Carrot and Stick - Chapter XVII (Patreon)

Chapter XVII

“Carrot?” he shouted as the girl next to him slumped. 

He slid next to her, catching her in his arms to smooth her fall, afraid in that moment that she’d bash her head on the ground.

He had been expecting her to run out of steam eventually. For the last ten long minutes magic had been wafting off of Carrot with so much potency that it was visible in the air as a sort of rainbow-sheened haze.

Dangerous magic.

Silas would readily admit that his magical-sensing abilities were not the most potent that existed, but even he could tell that what Carrot was expelling wasn’t good. It was thick and cloying, and when he caught a little of it in the air, he had to resist the urge to retch.

He had pulled his own magic in tight, and then measured the ambient magic in the air with one of his devices while waiting for Carrot to finish whatever she had been doing.

It seemed like that had finally happened. The magic had been coming off of her less and less in the last few minutes, so he had been hopeful.

“Carrot? Can you hear me?” he asked.

“Mmm,” she replied. Her eyes were half-lidded, and it seemed to take her an inordinate amount of effort to squint up at him. “Silas? I’m... eepy.”

“Okay,” he said. “You did good. Really good. Let’s get you back home?”

She nodded, and in going so, her clothes shimmered and reverted to what she had been wearing before taking on that foolish vow. A thick coat over a sweater and a long, modest skirt. It was better, less conspicuous, than the black and purple costume she had been wearing.

Her hat--his former hat--changed as well. It became smaller. Far smaller, more like a peak-toped fedora than the massive hat he had grown used to.

Part of him was immediately concerned with that change. The large hat had obviously been a representation of Carrot’s magical might. Her raw magical energy pushing the hat to be far, far larger than it would have been under normal circumstances.

He looked up and touched the brim. No, this wasn’t a bad sign. The hat may have been smaller, but it was now simply more. There was a weight to it. The brim was embossed with a complex filigree pattern that only just caught the light, and the cap was covered in small swirls and markings as well. The band around the brim had thickened, and there was now a single silvery coin where once there had been a badge of the Ordo Venator. 

If headwear and other magical accouterments always matched the magical potential of a person, then the Knight Captains of any order would have cloth training behind them like the wedding skirts of a queen at all time, and no door would be large enough to let them pass.

No, there was a difference between having lots of magic, and having magic that was dense. He generally had neither. Carrot, it seemed, had gone from one to the other.

Her vow? Vows changed people. It allowed them to communicate with magic itself, even if it was only the one time, but often that seemed to unlock a certain understanding of magic and the world that was beyond was normal wizards would ever grasp. 

Having made a Vow put Carrot... if not at the top, then somewhere along the path to greatness. He would admit that he was a little envious.

Then Carrot leaned over to the side, eyes going wide, and proceeded to vomit all over the floor.

“Ah,” he said. He reached over and tried to keep her hair away from the mess even as he rubbed circles on her back. “Yes, we should get you home. How are you feeling?”

“I think... I’m sick?”

“I can see that,” he said. “How does your magic feel?”

“It feels... thick? Like a lot? And also like I’m all out at the same time,” she said. “But it’s clean now, I think. I’ll have to run it through again, to make sure. I don’t want bad thoughts in my head, Mister Silas.”

“I know, I know,” he said.

It took some work, but he managed to clean off her face with a handkerchief that he would have to toss, then he got her onto his back. It reminded him a little of giving his sister piggieback rides.

Only his sister didn’t weigh as much, and her knees weren’t so damned pointy. He shifted to get her settled properly, then made for the exit, only pausing to eye a small pigeon by the entrance. Was that a daemon? Only... no, it was here to pick at the detritus. 

Sighing, he pushed his way out and immediately felt better as they moved outside into the open, cooler air of winter. He may have had some complaints about the cold, but he could bottle them in for now when it meant that the air was this crisp.

He was keenly aware that he probably looked strange walking with a teenaged girl on his back, so he walked at a quicker pace than usual and tried not to walk in a way that caught anyone’s eye. He wasn’t sure how to do that, but he tried anyway.

Fortunately, they were in the more industrial parts of the city, and that wasn’t too far from Carrot’s place, though he did almost get lost along the way. 

When he reached her apartment complex, he discovered the stairs. Groaning, it gave himself a minute to calm his heart before starting up the steps.

“‘M sorry I’m heavy,” Carrot said.

“I can barely tell you’re there,” he lied.

Carrot chuckled, obviously not believing him.

“Oh oh goodness,” an older lady said as he reached the top of the stairs. “Little Carrot, what happened to you?” Her eyes darted to him and there was immediate suspicion there.

“I’m sick,” Carrot said. “Mister Silas is helping me get home.”

The woman hummed, then walked over and touched Carrot’s head and cheeks. “Well, I suppose. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“I’m right here,” he said, a little incensed. 

“No no, it’s my fault,” Carrot said.

“She ate something that was long past its expiry date,” he said. “When she, ah, was sick, I offered to bring her home since I know Miss Cuddlesworth, and... yes, she started to feel too ill to walk, so I offered to carry her. Like I carry my sister, really.”

The woman seemed mollified, and after a bit more fussing, let him pass. He wasn’t even too upset. His legs were killing him and he could use the break.

Finally, after two more flights, he made it to Carrot’s floor and walked over to her door. It was the one with the welcome mat that had bunnies on it and ‘All Are Welcome All Ways’ on it in faded letters. He awkwardly raised a hand to knock and waited. 

It wasn’t long before Turnip opened the door. “Oh, Mister Skyless! Carrot?”

“Hi mom, I’m sick. I need soup.”

He was ushered in, and was soon stretching his back out with a satisfying series of cracks and pops while Carrot was buried under five blankets and soup was being microwaved. 

That felt like a good time to sit down, so he took a spot on an armchair across from the couch. “You, ah, did good today,” he said.

“Thanks,” Carrot replied. “That was a tough fight, but I think... I think I’m proud of how it turned out.”

“Yeah. The Vow isn’t hurting or anything?”

“No? It feels squiggly and warm, but not bad.”

He wasn’t sure how to process that, exactly, so he settled on nodding and hoping for the best. “Good. So, the Master has one less daemon on his side, but that daemon was strong. Avowed. And the potions they were making. It was concentrated magic. I would love to see the insides of the machines that they were using.”

“They might still be there,” Carrot said.

“I’m a little worried about returning and poking around,” he admitted. “I’ll report it. The Magical Society needs to start moving on this. The more I learn the more dangerous this situation is becoming. An Avowed Daemon is a big deal in a lot of ways. Several? That’s... well, I don’t know the history well enough to tell if it’s unheard of, but I certainly haven’t been in any situation where that might come up, and I’d rather avoid that kind of situation in the future as well.”

“I don’t know if we can,” Carrot said. Then she perked up as Turnip rentered the room carrying two trays. One was placed on a small fold-out table before Carrot, the other was brought to him.

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” he said.

“I wouldn’t be a very good host if I didn’t feed my guests when they’re hungry,” Turnip said as she rubbed her hands on the end of a floral-print apron. “Besides, you looked hungry.”

“Well, thank you,” he replied. He didn’t think the Cuddlesworth family had much to spare, and yet they were still willing to share.

Turnip smiled. “You’re very welcome! Now, what was this about demons and a master? Or was I not supposed to hear.”

“Ah,” he said.

“Oh! Remember that bad guy I was talking about?” Carrot asked. “So, he’s called The Master. And today we ran into a daemon that worked for him. It was a fisher daemon! I’ve only ever seen those in pictures but I knew they lived around here. Anyway, it had a number three on it, and it was super strong. But I got him in the end, even if it made me sick.”

“You should be careful, Carrot. Your health is important. I wouldn’t know what to do if you were eaten by a daemon.”

“Wait on the other end of it,” Carrot said. “Everyone knows that carrots are hard to digest!”

He suddenly wasn’t quite as hungry. 

“Anyway, ah, the situation is more or less in hand, Miss Cuddlesworth. I’m certain with today’s report, the proper authorities will be rushing over soon to clean everything up.”

“I don’t know,” Carrot said. “I’ve never seen the proper authorities do anything like that before, so I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

He was afraid that she was right, but decided not to remove what faith he had left in the society he called home. Someone, somewhere, had to know what was going on, and they had to be on their way, right?

***