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Djinn - 05 - Rings and Things

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I watched the cracks in the magical barrier repair themselves while the young girls I had summoned played in the sand, clueless to what had just occurred. After a decade in isolation, I had had plenty of time to consider scenarios like this and plan for them, but the problem was that I could only plan for the known, and there was entire volumes of unknowns that I was dealing with. So what do I know? There were three attempts on Paul using his blood as a conduit. Powerful, but not meant to kill. Using his blood as a conduit would allow them to bypass such minor annoyances like distance or matter, but not a magical barrier. So I’m guessing that they tried to locate him, followed by something to incapacitate, and finally something to conceal him until someone arrived. Or maybe transport him.

The knock from my mother was much more worrisome. Anyone can use a True Name, but the strength of the compulsion is much weaker than one done through blood. Since only fresh, or so-called “virgin” blood is useful for such rituals, I’ll have to assume that she used her own blood as the conduit. A dangerous game to play and one I didn’t expect, otherwise I would have made plans and given her a nasty bit of feedback for her efforts.

I shook my head at the lost opportunity to inflict some pain on the bitch.

I had been expecting such a response to Paul, but not Mother. So many questions! What was my lamp doing in America? Was Mother still with Lord Hatt, or had some sort of internal politics come into play? The prudent thing to do would be to get busy with some crafting and then relocate as planned.

“Paul, I’d strongly suggest we make some jewellery for protection so we can move to another location. Something like ‘make some real magic items to protect and buff us’ should be just fine.”

“You weren’t joking about them coming after me, were you?”

“Not one bit. That lamp is valuable and a power magnet. It’s like a curse; owning it makes you a target for every witch, wizard, and window washer for miles around.”

He winced as he recalled the powerful compulsion he felt to possess the lamp. “I wish we had some real magic items to protect and buff us.”

I pulled power and knowledge from the lamp. “Your wish is my … oof. This is gonna take awhile. Get comfortable.”

I let power swirl and pool inside me, filling me with unused potential. Reviewing the near infinite knowledge supplied by the lamp, I decided that the protection amulets were most important. I didn’t need one right now, but if you fail to plan, you’re planning to fail. I pulled at silver, gold, copper, tin, lead, iron and mercury from various locations on Earth, sourcing as much locally as I could. Little nuggets of pure metal began zipping in from all over the island and other places more distant. They floated around me as I concentrated for the next part.

Pulling again, I sourced a sturdy velvet bag, pen, ink, and a ream of large vellum sheets from somewhere in Asia, they zoomed through the barrier moments later and hovered expectantly next to the ores. Next, I materialised a wicked looking dagger and opened a cut on my palm. The minor wound bled copious amounts of blue smoke which enveloped the bag, pen, ink and parchment, infusing them with pure magic. I could have used pixie dust or dragon’s blood, or several other sources of magic, but while each had certain benefits, they also came with drawbacks. After a minute the wound sealed and I dropped the knife back into the aether.

A desk and chair appeared. Grabbing a sheet of vellum, I sat and began drawing the required spell using the knowledge of the lamp. First the perfect circle enclosing the area of effect, then the calligraphic Naskhi inscription detailing the effects on this plane of existence that encircled the inside edge of boundary. I could feel Paul watching over my shoulder and pushed the distraction from my mind. The next part needed to be absolutely perfect. Just because there was a boundary didn’t mean exciting explosions were impossible.

Fixing the desired effect in my mind, I allowed the lamp to guide my hand. A maze-like pattern of block Kufic flowed from the pen as I repeatedly dipped and drew, occasionally touching the Naskhi script where influence would be actuated. The labyrinth was exceedingly fine, no more than a millimetre between each boundary that would guide the magic, collapsing effects into existence like dominos falling in a pattern that could only be revealed from a certain perspective.

The lamp guided my hand, and I focused to keep the power flowing smoothly and manifesting through my actions and not my intentions. Half an hour later I was finished and the vellum glowed with a faint blue-gold lustre from the power contained. I sat back and cracked my neck, a useless action but psychologically important. I had completed a portion of the wish and the compulsion eased slightly.

Paul let out a low whistle. “Holy shit, that even looks magical.”

I smiled as a tingle of pleasure ran through me, pleased at the praise. “One more to go,” I said, pulling out another sheet of vellum.

The pattern for the ring was based on the same principle, but much more difficult. I had to build a ring, inscribe it with an effect, then add another layer, inscribe an effect, and so on, until the artefact was complete. Seven circles of hellish Nashki script and a mind-twisting labyrinth of block Kufic entangled them all. An hour passed and the sun had dipped to the horizon where it painted the water with golden fire. The girls had started building sand castles on the edge of the tideline, moulding the wet grains into crude crenellated walls and lopsided turrets with their tiny hands.

The real cost to perform this work was measured in time, not magic. I had used a trivial amount of my power creating the spells and slightly more pulling Earthly materials from local sources. Before I started the heavy lifting, I needed to take care of other business.

Paul was sitting in the deck chair, apparently comfortable but a dozen cigarette butts crushed in the sand belied his nervousness. I should have provided an ashtray. Ah well, they were “mine”, part of the free actions allowed to me for personal use, so I waved them into nonexistence.

I plopped down in the chair next to him.

“I tried talking to one of the girls while you were busy,” he said, motioning at one of the twelve year olds.

Now it was my turn to cock an eyebrow at him.

“No, nothing like that,” he explained, nearly stuttering. “I was curious how real a magical creation was, if they had memories and stuff.”

“Again, I’m sorry,” I laughed, recalling the maliciousness of my thoughts when I summoned them into existence. “You wanted beautiful bikini girls to dance for you, so that’s pretty much all they are, just shells of magic that will dance on your command.”

“But they’re playing and having fun,” Paul countered.

“Of course,” I responded, shrugging. “Just like most beauty contestants, they have a simulated personality. They won’t act like statues or dance forever. They’re human, but incredibly shallow. Brought into existence for the sole purpose of dancing for you, they will avoid you otherwise.”

“Damn, that’s cold blooded.”

“The devils are in the details,” I grinned.

“So how’s it coming along?”

“The easy part is done,” I said, cracking my knuckles. “Now comes the hard part, and we should make some plans before I get started. I’m going to be really weak when I get done and will need a few days in the lamp to recharge.”

“What do you have planned?”

“Well, how attached are you to your identity?”

*****

Paul and I waved goodbye to his clone as it trudged up the beach towards a nearby resort. I had banished the girls into the aether and materialised a couple of tiki torches to provide light before embarking on the next step in the plan: Randomly Travelling Clone, or, Rando Clone.

“That was some freaky ass shit,” Paul said as his clone disappeared over a sand dune. “You think it’ll work?”

I gave a small shrug. Rando Clone was created by me, so I perceived the differences between it and Paul like those between a chimp and a gorilla. I had convinced Paul to let me force grow a clone from a drop of his blood, imprint it with his modified personality, and send it on a random jaunt around the world using cash and funds shovelled into his bank account. Hopefully, the clone would draw attention by travelling around first class and playing the rich tourist. Once the money ran out, or it was captured, it would happily die of a massive brain aneurism.

“I think it’s clever enough,” I said, brushing it from my thoughts. “It’ll distract from you and the wealth being accumulated in your bank account, Mr. Paul Newman.”

“Still not sure I like your choice of a surname.”

“You can make a legal name change later, if you wish.”

“It’s still hard to believe I’m a friggin millionaire,” Paul said, staring at the banking app on his new mobile phone. “All those digits are so beautiful.”

“Stocks, bonds, mutual funds, a couple of modest properties in cities around the world, a new identity, a financial advisor to handle money, and a personal assistant to handle your needs,” I added, turning back to the desk and materials. “The magic is working slowly so we don’t draw any attention, and by the end of the week it will be impossible to tell that Paul Newman was created from thin air. “

“How long will it take you to forge the items?”

“Not long. I just need to keep pushing magic into the scroll until its done,” I replied, motioning to his chair. “Keep yourself occupied and I’ll be done before you know it.

He settled back into the lounge chair and occupied himself with some oversized handheld game system he wished for. I stared at him for a moment, grateful I had found someone who honestly wanted to help me.

“Hey Paul?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for everything, mate.”

He glanced up from the game system and gave me a tiny smile. “I might have been born a redneck, but that don’t mean I had to stay one. You’ve been honest with me so far, and I trust you’re doing what’s best for both of us.” A shadow crossed his face, disturbing his tanned features. “You got this, right?”

I stuck out my hand and he grasped it firmly, callouses digging into my palm. “I won’t let you down.”

Returning to the desk, I moved things out of the way and placed the Protection Amulet in the centre. Arranging the required materials in the large ‘room’ that was at the centre of the maze of Kufic, I pulled power from the lamp and allowed it to flow into the script. Magic surged like lightning seeking a ground, darting through the pathways that defined existence, rearranging universal laws so what was possible somewhere else was possible here. It struck the metals and they melted, flowing together into a solid mass and congealed into a coin the size of a Euro, inscribed with fine script. A golden chain flowed out from the edge of and spiralled around the coin. More power flowed through me and into the amulet, providing the fuel necessary to kickstart the inscribed script and actuate the minor changes in reality that would cascade into a waterfall of effects. The snowflake causes an avalanche.

The process finished with a physical sound, like someone dropped a rather expensive vase down a stairwell, and was done. Removing the completed amulet from the vellum template, I noticed Paul was standing next to me and had watched the entire process. Grinning, I handed him the fruits of my labour.

“One Amulet of Protection, Celestial class. It’ll shield you from magical and psychic scrying and attacks. As an added bonus, it increases your charisma so sentients will find you more charming and persuasive and non-sentients will be less apt to attack. No more swatting mosquitoes!”

“I can actually feel the power in this thing,” Paul said in a hushed voice. “It’s almost vibrating.”

“Like most magic items, once you put it on, only you’ll be able to take it off. So don’t take it off for any reason. And try not to hang yourself with it, because it’s not going to break.”

He slipped it over his head and vanished from my magical sight. I could still locate him through the higher authority of lamp, but for all intents and purposes he only existed to my eyes and ears.

“I don’t feel any different,” he said with a voice that was a bit deeper, a bit more melodious. “There was a bit of a tingle when I put it on, but that’s it.”

“Oh, it’s working, trust me. You sound like Simon Vance to me, quite compelling,” I said, marvelling at how even I was affected by such an artefact.

“It changed my voice?”

“It changed the way I hear it. Your voice is the same, but whoever hears it will find it quite pleasant. It won’t work with recording devices, just like magical disguises don’t work with mirrors and cameras because they always reflect the truth.”

I completed the next amulet a few minutes later while he watched and set it aside while I prepared for the ring. Setting out the magical vellum template, I arranged the remaining common metals and then opened tiny holes in the fabric of reality, pulling through a thumbnail each of Admant, Orichalcum, Ithildin and Mithril that were placed in their corresponding spots. Then with a deep breath, I opened myself as a living conduit for the lamp.

Cosmic power flowed across the template and melted the metals, drawing threads into the centre where they formed the ring. Kufic inscriptions flowed across the surface and burned brightly before they were covered with the second layer and another blowing brand of script. A third and fourth layer followed, and my being was stretched thin, essence flowed from my navel into this creation that I hoped would help me regain my freedom. Two more layers, like trudging up a snow covered mountainside, freezing while I overheated from the exertion. The final layer formed, pulling the remaining materials from their positions, slithering through the maze as I guided them through possibilities and into reality. The lamp rang like a bell as the final inscriptions burned into the surface then faded from sight, leaving behind a thick gold band studded with specks of iridescent arcane crystal, composed of fossilised magic.

I slumped in the chair, exhausted.

“You okay?” Paul asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. It felt solid, real, and threatened to pass right through me if I lost focus.

I picked up the ring and handed it to him. “Yeah. All done. I’m shattered.”

He examined it for a moment, then slid it on his finger and inhaled sharply as magic coursed through his body. “What is this?”

“My end of the bargain. You’re practically immortal now. You’ll never age or fall sick, quickly heal from nearly any wound, possess the gift of tongues, and have increased senses and greater strength, agility, endurance, and intelligence. It will also allow you to alter your physical appearance, but you’re going to need lots of practise before the ability is useful. The longer you wear the ring, the longer the effects will last if you remove it.”

“I didn’t ask for immortality.”

“Take off the ring any time you want to die. Or get your head cut off, or let Gollum chew the ring off your finger,” I chuckled. “There’s a million ways for you to die. If you want true immortality, that’ll cost extra.”

Paul nodded, relieved for some reason that he was still mortal. “You said I can change my appearance?”

“Slowly, yes. It’ll take lot’s of practise, so unless you want to get stuck looking like Quasimodo for a few days, don’t try forcing anything. Work on it a little at a time and you’ll be able to shapeshift in a couple of years.”

I rose and picked up the velvet bag I had infused earlier and dropped in the remainder of the infused ink and vellum, pen and the spell templates I had created, then handed it to Paul. Banishing all the beach items to the aether, we were left standing alone in the centre of the barrier. I pointed at my lamp and a backpack next to it.

“Passport, ID, wallet, cash, clothing and other sundry items are in the backpack. Drop the lamp in the velvet bag and tie it up. There’s magic on the bag that will cause people to ignore it. The curse of the lamp will still attract thieves, but the bag will confuse them for awhile. Rando Clone is on his way to New Zealand and every magic sensitive is on their way to this spot, so follow the plan and have a nice holiday in Japan while I rest,” I said, chopping my words because I was so tired. “If you need me, rub the lamp.”

I shook hands with my master, my new friend, and vanished into my prison.

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S: 21apr2020

F: 23apr2020

W: 2961

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