Read Online Caprion's Wings by T. L. Shreffler - Free Book Online
Authors: T. L. Shreffler
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to an iron ring in the wall and thick shackles bound her
hands. It all seemed unnecessary. She looked harmless, like a
kitten bunched into a corner.
His eyes traveled to a piece of bread
resting near her foot. A trail of crumbs led across the ground. As
he watched, a small brown lizard, no bigger than his own thumb,
scurried from a crack in the wall and took a corner of crust. The
girl reached down and picked up the small animal, her attention
shifting.
“Shh,” she whispered. “Don’t scare
him.”
Caprion wondered who she meant—himself
or the tiny reptile in her hands.
After a moment of
uncertainty, he approached the back of the room. He loosened his
sword, though he felt foolish doing so. A
child, he thought. Just a defenseless child. She doesn’t belong in a place like
this, even if she is of the Sixth Race. He
remembered the scarred, hollowed-out bodies of the slaves in the
practice chamber. He couldn’t imagine such a fate being visited
upon a young, helpless girl.
As he approached, the girl
shrank back into the corner. She watched him warily, squinting
against the sunstone’s light. He paused a few feet away and removed
his hand from his sword. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he said
softly. He infused his voice with a gentle touch, a singing spell
meant to sooth the senses. All is safe
here, he pressed into his tone. His voice
resonated softly against the stone walls. Be still.
After a moment, the girl
took a deep breath. He saw the tension smooth from her brow. The
girl studied him quietly, contemplative for her age, overly
observant. It leant weight to her presence, somewhat disconcerting.
He wondered if she was older than she looked, despite her
diminutive size. He felt a sense of unease. Don’t let your guard down.
Finally, she frowned. “You’re a
Harpy?” she asked slowly.
He nodded. “Yes.”
She glanced over him again. “But…where
are your wings?” Her voice came out in a rasp. It sounded
painful.
“My wings?” he asked distractedly. The
sunstone gleamed at her throat. He looked closer and noticed the
skin around her collar: red and ruptured, blistered and burned.
Blood trickled from the iron collar to her neckline. He stared at
the wound on her neck, his unease turning to horror. How could his
people do this to a child?
She looked at him shyly. “You’re the
first Harpy I’ve ever seen without wings. Can you fly?”
Caprion had the sudden,
terrible urge to laugh. Even here, he thought, deep down in
the bowels of the earth, I am still being asked that
question! He shook his head in irony. Was
it wise to share his wingless state with this girl? Perhaps she
would realize his weakness and attack.... Damn it all, he thought. She’s in a far worse state than I am!
"I have yet to earn my wings," he said
bluntly.
"So you can't fly?"
He frowned. “No, I can't.” His hand
hovered closer to his sword, just in case.
A grin suddenly split the girl's face,
and the sheer simplicity of it struck him: her curving, slanted
eyes framed by dark lashes, and a teasing dimple on her left cheek.
She didn't look like a demon. Just a young, delicate girl sitting
in the darkness, small for her age, bruised and burned and still
speaking to him as though they stood on a street corner. He decided
she must be older than he first assumed, perhaps the same age as
his sister, around thirteen. Six years younger than himself. Soon,
she would be thrown to the wolves. He felt empty at the
thought.
"It’s good that you can’t fly," she
said. "Their wings hurt my eyes. You're very easy to look at." And
she stared at him for a long moment as though to make her point. As
her eyes searched his face, another small smile touched her lips,
completely secretive. He couldn't guess her thoughts.
"Well," Caprion stuttered, “uh…thank
you.” He had nothing better to say.
“Have you come to let me out?” she
asked hopefully.
He swallowed, wishing he could give
her a happier answer. “No,” he said.
Her
hands. It all seemed unnecessary. She looked harmless, like a
kitten bunched into a corner.
His eyes traveled to a piece of bread
resting near her foot. A trail of crumbs led across the ground. As
he watched, a small brown lizard, no bigger than his own thumb,
scurried from a crack in the wall and took a corner of crust. The
girl reached down and picked up the small animal, her attention
shifting.
“Shh,” she whispered. “Don’t scare
him.”
Caprion wondered who she meant—himself
or the tiny reptile in her hands.
After a moment of
uncertainty, he approached the back of the room. He loosened his
sword, though he felt foolish doing so. A
child, he thought. Just a defenseless child. She doesn’t belong in a place like
this, even if she is of the Sixth Race. He
remembered the scarred, hollowed-out bodies of the slaves in the
practice chamber. He couldn’t imagine such a fate being visited
upon a young, helpless girl.
As he approached, the girl
shrank back into the corner. She watched him warily, squinting
against the sunstone’s light. He paused a few feet away and removed
his hand from his sword. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he said
softly. He infused his voice with a gentle touch, a singing spell
meant to sooth the senses. All is safe
here, he pressed into his tone. His voice
resonated softly against the stone walls. Be still.
After a moment, the girl
took a deep breath. He saw the tension smooth from her brow. The
girl studied him quietly, contemplative for her age, overly
observant. It leant weight to her presence, somewhat disconcerting.
He wondered if she was older than she looked, despite her
diminutive size. He felt a sense of unease. Don’t let your guard down.
Finally, she frowned. “You’re a
Harpy?” she asked slowly.
He nodded. “Yes.”
She glanced over him again. “But…where
are your wings?” Her voice came out in a rasp. It sounded
painful.
“My wings?” he asked distractedly. The
sunstone gleamed at her throat. He looked closer and noticed the
skin around her collar: red and ruptured, blistered and burned.
Blood trickled from the iron collar to her neckline. He stared at
the wound on her neck, his unease turning to horror. How could his
people do this to a child?
She looked at him shyly. “You’re the
first Harpy I’ve ever seen without wings. Can you fly?”
Caprion had the sudden,
terrible urge to laugh. Even here, he thought, deep down in
the bowels of the earth, I am still being asked that
question! He shook his head in irony. Was
it wise to share his wingless state with this girl? Perhaps she
would realize his weakness and attack.... Damn it all, he thought. She’s in a far worse state than I am!
"I have yet to earn my wings," he said
bluntly.
"So you can't fly?"
He frowned. “No, I can't.” His hand
hovered closer to his sword, just in case.
A grin suddenly split the girl's face,
and the sheer simplicity of it struck him: her curving, slanted
eyes framed by dark lashes, and a teasing dimple on her left cheek.
She didn't look like a demon. Just a young, delicate girl sitting
in the darkness, small for her age, bruised and burned and still
speaking to him as though they stood on a street corner. He decided
she must be older than he first assumed, perhaps the same age as
his sister, around thirteen. Six years younger than himself. Soon,
she would be thrown to the wolves. He felt empty at the
thought.
"It’s good that you can’t fly," she
said. "Their wings hurt my eyes. You're very easy to look at." And
she stared at him for a long moment as though to make her point. As
her eyes searched his face, another small smile touched her lips,
completely secretive. He couldn't guess her thoughts.
"Well," Caprion stuttered, “uh…thank
you.” He had nothing better to say.
“Have you come to let me out?” she
asked hopefully.
He swallowed, wishing he could give
her a happier answer. “No,” he said.
Her
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