out who the rapidly falling figures were Dakon and Ban. The former had thrown the prone figure of Ban away and adopted a fist first approach to the ground. Ban flapped around unconscious and unaware of his impending doom.

“Do something!” Ian shouted as the prone form of his friend hurtled toward the pavement.

“Reta’suspendat!” Roland shouted, casting his spell before Ian had even opened his mouth.

A net of yellow light flew from the mage’s splayed fingers and spread out beneath Ban’s plummeting body. It snagged him interrupting his lethal appointment with the pavement. Then the net floated down until it was hovering just a few feet off the ground.

Dakon had no such net and landed hard. A fresh shower of dust and stone shards went flying as the body impacted with the sidewalk. Dust billowed out and the impact site was lost to sight. Ian was certain the fall had to have killed him. But he kept his gun trained on the cloud nonetheless.

Roland rushed over to the semi-conscious form of Ban. The minotaur was bloodied and had a few broken bones but he was alive. Roland’s net was already repairing itself where Dakon had punched through and the mage injected the net with a healing aura. It wouldn’t fix Ban, but it would at least keep him alive until they got him to a proper healer.

“Can your net hold him?” Ian asked over his shoulder.

“Yes,” Roland said with none of the calm he felt. There was still the matter of his old teacher to deal with. And this evening’s adventure was starting to tax him. Roland turned to Talazar still hovering where he’d left him with the bands of light holding him fast. The bands had been siphoning off a steady stream of Talazar’s magical power keeping the mage from attempting to counter Roland’s spellwork. Roland wished he had more time but the Fire Mages were on the way not to mention the High Cavaliers. Someone was certain to have pscryed them by now. The thought of the High Cavaliers suddenly inspired Roland to action. He quickly formulated a plan that would allow him a modicum of revenge while still serving his justice.

Roland used the magical energy the bands had collected to wipe Talazar’s memories of the evening. And he replaced them with a most convincing fabrication. A short sleep spell ensured he wouldn’t be going anywhere. The High Cavaliers would find him in the street next to his late cohorts. They would arrest him for certain, explore his memories, and see that Talazar had murdered his companions and then passed out from exhaustion. It took Roland all of thirty seconds to seal the man’s fate.

Ian hadn’t taken his eyes off the obscuring cloud. The dust settled enough for him to see inside and icy terror gripped him. There was no mistaking the silhouette of Dakon. Seconds later the cloud parted to confirm Ian’s fear. Dakon, completely unharmed from his twenty-story dive, came out of the cloud. The moonlight lit up the brilliant smile of madness etched across his face as he turned to look at Ian.

“Ah there you are," Dakon said, with all the excitement of someone finding a misplaced phone bill.

“Move!” Ian shouted, firing two shots as Dakon climbed out of the crater.

They ran fleeing into the city.