Shades of Grey

L’ÎLE DU DIABLE— FEBRUARY 1843

Forma sat on my shoulder as a butterfly, periodically flitting from one of my shoulders to the other in an irritating dither.

“I don’t like this; why do we need to watch them? What if they were to spot us?” she asked.

“If the chief has gathered the entire tribe like this, it must be a matter of importance,” I replied sternly. “I need to be aware of such a matter.”

Forma did not say anything else as we approached the gathering place, a great circular clearing with numerous log benches encircling a tall wooden platform. Keeping my promise to stay hidden, I made a silent leap up to the forest canopy and found a relatively comfortable bough within close proximity to the platform. I positioned myself so that I could tune my sensitive hearing to the Nemorosa voices and quietly eavesdrop. Forma turned into a dragonfly and flew below so that she had the entire Nemorosa populace within her line of sight. With my ears and her eyes, we would not miss a single detail.

“My Nemorosa brethren!” cried a booming voice belonging to a man of great stature who walked out onto the platform carrying a tall wooden staff and bearing a large number of war tattoos and battle scars. I took this to be Chief Sirva.

Before I could survey any more of the scene, a sharp, sudden pain ripped through my eyes and I closed them impulsively, waiting for the feeling to pass. Once the pain equalised and became no more than a dull cephalic pounding, I opened my eyes and saw that my ocular perception was now supplied by Forma’s eyes. She had exercised a skill that Hunters and their Maislings had grown to possess over generations of adaptation: the power to psychically share senses. I just wished she would warn me before she utilised this ability; the linking process was quite painful.

The straggling Nemorosas quickly found their seats and everyone in the circular courtyard moved their gazes to the impossibly large Chief Sirva.

“My brothers and sisters: we have lived upon this island for many a prosperous moon, but our time here is ending.”

This remark was met with whispers of surprise.

“What do you mean, Chief Sirva?” cried one male.

“Are you expecting us to just leave our home?” proclaimed another.

The Chief listened to each protest and simply raised his hands, patiently waiting for quiet.

“I am sure that all of your sharp Nemorosa instincts have picked up on the fact that our situation is no longer one of safety: our location has been compromised.”

At this there was a collective gasp from all, including me. Had the boys I had encountered before divulged my presence?

“Is it true?!” cried one frantic young woman who stood near the chief.

“I am afraid it is: there is a Creature Hunter on the island.”

My stomach dropped as the screams of horror and fearful chatter rose to a nearly intolerable level. I felt Forma twitch in anxious fear.

“Forma, look around for Rodag.”

“Why?” she replied harshly.

“JUST DO IT!”

Forma obeyed, reluctantly scanning the panicked tribe for Rodag and locating him several moments later at the back of the clearing, looking just as horrified as the rest of the tribe but for an entirely different reason...

“We must keep our eyes and ears peeled for this Hunter. Be extra vigilant; Hunters are trained in the darkest arts of secrecy. They learn to be invisible to their prey.”

“But chief, we are not the monsters the Hunters claim us to be!” called Rodag from the back. “Shouldn’t we simply ask the Hunter to spare us? Perhaps they will listen.”

A contemplative air travelled through the tribe as the civilians considered this idea, but the chief looked suspicious.

“What makes you suggest this, Rodag? Have you come into contact with the Hunter?”

The entire tribe turned to Rodag and I saw him debate whether or not he should reveal his knowledge.

“I have, chief.”

I sat up, as did everyone else.

“How so?” prodded the Chief.

“I was up near the Silverback Caves and I heard a strange noise. I followed the sound and I saw the Hunter trying to defeat a Coeur Troll.”

An audible cry of shock went through the crowd.

“Was the Hunter successful?” asked the Chief. Judging by his tone of voice, I had a Calpurnian apprehension that he already knew the answer.

“Yes.”

I frowned in confusion. I hadn’t been successful. He should know: he had to rescue me before the damn troll killed me. Why was he lying?

“Do you know where the Hunter is now?” the chief asked sternly.

“No sir,” replied Rodag darkly. He was very convincing and I almost believed him, even when he looked Forma straight in the eye.

Chief Sirva kept his hollow eyes on Rodag as he pondered his answer. I feared he would decipher the truth in the lie, but Rodag’s confident demeanour remained unflinching. Chief Sirva raised his hands commandingly.

“We will all search for this Hunter. Gather the other sects! Tonight, this Hunter shall become the hunted!”

Forma flew back up to the canopy where I was positioned and broke the linked vision as the crowd erupted in excited cheers. I gasped when I regained control of my eyes and I looked at Forma as she sat on my knee, sharing my worried expression.

“What are we going to do?” I asked. “There are only so many places to hide on an island!”

“Don’t panic,” Forma replied calmly. “I think I know a way to—”

An arrow suddenly broke through the forest canopy and pierced the bark of the tree on which Forma and I had taken refuge, startling the two of us so greatly that we both nearly fell out of the canopy.

“Well, that did absolutely nothing for my nerves!” Forma cried, trying to catch her breath.

“Wait, I think there’s a message wrapped around it,” I said, noticing a piece of paper wrapped around the wood of the arrow with a black dobbin. I quickly undid the dobbin and read the message.

“’Meet me at the spot where your ship wrecked as soon as everyone is out of the clearing.’”

Forma frowned.

“I don’t like it,” she said plainly.

“I know,” I responded, ignoring her. “Let’s go.”

Forma rolled her eyes and flew down to the ground and took a look around.

“It’s clear,” she called a moment later.

I nodded and positioned myself to descend from my tree branch. I held my breath and let myself fall, landing with surprising agility in the exact centre of the now empty clearing.

“That was impressive; your best jump yet,” Forma congratulated. Agility training had always been my Achilles’ heel in school.

“Thank you,” I replied, revelling for only a moment before turning to run. Forma quickly shrank to her natural size and flew next to me as I kept my eyes straight ahead, not allowing them to stray to any passing obstacle. This was the key when sprinting at unthinkably high speeds: keep your eyes straight ahead and your body will avoid all obstacles on its own.

Seconds later, Forma and I arrived at the crash site still sat pathetically broken against the rocky shoreline with the tide beating mercilessly against it.

“Grey!”

I turned and saw Rodag hiding in one of the rooms on the wrecked ship. I hurried over to him and he pulled me quickly into the dark room that had once been my sleeping quarters.

“Every Nemorosa on this island is looking for you, you must leave,” he stated quickly in a hushed whisper.

“But I don’t have any means of leaving! My ship is wrecked!” I replied, gesturing to the wreckage.

“Ssh!” He snapped suddenly, clapping his hand over my mouth. He glanced briefly toward the forest, verifying that no one was approaching and then leaned towards me, speaking quickly.

“There is a ship in the bowels of Volcano Mountain in the centre of the island. If you are silent and swift, you stand a good chance of evading the Tyragnon officers inside, finding the ship and leaving this place forever.”

“Forever?!” I said, aghast. I am ashamed to admit it now but in my youthfully hormonal ignorance, I did not want to leave him. I wanted to know him, to figure out the intricacies of his species...

“Forever. My people do not take kindly to Hunters, as you saw. If you are caught, there is no telling what kind of torture they will inflict upon you.”

“Why are you so kind to me then? Do you not hate Hunters? Even after what one of them did to your people?” I asked with odd sharpness.

He paused before speaking, sweeping my face with his unwaveringly strong eyes. I tried very hard to ignore my increasing heartbeat as he leaned in closer to me, studying my masked eyes.

“I do not think you are as prejudiced as most Hunters are,” he said finally.

“What makes you say that?” my voice was barely audible.

He leaned inward, his lips hovering dangerously near mine and I felt his hands at the folds of my mask, reaching up to the brim of my hat. Forma flitted frustratedly about the air above us: she was annoyed — and she had a right to be — but I didn’t care.

“Sometimes you simply know things about people,” he whispered, meeting my trembling lips.

The temperature in the room seemed to escalate rapidly and I felt my guard falling with equal speed, until I heard the Romanian phrase return with greater volume.

“Vèi muri în noaptea aceasta!”

The ship suddenly disappeared and I opened my eyes to a red and white parlour in an upscale London flat. I saw a man and a woman sitting on a couch near a brightly lit fireplace, both looking at me in paternal happiness with a large dog sleeping loyally at their feet. It was a beautiful scene, but then the beautiful man I recognised as the murderous vampire — Evan Suveran, in that moment I knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was him — flew into the room, just as radiant orange flames sprang up and began to burn away the homely scene…

Rodag must have felt my horrified reaction because the instant he pulled away, I roughly returned to the wrecked ship.

“Are you alright?” he asked in a panic. “I’m so sorry!”

“I’m fine,” I said, trying to breathe evenly. “I’m alright…”

“Get away from her, you dirty Bender!” Forma cried — acting for the first time since the start of the conversation — as she turned into a large Lequus and shoved her leonine body in-between Rodag and me, spreading her wings to further separate us.

“Forma,” I shouted, pushing her away. “Relax.”

“Grey, my job is to protect you from harm. A Nemorosa who can’t control himself presents a moderate factor of harm.” She spoke mechanically, smoothly turning her head over to Rodag and growling in dark hatred.

“I said relax,” I repeated. “I will be alright, it was just an accident…no harm done.”

Forma relented and changed back into her natural size, flying up into the rafters of the broken ship while keeping careful watch over us both.

“I really am sorry. I had no idea that would happen,” Rodag apologised again.

“It’s alright.”

Rodag looked mildly satisfied and I felt brave enough to ask him one of the questions that had arisen from what I had overheard at the gathering.

“Rodag, who are the Tyragnon?”

Rodag’s countenance became suddenly hard and I grew apprehensive. Did I really want to know who the Tyragnon were if they caused such a reaction by mere mention of their name?

“You don’t have to tell me...” I consoled.

“No, you need to know.” He took a breath and then spoke. “The Tyragnon is a rogue group of Nemorosa officers who sought to seize power many years ago. They split the tribe, inciting civil war before they stole the sacred books from Chief Sirva and established a new order, where the Nemorosa live in broken easily governed sects instead of a strong united tribe. They now reside in Volcano Mountain where they govern each sect with iron fists.”

“For how long?” I asked.

“At least fifty years...”

There was a brief pause.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly.

“Don’t be. One day we will destroy them…soon enough…”

Rodag inhaled and looked up at the ruined interior of the ship, changing the subject with his body language.

“You really sailed in this?” he asked in disbelief.

I laughed at his disgust.

“Yes. It actually sailed better than I thought it would.”

“Who was the captain?” Rodag asked, clearly impressed with whoever it had been.

“A former Hunter named Saul,” I said. I wondered if he had been marooned on some distant island as well or if he had gone to see Davey Jones with the other half of his beloved ship…

There was another period of silence. I was growing to hate these stagnancies and I think Rodag could sense my increasing anxiety. I saw a smile creep across his beautiful face as he cast a sideward glance my way, thoroughly enjoying my discomfort.

“Grey, when you were at school, did anyone ever...er...catch your eye?”

I was surprised at the spontaneity of the question, similar to the one I had asked in the cave, and it took a moment to articulate an answer.

“No. I hated the male Tyros. Come to think of it, I hated all the Tyros.”

Rodag laughed. His laugh was so musical in tonality, so richly tintinnabulous in nature…

“Grey! Stop it!” Forma rebuked as she sensed my growing feelings. “You have to kill him and all his people!”

“Do I?” I replied verbally. “Where is it stated that I am solely responsible for eliminating every single creature on the planet?”

“Because that is how things are supposed to be! You are a Hunter and he is what you have been trained to hunt!”

Forma had enlarged herself and now stood directly in front of me, meeting the power in my frustrated gaze. I shifted my weight as I decided to change tactics: she would never voluntarily relinquish her Ciceronian ground. I needed another approach.

“Forma, will you comb the island and make sure that no one is close to discovering us? Especially after your conspicuously loud spate?” I asked kindly. Forma pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes in irritation and irately flew out of the wreckage towards the jungle in the form of a bird.

“Don’t try anything. I’ll be back before you can anyway,” she cautioned.

I smiled at her warning, deciding not to respond.

“Has she always been so...” Rodag struggled for a word.

“Stubborn? Headstrong? Resolute? Yes,” I replied, studying his perfect face. I knew in the back of my mind that this was a dangerous decision: recognising and accepting attraction to a Creature. Something inside of me, however, saw past the obvious. I saw a heart and a life just like mine…the right to live, just as I had…

“What are you thinking about?” Rodag asked after a moment of studious silence. My face must have betrayed my inner desire to remain clandestine. I struggled for a response, but before I could arrive at one, a third voice broke the tense atmosphere.

“Rodag!”

We both turned at the new voice and saw six Nemorosa warriors circling us, staring with open mouths and wide, horrified eyes. One of the Nemorosas held a small glass jar with an unconscious fairy Forma inside. I tensed my jaw in anger.

“Everhart, please do not jump to conclusions, it’s not what you think—” Rodag began, standing protectively in front of me.

“And what do I think, Rodag? What can I think when I see you and the Hunter like this?!” cried Everhart angrily, gesturing to our close proximity. “Restrain the Hunter!”

Rodag and I immediately switched into defensive mode and attempted to fight off the Nemorosas. For a while it appeared as though we would succeed, but thirty more Nemorosas suddenly appeared from the thick of the forest, roughly binding me in wooden handcuffs and stuffing a gag in my mouth before I had a chance to comprehend what had happened. They shot Forma with a small tranquilliser dart and, after she had transformed back into herself, forced her unconscious form in a glass jar.

“No! Please listen, she isn’t like the others!” Rodag cried.

“How do you know? This could simply be a new trick they teach at that acursed school!” cried Everhart. “What will Chief Sirva say when he hears about this?! What will the Tyragnon say?!!”

Everhart cast a look of paternal disappointment upon Rodag and then raised a long, pointed weapon I recalled from my year three Level Two creatures lesson as an Oudir: an instrument used to deafen the powers of a Nemorosa for a predetermined amount of time. It was developed by the Nemorosa rulers to deal with criminals. Rodag gave a pained scream as the dampening waves coursed through his body. He gave a final gasp before falling limply into his captors’ arms. In one day I had managed to destroy his livelihood and good name. Could that be the same as killing him?

“No!” I cried through the gag, trying to get to him. “Stop! Please!”

“SHUT UP, HUNTER!” Everhart swung the weapon across my face, cutting my skin and causing me to bite my tongue. I spit out a long stream of blood, staring unblinkingly at Rodag’s enervated form. He looked up at me with encouraging eyes.

I tried to smile, but something hit me hard on the head and I fell into black unconsciousness.