Caprion's Wings (13 page)

He passed another large group of
distressed Harpies, an older gathering of concerned parents and
shop-owners who stood in front of a flower stall. A sobbing woman
stood at their center.

“Two young fledglings, dead!” she
cried. “It’s a tragedy!”

“An animal attack, Sumas
said—”

“Lies, you know it was the demon! The
rumors are true! Where is the Matriarch? Why hasn’t she awakened
yet?” The woman sobbed harder. “That fledgling was my sister’s
daughter!”

The rest of the group vibrated with
empathy, sending cool waves of light and sound toward the woman.
They offered her handkerchiefs and words of comfort.

Killings?
Caprion thought, alarmed. The demon was already
at work, spreading fear and terrorizing the city. Cold beads of
sweat crept down his brow.
Two children
dead. This is my fault.
He suddenly felt
sick to his stomach, and passed the group of parents quickly,
wretched guilt nipping his heels. The news greatly unsettled him.
What if Esta had been a victim, or one of her friends? His heart
plummeted at the thought and he almost changed direction, desperate
to find his younger sister and see if she was alright. But if Esta
saw him, would she tell their mother? He couldn’t be sent back to
Sumas. That one thought kept him on course.

The enormity of what he
had done weighed his thoughts. No wonder Sumas looked at him with
such furious, murderous intent.
Their
deaths are on my hands.

The Song in his heart
turned to one of sorrow…and determination.
I need to set this right.

Finally, he found himself before
Florentine’s shop. Her street was blessedly empty. The small stores
and cafes appeared closed for the day, the owners no doubt
searching for news in more crowded districts or home with friends
and family. For once, the city gossip worked in his favor. With
everyone so distracted, he slipped unseen down the steps to
Florentine’s shop and pushed aside the beaded curtain.

Incense assailed his nose, the dense
reek of sandalwood.

His eyes landed on Talarin.

He froze in place, caught mid-step.
His old friend sat on Florentine’s couch, a cup of tea in hand,
dressed in a plain white shirt and fawn-colored pants, her armor
and helmet nowhere in sight. Her cheeks were red, her eyes heavy.
She looked like she had been crying.

Talarin glanced up as his shadow fell
across her. She gave a start and almost dropped her cup. “Caprion!”
she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

At that moment, Florentine stepped
from the depths of the shop, another cup of fresh-brewed tea in
hand. Her luminous yellow eyes fastened on Caprion and widened. She
stared at him in alarm…and then around him, as though focusing on
something in the air.

He looked back and forth between them.
“I need to speak with Florentine,” he said. He hesitated, gazing at
Talarin. “Are you alright? You look upset.”

“You haven’t heard?” Talarin said
slowly. “Sumas privately ordered your execution.”

“What?” Caprion’s mouth opened. He
stared at her, the pit growing deeper in his stomach. His brother
ordered to have him killed? That wasn’t Sumas’ jurisdiction, but
with the Matriarch asleep, who knew what he could get away
with.

“Did the Madrigal approve?” he
demanded.

Talarin shook her head. “No. Sumas is
out of bounds. He’s on a rampage. He gave the order without
consulting anyone. His men were supposed to kill you this morning.
You should already be dead.”

Caprion absorbed her words, still
shocked.

Talarin looked at him tearfully. “I’m
relieved you’re not,” she said, and wiped at her eyes. “Two
fledglings were killed in the woods last night. The city thinks it
was an animal attack, but I was there, my squad discovered the
bodies….” She glanced at the floor, obviously shaken. “They were
ripped to pieces.”

“And I suppose Sumas blamed me for
their deaths?” Caprion asked.

Talarin shrugged uncomfortably. “He
was furious,” she murmured. “He needed to blame
someone.”

Caprion turned to Florentine. “And
what do you have to say about this?” he asked. “Do you think I’m
guilty of murder? Do you agree with my brother? Are you on his
side?”

Florentine continued to stare,
transfixed, at the air around his head. She blinked slowly. “What
you did was very foolish,” she said distractedly.

“Because you told me to seek the
demon!” he growled.

“I told you to consult the Matriarch!”
she rebuked. “I gave you good and honest advice.”

“While you sat and did nothing!” he
snapped, his voice fast and striking.

The teacup shattered in her
hands.

Florentine gasped and took a step
back. She looked from his face to the shards of porcelain on the
floor. Talarin half-stood from her seat, equally
shocked.

Caprion gazed at them, unnerved. He
knew what they were thinking. He didn’t have wings. His voice-magic
shouldn’t be this strong. At that moment, he felt irritated enough
to break every gaudy glass trinket in the room, but he slowly
reined in his temper. He needed their help, and he wouldn’t get
that by scaring them.

“I went down to the crypts beneath the
dungeon,” he said quietly. “And I found a demon. A full-blooded
demon of the Sixth Race. I…I released it.”

They looked at him in
horror.

“I didn’t mean to,” he tried to
explain, guilt rising to his throat. “I was trying to unravel my
visions and get down to the root of it all. You’re right,
Florentine. It was very foolish. But now the Matriarch is in danger
and there’s no time to waste!”

Talarin responded first. “So a demon
truly killed those fledglings?” she asked. “But how did you get out
of prison? Did Sumas release you? What happened?”

He frowned. “Never mind Sumas,” he
said. “I need to find the Matriarch. The demon will go after her
first, I’m certain of it.”

Talarin glanced at Florentine. The
Resonator nodded stiffly, visibly shaken by his words. She crossed
her long, bony arms in front of her chest. “I suspect you’re
right,” she agreed.

“Where does the Matriarch sleep?”
Caprion pressed.

Florentine glanced back to the
shattered cup. “Well,” she said, “No one knows that for sure. It is
not an easy place to find.”

“Surely the Madrigal must
know?”

She shook her head. “He might. But it
is hidden as a precaution, and he certainly wouldn’t reveal its
location to a possible criminal.” That word hung between them,
strangely mocking. “Before Asterion fell, the sleeping chamber was
kept a well guarded secret against our enemies. It remains so to
this day.”

“But it’s somewhere on the island?”
Caprion pressed.

“Yes, of course,” she
answered.

“Can you not find it by
Resonating?”

She hesitated, considering the idea.
He could see the thoughts pass behind her eyes. “It has been
attempted before,” she slowly conceded. “But never successfully.
Wherever the Matriarch sleeps, it is in a place that cannot be
pierced by vibrations. She’ll be safe, Caprion. Even if the demon
intends to kill her, it cannot reach her.”

Caprion highly doubted that. He
remembered the massive, terrifying beast that crawled out of the
crypts, seething with hatred. Finally, he asked, “How did that
creature get down there, anyway?”

Florentine sighed. “I don’t know for
sure. It’s a legend, really,” she said. “During the War of the
Races, our Matriarch had a grave enemy, a master assassin bent on
killing her. He was locked up in the underground prison with his
accomplices. The Sixth Race are not as long-lived as us, not by
far, so it was thought they would die eventually.”

Caprion remembered the broken crypt,
the chunks of rock and scars of a long-ago fire. “But this one
didn’t…?” he prompted.

Florentine looked uncertain. “The
assassin must have fully manifested his demon,” she said. “It’s the
only explanation. Instead of allowing his human body to die, he
destroyed his human self and became the monster. The demons are
shards of the Dark God, as long-lived as the God itself. He must
have been down there waiting for centuries….But why now? How could
his voice reach you?”

Caprion frowned. “I don’t know,” he
said, troubled. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now. We have to stop
it.”

“Very difficult to do,” Florentine
murmured.

Caprion shook his head,
irritated. Florentine’s speech reminded him of Moss’s words.
Not a man, but a demon. A full-blooded
demon.
This creature was not a natural
beast of the world. No, it was a small fragment of the Dark God
wrecking havoc on the island, hungrily seeking out the Matriarch.
How did one go about stopping such a beast? The weight of his
actions settled on his shoulders. He had released this monster back
into the world—and while the Matriarch slept.

“We must find it,” he repeated. “There
are only so many places to hide on an island.”

“Sumas is already on the hunt,”
Florentine offered. “He is better equipped to handle
this.”

Sumas isn’t hunting
anything,
Caprion thought, but held his
tongue. “We need more than that,” he said. “Can you alert the
Madrigal? Gather more soldiers?”

“Yes,” Florentine said. “At once,
though it will take some time to organize a hunting party….” Her
voice wavered, her eyes traveling to the air around him
again.

“What?” Caprion snapped, annoyed by
her look.

“Your aura has changed,” she said
thoughtfully. Her voice held a strange sense of awe.

“Changed how?” Talarin asked, who’d
been listening intently.

“I can’t say yet,” Florentine
murmured. “But…it is pulsing like a star.”

A star.
His wings. That Song moved in his throat again,
filling Caprion with a strange, inexplicable confidence. He felt
certain that he must face the demon. He didn’t understand why, or
how, but he had to hunt down the darkness and destroy it before it
could reach the Matriarch.
Time is running
out.

He racked his brain for a
solution. He thought about the location of the Matriarch’s chamber,
his vision from the night before, and Florentine’s words.
A place that cannot be found by
Resonating....

Then all the pieces fell into place.
His eyes widened. Abruptly, he turned for the door.

“Caprion, where are you going?”
Talarin called after him, standing up.

“To stop the demon,” he
said.

“Have you lost your mind? You
can’t—”

“Take me to the
shadestones.”

Talarin’s mouth worked for a moment,
still surprised. “This is madness,” she finally said. “If Sumas
catches up with us….”

“We have bigger things to worry about
than Sumas!” Caprion exclaimed.

Talarin saw the feverish urgency on
his face. Finally, she nodded. “Alright,” she said.

Caprion pointed at Florentine. “Find
the Madrigal. Tell him what is happening. Go as fast as you can; we
might already be too late.” Then he rushed out the door, Talarin at
his heels. No more than a few strides into the street, she spread
her wings. Her vibration passed over him, and white light cascaded
over his body, pulling him upward off the ground.

They flew swiftly into the
air, up over the city, leaving the crumbled buildings of Asterion
behind. His eyes stayed fastened on the distance—on Fury Rock and
the sacred stones at its base.
By the One
Star’s might,
he thought
desperately.
Please don’t let me be too
late!

* * *

By the time they reached the
shadestones, noon light flooded the sky, warming the air. Talarin
had to make several detours to avoid squads of Harpies patrolling
the skies. Caprion felt beads of sweat on his brow; the sun glared
above him like a scornful eye. As they neared Fury Rock, his
confidence slipped. He knew, deep down, that he wasn’t strong
enough to defeat a full-blooded demon. And yet he was even more
afraid that he and Talarin would arrive too late. He felt
undeniably responsible for the entire situation. If only he had
listened to Florentine’s advice, and waited for the Matriarch
instead of exploring the dungeons alone….

If the Matriarch died, their island
would be thrown into chaos and the demon would continue its rampage
of terror. Caprion felt sure it would target the Madrigal next,
then the citizens, hacking them down one by one until the Harpy
race could never recover.

Sumas and his soldiers might stand a
chance against it, but none of them had come up against a being of
this power. Even with Sumas’ large wings and striking voice, he
doubted the demon would be put off for long. Caprion had defeated
his brother with a timely, strategic advantage. If he could do that
with merely a sword and a bit of provocation, then the demon would
have no trouble.