Caprion's Wings (10 page)

Laughter filled the room, much louder
than before, almost a physical force. A large, heavy body stepped
through the rubble, knocking stones loose from the ceiling. Caprion
heard the scrape of claws. He stared wildly. Heavy feet sent
tremors through the ground. The shadows formed a monstrous figure,
eight or nine feet tall with black, crackling skin. Vivid red light
bled between dense ridges of muscle, as though beneath its hard,
exterior flesh ran veins of fire.

Then a voice tickled his ear,
deceptively close. “Thank you, little bird,” it growled. “I have
business up above. But I will see you again.” The creature hovered
over them for a moment, then turned and hurtled from the room,
moving faster than Caprion thought possible.

He couldn’t let it escape.

“Come on!” he yelled. The Song stirred
in his chest, jolting him to his feet. He grabbed Moss’s hand. He
dragged her from the ground and they ran through the crypts, back
up the tunnel, faster than he had ever run before. The mass of
shadows whirled through the underground prisons. The demon pulled
quickly ahead of them, flying down corridors, turning this way and
that, as though it knew every nook and cranny of the maze-like
dungeons. As it passed, more and more shadows trailed in its wake,
drawn from the walls like curtains and draped over the demon’s body
in a cloak of midnight. Soon the creature became all but invisible,
as much a shadow as a beast.

Caprion followed the sound of its
laughter, chasing the torrent of darkness.

Soon they reached the
higher levels of the dungeon. The maze-like corridors slowed the
creature’s pace. Still, Caprion fell too far behind to block it
from escaping—a good thing, perhaps. He felt certain that the cloud
of darkness would kill him if he passed through it, swiping the
life right out of his body. But he could not slow his steps. The
unknown Song raged within him, propelling him forward, lending him
a new sense of clarity.
I am hunting the
darkness,
he thought grimly.
I will chase it down.
And somewhere inside of that darkness lay his
star.

Strangely enough, as the
shadows detached and swarmed around the creature, the caves took on
a lighter tone. Blackened walls turned to gray; tarnished metal
regained its shine. The glow from Moss’s sunstone cast a bright
light far in front of them. He now realized the extent of the
demon’s power; it tainted much of the prisons, causing the stone to
grow cold and dark. As that curtain of shadow peeled back, he felt
his lungs breathe easier, his steps fall faster.
Almost there,
he
thought, catching a glimpse of the beast ahead.
Soon.

Then, suddenly, they broke free of the
underground dungeons and entered the wide training hall of
fledgling soldiers. The soldiers stood with their backs turned to
the mad chase, in a long line opposite the stone entryway. They
practiced simple light-spells on the hollow slaves, who cringed
submissively away from the Harpy’s wings.

When the demon burst into the room, it
lifted from the floor. Shadows consumed its form. It expanded
outward through the massive chamber like a flurry of black crows,
all but vanishing from sight against the ceiling.

The slaves all looked up. Their blind
eyes widened, their toothless jaws gaped. All heads turned in
unison.

The young Harpy soldiers noticed the
change and also turned to stare. They didn’t see the whirling,
misty form of the beast, but rather, Caprion’s wingless, heavy
strides as he charged across the room on the demon’s vanishing
heels.

Caprion kept his gaze firmly locked on
the demon’s shifting, evanescent form. In this wide space, the
demon no longer seemed physical, but an apparition made solely of
vapor. The silent cloud spun quickly across the domed ceiling,
fading against the dark stone.

Moss sprinted next to him, light on
her feet, fast and nimble across the ground. Harpy voices began to
rise behind them, crying out in alarm as the two renegades dodged
past. He heard Sumas’ deep baritone. His resonating voice struck
Caprion in the back, causing him to stumble.

No!
Caprion thought, regaining his feet. Cold, clammy horror
constricted his gut. He couldn’t let the beast escape! He pushed
himself onward, trying to outrun his own skin. If only he could
move faster, if only he had wings to carry him….Yet even as he ran,
the demon dissolved before his eyes, turning fully into black
smoke. It shot down the far passage toward the outside world. The
wave of mist vanished completely.

Wham!

Someone tackled him from behind.
Caprion cried out in surprise as he was carried to the floor, then
swept upward by long, powerful wings and rammed face-first into the
wall. He felt his cheek crack under the blow. Thick, rough hands
dragged him around, then shoved him back against the granite,
holding him in a vise-like grip.

Sumas.

His brother seethed with
rage. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. His voice echoed
sharply, splitting the stone at their feet with a horrible
crack!
The words struck
him like a punch in the gut and made Caprion pitch forward, the air
knocked out of him. Blood flecked his lips.

“Dammit! You worthless, wingless
bastard!” his brother raged. Then Sumas threw him brutally to the
ground. Caprion landed hard, sliding across the stone and scraping
his arms against rough, sandy rock.

Stunned by the impact, it took him a
long moment to regain himself. Enough time for the soldiers to
approach, surrounding him in a loose circle. A few senior guards
stayed behind to keep a close eye on the slaves. Caprion struggled
into a sitting position, putting a hand to his sore chest—his
sternum ached from a deep fracture. He dragged in breath after
painful breath, glaring up at Sumas, unable to speak.

Sumas scowled at the gathered
soldiers, then turned his anger to Caprion, pointing at him
furiously. “You,” he seethed. “How dare you! What do you think
you’re doing?”

Caprion stared up at his brother. The
words wouldn’t come; hatred surged through him, closing his throat.
At this point, he knew any explanation would be pointless. He had
been caught red-handed. Any word to pass his lips would only
condemn him further.

A moment later, Warden Dahlia appeared
at the edge of the circle, a sneer on her pointed face. She flung a
small body into the ring at Caprion’s feet. Moss tumbled across the
ground but reclaimed her balance quickly, leaping to her feet and
dashing to Caprion’s side. Then she boldly faced the soldiers, her
gaze cold and narrow, on the defensive.

Caprion reached out and touched her
shoulder. Moss flinched, then turned to face him. The sunstone
glowed brightly at her neck in the presence of so many Harpies,
growing hotter and hotter. Blood seeped from her throat to her
shirt as her wounds reopened.

Caprion took her hand and
drew her closer, ignoring his brother for the moment. The sight of
Moss’s wounds distracted him. He imagined her skin burning beneath
the heated stone, and yet she made no noise, not even a whimper of
distress.
She’s strong,
he thought. Stronger than the Harpy children he
knew. Her tolerance for pain—or at least her self-control—was far
greater than his sister’s. Perhaps even greater than his
own.

“Wait,” he murmured, looking carefully
into her eyes. “Don’t move. Don’t fight. They’ll kill
you.”

She hissed softly like a snake, her
breath light against his cheek.

“Moss,” he asserted, drawing her gaze.
“Remember my promise.”

She stared at him silently. He could
see her mind working behind her eyes, weighing her options. Then
she calmed. She sank to her knees at his side, pressing her young
arm against his. She put on a good show, but he could feel her body
trembling with fear. It filled him with unexpected strength, like
white-hot coals in his stomach. He had dragged her into this mess.
He wouldn’t let her be punished for it.

Caprion raised his eyes to the circle
of fledgling soldiers, his peers and fellow students, many of which
he remembered from the Academy. They observed him and Moss with
looks of shock and disgust. He found Talarin’s horrified face in
the mix. As their gazes met, she looked away swiftly. No, she would
not stand up in his defense, and in that moment, he resolved not to
bring her into this. She didn’t deserve to face his brother’s
wrath.

“What sickness is this?” Sumas
declared in repulsion. “Answer! Explain yourself!” His voice struck
Caprion’s ears, causing his temples to throb.

Caprion’s eyes traveled to
Warden Dahlia, who stood silent and cold at the edge of the circle,
her gaze piercing. She looked as furious as his brother.
Surely,
he
thought.
Surely she knows about the
crypts….

“The demon,” he murmured, hoping she
would understand. “I saw the demon. I…I let it free.” There. He
said it. She had to understand the gravity of his words.

The warden’s face drew into a frown,
searching his eyes. But she remained silent.

“Setting a demon free, eh?” Sumas
barked, turning to Moss, obviously misinterpreting his words. “No
wonder you can’t find your star. You are a sympathizer of the Sixth
Race. My own brother!” His role as Captain slipped, showing Sumas’
wrath, a look of pure and utter betrayal. Sumas’ wings unfurled
brightly at his back, glowing in silent fury.

Caprion felt the vibration of his
brother’s rage pass over his skin in a wave of fire. He gripped
Moss to his side, trying to shield her from it, and he heard a low
moan from her throat as the sunstone responded, blistering her
skin.

“So be it,” Sumas growled.
He pointed at them. “Take him and
his
demon
to the gilded jail for questioning.
Return here once they are secured. Perhaps a night behind bars will
sober my brother’s mind.”

A large soldier stepped
forward.
No use in running,
he thought, even as the possibility crossed his
mind. Without wings, there was no way for him to escape this place.
The only exit led to a steep drop into the ocean.

Caprion kept his grip firmly on Moss.
He stood and lifted her into his arms as he would his own sister.
He wouldn’t let them be separated. He didn’t know what the soldiers
might do once they left the underground dungeons.

A second soldier approached,
attempting to drag Moss from his arms, but she hissed fiercely,
latching onto Caprion’s neck. The soldier managed to clasp one end
of the chain to her collar, then clamped the other end to Caprion’s
wrist, binding them together as prisoners. Then they were dragged
bodily from the chamber into the rocky corridor, heading toward the
surface.

Chapter 6

The gilded prisons stood on the very
outskirts of Asterion, close to the Matriarch’s Temple. It was a
long, rectangular building made of pristine white limestone with a
domed roof. Gold-leaf filigree and sunstone shards decorated the
doorways and windows. The prison was built long ago for wealthy,
upper class offenders. Caprion took it as a sign that Sumas, though
furious, remained too proud to throw his own brother into the
filthy, dilapidated jailhouse with the usual drunks and
thieves.

Still, the gilded prisons were a far
cry from luxury. They appeared dusty and disused, like most of the
city.

As though to prove his point, the
heavy iron doors creaked loudly on their hinges as the soldiers
unbarred them. Caprion didn’t think those doors had been pried open
in quite a few decades. He and Moss waited under the watchful eye
of a third soldier as the others entered the prison and activated
the sunstones inside, illuminating the gloomy, cobwebbed
interior.

As they stood, Moss’s hand
slowly wrapped around Caprion’s wrist and gave his arm a gentle
tug. She glanced to the forest, asking a silent question. Caprion
marginally shook his head, keeping his eyes trained on the guard.
Even if they ran, they would be found by morning. Sumas had too
many soldiers at his disposal and nothing of this magnitude had
happened on the island for at least a generation.
Sad, really,
Caprion
thought. An entire army with no enemies to fight. It would make the
Harpies quick to condemn him for his transgressions. They would
enjoy a good hunt. The soldiers probably hoped he would try to
break free just to have a story to tell their friends.

He wondered if Sumas would
wait for the Matriarch to awaken before sentencing him and Moss. At
that thought, a slow, creeping dread rose through him. The demon
was loose. That thought worried him far more than his own fate. The
creature could be anywhere on the island by now.
Your people are dying….
Those words kept circling in his mind from his early visions
of the abyss. Now that he knew the demon existed, he felt certain
it meant to topple the entire Harpy race with a well-timed blow.
But how?

Caprion already knew the answer to
that question, but he could hardly admit it to himself. The demon
would target the Matriarch. It was the only thing that made sense.
Only Harpies of a certain age, power and ability could rise to a
Matriarch’s status, and at this time, no female on the island had
the wingspan to replace her. If the Matriarch were killed, it would
send the island into a panic and the demon could easily take
advantage of such chaos….