Caprion's Wings (16 page)

My wings are greater than
his,
he realized. It felt like an
epiphany. He no longer had to fear his brother. He could stand
against Sumas, face to face, and win.

Caprion almost smiled.

Sumas approached him, obeying the
Matriarch’s orders. He bound Caprion’s hands behind his back and
shoved him forward down the tunnel. Before gaining his wings,
Caprion might have stumbled, but now his feet lifted effortlessly
off the ground. It took a great amount of concentration to bring
himself back to the earth. He wasn’t used to moving so quickly or
easily. At times he felt off-balance, like he might slide into the
wall.

Sumas, the Madrigal, and the Matriarch
followed him up the earthen steps, then outside into
sunlight.

* * *

Caprion found himself once again en
route to the gilded prisons. It seemed the ideal place for Sumas to
hide him from the city. He went complacently, docilely, biding his
time. The sun hung heavy in the sky, nearing mid-afternoon; less
time had passed than he thought. He felt as though he had spent
hours under the earth, battling the demon.

The Matriarch and the Madrigal
continued onward to Asterion proper. Caprion knew from prior years
that the Matriarch would give a speech at the God of Light’s
temple, full of glamorous and uplifting words to remind the Harpies
of their noble roots. Then tomorrow would be a day of celebration
and feasting.

If all went according to Sumas’ plan,
he would spend the next few days in prison and then quietly submit
to a private trial. The Matriarch wouldn’t include the city in
these matters. It would be his word against Sumas.

Caprion didn’t expect flying to feel
so natural. After a lifetime rooted to the ground, he felt
exhilarated to launch into the skies, his body as light as air. His
wings flickered around him as he flew, never fully manifesting. He
experimented a bit, weaving through the air, adjusting his speed
and altitude. He stopped when the soldiers became antsy. No one
seemed to know what to think of him, and they remained tensely
silent.

Eventually, they arrived on the prison
grounds, then his brother and the squad of soldiers marched him
into the gilded hall. A nameless second-year soldier escorted
Caprion into a cell, then locked it with a quick
pass-phrase.

“Watch him carefully,” Sumas growled
after seeing Caprion secured. “Seraphim,” he spat. “This is a
demon’s trick. The One Star would never respond to your
voice.”

Sumas’ soldiers stood at attention,
but Caprion saw them cast nervous glances in his direction. He
doubted any of them knew what a seraphim was, but they could sense
the difference in his vibration. Although Caprion’s wings stayed
hidden from sight, his skin held the same ethereal glow as the
Matriarch. He could feel his new aura emitting from his body,
pushing against the air.

He tested his wings, flicking them in
and out of existence. The soldiers watched; a few turned more fully
to stare. He could summon his wings with a simple thought, and yet
it seemed to take a great amount of effort to manifest all six at
once. His body didn’t seem well-made for the task. He remembered
the first manifestation of his wings, when their white-hot energy
had almost burned him alive. He didn’t think his body could be
restored twice. He imagined that if he summoned too much power, his
entire body might dissolve into light.

He wondered, suddenly, if seraphim had
died in the war like that—exploding with the full strength of their
stars, sacrificing their lives to take out legions of enemy
soldiers.

“You’re very quiet, brother,” Sumas
mocked, drawing his attention. “Did you think we would forget it
all after you gained your wings? I am loyal to the Matriarch. You
released a demon from the crypts. I am only trying to protect our
people.”

Caprion gazed at his
brother coldly. “I killed that demon as well,” he said.
“Have
you
ever
killed a full-blooded demon, Sumas?”

“Captain
Sumas,” his brother snapped.

Caprion smirked. For so
long, Sumas had won by asserting himself, by playing the
bully.
How terrible,
Caprion thought wryly,
to be shown
up by your worthless, bumbling, wingless little brother.
He didn’t expect Sumas to be happy for him, to
congratulate him or show any sort of support. No, if the Matriarch
celebrated Caprion as a seraphim, the first battle-Harpy born in
generations, then Sumas would live the rest of his life in
Caprion’s shadow. He would be completely overlooked.

“I won’t let the Matriarch forget your
treason,” his brother snarled. Then he whirled around and marched
toward the door, his wings flickering angrily.

A familiar figure joined
Sumas at the entrance to the prison, and Caprion recognized Warden
Dahlia from the underground dungeons. They left together. With his
new eyes, Caprion could see the way their auras melded together,
the warden’s fierce purple against Sumas’ dark red fire. Their
auras overlapped, intertwining.
Lovers,
he thought, knowing it
instinctively. At least casual ones.

His brow darkened. They were plotting
something. He could already guess what the warden thought of the
Sixth Race. She would back up all of Sumas’ claims. They were
probably corroborating their stories right now.

The thought left him chilled. Even if
Talarin and Florentine came to his defense, he didn’t know if the
Matriarch would take their word over Sumas. The Madrigal might be
helpful, but he couldn’t count on that. By this point, the entire
army had probably heard of Caprion’s involvement with the Sixth
Race. They would all question his loyalties. And the Matriarch was
not a young, gentle, forgiving queen. No, she had ruled since the
War of the Races with an iron hand. She would protect her people at
all cost. His status as a seraphim might gain him some leverage,
but how much? What if the Matriarch decided he was guilty of
treason?

He doubted she would execute him, but
he might be imprisoned for a long, long time.

He couldn’t let that happen. Moss
needed him.

He waited until Sumas’ and Dahlia left
the grounds. Three guards remained inside the prison, two at the
entrance, one outside his door. He watched them warily, wondering
what he could do to escape. He didn’t have much control over his
wings yet and they wouldn’t be very useful behind closed
bars.

His voice, on the other
hand….

“You,” he said, resonating his voice,
lacing it with a command. “Come here.”

The nearest soldier turned
automatically and approached the cell. He stopped only a few inches
away. Then he blinked, surprised. “What?” he asked. He looked
bewildered by his own actions.

Caprion felt a rush of possibilities.
His voice grew stronger in his throat. “Let me out,” he ordered,
infusing his words with a song-spell.

The soldier frowned at him. “We’ve
been ordered to keep you confined,” he replied.

Caprion considered this. So he could
influence the soldiers by resonating his voice, but he couldn’t
control them completely. He would have to find a way around his
brother’s orders.

He noted how close the soldier stood
to the cell, to the sunstone lock. “Speak the password,” he tried
again.

The soldier hesitated, then a strange,
horrified look came over his face. In a muffled voice, he spoke the
password to the sunstone. The cell door clicked open. “Stay calm,”
Caprion ordered as he left the open cell. He kept a careful eye on
the guard. “Don’t move. Don’t draw your sword.”

“No,” the soldier resisted, his hands
tightening into fists. “You can’t just walk out of here! Help!” he
yelled. “The captive is escaping!”

His fellow soldiers turned in alarm.
“What are you doing?” one demanded from across the prison. “Stop
there! The Matriarch has ordered your arrest!” Both guards drew
their swords and charged toward him.

Caprion wondered if he had overplayed
his card. He grabbed the first soldier and drew the man’s sword
from his sheath. They struggled for a moment, but Caprion let out a
blinding burst of light from his wings, stunning the guard. Then he
shoved him into the cell. The man tripped over his own feet and
fumbled to the floor, squinting uselessly, momentarily
blinded.

Caprion turned to face the oncoming
soldiers. “Stop and put down your weapons!” he commanded. Their
wings were small in comparison to his own, only ten feet on average
compared to his largest set of wings, which spanned almost twenty
feet when fully unfurled. He laced his voice with a strong
compulsion.

The two Harpies hesitated only a few
meters away. Caprion flew forward and used his sword to knock the
blade out of one soldier’s hand. He bowled the second one over with
the force of his wings. He wasn’t sure what to do next; his mind
scrambled for ideas. He didn’t want to hurt the soldiers, but how
else could he waylay them? He needed to lock them up somehow, stop
them from reporting to Sumas….

Levitation
, he thought, remembering
how Talarin had once carried him through the sky. He focused on
that image, hoping it would work, and it almost did. He felt the
intensity of his wings change, growing brighter and wider, and one
of the soldiers began to glow. He tried to lift the soldier off the
ground but failed miserably, and sent him crashing into his partner
instead. They stumbled together in confusion.

Just as well,
he thought. He grabbed them both by their chest
plates and dragged them around, then shoved them into the open
cell. They staggered into the first soldier and all three fell to
the ground. Then Caprion slammed the door shut. He locked it using
a low, melodious word. When he stood back, perspiration dotted his
brow and his voice felt hoarse from so much resonating.

One of the soldiers untangled himself
from his companions, then faced the bars. “You won’t get away with
this!” he threatened. “When Sumas returns…!”

“When Sumas returns, you’ll say
nothing,” Caprion said boldly, meeting each of their eyes. “Now
shut your mouths and sit quietly.” His voice ached from the
command.

The soldiers sat there,
stunned. Caprion finally turned away and started toward the exit.
He shook his head as he walked, a little unnerved by his new
abilities.
I’m too strong,
he thought.
By the One
Star…why did you make me this way?

The Song shifted inside of
him, and he heard its call as clearly as a struck bell.
Protect them,
it
murmured.

And he knew, then, that
the ancient lore of his race was true. The seraphim were meant to
be warriors, to defend their people, to hunt down and destroy the
Sixth Race. He could feel it in his body, in his wings, in his
voice and Song. And he knew, suddenly, that generations of seraphim
had sacrificed their lives—activated their six wings in an
explosion of light—to destroy the demons.
There is a history here,
he
thought.
A history I must uncover…but now
is not the time.

If he made it out of this situation,
he vowed to dig up every single piece of information he could find
on the seraphim. He had seen statues of six-winged warriors along
the Road of Remnants, but had never wondered about them. Now, he
would need to know. He had a feeling that it wouldn’t be so easy to
destroy the next demon. A brilliant energy had consumed his body
when his wings first emerged. He wouldn’t be able to summon that
kind of light again—not without serious consequences.

He paused at the door to the prisons.
No soldiers stood outside; the grounds appeared empty. He had to
wonder at that. It didn’t seem like Sumas to leave him with only a
few guards. After a cautious moment, he started into the forest,
careful to hide his presence.

He slipped quietly through the evening
twilight. As the stars appeared in the sky, he felt a new
connection to them. He found, if he listened hard enough, he could
almost hear faint strands of music, changing as he settled his eyes
on different stars. It was as though he knew them. As though he
could hear every Harpy’s unique Song.

A chill passed over his
skin.
How will I ever learn to be a
seraphim?
he thought.
How can I ever control this?

Once he felt certain he had not been
followed, he lifted easily into the air and headed for the
underground dungeons where he knew Moss was imprisoned.

Chapter 10

The underground dungeons were
surprisingly empty, though Caprion could detect the faint vibration
of Harpies moving about the tunnels. They stayed far out of sight,
patrolling the dark pathways of the deeper prisons.

He traveled swiftly through the wide
stone practice chamber where Sumas had trained his soldiers. His
feet hovered an inch above the ground, completely silent. He didn’t
bother to hide himself as he once had. He wasn’t afraid anymore,
not after facing the demon. He felt certain, no matter what
happened, that he would be able to find Moss and get her out of
this place. No one could stop him from this.