Caprion's Wings

The silence gathered as thick as night. The voice seemed to issue from inside the silence, speaking as much through his mind as through the air.

  “I spoke, and you heard me. You sang, and you found me. Why listen to my voice, little bird? Why are you here?”

  Caprion glared at the door. “I didn’t come for riddles,” he replied. “I am here to find my star.”

  The voice laughed, rising in volume and strength. A maniacal cacophony echoed around the stone chamber, ringing in his ears, a thick abrasion of sound. “You are a long way from the night sky,” it mocked. “I am the star-eater, the nightmare’s mouth, the great swallowing abyss of your dreams. I will consume you, little bird.”

  Caprion hesitated. This creature knew his dreams. Of course it would. The demon had somehow found a way into his mind, dragging down his subconscious, keeping him from his star. He thought of the night sky in his vision, of the ground tipping beneath him, of his inevitable plummet into darkness. He could not fight the demon by groping futilely at the sky. No, he needed to fall into the abyss, to confront the beast and destroy it. Only then would he be free.

  Caprion felt a stirring in his chest. That strange, unknown Song swelled again in his throat, lending him courage. He could almost hear its melody now; the first notes teased his tongue, playing at his lips, low and rounded. He faced the door squarely, staring at its rigid iron surface. “This ends here,” he murmured.

  The voice turned insidious. “Then open this door, little bird,” it taunted. “And end me.”

  Caprion’s eyes hardened. Moss shifted at his side. “Don’t,” she murmured, and grabbed his arm. “Caprion, don’t trust him. He’s a demon. He’s lying.”

  Caprion shook her hand off, still staring at the door. Perhaps the demon had other motives, but one fact remained—he could not reach his star as long as it remained alive.

  He took a step forward. Moss made a low sound and moved directly behind him, hugging his back, wrapping her small arms around his strong torso. “Please don’t do this…” she whispered.

  “I have to,” Caprion replied. He placed one hand over hers, the other gripping his sword. He held her cold hands for a moment, trying to reassure her, then he gently pried them off, pushing her away. His eyes focused on the door’s seal. He summoned his song-magic from deep in his gut, allowing it to rise and twist up through his lungs, his vocal chords and his mouth. He began to chant the ancient words softly, adding rhythm and tone. Certain marks above the letters told him when to slide his voice up and down, manipulating the words into a melody. As he sang, the runes glowed quietly in response to his voice.

  He finished on a low, solid note, fading into silence. The words continued to glow. At first nothing happened. Then a low rumble reached his ears—the deep churning of an iron wheel. The lock clicked open.

  Darkness swelled through the cracks around the door, like a great wave of water building behind it. Moss tackled his back, dragging him bodily out of the way, just in time. The door blasted off its hinges, crashing to the ground. The sound ricocheted like a clanging bell, beating against his ears. Dust and pebbles showered from the ceiling.

  Blackness poured into the room like a torrent of gushing ink. He and Moss scrambled backward until they pressed against the far wall, taking cover behind a tall pile of rubble. She curled next to him into a tight ball. She threw her hands over the sunstone, extinguishing its light.

  Caprion intended to meet the demon head-on, but instead found himself cringing, paralyzed by fear. He braced himself against a hurricane of hot, stifling wind. Every part of his body told him to hide. Complete darkness surrounded them, deeper than the abyss of his dreams, as though his eyes had been scraped from his head.

  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 behi
nd. 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 a
nd 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….

  This is all my fault, he thought with sickening guilt. I need to speak to Florentine. I need to warn her!

  The soldiers finished opening the prison, then signaled to Caprion’s guard, who grabbed his chain and hauled him forward. Moss followed in his wake, her collar linked to his wrist cuffs.

  They were led into a long, rectangular chamber with a vaulted granite ceiling, supported by large buttresses, columns and archways. As the soldiers entered, large sunstones on the walls began to glow faintly, stimulated by the presence of their wings. Slabs of white marble paved the floor, cracked and tarnished over the years. Decorative statues punctuated the architecture—replicas of Harpies bowing in place, their hands folded in prayer, or standing tall and proud with wings outstretched. A giant emblem of the One Star was stamped into the ceiling, a symbol of justice and guidance. Every few dozen yards, an empty fountain stood in the center of the walkway, filled with leaves, dirt and debris. Crumbled stone scattered the ground, like most of the city. Thick, gauzy cobwebs hung from the high ceiling.

  A long row of empty cells made of sturdy iron bars lined each wall, their doors sealed with sunstone locks. Caprion knew he wouldn’t be able to open these doors as he had the one in the crypts. These sunstones were activated by a soldier’s voice and only opened by the same soldier’s command, requiring specific intonation and pitch.

  He half-expected the soldiers to lock Moss away separately, but they did no such thing. He and Moss were thrown bodily into a single cell near the front of the prison, their chains tangled together, causing them to stumble clumsily across the ground. Caprion swung his arm out for balance and unintentionally yanked Moss’s chain. The young girl was sent crashing to her knees, his weight dragging her further off-balance.