Cycle of Strife

Town hall treasury, Cologne

2315 Hours

"Let me get this straight. You protected the wealth of Cologne and an armory of the baddest magic in town, with one measly pestilence?" A grunt

"Put up by Cough you?" Another grunt.

"And now, a half brained commoner just broke in and took about a third of our defenses?" Another grunt, this time sullen.

"And the British are how far?" He glared at me.

"600 km. And not closing. They appear to have lost momentum."

"Don't count on it."

"Shut up!" I felt a slight tremor in my essence, even though weak, a master was a master. All humans are cattle. Although some taste better… "And focus on he ask a hand. Someone must have provided the Hermetic Mantle. We must find the traitor and destroy him."

"Another traitor? Does it ever occur to you that these guys have a point?"

"No." I sigh. And bite back a response; I've pushed him as far as I dared.

…

2330 Hours.

I must admit this defied explanation.

A commoner, armed with a hermetic mantle managed to breach the (Pathetic) Defenses of the treasury, overwhelm a foliot guard and instead of taking the riches of the Empire (A few piles of shiny gold coins) took a right turn, Destroyed a fairly heavy weight Djinni guard and steal some Watch eyes and life manuscripts.

How did we know it was a commoner? No magical emissions, which ruled out a spirit higher than an imp. A hermetic mantle was used, which ruled out Magi (If they dared risking their skin, they would have not used a clumsy mantle; a high level Djinni was better suited to the task. Besides they'll never risk their skin.) How did we know it was one commoner? If they were many, they would have been seen. And besides, the number of items stolen would right about fit into a travel bag.

And this commoner was good. He had used a mantle to neutralize a pestilence guarding the door, and then proceeded to escape a variety of detectors and trip wires, proceeding to destroy a foliot and a Djinni with a variety of silver weapons. Almost impossible.

Almost.

It would have to be a person with immense resistance to magic and the special sight. Also there was the matter of the mantle…

My investigations had proceeded so far before I ticked my master too much and he stippled and dismissed me.

…

The Rhine

2330 Hours

The river meandered peacefully along the oppressed city. Just a hint of frost could be seen on its pleasant waters.

But I was concerned with what else.

Could someone spot a hint of red in the endless blue?
Can a sinking figure be seen? Bathed in red?
Can anyone hear the laments of the dead?

The answer was no.

It had been an exhilarating experience. I had returned, with the great prize sitting coolly in my pocket, having defeated the magician's demons and traps.

He demanded if I had brought it back. With all his arrogance and swagger.

It all disappeared when my blows started to rain. First I cut his throat; to stop him summoning help… the rest was a blur.

All I now was that he was a soon a bitter memory, floating down the Rhine. Soon to be forgotten.

The first of many. Hopefully.

…

Magician's residence, Cologne

0100 Hours

Time does not exist in exist in the other place. At least not in conventional sense.

Even so, I know when I am short time. Seriously short timed.

That's why I pretty pissed to find myself in a summoning hall, facing that female magician, whatizname… Catherine, which will translate to… Izzy! (Magicians, being vainglorious bastards, are always ticked off by their nick names.)

I look around. Faquarl, Queezle and Jabor. Some other Djinn too. She summoned them all by herself? Impressive.

"Slaves!" She sounded drained. And just that hint of nervousness. I've heard it before. In Caesar, in his last days, fearing rebellion. In Cleopatra, after hearing the news of her hubby's defeat. In Solomon, when his facilities were failing.

It was panic, desperately cloaked. Don't let the bad demon know something is wrong, type of tone. This was interesting. "I charge you protect the Cathedral of saint Sophia from a possible attack by rebels. Do you understand?" Extremely interesting.

"The cathedral? You'll need a small army to go anywhere near it." Very true. It was guarded by retinue of foliots outside and in the places commoners could visit. In the inner chambers, there lay the bones of the three magi (Powerful Persian magician kings. Where the first coverts of Jesus of Nazareth.) protected by a elaborate array of nexuses and traps. And the aura of mystery that surrounded the bones and their hated owner.

"Quiet demon!" She raised a hand. I felt a pressure on the pentacle.

"Or what, Izzy? You're not our master." Her eyes flashed.

"You will obey me." She said quietly. "Or face the shriveling flame." She raised her hand. I writhed under the essence rack. "Do you understand?" I nod weakly.

"Good. Now go." We went.

…

Cathedral of Saint Sophia, Cologne

0300 Hours

"I'm telling you Faquarl, this is fishy."

"So, you Bartimaeus, so you say. For the how many time?"

"Uh, Fifteenth, I think." Quipped Queezle.

"Didn't you hear her voice? She's nervous, panicked; I tell you!"

"Of what?"

"You tell me, Faquarl! She's your master!"

"Human are cattle…"
"Although some taste better." I complete the couplet. (Long story.) "But this one's panicked, I tell you!"

He sighed. "That essence rack has addled your brains, Bartimaeus."
"What are you chattering about? Back to guard duty!" Balim suddenly appeared out of a turret. (Did I mention it was the place was a woe begotten gothic cathedral?)
"Stuff it. Who made you the boss, anyway?"

"A robust essence and the fact I can eat anyone of you with impunity." Good point.

"Uh… how are we supposed to guard this, anyway? The damm cathedral's aura almost blinding." True. The adoration of the magi and a number of other potent artifacts resided with the bones. The burial shroud of Moses is rumored to be in there. Like I said: Blinding.

"Try wearing sunglasses."

"You're not helping."
"Okay, Okay… try limiting your sight to the first planes."

"And how am I supposed to guard then?" He grumbled.

"I don't how you're going to do it… but you're going to do it."

"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah!" He stepped forward, there was a dangerous glint in his eye. His essence suddenly pulsed, the planes slightly moved out of synch.

"Yeah, Doing it."

"Good."

…

0330

I swear, I'm going blind. But you don't argue with someone who stood up to Atlas at Thermopylae. (We were fighting for the Persians)

And so I sat there, squinting though the light. And would have gone blind.

Would have if a fellow djinni's dying shriek hadn't disturbed me.

Life's never boring when you're Bartimaeus of Uruk.

It was the succubus, Lilac. I felt a pang of recognition for my comrade in arms. The sight of her dead essence added some extra zing to my detonation.

Of course magic doesn't work against golems. It stood there, absorbing my magic; its very presence dimmed the building's aura. Light seemed to drain into it; giving it terrible clarity.

The sight of the shoddy workmanship rather put off the effect. There were no eyes, the torso and arms were oversized. And it was made of mud. With bits falling off.

Balim's pestilence was absorbed into it. My other attacks included. Damm. Still potent.

I changed into a gargoyle and flew away from a swinging fist.

Detonation. Fist! Inferno. I continued the whirlwind fight, my strength undiminished; the shoddy golem exhibited some strain. Here and there mud globs fell off.

Here and there djinn died.

But not I! Bartimaeus of Uruk, of al-Arish! Shah al-Jinni, the consort of kings! I had fought the likes of Atlas and Theodora at Thermopylae! Defeated the uttuku hordes and Tchue at al-Arish! Yes, I am Bartimaeus!

Having said this, you must agree with me, it was a lucky blow. Suddenly I found my essence being crushed in a crumbling mud fist

Cold. My essence withered under the element earth's influence. I gathered my energies, preparing an attempt to escape, I sensed movement in the darkening world.

Heat. Intense and withering. I fired a detonation into the crippling fist, sensed it loosen… let go.

Pain. I flopped to the ground, blacked out. My last image was the golem; breaking apart under a crackling tornado of magical energy.

…

Yeah! Writer's block finally over! (Hopefully.)

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