Free Caprion's Wings by T. L. Shreffler Page A

and headed down, deeper into the
earth.

Chapter 5
     
     
    Caprion and Moss walked for quite a
distance. The tunnels became darker and steeper, the stone
crumbling with age. These corridors had to be at least a thousand
years old, protected from the elements by layers of earth. On the
higher levels, moisture clung to the walls, seeping through the
rock as though squeezed out by a giant, unseen hand. But as they
traveled farther, the air became stiff and dry, the tunnels smooth
and sandy, like worn-out husks of ancient bones. Shadows became
more solid and took on a menacing cast, like gauzy black veils
drifting in the air, almost tangible. Caprion pushed through them
like thin cobwebs.
    As they walked, the strange sensation
grew in Caprion of being watched. The thickening shadows seemed to
contain entities and forms that he could not divine with his eyes.
Sometimes they seemed to move, shying away or pushing forward
against the light of the sunstone, which grew steadily muffled,
illuminating only a few feet around them.
    This deep in the prisons, they didn’t
run across any guards. The halls seemed widely abandoned. Finally,
after almost a half-hour of walking through immeasurable darkness,
the tunnel came to an end. Caprion stepped down into a wide, long
chamber. Moss hung back behind him. The shadows expanded outward
like leaves blown into empty space. The sunstone brightened,
casting a broad circle of white light. Solid blocks of granite
defined the walls of this new room, dark and heavy, impenetrable.
The ground evened out, paved with broken slabs of flagstone. The
ceiling to his left had partially caved in and a great pile of
rubble blocked the second half of the room.
    Caprion observed it all
silently. This is it , he thought. The
crypts . The air felt dense and hot,
difficult to breathe, like plunging into a furnace. It shouldn’t be
this hot underground. Sweat immediately sprang to his brow. The
back of his neck tingled. His eyes searched the visible corners of
the room, the collapsed stones and crumbling mortar to his left. He
could see no sign of a living thing, and yet he couldn’t shake the
feeling of being watched, of subtle movement at the corners of his
vision. A sense of unease crept down his spine. Go back, his instincts
murmured. This is not a place for
you.
    Moss took a step closer to his side.
Her expression drew into a tight frown, her eyes searching the room
cautiously.
    Caprion turned to their right, the
only direction they could travel. He immediately saw two large
stone blocks. His breath caught and his eyes narrowed in curiosity.
He walked to the nearest one, a massive tomb more than eight feet
long and five feet high. The lid had been carved into the
impression of a body, a carefully chiseled face and folded hands;
in the near darkness, he couldn’t tell if it portrayed a man or a
woman. Six wings protruded from its back, embedded in the stone.
The tomb appeared to be sealed tightly shut.
    Caprion studied it, unnerved. Harpies
were not buried in the earth like this. Over time, their bodies
grew brighter and brighter until they slowly faded into light,
returning to the One Star. If killed in battle, they were burned
and the ashes released to the wind. These tombs held something
other than Harpy remains—but he couldn’t guess what.
    His eyes traveled to the second tomb.
He stared at it for a long moment. The far side was broken, as
though someone had taken a heavy sledgehammer to it…or, he hated to
think, smashed through from the inside. Crumbled rock littered the
floor around the damaged corner. The carved lid was split down the
middle, blackened and stained by soot. Scars from an ancient fire?
His glanced upward and noticed similar blighted stains on the
walls. No wood resided in the room, nothing that could naturally
hold a flame.
    “Caprion,” Moss whispered.
    “What?” he replied.
    “I hear him.” Her voice faded to a
thin tremor. When he looked at her, he could see fear naked on