Vola scrubbed her hands until her skin was raw, but the blood remained. No matter how many rivers she washed in, it persisted. Even using salty ocean water and sand did little to dim the stains. The gore of dead familiars remained as a bright reminder of her guilt. On her hands, her arms, and even matted in the furs of her long robe, the dried blood of the slain magical animals ensured every passing human knew of her crimes against the supernatural.
Her most recent kill, a large deer, was strapped to a makeshift litter of a blanket and long wooden poles. The journey to drag it to her master’s lair on Hudcharg’s southern face had taken weeks.
The stares and scorn from villagers she met during her travels continued to bore through her. She adjusted her heavy furs to hide the stains to no avail. They saw the blood’s shocking crimson on her robes and the deer’s magical transformation to stone. The older villagers threw contemptuous glances as she passed by. The youth her own age openly insulted her as she dragged her burden in silence. Every village was the same.
Vola hated the feigned ignorance of the passing travelers as she struggled to drag the heavy corpse along the dirt roads. Conversations stopped when they recognized the blood and stone. She imagined their thoughts. Is that stone? She’s dragging a familiar? How could a maiden have hunted and killed such a rare creature?
She would have stopped to explain, but her master demanded silence. The dead look on her young face was the only way she could hide the pain inflicted by her forced solitude. Her master’s desperation for the corpse and her fear of punishment drove her on. The lines carved in the dirt by the litter grew ever longer.
She didn’t feel different from the life of slavery she escaped. Instead of hands sore from tending the potato fields, they were stained from slaughtering magical creatures and scarred from cutting the petrified flesh. The hope that fueled her escape had been dimmed by growing despair.
A putrid wind enveloped her. The volcano’s heat was a stark contrast to the icy winds of the tundra below. Loose, white ash blew over her. She dropped the poles and struggled with her furs to place her inner robe over her face. The smoke worked its way down her throat and caused her to cough. She sat on the path, using the carcass as a shelter from the sudden wind and ash. Hidden under her furs, Vola could not escape looking at the bloody stains.
Her rest against the stone animal was not a comfortable one. Each strand of fur, now a monochrome stone needle, snagged her clothes and left deep scratches when her arm accidently brushed by.
Her master explained very little about what happened to the familiars when killed. Any knowledge of magic was a treasure after a hard battle of wills. From what she gathered, familiars, regardless of species, preserved their magic internally through rapid petrification. This stored magic was what her master craved more than anything. Learning new tidbits of magic kept Vola’s hope burning.
One way the master used his magic was to observe and command her. She was grateful that she could tell when he was watching her, the pressure of an invisible helmet rested on her head. Communicating was not pleasant. His disembodied voice pounded instructions into her mind, sometimes without warning. Images projected into her eyes blinded her to her surroundings. When she hesitated to kill each of the familiars, the master took full control of her body. She became a puppet, fully aware of the atrocities she committed but powerless to stop them.
As she rested, her master’s presence descended heavily onto her head. She jumped and grabbed the poles of the makeshift litter. His presence lifted as she pulled the heavy burden up the mountain path.
###
Hours passed before Vola reached the large teardrop-shaped cave opening. The black stones that lined the entrance jutted out like the glass fangs of a terrible monster. The light from the setting sun could not penetrate the magical darkness of the giant mouth. Kneeling beside her litter, she cleared her throat and yelled into the darkness.
“Master Suviklarg, your humble servant has returned to your presence and prays she may be granted entrance.”
Distant pounding echoed from the entrance tunnel. Soon Vola felt each approaching step reverberate through the mountain side, threatening to start an avalanche to bury her in obsidian and ash. A shape formed in the darkness. Out of the cave emerged Vola’s master, Suviklarg, the giant serpentine dragon.
The long, snake-like body of her master encircled Vola and the petrified corpse still tied to the crude sled. Each step from the four pairs of legs jutting from his sides caused a small cloud of ash to fill the air.
Disgust invaded her thoughts; the master did little to hide his disdain for her. Humans, in general, were not worthy to be in his presence. She was a miserable and insignificant tool to accomplish his desires.
An unblinking eye turned to Vola. The vertical slit pupil tightened as he focused on her. Vola continued to kneel before her master as her consciousness was probed for every detail of the journey. Vola focused her thoughts on her fears of the serpent’s rage, hoping it would keep the hatred of her servitude hidden from her master’s invasion. She once discovered a human skull in the serpent’s discarded refuse. She did not want to join it.
Suviklarg lifted his head and approached the cave’s opening. Her master’s words overwhelmed her thoughts. “Place the corpse inside and return to your chores.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, she lifted the litter and dragged the carcass into the cavernous lair. As she did, Vola noticed the large impressions Suviklarg’s feet made in the thick layers of dust throughout the cavern.
Vola ran a finger through a footprint’s dusty ridge; much of it was green. This was not the typical white and gray dust she normally swept. This was serpent scales, crushed to a glass-like sand. In the middle of the large nearly circular cavern, her master used his front pair of clawed feet to inspect the corpse. Once positioned to his liking, he used his second pair to raise his body so that he towered over the petrified familiar.
Her master’s front claws waved over the stone corpse. His movements were slower and more deliberate.
As Vola swept, she saw many broken or missing scales in his once smooth pattern. Vola knew the dragon was ancient. In the flickering torch light, she could see every year.
Soon, the petrified carcass glowed with a dim orange light. Vola stopped working, transfixed on the beautiful light filling the cavern.
Suviklarg’s head swung to Vola. An angry hiss emanated from the serpent. Vola stepped back, clutching the broom and returned to sweep the neglected dust. She knew her master despised being watched while performing the magic he horded like gold. Vola risked Suviklarg’s wrath since it was the only way she could learn more than what she needed to perform her labors.
“You will extract the core.” The full weight of Suviklarg’s dominating presence pressed on her mind. Her knees almost buckled under the strain. “I need its powers. Now!”
Suviklarg lumbered to the private inner chamber through the back wall. Vola had never been into the master’s chamber; it was forbidden. She knew the treasures her master hoarded were there, but satisfying her curiosity was not worth her life.
Vola placed her broom aside and went to fetch the various hammers and chisels she’d need for the extraction. It was going to be a long night.
###
Vola chipped away at the petrified corpse to find its core.
The powers of a dead familiar concentrated into the last organ to stop functioning. It was often the heart, brain, or liver. Suviklarg used the infused organs to fuel his magic.
She made progress by removing what used to be the deer’s hide, revealing countless crystal shards that had grown during the petrification. Each a small knife, ready to add to the web of long thin scars etched in along Vola’s blood stained arms. Digging through, she found the internal organs, appearing like unpolished quartz.
Vola yanked her hand back. Blood flowed around a broken crystal embedded in her finger. A memory of the forest, where the familiar had lived, clouded Vola’s eyes. The familiar’s fear of being hunted by a strange animal left a bitter taste in Vola’s mouth. The memory felt dead and was sucking her energy from her to be seen. The dead crystal meant the petrification process was complete.
Removing the crystal, she adjusted the wraps on her hands to continue her work. A mournful tear fell on her chisel.
The simple mat woven from the dried grasses she collected from the valleys below called to her. Vola shook her head and wiped away the tear.
As she piled the dusty stone organs next to the carcass shell, she was grateful to be alone with her emotions. More and more, the serpent kept to his chamber. On the increasingly rare instances when he came out to the main cavern, it was only to use the magic of the collected cores to regenerate his body. For weeks after, the serpent would have a new lease on life. The quartz scales were revitalized to a dark green. But, it never lasted long. As if his internal ancient magic was dwindling to nothing.
Vola hefted a quartz lung from the carcass. She carried it over to the empty wall where the previous cores had been stored.
Grinding stone noises now came from the back chamber. It gave Vola little warning as Suviklarg entered.
“Are the organs prepared?” The question pierced her mind.
She bowed. “Most of the animal’s organs have been removed and are ready for you to choose one, Master”
“Bring them.”
One by one, Vola brought the organs for inspection. The serpent’s front claws traced complicated patterns into the air over each one. Each of them failed to glow when he completed his magical gestures. The serpent hissed angrily. A grinding noise came as his tail smashed down on the false cores sending shards all over the floor. The psychic pressure Vola usually associated with her master observing her became more oppressive each time she returned to the shelves for another organ. Her chest tightened as the aura of desperation felt tangible.
The most powerful familiar cores Vola had seen resembled precious gems. Lesser cores appeared as common stone. Her master tested every organ to make sure the core was not missed. The waves of desperation seeping into Vola’s mind from the serpent ebbed away, replaced with a growing anger.
Vola hefted the deer’s liver. There should be a core underneath all of the petrified connective tissues. It had to be; there were no other options left.
She wished she could identify cores. It would be so much easier to only carry a core instead of the whole petrified carcass. Having magic would save her from the terror of this night. These thoughts lingered before Vola realized how dangerous it could be.
“You wish to have magic?” Suviklarg’s front feet thundered to the ground. His pupils narrowed as he approached.
“Forgive me, Master. I only wish to be...more.”
“More?” A deep rumble of a humorless laugh echoed through Vola’s head. “You struggle to be a competent slave. Not once have you killed a familiar for me. I had to do it. I, the greatest of dragons, had to sully myself by controlling your body. Disgusting!”
Suviklarg’s head had a hypnotic sway as he approached. Fear rose within Vola’s chest as a soothing feeling caressed her mind. She took a couple of tentative steps away from Suviklarg trying to hum a tune.
“Magic is not something you learn. It comes from within. It is a power you are born with.” Suviklarg’s crystalised scales scraped together with each step of his noisy approach. “You are a stupid beast of burden. How dare you believe you could ever become anything like me?”
“But why?” Vola found it difficult to concentrate under her master’s numbing influence. “Why do you need me?”
“I need a familiar of my own to control. As pathetic as humans are, they are effective hunters. Unfortunately, each human I draw to my lair is more arrogant and incompetent than the last. Free will is such a nuisance.”
Vola kept backing away from Suviklarg’s towering height. She struggled against the soothing influence from her master’s hypnotic sway. The same fear from the slain familiar’s memory swept over her like ice water.
