Demons and Dragons and Rangers, Oh My!
Chapter 10: Cracking heads
Bartimaeus
As the air rushed past my ears, I realized that my current magician might not be what word describes. You say magician, I think tall, enigmatic, robed man, with archaic symbols crudely scrawled over his robes. You know them, the kind that always carry a tome with them, bound in rune covered leather. But this one, he pulls his weight. He put that arrow exactly where he wanted, and fast as well.
His robes? Mottled green and brown, seemed to blend into the background. He carries a bow, a quiver, and two expertly crafted knives, and would probably die of embarrassment if anyone caught him with a tome. Not to say that he didn't own a tome, (Or a grimoire, or whatever they call them these days. It's a book of summoning patterns and incantations. In other words, my eternal chains) it's impossible to memorize everything one needs to know in order to summon a demon.
One regular djinni of yours? Yeah, if you've had them for a year or so. Merlin holds the record as far as I know for memorizing the most pentacles and incantations at two marids, an afrit, and five djinn. Don't hold me to that, it's been a few centuries since I last saw him, but you get the gist. Hard to memorize.
That's all I thought before I detected the presence of Jabor. Between me and Queezle, we could take him. Oh yeah, and there was also a high strength afrit and two middling ones. Probably beyond us.
I caught sight of Jabor preparing to hurl a spear into the body of a wounded man fighting of one of the Afrits. I was going to ignore him when a deep grinding sensation inside me informed me that protecting him was part of my charge. Must be that deadweight Duncan. I hurled a Detonation at my old rival just as Queezle did. It blasted him a gratifying distance, but he wasn't dead. Pity.
An afrit drifting towards my master in the form of whirlwind took a silver throwing knife to the essence, and fled the battle. How very courageous of him.
The most powerful of the Afrits present, in the guise of a golden lion, roared and cast an Illumination. Must have been one heck of an Afrit, because he sustained it. In other words, an omnipresent light filled the room and stayed there, effectively resulting in a whiteout. However, the exhaustion of casting the Illumination on all seven planes would have been too powerful for a formidable marid, so for all the djinn, we just had to look on planes two through seven. Hmmmm.
My master was lying incapacitated against a wall, Duncan was crouching blind against the back wall of his throne room with a nasty silver broadsword held ready, and there were two men dressed in the same manner as my master staggering about the room. The lion was prowling towards my master, but was cautious due to the fates of his comrades.
An Afrit in the guise of an Arabic man with massive curved blades sprouting from the backs of his hands gracefully swept towards the smaller of the two blind men. Once again, the grinding feeling deep within me rudely instructed me to save him. Queezle blasted a Void at the lion, just as she erected a surprisingly powerful defense nexus around our master.
The Shields around the lion easily dealt with her Void, but it did distract him for a little while as he searched for the responsible djinni. I, meanwhile, hurled a Convulsion at the weaker Afrit and snatched a sword from the ground. It pulsed with energy, piquing my curiosity. I checked it out on all the planes. From five forward, its aura seared my inner eyes. I didn't have the faintest clue what it did, but it must be one hell of a sword.
Now, to war! I replaced my goat hooves with reptilian hands, and drew upon my time as a mameluke in Salah Al-din's grand cavalry. "Let your blood make this ground fertile once more!" I cried, and smote the Afrit from behind.
To my surprise, it flung him towards Graybeard's protégé (The young man). Green flames licked the stone blade, bright spears searching something to slay. I recognized almost immediately that this was a blade containing a spirit of no mean power.
Hmmmm. Surely it was not Excalibur, but it was similar… No, Agathon, the spirit contained within it was released, making it no more than a sharp piece of stone. It wouldn't be Aquitaine; it contained an ancient marid, far more powerful than this blade. Ah, it didn't really matter, the point was, it allowed me to teach this Afrit a lesson.
The protégé screamed in terror as the recovering Afrit slashed at him. I leveled this new weapon at the spirit and a burning Inferno flew with great velocity towards him. His essence flamed and he ceased to exist. I spun around and searched for my master. To my surprise, he was on his feet, bow in hand, listening for the slightest hint of the only remaining opponent.
Fortunately for me, he didn't have a chance. The beast slammed into him in a full tackle. I cast a Flux with maximum speed to keep his frail human body from shattering against the wall. As much as I wanted him dead, my charge still bound me with its cruel chains to protect him.
The beast raised its paw to smash his puny head, and swung it downwards. And was jerked to the side by the force of a silver arrow piercing its wrist. Just as it roared again, Queezle sliced its essence right open with Duncan's broadsword. It staggered around then, and fixed me with a gaze that in just a few seconds condemned me a traitor, the worst creature imaginable, a djinni that wielded a blade containing another one, one that would just as soon bind a spirit as free it. Then, it died.
Reader: Dramatic ending! Raudhr, I'm proud of you, that wasn't complete dreck! Well, that's not entirely true. It just wasn't as bad of dreck as you usually churn out.
Raudhr: Forgive me for being unable to write spectacular literature just eight hours after retching up spicy tamales!
Reader: That happened?
Raudhr: *Shudders* Yeah.
Reader: Jeez, kid.
Raudhr: Wow, you would.
And now, the author's note! Yeah, Halt's not dead. And yes, I threw up tamales last night. *Shudders* Give me pity reviews! Yeah, it would be nice if anyone reviewed. Haters. *Accusatory face* I make FanFiction! I shall write a little Humor Bartimaeus fic called Tee Time. Looks it up, Y'alls. And I will also write How the Grinch Stole Christmas, an Epic. Kinda self-explanatory. BAI.