The Treasure Hunter’s Familiar

By Sam M. Shaw

Ávila de la Mora peered between the trees of Inverness Wood with a pigeon perched on her shoulder. “You’re sure this is the best entrance, Atlas?”

Yes, the pigeon cooed across their bond. The trinket is not far from here.

As soon as she crossed into the wood full of magical creatures and artifacts, Vila would be in danger. But she was a treasure hunter. Danger was part of the fun.

“Ready?”

Ready.

Like a flash, they took off. Vila ducked between the trees while Atlas took to the sky, soaring above the canopy rather majestically for a pigeon.

When Vila had turned thirteen and discovered her familiar was a pigeon, she’d cried for days. Mundane animals were uncommon familiars. She had wished for a mysterious creature, despite their faults. Phoenixes were fearless, but volatile. Water horses were kind, yet extremely forgetful. Ghouls supposedly could turn invisible, but also wailed. Constantly.

Still, Vila would have rather not been an animage than bond with a pigeon. It was embarrassing.

Now, almost eight years after that disarming disappointment, she swelled with affection when Atlas communicated across their bond.

He interrupted her thoughts. A sphinx sits up ahead.

How do I avoid it?

Turn at the oak on your left.

It had helped soothe the ache when she’d learned that pigeons possessed a unique talent: magnetoreception. Their beaks contain structures made with iron, granting them stunning accuracy with spatial orientation and geography.

Atlas was a map with wings.

The vast oak rose before Vila, and she veered into the brush.

The sphinx sensed you, Atlas warned. It’s prowling behind, probably curious about your intentions. Turn northwest now.

For those of us without a compass in their heads?

Vila felt his mirth across their bond. See that low-hanging branch? It’s pointing northwest.

Got it.

Feet pitter-pattering light as rain across the damp soil, Vila adjusted her course. Once she grabbed her objective—a fist-sized basilisk statuette made of smooth obsidian and emerald eyes—the magical creatures would pounce. Even though Vila hunted on behalf of a wealthy man whose basilisk familiar had just died, the animals didn’t care.

About two minutes until you reach the trinket… Atlas trailed off.

Vila noticed. It was pretty hard to hide emotions from one another. What aren’t you telling me?

You should carry a compass.

You say that all the time.

Vila ran. Heart pounding in her chest, she awaited Atlas’s signal.

It’ll be on your right in about ten meters. Also, a basilisk is coiled around it.

Atlas’s overhead warning jarred her out of her leg-pumping pattern. She inhaled deeply and kept running.

Tell me you’re kidding, Atlas.

I’m not good at kidding. You say that all the time.

Vila clenched her jaw. She hadn’t cared to know much about pigeons before Atlas, but she’d soon learned that they were not funny. Yes, their heads bobbed in a goofy way and they warbled like bubbles. But Atlas was the driest creature she’d ever encountered.

It made him a good partner. He kept her honest.

Can you tell if it’s asleep? Hope brightened her tone.

No, but basilisks are cunning, full of hubris, and similar to their dragon ancestors.

Vila caught his meaning. You want me to challenge the giant, poisonous snake with fangs as long as my forearm and the power to turn me to stone?

Atlas hesitated. Yes?

He had more confidence in Vila than she deserved.

But before she could plot a different plan, she pushed through the dense underbrush and found herself face-to-face with the deep green eyes of a basilisk. The monster quirked its head to one side. When Atlas did that, he was adorable, but the snake… not so much.

Any other bright ideas?

Distract it. Atlas implored. Then flee.

She could do that.

“Hey there.” Vila’s fingers twitched at her sides. “I seem to have gotten turned around.”

The snake hissed. Not amused.

Vila sensed Atlas rolling his bulging eyes. Distract it better.

Okay, okay.

Her brain whirled. “I lost my compass. I think my familiar brought it in here. I didn’t have the courage to come looking for it until now.”

The basilisk righted its head and the green eyes turned molten.

Vila pressed on. “And I know basilisks are really good at finding shiny things…”

The snake swept its thick tail left to right, swiping across the place it had been coiled, hiding its treasures.

“No?” She rubbed the toe of her shoe in the dirt.

The snake flicked its tongue out and slowly unwound from its thick coil. It writhed steadily forward, closing the distance between them.

Run, Atlas instructed.

Before those green eyes could turn her to stone, Vila bolted backward.

For all its measured movement, the basilisk swept after her in a fury. It hissed viciously, cracking twigs in pursuit.

Atlas, Vila knew her familiar’s senses were her only hope of escape. Where do I go?

The sphinx is blocking your path back. But, if you can get close, the basilisk might confuse the scent of your warm blood with the sphinx’s.

Vila grinned in the darkness. Genius bird. Tell me when.

Her lungs screamed for breath, but she pushed onward.

Now. Turn southeast, he instructed.

Rounding a tree, Vila glimpsed the sphinx following her old trail. She continued sprinting toward the forest’s edge, and noticed the sound of the basilisk’s slithering fall away as she crossed the threshold of Inverness.

Vila collapsed in the clearing, chest heaving.

Atlas’s squawk filled the air. He circled above, apparently pleased she hadn’t been eaten, turned to stone, or lost in Inverness.

She glanced back and scanned the tree line. None of the creatures pursued her out of the forest; after all, she hadn’t stolen anything.

The statuette thumped into the dirt just beside her cheek, emeralds flashing in the sunlight.

But Atlas had.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sam M. Shaw is a student at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Social Media manager for the author Katie Cross, and writer of fiction. Most of her free time is spent sipping coffee, wearing a mask on walks through the woods (sometimes with friendly warlocks), and cooking. This is her third flash fiction publication with Havok.

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