Caprion's Wings Read online

  They traded several more blows, Caprion on the defensive. Sumas’ blade grazed his shoulder, narrowly missing his head. Caprion barely felt the pain. Finally, his brother thrust his sword forward like a spear, intending to skewer Caprion on its tip. Caprion threw himself to one side, barely avoiding the blade. Sumas hurled past him.

  His brother banked and turned, but his wings struck the bars of the jail cell. He faltered in the air, trying to right himself, but his large wings flapped clumsily, caught between the bars. Caprion saw his advantage. He dropped his blade. He grabbed the chain at his wrist.

  He leapt on Sumas’ back and brought the length of chain down around his brother’s neck, choking him from behind. His brother struggled, his wings still caught up in the bars of the jail cell. Sumas sank to the ground, struggling viciously, trying to throw Caprion off by using brute strength.

  Caprion tightened the chain mercilessly on his brother’s throat and rammed his knee into Sumas’ lower back, forcing him downward, trying to bring him to the ground.

  His brother put up a good fight. At one point, he almost lifted Caprion into the air, attempting to fling him over his shoulder, but he couldn’t maintain the effort. Sumas’ neck turned bright red and his sword fell from his hand until finally his body caved forward limply. Caprion held on a few seconds longer for good measure and then released the chain. Sumas collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.

  Caprion stood back, momentarily surprised. Adrenaline pounded through his veins. For the first time, he had fought Sumas and won. He couldn’t quite believe it. He touched the graze on his shoulder, feeling the sticky blood on his fingertips, and then he reached down to pick up Sumas’ sword. It was larger than his own, heavier, but the solid blade felt good in his hands. He sheathed his new sword in the empty scabbard at his back. It didn’t quite fit, too long for the sheath; a good few inches of steel blade poked over his shoulder.

  He felt powerful. Capable of anything. The Song still thrummed in his veins; it's changing me, he thought. He didn’t know how that was possible, and yet he couldn’t deny it.

  He turned and ran to the door, out into the early-morning light. He saw no sign of Josephi or Moss, so he could only assume that she had gotten away. He hoped she could stay hidden until after he tracked down the demon. Once the island was safe, he would find a way to get Moss to the mainland, with or without wings.

  And if you fail? a niggling little voice asked. If the demon kills you?

  He glanced to the sky, to the One Star, begging for strength. If he died, he didn’t know what would happen to her—one more reason to stay alive.

  Then he took off into the forest, ducking between thick juniper bushes and trees covered in ivy. He found a deer trail and followed it, taking one of the back roads into the city. His chest ached sharply as he ran, his sternum creaking with each step, but he used the pain to fuel his determination.

  He needed to find Florentine. He needed to ask her about the demon and find out where it hid. He needed answers, and who better to help him than a Resonator?

  Chapter 7

  Caprion snuck through the streets of Asterion, keeping to the alleys and the ruined, disused parts of the city. He ran across a couple of boys, perhaps sixteen in age, practicing with their swords in an abandoned courtyard. Careful to remain unnoticed, he plucked one of their gray cloaks from a cracked stone bench and threw it around his form, pulling the hood low over his eyes. After this, he moved more swiftly through the side-streets, boldly passing by strangers, keeping his face down-turned. He had to be careful not to draw attention to himself. There weren’t many broad-shouldered, wingless men in the city.

  As he traveled deeper and deeper into Asterion, he couldn’t help but notice the thick tension in the air. A broad spectrum of vibrations passed over his skin, from gentle tremors like cool water to the harsh buzz of irritated bees. Everyone seemed to be talking. They stretched their wings nervously, their voices rising and falling as the sun climbed higher in the sky. He caught a few snatches of conversation as he walked.

  “…A demon on the island, have you heard? One of the Sixth Race, here….”

  “Just a story the soldiers dreamed up, that’s all. Sumas is denying everything-”

  “I hear his brother has something to do with it! That worthless Caprion!”

  “Apparently they’ve imprisoned him for questioning….”

  Caprion pulled his hood down lower and slipped into an alleyway, dashing to the next street, which seemed just as crowded as the first. Where did all these people come from? he thought, noticing the thick crowds accumulating on street corners. Don’t they have work? School?

  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 sho
uld 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 flood
ed 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.

  Finally, they reached the large circle of shadestones, landing softly on the ground at the edge of the forest. It was almost noon. The crashing surf could be heard in the distance, the smell of salt heavy on the wind. The tall cliff of Fury Rock cast a large, ominous shadow over the shadestones, as though protecting them from the sun.

  Caprion scanned the clearing, wondering where he should start his search. He would need to find the hidden entrance to the Matriarch’s chamber, a secret door or inscription in the rocks, perhaps a seal he could unlock with a song-spell….Then his heart stopped.

  A wide, dark hole indented the earth at the center of the circle. Large chunks of dirt and shattered rock lay piled around it, ripped up from the ground. Talarin gasped at his side, reaching out to grab his arm. “One Star’s wrath!” she hissed.