The Gray Isles

The blade was cold and smooth against my mouth, filling my tongue with the dull taste of blood. The blood of everyone and anyone that I had ever slayed, the blood of my enemies or my friends – it didn't matter now – all plastered along the edges of this knife. I should have been slightly disturbed, maybe even disgusted, but I couldn't bring myself to act humane. Being an animal, being a monster, was so much easier. My eyes roared with flames as my will to survive took over and a feral snarl echoed around me. The knife dropped. But my strength had been used up. The snarl slowly morphed into a cry of despair, and then I was on the ground, crying into the sand, not even noticing the strong arms that wrapped around me and quickly began to carry me away.

I woke up what must have been days later.

The cell was warmer than I expected it to be, but that meant the smell from the stables above was nearly unbearable. For a moment I couldn't imagine sleeping through such a stench. But then flashes from the previous fight came back to me and I debated throwing myself to the wall right then.

My fingernails were caked with dirt, sand, and dried blood. An unfamiliar nearly-healed scratch covered the entire length of my left palm. When I flexed my hand the injury merely ached a bit and then receded. My throat felt incredibly hoarse, although I imagined the lack of water could have led to that. Somehow I knew to check my back – maybe that intense memory of pain. I lifted my tunic, wincing as layers of skin were removed with it, and felt around for the wounds. Ah. There. Several long gashes traveled at an angle from shoulderblade to ribcage. As long as they remained uninfected they would heal with time, I thought.

The only thing left was to curl up at the bars and wait.

Once the cell grew dark and the sunlight ceased its filtered light through the barred windows, I started to nod off. Only moments later I stiffened at the sound of footsteps. A slender hand grasped a bar close to me. I squinted into the darkness and saw green eyes. Green eyes and a mop of brown hair. It was loose now and nearly hung to his shoulders. His face was grim, but it could have been the shadow.

“Jacob,” I whispered and then wheezed to clear my throat. I reached up to grasp his fingers in greeting. He squeezed my hand for a moment before crouching low.

“Imber,” his eyes were shifty. I closed mine. “Bad news. They're giving you no more time to rest. I pleaded father to listen, but he was more forceful than ever.” He couldn't speak for a moment. “Those men. The ones with black vests and gloves?” I nodded to show I remembered that much. “Some escaped. The port's been closed down for safety... but everyone is fearful.” He desperately grabbed hold of my hand again. “I'm so sorry you had to come back here. I suppose it's a good thing you won't be here long. They're sending you away early in the morning, so the people don't riot again.”

I grinned at the thought but my companion merely frowned. At this I looked into Jacob's eyes. He was usually so cheerful at our rare meetings. I imagined him to be the Lord's loved and cherished son. Duke of Falden. An only heir. I would never say how much I envied him because to say something so absurd wasn't my place and besides I could never hurt Jacob like that. He was like a child to me.

Instead I merely sighed and turned away from him. “Jacob. You know this had to happen sometime – I'm like a curse to you all here. I can't keep running and hiding at Lord Falden's whim.” At this I could see he winced from the corner of my eye. “I'm sure he's planning something for me.” Jacob's lower lip began to tremble but one low growl from my chest and he stilled. “Don't deny it,” I snapped. I clenched my cut hand around one of the bars to calm my fury. “I'll go quietly and hopefully you'll not hear of me again. It's all finally going to end.” I reached out to grasp the front of his shirtsleeves and gave him one rough jerk, hoping to instill some sort of fear or finality. “Don't forget your place in my absence, Jacob. You'll make a fine Honorable.” I smiled a bit and let him go. His green eyes were wide but he stayed still.

“And don't you forget your true place, Imber,” he whispered softly, sadly. “Goodbye sister.”

My true place? I felt the raw anger rise up in me at his words, but he was gone before I could tell him to leave. I only hoped he couldn't hear the anguished howls of the beast from the manor.

Just like Jacob had said, a set of keys could be heard twinkling in the early morning. The sounds jolted me from a light sleep. A pinkish light streamed through the windows and speckled the wood floor with red shadows. I lifted my head from my chest and pushed my matted hair back from my face, adjusting my neck in several places as I did. My company was silent until they approached the cell's lock and found the right key. The door swung open with a loud groan. “Come this way,” the guard spoke gruffly and grabbed me by the upper arm so tightly I quickly lost feeling in my fingers. I was dragged up several flights of stairs, some stone, some wooden, until we came upon an ornate door. I thought I recognized it from some time in the past. The guard knocked twice and we were met with the face of a young woman. I was deposited inside and the guard left. He didn't go far, though; they wouldn't let me out of their sight.

Further into the room I saw two more women waiting with a steaming bath. The steam momentarily startled me, but I quickly controlled my reaction. The youngest girl – the one who had answered the door – smiled to me and motioned for me to come to the claw-footed tub. I realized that they had no idea what I was. And how could they? Maybe that thought hurt the most.

I was undressed in what seemed like seconds and found myself sitting in the water in almost less. I let the servants scrub me until I became as pink as that morning's sunrise. My hair took some time to tame, but tame it they did. I was left feeling even more vulnerable than before, although I did appreciate being clean.

It saddened me to think of why they did it. Had Lord Falden planned my funeral so easily? A morning dress layed out over a chair caught my eye as I was lifted from the soiled water and surrounded in white linens. At least I would feel pretty in my last days. Or were there only hours left now?

The women clucked their tongues at the wounds along my back. One of them hurried to gather more linens. It confused me when they began to apply a thick paste to the gashes. The medicine stung but I could barely feel it through my haze. They wrapped the injury tightly and then began to pull me into the complicated dress. Buttons were done up my back, though they were careful to avoid too much pressure. Laces were tied tightly around my waist, and a black shawl was thrown over last. I would have expected something different for coffin-ware, but it had been so long since I last thought of fashion anyway. I wore only the men servants' clothing that Jacob had brought to me when my last became too torn or bloodied. I found that I liked the way the skirts puffed out and allowed my legs to breathe. There were no shoes for me, but my bare feet were far less noticeable now. At last the women rubbed oils into my hair, talking amongst themselves as they did. I gathered that this treatment wasn't ordered, yet they took pity on me all the same.

I was too numb and confused to push them away.

When the guard came back to take me away, I heard one of them coo to the others from the hallway: “Poor girl. Poor, poor girl.”

My lip pulled back on its own and a snarl came out. The guard had been gentler with me upon seeing me anew and washed and that I was in fact a female – but now he held me even firmer than before. I didn't care. I preferred the pain over their horrible sympathy. It was hard enough to keep my own chin high.

Soon another guard accompanied this one. Their faces were like stone as if certain any emotion or words would prompt me to lash out. I simply grit my teeth as they ushered me into the daylight and towards a waiting carriage. One of the horse's white eyes found me and he reared up, startled. A lash of a whip sent him down again. I was thrust into the carriage and the door was locked behind me. I didn't have time to settle myself before the horses took off at a fast trot and so I toppled over to my side.

I looked up in time to notice there was another in the carriage with me. He didn't look at me, though, and remained motionless even as I struggled to pull myself onto the opposing seat. I ignored him as well. It was obvious this was a prisoners' buggy. He was either a guard or a criminal.

There were no windows, and so I could not see where we were going or where we had been. I only knew that there was no slowing of the horses. We carried on like that for hours.

I couldn't help glancing over at the man. Each time I did so, his eyes were elsewhere, though I did notice they were a dark color. More narrow than most dark eyes. He carried no weapon but his clothes seemed rich. I turned away again.

When the carriage came to an abrupt stop I almost breathed a sign of relief, but then fear struck me. Could this be where I met my end? I couldn't breathe at all then. The man across from me finally spared me a glance. A hard, calculated one, but a look all the same. His eyes somehow gave me a confidence I didn't know I possessed and instead of cowering my heart began to beat normally again. It wasn't like Imber to back down in the face of danger.

But what did happen was unexpected. The door slid open once more. Instead of being dragged out, several more men began to hoist themselves into the carriage. Men of all shapes, sizes, ages. Were they all criminals? I couldn't believe it even though the idea made sense. An older fellow tipped his hat to me before sitting beside the dark-eyed man. There were four others. An extremely broad-shouldered man with auburn hair that nearly hit his head on the ceiling upon entrance. A younger man with blonde hair and a wide splattering of freckles. A dark-skinned man with cropped hair and a trimmed beard. The last man could only be described as a gentleman. He wore a gray-colored suit with white shirtsleeves that were rolled up to his elbows. A golden pocketwatch hung from his pocket and he wore high riding boots. This last man sat beside me, nodded in greeting, and then observed the rest of the company. He seemed to smirk at the dark-eyed man who had been riding with me for so long. The latter merely frowned in response.

I sat as far from them as I could. Soon enough the door was slammed once more and we began another leg of the journey. It wasn't like me to be curious of strangers, but I had to know. I turned to the man with the pocketwatch. “Who are you? All of you?” I furrowed my brows angrily. “Where are we going?”

The gentleman's eyes widened in surprise, but I thought it might not be genuine. “You mean to say you don't know?” Then he seemed to nod to himself. “Ah. Very well then.” He made a flourishing gesture. “My name is Dr. Alden Fitz.” A doctor? “I believe I am the escort of this... lovely bunch. I will be seeing you into the presence of Lord Falden for an important conference.”

So the Lord was behind this after all. I couldn't help clenching my teeth and fists to avoid another growl.

But Dr. Fitz was not done talking. He pointed to the older man. “That there is my friend Henry Simmons.” Then he clapped the blonde man on the shoulder. “This is Jack. The giant is Bomani. The other one is Sylar.” He then nodded to the dark-eyed man. “That man is known as Darious. A long-time rival, you could say. But truly we're great pals.” Darious sighed audibly at this and crossed his arms over his chest.

I wasn't interested in their names or friendships. “But why are we going to the manor?” I did not want to be seen in that place if I could help it, and I wanted to come across Jacob even less.

Dr. Fitz examined his pocketwatch for a moment before snapping it shut and turning to look at me, as if trying to placate a child. “Escorting, business, my dear. We've been hired specifically to escort you across the bay. Except for Darious, here, who had some debt to pay off. But I'm sure he'll be of some use.” Another smile.

I thought briefly of Jacob and his warning not to ever trust a man with an easy smile. Foolish, passionate Jacob who smiled for no reason and looked after me no matter what. How I would miss him wherever I went with these odd people – whether it was to the bay or the morgue.

Did they know I was the rumored sick daughter Falden? Or did they know me as the beast? Perhaps neither. I couldn't tell, and if anything, they didn't seem like the escorting type if we were doing any “escorting” at all. No. I thought that there was some alternative motive that these men had. Dr. Fitz noticed my distrustful stare and pulled a white envelope from his sleeve. He handed it to me and I noticed he wore gloves. White gloves.

I took the letter. There were some words unfamiliar to me, but I knew enough to understand that the message was from Lord Falden himself and was stamped accordingly. It said some nonsense about finding the masked man called Morgan and to take me, referred to simply as “the girl”, with them while at it. I couldn't determine if I was meant to be an extra weight to the task or an important implement of it. I handed the envelope back to Dr. Fitz and he tucked it snugly into his suit once more.

“So you see,” he said simply and then became preoccupied with polishing his riding boots.

I would go along with it for now. Admittedly, it seemed better than the fights the Lord had tasked me with lately. I found myself sleeping in the cell more often than not, barely remembering the nights before. I knew I killed people. That was all it took to make me forget. Even if they were bad people, every time I maimed or bit I became worse than them. I was a lone soul baring the weight of a hundred other evils, and it alienated me from all of society. Wearing a nice dress and having a clean face made no difference. These men may not know it now, but if they looked they would notice the beast with time.

Soon they might be chasing me with torches and sabers.

When the carriage stopped again, there was the sound of the driver clapping his hand on the roof and the horses stomping uneasily, still skittish and panting. Dr. Fitz reached across to open the door. I thought it had been locked, but apparently the windowless carriage was merely a facade. Or perhaps no one was meant to see its inhabitants.

Outside the door rested the manor in all of its late summer glory. Beyond the open gates were glossy stone paths that spiraled through the garden. Pristine hedges and slowly trickling fountains led to the front doors. I glimpsed a shadow in a tall window and soon enough a butler of some sort was making his way towards the gate. He reached us out of breath.

“Gentlemen,” he addressed Dr. Fitz and the others, his eyes trailing suspiciously over some of them.

I thought I knew what he was thinking. Odd, to see a gentleman traveling with such an outragious group.

“Lord Falden wishes to see you in the back rooms. Please drive around to the small gate and enter there. The housekeeper will be there to take you to one of the sitting rooms.” He looked skeptical about us meeting with the Lord at all, but Dr. Fitz was sure to wave his stamped letter in the butler's face efficiently enough.

The rear of the manor was even more spectacular than the front, in my opinion. I was the last one off the carriage, behind Darious. He didn't offer me his arm but then again I didn't expect him to. We walked across the impressively mowed lawn. A large black dog stood from his place beside a willow tree to watch us pass. Behind the tree was a pond with a small dock and rowboat. For a brief moment I imagined Jacob sitting on that dock, trailing his fingers in the green water and giggling boyishly. I shook the picture away.

Beyond the pond were the acres of land that belonged to Lord Falden – and somehow to me as well, I supposed. But the place felt more threatening than homely.

I'd fallen behind the others. The blonde with freckles – Jack – turned to gesture me forward. He didn't smile or speak. None of them did. Besides the doctor, and him I felt even more weary of.

The housekeeper greeted us as promised. She seemed hushed and secretive, and glanced at me more than once. She took us to a lavish sitting room with velvet cushions and sofas before leaving us immediately after. The Lord was there already. He sat in an armchair by the fire. Although it was warm outside, the manor was castle-like in its structure and tended to be quite cold. My bare feet felt chilled on its stone floors. The fire provided some warmth. I felt myself drawn to it and the man at its edge.

Lord Falden turned to look at us without ever really looking. I'd never once met his eyes, even when I was little. When he saw the group he laughed loudly, causing me to flinch. I stepped forward again to hold my ground against this man.

“Really, Alden, this is the best you could do?” he addressed the doctor.

Dr. Fitz smiled sardonically. “Not many men willingly volunteer for a suicide mission, Elias.” Curious, they knew each other by familiar names.

Lord Falden became serious once more. “Except for you. You crazed man.” When the doctor smiled again I gathered that this was some sort of personal joke. The Lord sighed. “Are you certain these ones are trustful?” So far he's refused to even look in my direction.

Dr. Fitz purposefully turned his head to raise a challenging brow at Darious. He then grinned at the Lord. “Perfectly certain, my Lord.”

The older man I remember as Henry stepped forward towards the center of the room, where a circular table separated us from the fireplace. I remembered the doctor mentioning they were friends. Henry had removed his cap at the door and I could see his bald head shining with the light. He reached into his wool jacket to pull out a long roll of papers. He removed the bit of twine that bound them together before unfolding one on the table. He kept his hands there to hold the ends flat.

The doctor stepped forward as well, blocking my view from the map. The Lord remained seated but began to speak; “I have good reason to believe that Morgan will be with his men on the their next attacks. They'll surely target the Elaysian Port next, like you predicted. Now that they've seen her with their own eyes he'll not be able to resist the want to get a taste of that power. Elaysia is closest to home. Hopefully word of the lineage will bring him out of hiding. Our plan will fall seamlessly into place.”

I couldn't see his face but I knew the doctor was amused once more. “I should hope so. If anything that ancient blood will bring Morgan The Coward out of hiding, I say. But I'm troubled, my Lord, by the actual defeating process.”

Lord Falden laughs. “Don't concern yourself over that, my man. The girl is our greatest weapon, rest assured. We will have our foreign lands within two moons. And this lot will be rich!”

They continued their anxious discussion, the other men remaining quiet. I was too pensive to listen to any more. Bait. That's what I was now – not just “the girl”, but bait as well. Bait for some evil that Wicksburg Port wanted to vanquish. I was no longer the greatest evil of this port. I would be its martyr. I was too stunned to plan logically for my survival, like the beast always insisted. The idea of being useful had caught me up in its clutches once again and there was no way I could escape the elation that came with it.

Still my chest seized up when I heard loud footsteps pattering towards the door of the sitting room. The door burst open and Jacob flew in, laughing unabashedly and wielding a squirming puppy in his arms. I tried to keep my face blank, but one corner of my mouth lifted in a small smile.

Jacob froze when he saw the guests his father had. His eyes slowly drifted until they landed upon me. His jaw dropped open in surprise. “Imber!” he shouted at the same time Lord Falden bellowed, “Jacob, leave us this instant!” But the boy ignored him. Today Jacob's hair was tied with a small ribbon, but several strands had escaped and framed his young face. It'd been some time since I last saw him in proper lighting. He'd grown older, I thought grimly. Older and hardened. I could see it in his green eyes, not in his laughter or childish antics. He would be fourteen now. Nearly a man.

“Imber,” he stated again, as if confirming it was really me. I let myself meet his eyes and smile softly. Dr. Fitz and the others were watching the exchange curiously, but when I looked towards them they turned away to talk amongst themselves. All but Darious, who kept his black eyes on us. I shivered under his glare, but could not walk away from the boy so close to me now. Jacob embraced me openly although Lord Falden was close to being consumed by a writhing anger. I could tell by the way his square face was turning purple. And I embraced Jacob in return although Darious's calculating eyes were still upon us. Suddenly he turned away, as if he realized I could see him watching.

“So you're going with Fitz?” Jacob whispered into my ear. He sounded relieved.

“Yes,” I said, because I didn't quite know what he meant.

“He's told me he's going on a quest,” Jacob said, confused for a moment. His face darkened and only I could see it. “It can't be good. You were right, Imber, they're up to something. Father and his advisers. I've been listening in on their conversations. This time father closed all the doors. Hence the puppy.” He held the animal up to my face. Oblivious to the danger, it licked my cheek and I stared into its innocent eyes, too choked for words. The dog reminded me of Jacob's innocence and I felt the beast react suddenly. I clenched my jaw before the teeth could force my lips back and show themselves.

Jacob stepped back, eyes sad. Perhaps he subconsciously felt the threat I exuded. “I don't want you to go. I might never see you again.”

I leaned in close, because it very well might have been the last time. “I'll be fine,” I said, and pat him on the cheek. That was all I could handle.

Lord Falden watched us with angry eyes, spittle flying from his lips in his temper. He wouldn't rebuke me in front of the others. There was no way he could manipulate me with such a witness.

“Run along now,” I whispered to the boy. Jacob turned tale and fled. The last thing I saw of him was the tail of his untucked shirtsleeves.

The room was silent for a moment. Just then Dr. Fitz began to speak loudly. “Well then.” He looked nervous. I saw him glance at Lord Falden for a brief instant. “Awright boys! Let us go on our way. We've got a long few days ahead of us.”