Chapter XXXVII

She was not winning this! 

Iris leapt behind the rusted hulk of an old toolbox, then did her best to roll as she landed so that she could get back to her feet. The space she had been in moments before blurred as half a dozen black forms shot by, each one making the air waver for several seconds after they passed, like a heat haze that lingered. 

The far wall sprouted a pair of long, all-black feathers, and the tip of a third thumped through the back of the toolbox just ahead of her.

The fight had been going well. Her tarot deck allowed her to pull off a few weird tricks. It wasn’t a strong tool, necessarily, but it was one that she had read about in several Ulvex texts and stories. A single-use item could be wasteful, but having a full deck of them, in a convenient package, allowed her to use a wide breadth of magic to try and catch her opponent off-guard.

It had worked a few times, but her enemy was, unfortunately, not too stupid. The vulture daemons had figured out that the source of her attacks, and the next time she drew a card and flicked it forwards the daemon skewered it through with a feather imbued with a hefty amount of darkened magical energy that ripped through the enchantments and made the card fizzle and burn.

Iris shifted, straightening her posture even as she kept some cover between herself and the daemon.

The vulture had puffed itself up, feathers and fluff swollen out until it looked twice as large as it had when it entered the room. “Daemon Art: Coat of Quills!” 

She wasn’t familiar with daemon arts, few people were since there was a stigma around even trying to research them beyond being able to recognize a spell or two, but she was able to put two and two together and figure out what that did. A protective buff of some sort.

In a way, that was a good sign. The enemy respected her strength enough to expend some effort into protecting themselves. That respect was not as good as having an enemy who wasn’t smart. She’d take a foolish adversary over a respectful one nine times out of ten.

“Come out, little morsel,” the vulture said. “I’m hungry for wizard.”

Gritting her teeth, Iris set her feet. It wanted her out? Then she’d show him just that. “Alright, then!” she said.

She checked the iron knuckles protecting her hands, then glanced down at the tool case. There was a stack of old manuals on one of the metal shelves. She grabbed it, then with one last breath of dusty air, she started to run.

Coming around the corner, she discovered the puffed-up vulture had backed way up, giving itself plenty of room to attack her with. That, and it had kept the largest part of the garage between them. It had room to fly in, thought not a ton.

Iris flung the manuals she was holding across the room even as she dodged a trio of feathers.

“Wizard art: Exploding Papers!” she shouted.

The vulture squawked and spun on itself, flinging out a hundred smaller feathers that appeared around it in a wide spray.

She reached for the magic in the air and pulled it into her costume. With a flicker of magical energy, a small shield sprang to life around her. It was weak, barely enough to keep a light rain off, but the vulture’s attack hadn’t been strong to begin with.

It struck at the manuals which... did nothing. They were moldy old paper, and the spell she called out was entirely made up.

By the time the vulture realized that, it was too late. She pushed more magic into her costume, toughening herself up and giving herself a small boost in her physical strength which she used to cut the final distance, then she swung.

The bird screeched as her fist met it in the chest, then it’s caw turned into a warbling mess as her knuckle dusters activated. All along the end of each one were a string of small rune-like symbols that turned her rather... well, she liked to think that she was strong enough, for a girl that didn’t have much martial arts training. In any case, it turned her punch into the equivalent of a good sledgehammer blow.

She gasped as she felt several things stab into her hand, and a quick glance down showed fresh blood staining her hand. 

The spell! Coat of Quills. It had turned its feathers sharp, made them stick out like a layer of spikes, and she had just punched right into that.

It was enough to abort her second punch, which she realized a moment later was a mistake as the vulture snapped it wing out and threw her back with an accompanying gust of smoke.

“Horrid little wizzardling!” the vulture croaked. “I will show you! Show you why I am His second.”

“I’m not a wizard, idiot!” she snapped back. Reaching down, she scooped up some random tool--a wrench, maybe?--and flung it at the bird, but it ducked its head out of the way.

She was being stupid, however. This was a fight where she had several advantages, and she wasn’t pressing them.

“By the picked corpse of my Master’s foe, by the carcass of the World under my talon, I sharpen my beak and open my eyes. Death Seeker’s Vow.”

Her blood ran cold. Then the entire room, the entire garage, shifted. She felt it the instant that the daemon’s magic exploded outwards, empowered by its vow. Rather than return to him and make him that much stronger, the magic clung to the air like a stink. It was rotting meat and old refuse.

She wasn’t sure what that would do, but she still found herself holding her breath even as she tried to see what had changed.

It only took a moment to discover some of it. When she pulled more magic into her costume, she instantly felt the enchantments in it start to break down.

It wasn’t a complete destruction. Rather, it was like stone being worn away by water. The more she pulled, the more the tainted magic scraped at the formation of the enchantment, widening it, wearing away at its edges and breaking down what she had spent hours building.

“So, that’s how it is,” she growled.

The bird crowed happily. “You see it already, Wizardling? This place was a trap for you more than me.” The vulture spread its wings wide. “The magic here is mine. Mine to feast on. Mine to share. Take it, if you want. I invite you to. Cahahha!”

She wasn’t a wizard. Still, she knew what would happen. Tainted magic, dark magic, had certain qualities that were well-documented by nearly every magical group, including the Ulvent. It frayed the edges of spells, it empowered certain effects and worsened others. 

More importantly, and more dangerously, there was as very real psychological effect tied directly to the use of darker magics. It made one greedy, slothful, sickly. It was a quick way to lose one’s mind, to hyperfocus on yourself and on pulling and searching for more.

More than one wizard had gone mad with that power. More than one had lit up like a bonfire on grabbing too much to hold and using it without a care. 

Iris took a deep breath, keeping herself even and calm. “I already told you, idiot, I’m not a wizard.”

“Caw?” 

She launched forwards, pulling magic into her costume and into her knuckle dusters even as she split her attention and shored up her enchantments with her own unique magic.

Her core, her self never touched the magic in the air. She could barely sense it as it was.

That was the curse of her people. The inability to feel and use magic directly placed a curtain between them and true mastery of magic.

It also meant that when it came to handling tainted magic, she had metaphorical rubber gloves.

The vulture’s eyes went wide as she cut the distance between them and punched it in the chest close to the neck, right where that tattooed ‘Two’ was sitting. There weren’t any magical feathers there to stop her blow! 

“I’m not a wizard, idiot,” she repeated, then she reached down and pulled out her entire deck of cards with her free hand while the bird was still reeling.

Its eyes went wide as she spread the entire deck with one hand.

“Let’s see how your disgusting vow works on these, shall we?” 

The vulture tried to make room, it even tried to cast that same short-range shadow teleportation spell, but she knew its tricks by now, and even if it had drawn a little blood, it wasn’t like that was going to stop her any.

She couldn’t just let Carrot steal the show. That idiot probably had it easy, anyway!

***