Cycle of Strife

A beachside fort on Normandy, Northern France

0410 Hours

I was desperately launching detonation after detonation at the approaching tsunami. My companions, the other spirits did the same. The human soldiers contended themselves with a hail of iron bullets and sizable doses of swear words. Which I won't be recording; but, boy, they sure taught me a pointer or two. It still wasn't enough.

"Damm! Bartimaeus, we should help them!" Queezle launched herself into to the fray; (See? I told you: inexperienced.) I sighed and followed her into our broken defenses. I quickly lost sight of her in the chaos.

A marid screamed, Jabor's echoed jackal cry though the night. I spied him twirling a silvered scythe, cutting though the shields of a wounded marid. The surviving djinn were rallying around his bloodlust. I better do the same. I wadded across the blood; the humans had, as usual, fallen like flies (Displaying far less intellect; the fly, at least, would try to escape, not attempt battle with the fly-swatter)

"Aaaa!" a spasm clipped my elegant tail. It shook me up, badly (That's what spasms do, in case you were wondering. It was a lucky shot in dark. Even the great Bartimaeus of Uruk can't escape plain bad luck.)

But even though shaking, I faced my attacker; it was, of course, a marid. It came in form of Poseidon; it raised its silver tipped trident for the killing blow, stepped forward…

"Heghhheeehe!" Into a hex; a pentacle burned at it's feet, sending bolts of electricity into it's chest. The magical version of a land mine. I couldn't believe my luck.

"There! Finish it!" a small squad of humans saw the marid's plight and rushed to battle. They started emptying iron shells at the already reeling marid, it's form flickered. I silently watched the fun.

"There! Another demon! Kill it!" The sergeant; a rugged French fellow; shouted in French (Duh)

"Huh? Wait! Sarge, I'm on your side!" But they didn't listen; they roared as one and started firing at me. I, regrettably, had to vaporize them. I sighed at their remains (Wasn't much) Sad waste of detonation-fodder.

My attention was soon captured by the marid, as it stumbled out the fizzling pentacle. The hex's potent power wasn't enough. It attempted a change; it's weakened essence flickered into full view.

I nailed it with a nova. Ever seen a marid implode? It isn't pretty.

I stand up, changing into a gargoyle, and utter a triumphant battle cry. You may out-muscle Bartimaeus of Uruk, al-Arish, serpent of the silver plumes; but never out smart him!

Unfortunately didn't hold true for the rest of my garrison. They were all dead; except for Jabor. I didn't expect him to last long; he was in a hopeless battle with a marid in the guise of a Hydra. I sigh, debating whether to help him or not.

Behind me the planes trembled again; it was a violent shock. I glance behind, as expected; the main force of the British army was coming. I take back my earlier words; they were formidable indeed. Flock upon flock horlas in the guise of ravens, ranging from horizon to horizon; descended on our bloody beach.

I sigh again; then I suddenly have an extremely brilliant idea. Boy, I thought a cartoon light bulb would appear on my head. (That's Bartimaeus for you: never out-smarted.)

I changed into the French sergeant. Think of it as my homage of his bravery (and of course: his stupidity.) And calmly pick up his guns; I felt the faint aura of silver.

My blue eyes narrow and the blond hair is ruffled by the breeze. This was degrading; but anything that floats my boat… I charge into the desperate contest between Jabor and the marid. Guns blazing with silver bullets, my aim unerring. The ammo is quickly expended and I change back to the gargoyle.

The marid roared in pain; Jabor gave one of his jackal-battle cry and lopped off one of it's nine heads. I added my detonations to the marid's woes.

Another battle cry; another head gone. The marid's form flickered, it was attempting a change. Bad move. Yet again, I nailed it with a nova.

I and Jabor cry out a victory cry together, it was a rare moment of camaraderie between us. I had killed two marids, that's better than al-Arish! (We spirits take pride in our track records though the centuries. Of course, few could match mine. I defeated eight uttuku, an afrit and a score of foliots in the battle of al-Arish. Beat that!)

My own achievements aside, the battle was lost, six marids were still alive. None of our magicians were (They deserved it though. I just hope their deaths were painful)

I sigh, fighting on meant certain death. I made a hasty choice. I changed into a raven and flew away. I was risking the shriveling fire, but it was a gamble worth taking.

I felt Jabor's gaze burn my underside. I didn't look back, but I sensed there was little camaraderie in it.

…

Over Normandy, Northern France

I flew over the whole of the battle site. I wasn't pleasant viewing. Other forts had fared little better than mine; none had won.

I sigh; the whole war was pointless. Prague had ruled for the better part of this millennium. In time, it had grown fat and lazy. Gone were it's golden days; when it rose to power on the weeping backs of a thousand djinn. (I included. I had many close calls in that time; I had lost count of the times I had just escaped bring confined in a construct, or being interred in an artifact.)

Naturally someone was taking advantage. And they had the advantage. Which brings me back to my point: the whole war was pointless. A token show of defiance. We were out-numbered, out-gunned and in some dim, vague way, their stupid humans out-smarted our stupid humans.

I sigh. Ptolemy's vague musings in the Egyptian sun was all too, bloody correct. The 'cycle of strife'. I had seen the fall of Cairo, the rise Rome. The battle pf al-Arish and the rise of Persia. Prague. And now: London.

My musings are yet again interrupted; this time by a summoning. I submitted to it's power with more than usual dread. Ahead lay the shriveling fire or a hopeless war.

…

Okay. The next chapter, I promise you, will be a hatchet job. I'll try to make it somewhat unpredictable.

Tried describing things a bit, Lucky rat tail. Any difference?