Caprion's Wings Read Online Free PDF Page B

doubt
one of the Unnamed would be strong enough to interfere with your
Singing. We should wait for the Matriarch to awaken and consult
her.”
    “Where is this prison of the Unnamed?”
he asked.
    Florentine’s eyes hardened. “I can’t
tell you,” she said. “Do not seek it out. We must wait for the
Matriarch to awaken. She will know what to do. It should only be a
few more days, Caprion. Be patient.”
    Patient? Caprion thought incredulously. Each passing
minute took him farther away from his star. He couldn’t put this
off for another hour, let alone several days.
    His thoughts returned to Sumas. His
brother must know of this practice ground; it explained where he
disappeared to at night. He seemed to remember subtle references to
it. He recalled Sumas speaking to their mother in low tones, saying
he would go “below” for a while. He would cut short those
conversations whenever Caprion entered the room.
    He suddenly wondered if these prisons
were located underground, perhaps close to Fury Rock. He couldn't
find them on his own, he would be too limited without wings, but if
he could follow his brother somehow....
    "Don't consider it," Florentine
cautioned again, her voice grave. "We'll consult the Matriarch
after she awakens in a few days."
    If she awakens. Caprion couldn't speak the words aloud, but he
felt suddenly cold with dread. The voice had threatened the entire
Harpy race, after all. Even stars must
die….
    He nodded again and stood up, too
distracted to say farewell, his mind already busy making
plans.
     
    * * *
     
    Caprion bought a bag of
sweet-rolls from the market and returned to his hut around noon. At
the very least, speaking to Florentine had given him a sense of
purpose. He could ignore the many side-glances he received, the way
people quieted when he approached, then broke into loud whispers
behind his back. The guards on patrol were the worst; most had
trained with Sumas or at least knew of the new captain. They stared
down Caprion, stepping purposefully in his path, forcing him to
walk around their large wings. He ignored them stoically, unable to
do anything else. He kept a wary eye out for his brother, but
didn't see him. As a Captain, his brother would be occupied with
more important business than street patrol. As important as business can get on a small island, he thought ironically.
    Caprion took his usual detour home,
traveling through the woods to give himself time to think. His
thoughts wandered to the Unnamed and the secret underground
prisons. He couldn’t wait around for the Matriarch to address his
problem. No, he needed answers. The sooner the better.
    Finally, he arrived home. As he
entered his single-room dwelling, he immediately caught the scent
of sandalwood. He turned, surprised, to find a familiar figure
sitting on his bed.
    "Talarin," he said. He almost dropped
his bag on the ground. "It's good to see you," he
stuttered.
    She smiled. Talarin had a narrow face
with flat cheeks, an upturned nose and pointed chin. Intelligent
lavender eyes greeted him. She wore her short hair braided around
her head to fit under her soldier’s helm, which currently lay on
the ground at her feet. She pressed her large wings tightly against
her back to accommodate the small space. Her long sword rested
nearby, next to the window. Full armor encased her sturdy figure.
He assumed she had just finished her patrol.
    He and Talarin grew up
next-door to each other, the same age. They attended the Academy
together for several years before she earned her wings. She failed
her first four Singings, and he remembered her fear, her
trepidation. Now she wore a twelve-foot wingspan with a daring sort
of irony. "Who knew?" she would often say over a mug of ambrosia. "I had the worst voice in the Academy. Always
flat. Always flat! Remember when Mistress Settia threw her song
book at me?"
    Two years ago, she gained her wings
and became a soldier. Caprion hadn't seen much of her since―her
life was busy, and