Caprion's Wings (14 page)

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.

Caprion nodded solemnly. Instead of
finding the secret door to the Matriarch’s chamber, it looked like
the demon had dug straight to it. “Get Sumas,” he murmured, and
drew his sword.

Talarin stared at him. “You don’t
truly intend to go down there? Caprion, you don’t even have
wings!”

He grabbed her arm, his muscles tense,
adrenaline pounding through his veins. “Get Sumas and his soldiers
here as quickly as possible,” he commanded. “The Madrigal and
Florentine will arrive soon. Hopefully I can buy you a little
time.” Then he thrust her away. “Go!”

Talarin stumbled a few steps. He could
tell she wanted to argue, but her eyes traveled back to the hole.
They needed time to gather more soldiers and bring them to the
Matriarch’s chamber. Time they didn’t have. And Caprion couldn’t
fly away to rally the troops. No, she had to go, and he had to
stay.

He could almost hear her
thoughts—
but you’ll die down there.
He stood, unflinching, his sword gripped tightly
in his fist.

“I’ll see you again,” she said
abruptly. Then she ran back toward the forest and shot off the
ground like an arrow. Her wings flashed brightly like a pulsating
star, a signal of alarm meant to draw any Harpies to the area. The
powerful vibrations crashed over his skin, making his teeth
ache.

Then she vanished over the tall pine
trees and the air went still.

Caprion turned back to the deep, dark
hole in the earth. He sheathed his sword as he approached the edge
of it, gathering his courage. When he gazed downward, he could see
a glint of light somewhere far, far below. Sunstone.

The demon was already in the
Matriarch’s chamber.

He had no other choice. He would have
to jump down.

With a small prayer to the One Star,
he lowered himself into the pit and allowed himself to
fall.

Chapter 8

Caprion slid feet first down the dark
hole. He used his arms and legs to slow his descent. Earth crumbled
beneath his fingertips and boots, falling down into that distant
white light, which grew brighter and brighter with each passing
moment.

Then, finally, he fell
through.

He landed on his feet much harder than
anticipated. He stumbled to one side, letting out a hoarse gasp,
and caught himself against the sunstone wall. The impact jarred his
bones. Pain coursed through his cracked sternum. He struggled for a
moment to regain his breath.

When he finally looked around, he saw
the earthen walls of a narrow tunnel. Chunks of sunstone lay
embedded in the rock, placed at uneven intervals. To his right, the
sunstone became more and more dense, leading him into the
Matriarch’s sleeping chamber. He felt the stone’s vibration like a
soft pressure against his skin, raising the small hairs on his arms
and neck. So far, no demon in sight.

To his left, brown clay walls led to
an earthen staircase that climbed back toward the surface. He
guessed the main entrance lay at the top of the stairs, most likely
sealed at the other end.

He straightened, his heart
pounding and the air sharp in his lungs. He brushed off his
clothes, smearing dirt from his sweaty palms. Then he drew his
blade.
Be strong,
he told himself.
No turning back
now.

He started toward the Matriarch’s
chamber. His footsteps echoed painfully off the sunstone walls. He
wished he had wings; he wished he could sail silently over the
ground, leaving no sign of passage. But now the demon would be
alerted to his presence long before he could sneak up on
it.

Finally, he reached a wide, circular
chamber. The hallway fell back and he entered an underground cavern
of gleaming, white sunstone. He had to blink his eyes several times
against the concentrated light. Mineral formations splashed the
walls: round, beaded piles of sea-green malachite; sparkling blue
sheets of azurite; spiked protrusions of rose-tinted
tourmaline.

He began tentatively exploring the
chamber, his eyes combing the walls. He tried to see around the
various mineral formations and blocks of sunstone. So far, it
looked empty of life. Rocky pathways had been cut through the rock,
carved by previous generations. He followed one of the paths
cautiously, wondering where the Matriarch resided.

He cleared a large
formation of rocks and paused.
There.
At the center of the chamber,
over mounds of jutting stalagmites, he saw a raised dais of
sunstone. On top of this dais sat a large stone slab where the
Matriarch lay in slumber. He could feel her presence resonating
against his skin, tendrils of a melody that teased his ears,
not-quite-heard.

He glanced around the
chamber again.
Where is the
demon?

He neared the Matriarch’s sleeping
place, his footsteps echoing. He paused at its side. The rock slab
stood even with his chest. A shield of white light curved around
the Matriarch’s body like the lid of a coffin, obscuring her from
view. He could see her long-fingered hand resting near the edge of
the shield, settled peacefully on the stone. The rest of her body
lay invisible behind the barrier of white light.

Slowly, he raised his finger and
touched the barrier, testing it.

At his touch, a ripple of
vibrations moved across the shield of light. Caprion stepped back,
surprised. Yellow runes began to appear along the stone slab as
though written by an unseen hand. His eyes followed the glowing
script. The language was old, dating back to the founding of
Asterion, but he could still read it:
a
wakening spell.
To be used in case the
Matriarch needed to be roused from her sleep...

…which would be a foolish
thing to do. Rousing the Matriarch early could steal years from her
life. She needed this rest to rejuvenate.
But this is an emergency….
Should he
call her out of slumber? Perhaps they could face the demon
together. Certainly she would have the power to kill it.

He hesitated at that thought. She
might be disoriented when she awoke, and the shield of light seemed
to be her only protection. He couldn’t put her life at further
risk. Perhaps better to leave the shield alone, at least until more
help arrived.

A hot wind gusted at his
back.

Caprion whirled around, fear
tightening his throat.

As he stared, a thick shadow began to
melt down the far wall. He hadn’t noticed it before since shadows
seemed like such natural things, but in a sunstone cavern there
would be no room for shade. The darkness dripped down the wall from
a series of thick stalactites and pooled on the floor. Then it
drifted into the air like a thick cloud of smoke and he felt the
temperature of the room rise. Sweat accumulated on his brow. His
grip grew clammy on his sword.

The demon materialized before
him—seven feet of charcoal skin and burning veins of fire. Thick
mist encircled its body, swirling like smoke. Then the mist broke
and he saw its face: gaping, drooling jaws crammed with rows of
teeth, some thin as needles, others thick as tusks, all long and
deadly sharp. A sprawling black tongue flicked in and out, tasting
the air, dripping with yellow, venomous phlegm. Saliva sizzled and
smoked like acid when it struck the ground, burning holes in the
sunstone floor. The rest of its face resembled a human skull with
narrow eyes full of malice.

Hatred rolled off its body, heating
the air like waves of fire.

Caprion took a step back and hit the
dais. A scream welled in his throat. He barely contained
it.

The demon’s face twisted
and distorted. Teeth. So many teeth.
“And
here you’ve come,”
the demon spoke, its
voice oily slick, like smoke and tar.
“My
little fledgling pawn.”

Caprion gripped his sword,
trying to still his shaking hand. “What do you mean?” he demanded.
Here, in the face of this dark beast, he suddenly didn’t know what
to do.
I’m going to fight this
creature?
Laughable—he was raw
meat.

The demon cackled, a terrible sound
that echoed and crashed against his ears. Caprion instinctively
recoiled, almost losing the grip on his sword. The demon stretched
out a disproportionately long arm and beckoned him forward. “Come,
little bird. Fly to me. I’ll show you how to get your
wings.”

With sick realization,
Caprion knew the demon had lured him here on purpose. A trap. How
else could the demon reach the Matriarch, unless someone lowered
the shield?
I need to distract it until
Sumas and the Madrigal get here,
he
thought. He dug his feet into the ground and raised his sword,
pointing it at the demon. “Why me?” he demanded. His voice cracked
from adrenaline. “Why did you call to me?”

The demon laughed again, shaking its
head in a strangely human way. “You?” it declared. “None of this is
about you, little bird. I’ve called for four-hundred years, and you
just happened to hear me. You’ve been a good little tool so far.
Now open the Matriarch’s dais so I can kill you.”

“Never!” Caprion gasped.

The beast leapt forward. It crossed
the chamber in three bounding steps. Caprion scrambled around the
Matriarch’s dais, keeping the slab of stone between them. The demon
flinched back from the shield of light, then lunged around the
table. It swung one long, clawed hand at his head.

Caprion dodged to one
side—
crunch!
The
demon’s claws left long gouges in the stone behind him. He
scrambled away, trying to stay out of reach. He noticed the demon
blinking erratically, closing its eyes to slits.
The light bothers it,
he
thought.
Perhaps it can’t see me.
He tested this theory, ducking behind a large
stalagmite that jutted from the ground.

The demon paused, but not
for long. Its snake-like tongue flicked out and tasted the air,
then the beast turned toward his hiding place, moving agilely
around the rocks. Its long arm swiped out again. Caprion raised his
sword just in time, deflecting the demon’s blow. His sword glanced
off its flesh like a rock, jarring his wrist. He recovered and
stabbed again, aiming for the bright red gaps in the creature’s
skin. He struck between its ribs.
Shunk!

The demon roared as steel entered its
flesh. A manic scream echoed around the cavern. Red, fiery blood
gushed from the wound, igniting the air. Caprion threw his arm over
his face and backed away from the heat. Luckily nothing could catch
fire in the chamber except his own body. Not entirely
reassuring.

When Caprion came to a halt some
meters away, he felt his gut sink in horror. The top half of his
blade had melted, leaving only a meter or so behind. The rest of
the steel lay embedded in the beast’s ribcage, melting into its
body. The demon continued to roar, prying the gobs of metal from
its flesh, but it didn’t seem fatally wounded. If anything, it only
seemed more furious.

Caprion kept his grip on the broken
blade. Now out of options, his heart hammered in fear. He could
run, but he couldn’t climb back up the hole to the surface and the
entrance to the chamber was still sealed. He would be a fool to
turn his back on this beast. With a cold, consuming dread, he
realized he was firmly trapped.

The demon whirled on him with a fierce
growl. It bounded across the cavern with startling speed, hardly
affected by its wound. Caprion stumbled back but could not get away
in time. The creature grabbed him by his shirt, wrenching him
forward. Then its massive hand clamped down on his head and the
beast dragged him to the ground before starting back to the
Matriarch’s dais. Caprion took hold of the creature’s wrist,
gasping in pain, trying to keep his neck from snapping.

The demon spoke in an
eager rush, acidic saliva pouring from its lips.
“Now!”
it groaned. “Now
read the spell! Unseal this witch’s tomb!”

Caprion resisted, unwilling to speak.
The creature dragged its claws down his back. Pain ripped through
him, drawing a scream from his lips.

“Now,
little bird, or I will tear off your arm!” the beast
snarled.