Cycle of Strife

Normandy, Northern France

0400 hours

The Panther was tense, angry and worried.
Tense because a tremble ran though the planes; signaling the arrival of the British army.

Angry because I had to work with the likes of Faquarl. At least Jabor didn't talk and Queezle was actually fun. But no, Faquarl had to plot, hopeless plots that bordered on the insane. I tell you, when you are preparing for battle, it can be pretty annoying.

Worried because I was supposed to fight off the most powerful army on the Earth, at the time (I've seen better.) with a cohort of imps (not good.)

"Bartimaeus…?" I sigh, Queezle was inexperienced, hence afraid. Spirits as experienced, as I am, in humans and their sad affairs accept everything with a certain degree of world-weariness.

A strong tremble ran though the planes. Something powerful was coming. Queezle was still looking at me. World-weariness didn't mean I didn't want to live.

"Yes, Queezle." She was in the guise of a wolf.

"They're coming, we're out-gunned and out-numbered."

"But not out-smarted." Supplied the lizard headed soldier. (That was Faquarl, of course. Just checking. Never know with you humans.)

"Well put. Though Faquarl is dumbing us down a little, you still have me."

"That, Bartimaeus, is exactly the problem." Our little spat was cut short by the arrival of our scouts; low level foliots in the guise of sea gulls.

The British are coming! Marids! Ten of 'em!" This was bad news. Marids. Spirits of water, the most powerful class of defined demons.

"They've grown too arrogant." Faquarl broke my chain of thoughts. "They believe we can not resist, brazenly sending their Marids without support."

"Maybe so, but ten is too many." I spied the cream of our garrison; four demi-afrits and eight higher djinn move out to the beach, along with a regiment of human soldiers. I spied a slim man with a jackal's head among them. Jabor. So he is the 'reinforcements' my master was talking about…

The sea grew restless, small tidal waves splashed against the defender's shields. I saw them, at last, on the horizon. The vanguard of the British army. Marids.

They came in various forms: A sea dragon, giant octopus, killer whale, Poseidon and various other sea gods. But they all radiated power; their auras lighted the moody sea (on the higher planes; you humans wouldn't have seen them) Soon they'll be in detonation range.

I sigh and ready myself, my companions did likewise. My thoughts drift back to Ptomey. What had he called it? The cycle of strife? I had disbelieved at first, but at times this, it was undisputable.

I stare at the marids, hear their battle cries. We are all trapped in it and I had to continue it.

The first detonation hit the defender's shield. The invasion of the holy Roman empire had begun.

…

First fic in this realm. I'm usually at the teen titans. Review!