《Djinn》 Djinn - 01 - The Lamp and the Thief -=-=-=-=-=- Technicolour fog swirled around me, steaming from my ethereal body in painful wisps that twisted and twined together, binding me like a thousand puppet strings to the inner void of this accursed magic lamp. I jerked and danced in agony, burning and freezing, cut into a thousand pieces and reassembled to repeat the process. The first few days were exquisitely painful, like having your guts pulled out in a never-ending cycle of agony. But like flexing an unused muscle, I learned to clench my magical core and slow the power that was bled from me. Seconds of relief turned into minutes, and eventually into a bearable existence of clench-relief-release-agony-repeat over the years. I had been tricked, sold into slavery by my own mother and condemned to an eternity of solitude and magical kegels. The next few years were filled with the discovery that I could manipulate my prison, direct the magic and bring into existence a type of virtual reality. It wasn¡¯t much at first, just a bare room with a mattress on the floor, but it was infinitely better than the technicolour void in which I had been trapped. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I slept. The room became a modest house, and eventually a multi-room mansion, complete with pool and manicured grounds floating in a bubble of magical fog. Servants and amusements were provided by my subconscious. I had a chef and butler, a manservant and maid, all brought into existence by the strength of imagination. Luxurious meals were prepared and I wore the finest of fashion that my memory could provide. Simulations of my friends would come and visit. We would party and play games in the pool house. Girls appeared, their faces recollected from somewhere in my memory and personalities created by my desires. I could recollect every face I had ever seen, every conversation ever heard, every word ever read, and my subconscious could weave it all together in new and amusing forms. My bitch of a mother died ten thousand deaths in my mind¡¯s eye. If it weren¡¯t for the manacles around my wrists and the incessant pain of magic being pulled from me, one could almost forget that this was a prison and enjoy a life of unceasing luxury. The manacles that shackled me to this lamp were lead grey and covered in the finest script of silver. Heavy at first, over time I grew used to their presence and during that painful and boring first year where I was able to summon little more than a room and bed, I had plenty of time to examine them. Resembling Arabic calligraphy, the tiny script wound around them in an elaborate and hypnotic pattern. Attempts to copy sections of the script onto summoned paper or even painting it onto the walls of my prison created strange results and intrigued me. The maze-like script was magic in of itself and had an effect on the magic that was my existence. Time passed strangely. A million years in the blink of an eye, and seconds stretched into years. I lost myself in diversions my past, returning occasionally to the puzzle of the manacles which was both alien and familiar all at once. In some crude fashion I began teaching myself magic while trapped in a magic lamp, learning how to store and channel the energy that was pulled from my core and diffused all around me, to fashion it into my desire and constrain it with within the script that I intuited as Kufic. The more I practiced, the more I learned, and each discovery lead to new discoveries and new knowledge. Magic was a self-assembling puzzle. Once you had a tiny piece, it created other pieces for you to fit together. I passed my sentence watching how the ambient magic would be drawn into the maze of Kufic script and flare into the desire I had inscribed. It was infinitely easier to create something using magical script than it was to hold it together by sheer force of will. My subconscious wasn¡¯t always the most trustworthy of companions, and a dark cave was discovered in my self-conceived prison paradise. It was then that I learned that I should channel my desires using the ancient script instead of relying on my subconscious to hold things together. So, I destroyed my creation and rebuilt it, forcing the magic to flow through the geometric patterns and manifest as earth and air, fire and water. Magical trees were created and amusing animals brought into existence to roam the grounds of my estate. Years passed and every moment was filled with clench-relief-release-agony-repeat as my essence was pulled from me to fill the lamp. * * * * * A bell tolled, ringing ever louder and filling creation with an overwhelming compulsion. My manacles burned and flared with silver-blue light as technicolour fog surrounded me and then vanished, leaving me facing a young man holding a jewel-encrusted lamp. My lamp. My prison. His image burned into my psyche, my first master. Dirty blond hair and dark green eyes. A scar on the bridge of his nose. Stubbled jawline that would leave women flustered and moist. The twinkle of a small diamond glittered from his right earlobe. He cowered before me, crouched half-hidden behind a marble plinth and raised a gun, firing twice into my chest. More bullets ripped into my back and I twisted under their painful impact, wounded only because I was material. Lesson learned, quickly and painfully. I shifted into a more etherial form as compulsion pulsed through the manacles once more, binding me with unspoken rules that I must obey under threat of agonising pain. ¡°What is your bidding¡­Master¡± I ground out through clenched teeth. ¡°Who the hell are you? What are you?¡± He yelled, waving the gun at my now insubstantial self. ¡°I am¡­¡± I hesitated, fighting the compulsion to blindly obey. I grimaced in pain and continued the required speech. ¡°The Djinn of the lamp, and yours to command.¡± A hail of bullets flew through my now vaporous form, impacting the plinth and ricocheting around the room. ¡°Genie?¡± He said, disbelief warred with hope on his face. ¡°You¡¯re shitting me. If you¡¯re a genie get me out of here!¡± ¡°Master has to wish for it.¡± I said, wincing in sympathy as a bullet passed through me and tore into his gut. ¡°I¡¯m pretty limited on what I¡¯m allowed to do outside the lamp.¡± A surprising amount of blood stained the front of his shirt, darkening the material and adding a coppery scent to the air. Pennies and gunpowder. I wondered how bad it was and the knowledge filled my head. ¡°Looks like your liver took a bullet,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯ve got maybe 8 minutes before you bleed out.¡± He groaned and writhed on the bloody hardwood floor, blood flowing over his fingers. ¡°I wish I had never taken this job.¡± Compulsion flared and I was filled with cosmic power that flowed from the lamp and into me. The knowledge of how to turn back time, reverse the flow of sand in the Reaper¡¯s hourglass flooded my awareness and fizzled out. I didn¡¯t have the power. Maybe in another century or three. But not with a mere decade of magical energy stored in the lamp. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­Master¡± I said, gritting my teeth, hating the fact that I was compelled to call anyone who held the lamp master. ¡°I don¡¯t yet possess the power to turn back time. Perhaps something simpler?¡± ¡°I wish I was safe at home.¡± He moaned, shock setting in as the life drained from his body. Cosmic power arced from the lamp and filled me with overwhelming authority over reality. This was within the realm of my abilities. Teleportation was an option. So was walking. I had some leeway in how the wish was interpreted. A malicious happiness burbled inside me and I chortled with glee as a vague plan presented itself to my mind. The sound of voices from the doorway behind me brought me back to reality. Anyone who possessed the lamp could command me for eternity, and those voices probably belonged to the people who kept me imprisoned in this private museum.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I surrounded my new master and my lamp in a bubble of magical energy and drew a straight line in my mind¡¯s eye to his bedroom. A thought later and we burst through walls at supersonic speeds, blasting through other buildings as we crossed the city and finally into the shabby one room apartment that my master called home. I deposited him carefully on the bed and removed the protective bubble. Bricks chinked and clacked as they fell from the remains of the wall behind me. ¡°Safe at home, Master¡± I said. Glancing around, I located the light switch and flipped it. Vague impressions of what was permissible and what was not cascaded through my head like some exotic form of Asimov¡¯s Three Laws of Robotics. The light switch was helpful and safe, therefore allowed as a free action. Light filled the room and partially illuminated the kitchenette that was visible through the open door. A large television hung on one wall in front of an old leather sofa. Behind it a small island separated the living space from the kitchen appliances. A fancy chrome toaster and glass electric kettle sat next to an expensive looking coffee bean grinder. Frames of butterflies and moths adorned the walls tastefully, the contents neatly pinned and labeled. I wondered if he had purchased or collected them. Turning my attention back to my new master, I watched as he groaned in agony on the bed. Vague impressions of the consequences for the death of a master flitted across my mind. As long as he had possession of the lamp, I was his to command. If another claimed it, I was theirs. If he died, I would be sucked back into the lamp to await a new master. The clauses involving freedom were complex and tenuous. Suggesting wishes were also forbidden in most cases. There was a lot of wriggle room with the chains that bound me, and the potential for a lot of pain. Immortal and indestructible, I would bathe in a volcano if commanded to do so. ¡°Master should tend to that gunshot before he bleeds out.¡± I suggested, watching as his eyes started to go glassy from shock. ¡°Make me healthy,¡± He mumbled. ¡°Master must wish for it,¡± I growled. ¡°I wish I were healthy again,¡± He muttered, slurring the words. The power flowed once again from the lamp. Channeling a tiny thread I fulfilled the wish without twisting it, healing the gunshot, removing a spot of cancer on the lung, banishing assorted parasites and infections. He glowed briefly with a pinkish aura before sighing in relief. Opening his eyes, he looked me over. ¡°You don¡¯t look like a genie,¡± he said. I was dressed casually. Chinos and loafers with a blousy white shirt and sleeves rolled to reveal the manacles that bound me to the lamp. I hadn¡¯t changed my appearance much while trapped in the lamp, so while my physique was that of a greek god, I still had dark, shoulder length hair and ice blue eyes set in a rather average looking face. I had no need to impress the girls in the lamp, they loved me for who I was because they were created that way. ¡°I¡¯m not a Genie, I¡¯m a Djinn. The child of a minor demon and the two-bit whore of a woman that tricked me into the lamp,¡± I spat. ¡°There¡¯s a vast difference in powers and domain of influence, a Genie is the daughter of a human male and a demoness,¡± I paused as he turned his attention to the hole I made in the wall. ¡°Jesus Christ!¡± He said, examining the damage. ¡°Look what you did!¡± ¡°I brought Master straight home and safely to his bed,¡± I deadpanned, watching the play of emotion on his face. Disbelief and anger caused the muscles in his jaw to twitch. ¡°Fix it! Fix it right now!¡± He yelled. ¡°Master must wish for it,¡± I intoned once again. I wasn¡¯t literally bound by the wishing aspect of the lamp. I could perform some tasks if I desired to interpret them as a command or useful, like turning on a light or fetching a glass of water. As long as magic wasn¡¯t directly involved, I had some freedom of choice. In this case I chose to interpret the command to ¡®fix it¡¯ as one that required magic, not manual labour. ¡°Wait, how many wishes do I get?¡± he asked. ¡°Three?¡± The moment of truth. And if I¡¯m careful, an opportunity for escape. ¡°You may command me as long as you possess the lamp.¡± I replied. His eyes widened as the words sank in. ¡°Where¡¯s the lamp?¡± he said. I pointed to the table next to the bed and he sprang over the bloody mattress, grabbing at the lamp. ¡°So as long as I have this, I have unlimited wishes?¡± he asked. YES! A question I could manipulate! ¡°You may command me as long as you possess the lamp,¡± I said. ¡°But the wishes are not unlimited. I am a young Djinn, and in fact believed myself to be human before I was sold into slavery and imprisoned by my bitch mother a decade ago, so I am not very powerful. Any wishes I grant will be limited to what I can accomplish with the power I have.¡± ¡°There¡¯s always a catch,¡± he said, idly rubbing the lamp while he pondered my words. ¡°Hold on, you said you were human?¡± I materialised a chair and cup of coffee and had a seat. Minor magics for personal use were very strictly limited. ¡°I was born in Wolverhampton, England. Attended school there and was in university until my mother tricked me into that lamp,¡± I said, nodding at the jewelled prison he clutched tightly. ¡°For the last decade I¡¯ve been trapped in that prison. I had a girlfriend, good mates, and until the last year I was free, believed that I was just as human as you are. My name was Adam West.¡± He looked at the gaping hole in his wall then back at me. ¡°You¡¯re English? From England? I thought that genies¡­ hold up, your name is Adam West, like Batman? You were named after Batman?¡± I pinched the bridge of my nose and gently rubbed. ¡°Yes, I was born and raised in England. Adam West is not a common name, but it is a real name nonetheless. I was named after my maternal grandfather Adam Courtenay and West after the whore that gave birth to me.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s not a trick? Unlimited wishes?¡± ¡°Unlimited wishes within my limited scope of power, yes. Wish away, and if I can¡¯t grant it I¡¯ll let you know,¡± I said. ¡°This is my first time and you are my first ¡­master,¡± the word soured on my tongue. ¡°I wish you would fix the wall right now,¡± he said, the words tumbling over each other in haste. I could interpret that in many forms, from repairing the wall with a plywood bandage, to actually restoring it to its former pre-hole state. I chose the latter and guided the magic as it left the lamp. Like a video run in reverse, the debris reconstituted itself into its former shabby glory. ¡°That wasn¡¯t a reversal of time,¡± I explained. ¡°I just directed the magic and made it appear as if time was running in reverse. It looked more impressive that way.¡± ¡°I still have more wishes?¡± he asked, hesitating as if waiting for bad news. I had to direct this conversation away from the unlimited wishes and into a direction that would lead to my freedom. ¡°Yes, massster¡± I sighed, emphasising the master-slave relationship and hoping to play on his moral values. ¡°As many as you desire, terms and conditions apply.¡± That got his attention. ¡°What do you mean, terms and conditions apply?¡± he asked sharply. ¡°What are the terms and conditions?¡± Another open question I could exploit. I took a sip from my coffee and sighed at the pleasant taste of the finest beans my imagination could create. I made a suggestive motion with my cup and eyebrows, silently asking if he would like a cup. He gave the barest of nods and I materialised another cup of coffee. ¡°How do you take it?¡± ¡°Um, two and two.¡± I made a guess and altered the composition of the hot beverage. ¡°Try that,¡± I said. ¡°I made a guess.¡± He took a sip and grimaced a little. ¡°Could use a bit more cream.¡± I altered the fabric of the universe with a wave of my hand. He sipped the coffee again and nodded in approval. ¡°Terms and conditions,¡± I began, returning to his question and scratching the itchy compulsion that compelled me to answer him. ¡°Apply to every aspect of my current state of being and use of my powers. Notice how I was able to use magic create this chair and coffee? I can choose to interpret your desires however I see fit unless you are extremely specific with your wishes. Like, hire a lawyer to write out the wish and then hire another lawyer to check his work.¡± He looked at the coffee suspiciously. ¡°So you¡¯re some evil genie that will twist my words and kill me.¡± ¡°No,¡± I answered, wagging a finger at him. ¡°I am a 32 year old man¡­ Djinn¡­ who was tricked by his mother and imprisoned in the lamp against his will. I cannot kill you on purpose and have no desire to do so. As long as you possess the lamp, the original owner, who I assume is Lord Hatt, will be unable to use me as a slave. I am forbidden from doing many things, like suggesting that you wish for my fr¡­¡± I doubled over in agony, spilling coffee on the rug under my feet. Sucking in a deep breath, I sat back up and waved away the mess. ¡°I cannot tell you what to wish for or make suggestions unless you make a statement that is open to suggestion, like asking for the terms and conditions of using my powers,¡± I said. ¡°As you can see, there is pain involved. But even that can be twisted to my advantage if I wanted. You could make a wish that would lead to an undesirable outcome, and I would be powerless to suggest something better.¡± ¡°So you can¡¯t make suggestions unless I ask for them?¡± I nodded. ¡°You will have to give me permission to make suggestions, and even those will be limited by the terms and conditions. I¡¯m not allowed to suggest things that would directly benefit myself.¡± He sipped his coffee and thought in silence. I glanced at the watch on my wrist and looked at the wall I had magically repaired, then glanced back down at my watch. ¡°Are you waiting for something?¡± he asked. ¡°Unfortunately, I had to trick you into asking that very question,¡± I said, manifesting another cup of coffee. ¡°There¡¯s a pretty straight line of destruction leading from where you first summoned me directly to this location, and it won¡¯t take whoever owned my lamp before you very long to follow it here. I¡¯m wondering how long it would take them to find us.¡± -=-=-=-=-=- Djinn - 02 - Freedom of Speech -=-=-=-=-=- Djinn - 02 - Freedom of Speech -=-=-=-=-=- ¡°So unless I give you, uh, freedom of speech,¡± my new master said, ¡°You can¡¯t tell me anything?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a bit more complicated than that,¡± I replied, ¡°But that¡¯s the gist of it, yeah. You have to literally command me to speak my mind any time I want.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± he said, hesitating. ¡°I command you to speak your mind any time you wish.¡± Oh, what an unexpected surprise! Any time I wish. I could interpret that quite liberally. Invisible chains loosened their grip from my psyche, leaving me with just a bit more freedom than I had moments before. I stared at my master, watching him as he observed me for any trickery. ¡°Gods but I hate, hate, hate being a fucking slave,¡± I said. ¡°I was getting really tired of being forced to call you master all the damn time. What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Paul Galloway,¡± he said, ¡°Look, I ain¡¯t no racist or nothing, I just, well, it¡¯s confusing. Genie¡¯s being real, getting shot. I¡¯m sitting in my own blood. It¡¯s a bit of a shock.¡± ¡°Well, Paul,¡± I said, flashing what I hoped was a winning smile, ¡°Allow me to freshen you up a bit, okay?¡± He nodded his head, and a minor permission was granted. I pulled from the magical energy stored in the lamp and waved my hand. A moment later, Paul was fresh and clean as if he had just stepped from the shower. ¡°Better?¡± I asked. ¡°Much,¡± He replied, looking at the new suit I had materialised around him. ¡°So now that you can speak freely, what sort of suggestions do you have?¡± ¡°First off, let¡¯s cover your tracks,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t know much about magic or the occult, but we left your gun a lot of your blood behind. Assuming that the person who possessed my lamp was an occultist of some sort, that¡¯s probably not a good thing. Why don¡¯t we get rid of it before that someone decides to use it against you?¡± ¡°Like Voodoo or something?¡± Paul said, eyes growing wide. ¡°That stuff is real?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not an expert, Paul,¡± I said as the lamp pushed vague impressions of voodoo magic into my mind. ¡°But yes, magic is quite real. And so are demons apparently, since my father was one. Just make the wish and I¡¯ll cover your tracks.¡± ¡°I wish that you would cover my tracks.¡± He said.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. I couldn¡¯t help but smile. I had expected my first master to be some withered old modern mage with tons of experience in making pacts with demonic forces, and here I was gifted with poor, trusting Paul who was already falling into the habit of making sloppy wishes. Invisible chains of magic flowed from the lamp and bound me into compliance. I envisioned all of Paul¡¯s blood that wasn¡¯t inside his body vanishing and the magic fizzled out. Concentrating, I envisioned the gun he had when we first met popping into existence on the bed, and the magic fizzled again. Puzzled, I decided that I should check out the scene of the crime. ¡°Give me a moment and I¡¯ll make it happen,¡± I said, gathering power from the lamp. ¡°Rub the lamp if you need me.¡± I turned etherial and shot through the wall, following the trail of destruction back to a penthouse apartment on the 30th floor of an upscale building halfway across the city. Flashing lights from firetrucks and police littered the streets below, evidence of the destructive potential of a magic sphere moving at supersonic speeds. They probably thought terrorists had set off multiple bombs across the city. As I approached the building, a strange prickling sensation crawled across my body. Some sort of barrier was in place to keep things like me out. I pushed until I reached the gaping hole in the side of the building and it grew intensely painful. Millions of invisible ants crawled over my skin, stinging and biting, distracting me. I could see four armed security guards poking around the room. One appeared to be on the phone with someone and I bounced a few probes against the barrier trying to listen in. Backing off to a comfortable distance, I considered my options. I could try to brute-force my way in, but that would leave me weakened and drained. Lose enough power and I would end up back inside the lamp to recharge for a minor eternity. I threw out a few probes to test the barrier, poking and prodding for weaknesses. While I¡¯m not a wizard or whatever magic-users call themselves in this modern age, I have been isolated for a decade and playing the equivalent of Mine Craft in a magical torture prison. The barrier felt pretty solid and appeared constructed with the sole purpose of keeping things like me out. Satisfied that I was unable to carry out the wish, the magical compulsion receded and I zoomed back to Paul¡¯s apartment in a flash. When I arrived, Paul was rummaging around the cabinets in the kitchenette looking for something. I materialised in a small cloud of smoke, making for what I hoped would be an impressive entrance. Paul jumped and swung, his fist impacting my jaw and rocking my head back. Lesson learned again, never materialise fully. ¡°Hey, uh, sorry about that,¡± Paul said, rubbing his bruised knuckles. ¡°You startled me.¡± I made a show of rubbing my jaw. The pain from his unexpected attack was fleeting and easily banished. It was like being slapped by a child, a minor annoyance. Unless someone used magic or ordered me to suffer, I could ignore most physical pain inflicted on my material body. ¡°No, that was damn impressive,¡± I said, buttering him up. ¡°Most people would have flinched away, but you didn¡¯t even hesitate to clock me on in the jaw.¡± ¡°I grew up in a rough neighbourhood,¡± he said, a small twist of his lips indicating that there was more to that story. He turned back to his rummaging, ¡°I need a smoke.¡± A packet of Sobranie Black Russians appeared in my hand. I offered him one of the premium cigarettes and produced a silver lighter. He took a long pull then exhaled a blue-grey sigh of pleasure. ¡°That¡¯s nice,¡± Paul said, eyeing the black stick between his fingers. He took another drag and leaned back against the counter. ¡°So how did it go? All done?¡± I shook my head. ¡°There was a magical barrier in place around the apartment. I wasn¡¯t able to break through. That means we should act quickly. How does a holiday in Tahiti sound?¡± -=-=-=-=-=- S: 16apr20 F: 16apr20 W: 1116 Djinn - 03 - Holiday in Tahiti -=-=-=-=-=- Djinn - 03 - Holiday in Tahiti -=-=-=-=-=- ¡°Tahiti?¡± Paul took another drag from his cigarette. ¡°Sounds okay, I suppose.¡± Obviously I¡¯m not pushing the right buttons on this guy yet. It doesn¡¯t really matter where we go, as long as it¡¯s far away from here, and quickly. ¡°Tahiti is nice. Sun, sand, drinks,¡± I gripped him by the shoulders. ¡°Girls. Turning you into a millionaire playboy dripping in girls is not an impossible wish. I can make it happen, and we can cover the terms and conditions is a much more relaxed environment.¡± Paul nodded. ¡°Arright. I wish I was in Tahiti.¡± Oh Paul. Foolish, foolish, Paul. If I didn¡¯t need you, you¡¯d be standing on a lovely beach all alone right now. Compulsion flowed from the lamp and filled my body with power. ¡°Your wish,¡± I said, spreading my arms dramatically, ¡°Is my command!¡± Smoke surrounded us and moments later the golden sands of Tahiti scrunched underfoot. Before us, the sun was dipping into the pacific ocean causing the water to sparkle with a million lights. I popped a couple of lounge chairs into existence, along with a table and umbrella, a cooler full of drinks, and then swapped our clothes into something more suitable for the environment - shorts, sandals, Hawaiian shirts, and sunglasses. My lamp sat in the middle of the table gleaming in the setting sun. ¡°Pretty nice, eh?¡± I said, handing him a cold umbrella drink and motioning to a seat. ¡°Let me toss up a barrier and we can talk without worries.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Paul plopped into a seat and took a sip of his drink. ¡°You¡¯ll need to wish for it,¡± I prompted. ¡°I wish there was a barrier.¡± Casting my arms wide, the sand flung itself out in a perfect circle around us defining the edge of the barrier. Walking around it, I chanted in a low voice, filling it with Kufic script so the magic would flow according to my desire. A minute later, I was done and we were sealed against a multitude of physical and magical forces. Paul watched with me with squinted eyes. ¡°What did you do?¡± ¡°I put up a magical barrier to keep things out,¡± I explained. ¡°Remember how I told you I couldn¡¯t cover your tracks because there was a magical barrier around the penthouse? I did the same thing here so no one could find us. Do you really want the previous owner of my lamp to come looking for you?¡± ¡°Good point,¡± Paul said, sipping on his drink. ¡°Why don¡¯t I just wish them all dead?¡± ¡°Because based on the barrier I encountered,¡± I explained, sitting in the other chair ¡°that probably wouldn¡¯t work. This is just a hunch, but I¡¯m betting such an attempt would probably piss them off really bad. Like pulling a drive-by on a mafia boss. Unless you kill him the first time, you¡¯re probably not going to enjoy the rest of your life.¡± Paul set down his drink and stretched. ¡°I¡¯m not even sure why I wanted that lamp. I spotted it through the window one day and suddenly it was the only thing I could think about.¡± He said with a yawn. ¡°I spent a week planning on how to get in there to get it.¡± ¡°What do you mean you saw it through the window?¡± I asked, confused. Paul laughed and ground his cigarette into the ashtray. ¡°Got any more of those smokes on ya?¡± I materialised a packet and lighter on the table. He pulled out one and lit it. ¡°I¡¯m a window washer for High-Kleen,¡± He explained. ¡°I clean windows on skyscrapers.¡°Last month I was cleaning the Muntz building with my partner Larry and spotted the lamp through the glass. It was like a magnet, I couldn¡¯t look away. All I could think about, ya know?¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. He took a drag off the cigarette and waved his hand, describing the scene. ¡°I kept daydreaming about ways to get it and finally realised that my contractor card probably still had access. So I got a blowtorch, drill, saw, hammer, and put it all in a bag and went back. It was super easy to get in. I swiped in at the employee door, and took the service elevator all the way up to the roof. Then I jumped on the scaffold and lowered down to the window and cut through. All hell broke loose after that. An alarm went off, guards came in and I panicked and started shooting.¡± ¡°How¡¯d you get the gun?¡± I asked. ¡°I bought it years ago,¡± he laughed. ¡°America ain¡¯t like England, we got a right to bear arms.¡± With all the excitement, I hadn¡¯t given any thought to all the minor details. His accent was American, the security guards were armed, and he shot me when I was summoned. My lamp had been moved to America. ¡°Where are you from, Paul?¡± I asked. ¡°Alabama, the asshole of America,¡± he chuckled. ¡°But I travelled a lot working for High-Kleen. I was lucky the lamp was in Birmingham, it made things a lot easier. How¡¯d you get in the lamp?¡± I sighed and sat back in my chair. ¡°My mother tricked me. Like I said, I was raised as human. Single mum, no da, not unusual. Had no idea I was any different from anyone else. Went to school, got into fights, got my arse kicked a few times. Could have used some cosmic power back then, yeah?¡± I laughed at the irony. ¡°So I¡¯m home from uni on holiday and mum tells me that our family is gifted with magic, spins a good story and pulls out an old coin with Kufic script on it.¡± The bittersweet memory pulled at the corners of my mouth. Mum and I had never been close, but that coin was the beginning of the end. I materialised a replica of the coin and handed it to Paul. ¡°It¡¯s like a magical primer. Solve the maze and it¡¯ll produce a blue flame,¡± I said. He examined the coin, following the maze-like script with his eyes. ¡°So I solved the maze. It wasn¡¯t hard, but frustrating sometimes because the maze seemed to change. I thought it was a gag, but I could feel something, right? And then Woosh! A blue flame shot out the coin,¡± I chuckled. ¡°Nearly shat myself. ¡°This is pretty hard,¡± Paul said. ¡°The pattern does change. It feels like I¡¯m fighting to keep it straight.¡± ¡°Ayup,¡± I nodded. ¡°You¡¯re imposing your will on the universe. Once you grok a small fragment of magic, it unfolds like origami. The more you learn, the more you discover. It¡¯s like a tangram - a small number of pieces with simple rules that fit together in an infinitely complex way. Keep pushing through the maze. If mum could do it, you can too.¡± ¡°So what happened next?¡± Paul asked, turning his attention back to the coin. ¡°So I practised with the coin until I could make the flame appear and keep it burning without a thought,¡± I continued. ¡°When I reached that point, dearest mum told me to stare into the flame and ponder it until I learned my true name. I would need my true name to use higher aspects of magic she said, and I ate it up like ice cream. Real Magic! Can you imagine how I felt?¡± ¡°Nope. Can¡¯t even begin to imagine how you felt when you discovered magic was real,¡± Paul deadpanned in an exaggerated southern drawl. A damn burst within me and I laughed until my sides ached. Paul caught the giggles and we both laughed until the seagulls above mocked us for our foolishness. Some of the tension flowed out of me and I felt relaxed for the first time in forever. ¡°I¡¯m really glad I didn¡¯t screw you over,¡± I confessed. ¡°You¡¯re an okay guy.¡± He smiled then looked away quickly, blushing. ¡°I¡¯m glad you didn¡¯t either. I keep waiting for this whole thing to blow up in my face or something. Did you learn your true name?¡± ¡°Oh yeah,¡± I said, scowling at the memory. ¡°I did. Names have power, Paul. Never tell anyone your true name. It¡¯s like giving them an all-access pass to your soul. Mum was right there when I discovered it. I knew it was significant, something sacred that shouldn¡¯t be shared¡­ But she was my mother. I trusted her. ¡°Less than a fortnight later, I was ripped from my bed in the middle of the night. My true name was spoken and I was utterly helpless. I materialised in a barrier like this one, but smaller. Mum was there, Lord Hatt, and others I recognised too. All friends of the family. They conducted a ritual I didn¡¯t recognise at the time, all chanting like monks. I thought it was the initiation ceremony mum had mentioned and I was being inducted into a secret society of wizards. I watched, piss-scared and happy all at once. And then Mum came forward with the lamp. I¡¯ll never forget her smile. The way she smiled. Her mouth smiled, but her eyes were filled with something else, something greedy. ¡°She held the lamp up to the edge of the circle and said ¡®Come out of the circle¡¯ and I grabbed the lamp.¡± I poofed up another gin and tonic. ¡°And then I was sucked into the lamp. No idea what happened next, but the power of the lamp gives me some ideas.¡± ¡°So what do you want to do now? Paul said, sipping his drink and pulling out another smoke. I answered honestly. ¡°Reward you for releasing me from the lamp, kill my parents, and unbind myself from the lamp so I¡¯m not a slave any more.¡± Paul took a long drag from his cigarette and looked across the ocean thoughtfully. ¡°What if I don¡¯t want that?¡± -=-=-=-=-=- S: 16apr20 F: 17apr20 W: 1658 Djinn - 04 - Beers and Bikinis -=-=-=-=-=- Djinn - 04 - Beers and Bikinis -=-=-=-=-=- Paul took a long drag from his cigarette and looked across the ocean thoughtfully. ¡°What if I don¡¯t want that?¡± My heart skipped and jumped like a child playing hopscotch. I considered my words carefully. ¡°I can¡¯t stop you from wishing for anything you want, I can¡¯t harm you, or do anything that will cause you to be harmed,¡± I said. ¡°I wish I had a beer.¡± I materialised a warm Natural Light Ice in his hand. Paul looked at it, grimaced, and dropped it in the sand. ¡°I wish a dozen beautiful bikini girls were dancing on the beach for me.¡± I materialised a dozen beautiful bikini clad pre-teens. They began dancing awkwardly and blowing kisses at Paul. Paul rolled his head back and stared into the umbrella above. ¡°Nothing¡¯s ever easy, is it?¡± He said. ¡°I¡¯ve had it easy all my life,¡± I admitted. ¡°And I¡¯m way outside my comfort zone. I just want to be free again.¡± ¡°What if I wish you were¡­¡± ¡°STOP!¡± I yelled, jumping out of the chair and pointing a finger at him. ¡°Never do that! Never! That¡¯s one of those rules that I can¡¯t get around. Don¡¯t ever do that. You¡¯ll end up as a slave to the lamp.¡± Paul looked at me, his eyes wide with shock. All the blood drained from his face, leaving him pale. ¡°You mean¡­¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I said, pacing in the sand, angry. Angry at everything. The situation. My mother. Lord Hatt and his cabal of cronies. Angry at Paul. And angry because I was scared of all the stuff I didn¡¯t know and could go wrong. ¡°Yes, that would set me free. It would also chain you to the lamp as a third rate minor Djinn granting people three wishes for eternity. And because you¡¯re just a human, you¡¯d probably be trapped in there for decades before you were strong enough to be summoned. I¡¯d be left alone out here, powerless.¡± He rooted around in the cooler, then closed it. ¡°Can I get something stronger? Whiskey maybe?¡± I used free action on his request and materialised a bottle of Macallan and a tumbler. He poured three fingers with shaking hands and downed it, choked a bit, then poured another. ¡°You¡¯re really not trying to screw me over, are you?¡± Paul said. I sighed and slumped my shoulders. ¡°No, mate. I¡¯m not,¡± I said, looking him in the eyes. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m using you for my own ends, but there¡¯s no reason why we both can¡¯t benefit from this. We can both get what we want. What do you want, Paul? What would make you happy?¡± He considered it, sipping on the whiskey and pulling out another smoke. The girls had run down the beach and were playing in the water, squealing and laughing. ¡°I¡¯m not a complicated guy,¡± He said. ¡°If you¡¯d asked me what I wanted yesterday, I would have said enough money to never work again.¡± ¡°That can be arranged,¡± I said, nodding. ¡°Easily. But we shouldn¡¯t use magic for it.¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. He cocked an eyebrow at me. I explained. ¡°Magic produces something from nothing. When the magic is gone, only the effects are left.¡± I materialised a solid gold cannon ball in the air and it fell to the sand with a thud. ¡°The cannon ball doesn¡¯t really exist. The gold isn¡¯t real. I mean, it''s real, but it''s not real. If you don¡¯t possess the lamp, if I¡¯m no longer bound to it, it all goes away,¡± I said, waving my hand and watching as it dissolved into blue sparkles that whirled away and vanished. ¡°But the hole it left in the sand is real. So money is incredibly easy, up to a certain point. I can manipulate computers and the markets and fill a bank account with millions. It¡¯s just 1¡¯s and 0¡¯s. Billions will draw attention though. Doing it too fast will draw attention.¡± ¡°So they aren¡¯t real?¡± Paul asked, pointing at the pre-teens splashing in the water. ¡°No,¡± I chuckled. ¡°100% pure magic. They just seem real. Even if you sliced them up and looked under a microscope. But the moment the magic is repossessed, they go away. I can summon real things, but it takes much more power and has other consequences.¡± ¡°That was a shitty thing to do,¡± He laughed, watching the girls frolic in the waves. ¡°Yeah, sorry.¡± I smiled. ¡°We good?¡± ¡°Only if you promise to never do that again,¡± He said. ¡°I¡¯m not a paedophile.¡± ¡°I swear I¡¯ll never summon underage girls unless you ask,¡± I promised. ¡°So what can I do to make you happy?¡± Paul sighed. ¡°Like I said, yesterday I would have said money. But now that there are more options, I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m not close to my family, at all. Most of my friends are online, so I spend all my time gaming. Never had money to travel or do things, ya know?¡± His eyes lit up for a moment. ¡°Hey, can you make it so my father never enjoys a drink ever again?¡± ¡°Alcoholic?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°A mean one.¡± I mentally tapped the lamp and felt my way through the infinite options available. ¡°Make the wish,¡± I said. ¡°I wish my father would never enjoy a drink again.¡± I focused, then clapped my hands together and released the power. ¡°Now he can drink like a fish, but will always be sober.¡± Paul smiled grimly and gazed at the amber fluid in his glass. ¡°I should probably watch my drinking too. I know I drink way more than I should.¡± I sat down in my chair and leaned back. ¡°I would suggest that you get magic items that buff you.¡± ¡°They¡¯ll just vanish when you¡¯re free,¡± He argued. ¡°Not if I make them out of real materials,¡± I smiled. ¡°It¡¯s more complex, but I can do it as long as I have the knowledge of the lamp.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a game changer,¡± He said. ¡°Indeed,¡± I agreed. ¡°So why don¡¯t we make some protection amulets first and then work on other magical jewellery for buffs? Just use the word ¡®real¡¯ and I¡¯ll interpret it to gather materials from whatever world necessary.¡± ¡°From whatever world necessary? Like parallel universes?¡± I searched the lamp for an easy answer. ¡°Yes. Sort of? There¡¯s only one universe, but it contains everything. It¡¯s just a simple set of rules that is eternally executing and creates everything around us. We see one version of reality because that¡¯s where we were created, but there are other versions of reality that exist. Pretty much everything exists in every conceivable form. Every book, every movie, every possibility exists and is just a result of the rules. Magic works by borrowing from those other versions, usually temporarily, to keep costs down.¡± ¡°So if I wanted a real magic sword?¡± ¡°I could make one using materials here on Earth, or I could Shift? Portal?¡± I struggled for the concept. ¡°Whatever, I could portal in some materials that were much more magical and create something that had a lot more oomph. Or I could portal something, I guess. Depending on the physics involved. I¡¯m not terribly powerful, so unless you want me back in the lamp recharging for a few years, I¡¯d suggest asking first.¡± Paul gave a quick nod then yawned. ¡°Man I¡¯m tired. So other worlds are real? Stuff like ¡®Land of Dreams¡¯ and ¡®Lord of the Rings¡¯ are real places we can go? That would be pretty cool.¡± ¡°They exist in an infinite number of forms and are real places, yes,¡± I said, gathering information from the lamp and sighing at the distraction. ¡°But again, my power is limited. We should concentrate on this reality for now.¡± BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! The barrier protecting us thudded like a giant was pounding on it, interrupting our conversation. ¡°What the hell was that?¡± Paul demanded, sitting up in alarm. ¡°That was someone knocking on the door,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯re looking for you.¡± BLAAAAAAAM! Glowing spiderwebs ran like lightning along the barrier. I winced in pain as power was pulled from my navel to repair it. ¡°And that would be Mother, asking for me by name.¡± -=-=-=-=-=- S: 18apr20 F: 20apr20 W: 1368 -=-=-=-=-=- Djinn - 05 - Rings and Things -=-=-=-=-=- Djinn - 05 - Rings and Things -=-=-=-=-=- 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.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°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. -=-=-=-=-=- S: 21apr2020 F: 23apr2020 W: 2961 -=-=-=-=-=- Djinn - 06 - Re-creation -=-=-=-=-=- Djinn - 06 - Re-creation -=-=-=-=-=- I cartwheeled through technicolour space until my domain became visible. What was left of my domain. The vast gardens had crumbled into the void and nothing but a thin strip of green surrounded the manor. Touching down lightly by the oversized front door, I was greeted by Jeeves, the butler I had created. ¡°Welcome back, Master West,¡± he said, closing the door after me. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve had to dismiss the groundskeepers.¡± ¡°I want to soak for awhile, Jeeves. Please send food and drink.¡± ¡°As you wish.¡± The manor was missing many of the artworks I had recreated over the years, leaving the walls barren and entire rooms empty. I made my way to the master suite in the west wing and crawled into the hot tub where I soaked up mana like a sponge. Heaving a deep sigh, I closed my eyes and relaxed. Cracking open an eye as the water was disturbed, I watched as Dinah and Kim lowered themselves into the mana-infused pool with me. I had created them early on in my building phase and was glad to see they were still around. They were my favourites, simulated from separate encounters at a local pub that went swimmingly well. Dinah offered me a bit of sliced mango while Kim held a glass of cool amber beer for me. It was good to be the king. Some hours later I retired into the bedroom, feeling less fatigued. After some frolicsome fun, I fell into a deep sleep, where I dreamed the world had been afflicted with a plague and I couldn¡¯t leave my house. I would wander the rooms like a ghost, immaterial and inconsequential, bored and restless. I began working on a small project to keep me occupied while quarantined, building a small world from a dream within a dream. Then as suddenly as it happened, the quarantine was lifted and I was called back to work. I looked at my project and wondered if it would remain unfinished. Shrugging, I made a mental promise to tend it as time allowed and crawled up from the depths of my slumber. Rising from the bed, I creaked and groaned like an old man, then stretched and went hunting coffee and biscuits. Some time later I felt more Djinn and less human. I had been a bit naive in my first construction, building entirely out of magic. The second construction of my domain was better, but I still lacked a proper education in the consequences of wish-granting on my prison. I debated on the merits of reconstructing everything and decided that if nothing else, the practise would be useful in the mortal realms. Popping my fingers, I began rebuilding. First, I constructed a firmament. Drawing Kufic glyphs in the void, I channeled magic into them and created a jagged half-sphere of rock a kilometre across and covered it with rolling hills of clay, sandy subsoil, and finally a layer of dark, fertile soil. Crossing top of the firmament, I created a large depression, excavating a chamber deep in the centre, and burrowed out a thousand branching channels that ran through the rocky construction and exited underneath and along the sides. Flying back into the void, I located each hole and crafted a gargoyle, imbuing them with wards to strengthen the firmament against the destructive effects of the void. Next, a wall surrounding the edge of the firmament, separating my space from the technicolour void. I crafted each stone by hand, drawing each Kufic glyph in the void and bringing a huge blocks into being which were lowered into place with a thought. Once I had enclosed my demesne in 30 metre walls, crenellations and towers were added, along with runes that would project a dome over the firmament and give illusion to day and night, sun and moon, spring rains and autumn fogs. Inside the barren enclosure, I rested. It looked a lot smaller once the walls were in place and I wondered if I should have dreamed bigger, created something more suitable for a being like me that could bend reality on a whim and destroy with a thought. I daydreamed for a moment and shook my head. A prison is a prison, and this one whispered promises of cosmic power in exchange for servitude.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. None of this is permanent, only a means to move power more efficiently so I could use it in the mortal realms. A maze of script was carved on the outside of the walls and towers, transforming the void into magic, mana, that I could use productively. Tiny rivulets of pure mana collected in the channels, ran through the walls, and exited spouts where it fell as crystal clear water that meandered towards the depression in the centre of my creation. I watched as the gravity and physics I had created took control of the mana-water, cutting into the topsoil as the new streams ran towards the centre and began to fill the lake I crafted. Rising above the firmament, I looked down and observed the organic development of the streams as they crossed the newly created land. A quick flight around the perimeter and I saw the gargoyles were spouting the water back into the void where it formed a misty caul around my domain. More runes, more glyphs, and then statues and fountains appeared in strategic locations to gather mana from the flow of the water and convert it into forces that would shore up my dominion and keep it safe from dissolution. I dove into the small lake and floated, pulling in purified power and strengthening my essence. Drawing complex glyphs in the air, I created verdant grasses, trees and bushes, summoned life into the streams and surrounding land. Overhead, a hawk cried out against the clear blue sky, lonely and hunting for his mate. Rising, floating above the water, I surveyed my creation and a fierce sense of possession filled me as I envisioned a new manor and smaller housing for the servants, maybe some farms along the walls and a little township where they would gather in the evenings. Intoxicated with power, more runes brought stacks of marble and granite, fine lumber and metals into existence. Workshops were created and servants to carry out my desires, I drafted plans with a thought and watched as simulated people crafted from my imagination carried out my wishes. Days passed and my vision took shape, built by simulacra and enforced by my will. Stone roads appeared, little cottages, farms grew magical foods nourished by the purified and infused water that flowed through my creation. Materials would run short and I would create more in the void and bring them back to my island of stability. Weeks went by, measured by the passage of my sun and moon, and I lost myself in direction and organisation, enjoying the instant gratification of my new realms and adding more definition and fine detail as I sought to build a self-contained sanctuary where things were crafted from magic and not created by magic. My little village grew and flourished, guided by the hand of their benevolent god. * DOOOOOONNG * A bell tolled, filling creation with overpowering compulsion. My manacles flared bright, burning me as I was summoned into the mortal realms. I appeared in sulphurous smoke, snarling, infuriated that I had been pulled away from my domain. Those accursed words formed on my lips and I bit them back, choking on them until they were vomited unwilling. ¡°What is your bidding, Master.¡± A bloodied man sprawled against the wall before me, blonde hair matted with blood that ran from a nasty scalp wound and into his eyes. His suit was rumpled and torn, like someone had used it to swing him around a few times before the expensive fabric ripped and hurled him into the wall. He clutched the lamp to his chest in a hand that was obviously broken. He pointed a shaking finger behind me. ¡°Kill him!¡± Turning, I saw Paul fighting desperately against a larger opponent. -=-=-=-=-=- S: 25apr202 F: 26apr2020 W: 1365 -=-=-=-=-=- Djinn - Interlude There is no content, only a deep ache in my bones and joints, little reminders that I live and the Reaper has not yet claimed me. And so, the author must rest until old fingers can type and old hips can sit without protest. Today is done, but tomorrow holds promise and may possess more energy. -=-=-=-Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. William Shakespeare, Sonnet 73. That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see¡¯st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death¡¯s second self, that seals up all in rest ¡­ -=-=-=- My apologies, your patience is requested. Djinn - 07 - Fight and Flight -=-=-=-=-=- Djinn - 07 - Fight and Flight -=-=-=-=-=- He pointed a shaking finger behind me. ¡°Kill him!¡± Turning, I saw Paul fighting desperately against a larger opponent. Two options. Okay, I got this. I bounded across the room and interposed myself between Paul and the stranger. Grabbing Paul by the shirt I lifted him from the ground and said, ¡°Paul Paul, Lamp Lamp.¡± Then flung him across the room where he slid to a stop next to my wounded Master. Whirling back around to face the stranger, I carried out my Master¡¯s wishes. Materialising a sabre, I slashed it across the strangers throat. He fell to his knees, clutching at the ruined mess of his neck. Blood ran in rivers through his thick fingers. ¡°Not him, you fool!¡± my new master screamed, struggling with Paul over the lamp. ¡°Kill this man!¡± I smiled and shook a finger at him. ¡°You forgot to say the magic word.¡± A look of confusion ran across his face and turned into anger. ¡°I wish you would kill this man attacking me!¡± I sighed. Okay, that¡¯s specific enough I guess. Materialising another sabre from thin air, I started walking towards the struggling pair at a normal pace. ¡°Hey Paul,¡± I said conversationally, swinging the sabres in dazzling arcs. ¡°I¡¯m going to kill you in about 5 seconds if you don¡¯t get your game together.¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. I watched Paul erupt in fury, beating on the guy like a monkey playing drums. He wrestled the lamp away and rolled to the side just as I wound up for a swing. ¡°I wish you would take care of this mess!¡± Invisible chains of compulsion snapped and new ones flowed from the lamp to bind me once more into slavery. ¡°As you wish, Master.¡± I gritted. Materialising a sturdy wood chair and rope to hold my prisoner, I grabbed at my previous master. An electric shock ran up my arm like a bolt of lightning and dropped me to the floor. ¡°Gah!¡± I rolled around for a minute in agony until my arm was filled with pins and needles instead of molten lava. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Master.¡± I whinged at Paul. ¡°I cannot touch that man.¡± Paul wiped blood from his face and got back to work, beating the stranger with my lamp until he curled into a ball. I watched, filled with strange emotions as my hatefully beloved and indestructible lamp was abused in such a manner. He grabbed a silver chain with a large medallion hung around the man¡¯s neck and attempted to remove it, but it refused to slip off. Shrugging, he planted a knee in his attackers back and used the chain as a garrotte, holding it tight until the man convulsed, beating against the floor, then stopped moving. Paul held it tight for another minute and removed it. ¡°I¡¯m thinking that maybe unbreakable amulets might not be so cool after all,¡± Paul said, fingering the one around his neck. Looking at the mess I had left of the other man, he shook his head. ¡°Damn. I really wish one of them was alive so we could get some information.¡± I struggled to speak, but the old rules were in effect and the chains stronger than ever. Paul would have to wish for me to speak freely before I could advise him again. I twisted the possibilities, trying to interpret the command in some alternate manner, but there was only one real option available. ¡°As you wish, MASTER!¡± I screamed, hoping to get the point across. Rising to my feet, I drew deep on the core of the lamp and funnelled the purified mana-water I had collected into the necessary power. The corpse slid into the centre of the room and a glowing circuit of Kufic appeared underneath it. It quickly filled with energy as I tapped my reserves, glowing with a dark nimbus as magic was channeled into the design. Paul watched, speechless, as forbidden words rolled off my tongue and actuated the magic. With the sound of tearing cloth, the veil between Life and Death was split asunder and a ghostly mist flowed into the once living body. It twitched. Then opened swollen eyes and grinned. From across the room, bloody fingernails scrabbled against the hardwood floor. -=-=-=-=-=- S: 10may2020 F: 10may2020 W: 715 -=-=-=-=-=-