“Who’s the Creed?” Lyte didn’t expect the man to just answer her question but decided to try anyway.
“Why don’t you check it out for yourself?” He pointed at a building several feet away that had a small light coming from its windows and blew out a fog of cold air from his lips. By the time Lyte turned back to Felix, he was gone. She sighed; it would’ve been helpful if she’d gotten to ask her other questions as well, but this could be a good start. Lyte walked through the empty square towards the large, wooden house. The light was on the second floor of the house, so she walked over to the large oak tree beside it and scrambled up without a sound. She looked into the window through hooded eyes, praying that no one had seen her. She didn’t want a group of Ones of Within hating elves to come after her; that was exactly what James had asked for her to avoid.
Luckily, the figures in the window seemed transfixed by the discussion on hand. Lyte contained the contemptuous laughter threatening to erupt from her lips at the sight of them. The Creed was apparently an organization filled with wannabe hopefuls trying to copy the Coalition. The figure’s faces were painted in bright, primary colors. Everyone knew the Coalition worked with masks that hid their faces. Painting faces wasn’t nearly as effective as wearing masks… Lyte could still see the strong, elven features of the figures with painted faces. The elf closest to the window had a wreath of silky, midnight-black hair that fell straight to her narrow hips. She was the only one in the room that didn’t have paint on her face, but there was something familiar about her gaunt cheekbones. Her face was still turned away from Lyte, but she couldn’t explain where the resemblance was. Lyte noticed that the elf’s ears weren’t nearly as sharp as the others in the room.
“Welcome to the initiation.” A loud, overbearing feminine voice said from the back of the room. The crowd of people parted as a woman stalked into sight. She had a long, oval face painted the color of a lemon. Black, tiger stripes lined the edges of her face, and the tip of her nose was a triangle of pale pink. The woman opened her mouth and showed off a set of, most likely, fake teeth that were pointed like daggers. “Welcome to the Creed. My name is Tigress. You have come to join the rankings among us?” It sounded more like a threat than a question.
“Yes, that is no other choice for me.” The elf said, so softly, that Lyte had to strain her ears to listen. There was a maddening sense of déjà vu in Lyte’s ear as she heard that voice, but she couldn’t understand what the connection was.
“There is always a choice,” Tigress argued, her dark eyes narrowing at the young elf’s words. “By joining us, you are signing yourself into the bonds of our cause for the rest of your life. Think of the Creed as protection. Not only shall we fend for you, we will provide for you. Make your choice and keep to it.”
“I came here to join the Creed, and I hold to it.” The elf insisted though her voice wavered ever so slightly. Lyte still couldn’t pinpoint the person by voice, but it was becoming overwhelmingly obvious to her she knew this girl from somewhere.
“As you wish,” Tigress said softly before beginning to chant in an ominous tone. The other Creed members joined in the chant, and Lyte followed the Jakost words carefully in her head. “…spread our punishment chosen for those who bear the marks of disloyalty…from our father’s followers we martyred their choices and reason… imagine the world of living where elves can live in surplus… we strive for a community so many suffered for in our past life…” The Jakost went on by Lyte decided she had gotten the gist of it all. This ‘Creed’ was trying to follow the path Valencia had chosen years ago… she had been set upon keeping the elves neutral among the endless feuds between the Ones of Within and the Larta. Lyte released a ragged breath of air, watching the procession carefully. The young elf’s head spun around, hearing the slightest noise, and Lyte gaped at the figure, recognition hitting her in a heartbeat.
The girl’s dark hair couldn’t have told Lyte who she was before she turned, but the oval-shaped sapphire blue eyes seeping with ambition and the gaunt cheekbones that protruded out of her pale skin told Lyte everything she needed to know.
Firstly, this girl was not an elf… it didn’t matter how many Jakost words she had used to make her appearance more elf-like, to make the rounded tips of her ears point and her movements fluid… the girl had a human face, and her eyes weren’t shaped like an elf. This girl was Laurel, James’s younger sister, who had ran away from Sybra only a few years ago. Lyte could’ve recognized Laurel from anywhere; she had been her best friend before she disappeared one day out of nowhere. James believe for a while that she was kidnapped, and many search parties were started with no avail. In reality, Lyte knew what had happened. Even though Laurel never told her and it killed her inside, somehow she knew Laurel had run away to get away from the Ones of Within.
Her heart pounded as she released her grip from the tree branch, landed on the ground, and took off down the nearest alleyway. The whole Creed had seen her face and knew she had listened to every word they had said. It didn’t help that she was human… but the questions that seemed to plague Lyte’s mind weren’t related to the Creed. For the past few years, Lyte had decided Laurel was dead and that she had finally gotten her ultimate goal, to fade from existence. How had she managed to persuade the Creed that she was an elf, anyway, and why had she bothered? Was she a spy? Lyte shook her head, silently remembering the words Laurel had said: “Yes. There is no other choice for me.” Laurel hadn’t looked good, either Lyte’s stomach lurched as she remembered her old friend. Laurel had looked that one time, only once, right before she had left. It had only been a few days before…
#
Lyte remembered the day that seemed so long ago. That morning, rain poured over the lands and training had been called off early for the death of James and Laurel’s father, the former leader of the Ones of Within. At first, Lyte had just trained with Laurel in hopes of maybe making a little progress with memorizing Jakost runes. Rain started pouring so hard that she eventually gave up and walked back inside with Laurel. They separated, just briefly, before joining several other Ones of Within members in the meeting room. One of them was Patrick, a younger version of him with boyish, rumpled hair. Then, there was James, Laurel’s brother who seemed considerably younger than he did now. James’s face always seemed weary with worry and wrinkles these days. Laurel had been trying, for years at that point, to turn Lyte against James. A motive driven by, Lyte suspected, jealousy.
“What are you looking at?” Laurel asked her brother, before sitting as far away from him on the table as possible. Lyte went over beside her and sat between her and Patrick. Lyte had trained with Patrick every once in a while, but they weren’t considered close friends. Patrick is usually stayed to himself and worked on training; he didn’t spend time sitting around the meeting room as Laurel did.
“Patrick,” Laurel said with a dip of her head. Patrick glanced in my direction, and I knew he must’ve be thinking the same thing as me. Everyone knew that Laurel was a slacker and that her brother James was the only one who could possibly ever take the mantel from their father. Lyte admitted it to herself, frequently, when Laurel complained about the privileges her brother got that she didn’t. She also complained about favoritism and sexism and that her parents had always liked her brother more. Lyte never mentioned the truth to Laurel, even though she was making a fool out of herself.
“How’s training been going?” Patrick asked Lyte without another glance in Laurel’s direction.
And then, the world seemed to shatter into pieces. Ones of Within members swirled in Lyte’s view, and they spoke in hushed voices: He’s dead… murdered… James will take his father’s place… the crushing weight of the voices consumed Lyte as she turned her head, slowly, and met the eyes of James.
Their father was dead, the leader of the Ones of Within was dead, and he had been assassinated on the streets of his own city. Many Ones of Within members thought it was tactless and careless. Some thought James wasn’t old enou
gh to rule. And no one, at all, thought Laurel should take up her father’s position. James and Laurel’s mother had their same features: long, straight dark hair and deep sapphire eyes. Lyte had met her several times, but she always looked perfect. With the news of her husband’s death, she had walked up to James and Laurel with dark, hollowed eyes rimmed in red.
The worst part of it all was watching when James was initiated as the leader of the Ones of Within. The worst part was looking at Laurel’s face. She had been more upset about James becoming a leader than her own father’s death.
#
Lyte was jerked out of her memory by the sound of approaching footsteps. She slipped into the darkness of an alley, glancing behind her at two approaching figures. One had dark paint covering every part of their visible skin. The other was, obviously, Laurel. Looking at her old friend, Lyte couldn’t help but to think about how she had changed. Her friend no longer had the carefree lazy attitude she used to have. She was hard, tough, and untouchable.
The painted figure raced forward, crossing the distance. Lyte ducked underneath his sword arm, clipping his sword across the wooden house and deeply scratching it. She ducked jabs from the figure’s spiked metal fists as he dropped the sword, then kicked out her foot and sent him sprawling on the ground. It was a cheap shot, she knew that, but she was outnumbered as it was. Lyte buried a dagger in-between the figure’s ribs, and he convulsed around it. She drew it out, strangely satisfied by the dagger’s blade that was blackened with blood. She finished him, before spinning around to face Laurel with her dagger ready. Laurel was watching her with an amused expression on her face, not flinching in the slightest at the quick death. Maybe, Lyte should have let him live, but it could have been a problem later. The fewer witnesses, the better. Lyte said a few words in Jakost and dark, contained flames began burning the body without a sound.
“Hello there, Lyte.” Laurel still had that sauntering attitude about her that Lyte remembered.
“Laurel.” She dipped her head cordially like she was glad to see her. The reality was, Lyte had missed Laurel more than she would ever let on. “How have you been? I thought you were dead.”
“Missing in action isn’t dead. I thought you would’ve given me more credit than that… I have James’s blood in my veins, and we don’t die easily.”
“What have you been doing for the past few years?” Lyte demanded, withdrawing another dagger from her belt. “And why the hell would you want to even talk to the Creed?” Right to the point. Usually, Lyte was more whimsical and preferred to overthink things and be a mystery to those around her, but the circumstances of the mission made her blunt. The whole mission had taken a turn for the worse when she had been caught in the window and ended up running into Laurel out of all people. One person who definitely recognized her.
“Unlike you, Lyte, I was born a rebel,” Laurel replied, matter-of-factly.
“You haven’t gotten over the fact James took that leadership position, have you?” Lyte shook her head, biting down hard on her lip. “You didn’t care about your father dying, that’s the problem with you. You always were more focused on revenge and ambition.”
“Whatever.” Laurel tossed her mane of dark hair, an action she used to do all the time when Lyte knew her. She was obsessed with her hair and spent an exorbitant amount of time, making it look good. “It's not like you’re much better, you just followed me around. Besides, James hasn’t done anything since he became leader.”
“You wouldn’t have been a good leader, anyways.”
“How would you know?”
“I was your best friend for years. I know everything about you.”
Laurel laughed half-hysterically, pointing at Lyte a few times as if to emphasize the daggers in her words. “You always were okay just sitting in the background and watching others become successful, and you blame me for not being the same as you. Well, I might as well make the best of my life while I can.”
“Come back to Sybra,” Lyte pleaded. “James misses you. I miss you.”
“And what, you’re best friends with James now?”
“What have you been doing these past years?” Lyte said, ignoring Laurel’s question because she knew it was meant to ruffle her feathers. Like Lyte would become best friends with James. Hardly. Laurel was her best friend, and since she left, she had just been her by herself most of the time. Until she joined Group Zeleti.
“I left Sybra, stole some money and food, and then traveled with the trade routes. I’ve lived all these years without help from anyone.”
“You came today to join the Creed,” Lyte said with scorn dripping from her words.
“Why do you care? No one came looking for me when I left.”
“You mean no one could find you. We sent countless search parties to find you. Hell, I went in many of them myself. We wanted you back.”
“I didn’t want to be found.”
Lyte raised the dagger in front of Laurel’s eyes, smiling broodingly. “And now, you’ve been found. So what are you going to do? Run? Hide?”
At that split second, from the rooftops, an arrow hit Lyte in the shoulder. Searing pain ripped up her arm that made her want to scream, but she refused to show pain. Pain is a message. It is not real. Over the years, Lyte had coached herself to decrease her reaction to pain, and it worked most of the time. She released a soft breath, and then pulled the arrow from her shoulder in one motion.
“Still a masochist?” Laurel taunted, but Lyte ignored her. A heavyweight fell on Lyte from above, and she reacted instinctively. She flung her body backward to the ground, so the elf’s body was crushed underneath hers and had the breath knocked out of them. Lyte spun to face the elf, met their dark eyes, and then buried the dagger in their neck. She pushed herself to her feet and turned back to Laurel. Lyte pressed on her shoulder wound, throwing the arrow onto the ground in disgust.
“I see you haven’t changed at all. You’re as quick as you used to be.” Laurel commented, but it was impossible to tell if she meant it as a compliment.
“What are you going to do now? Are you going to run off again?” Lyte snapped, holding her arm. Laurel’s eyes fell upon the heavily bleeding wound.
“We should go get that stitched up,” Laurel replied briskly, picking up a fallen dagger from the floor. “More of the Creed will be here any second.” Lyte wasn’t sure if that meant Laurel had made her decision towards her questions or not.
“No need.” Lyte’s eyes closed for a moment, and she felt the word strongly in her mind: heal. There was a slow tingling sensation on her shoulder until it faded from existence.
Lyte wasn’t sure if she should trust her old friend; in some ways, she seemed almost the same woman, but in other ways, she seemed like an entirely new being. Still, bad habits didn’t die easily. She found herself trusting Laurel despite her suspicions. They managed head down a dark alleyway without running into any more Creed members and slipped into a nearby tavern. A large elf stood in front of the tavern door, wearing a set of leather armor around his rotund stomach and swirling a bunch of keys in his finger.
“Ya need a room?” The elf asked, shaking a large bag of coins. Laurel glanced pointedly at Lyte, who handed the elf several large coins.
“Happy?”
“Perfectly.” The elf smiled, showing off a set of badly broken teeth. “Help yourself to our service.”
Lyte shrugged and stalked into the tavern, closely followed by Laurel. The tavern was filled with loud, raucous laughter, and almost everyone had a glass of alcohol. Several of the elves sitting at the bar turned when they came in, but Lyte ignored their stares and walked up to the bartender.
“I just got a room, do you know what numbers are open?”
The bartender laughed, scratching his ear ruefully. “I suppose you’ll have to look for one that’s open.”
Lyte glanced over at Laurel in exasperation before nodding to the bartender. “Thank you.” Why couldn’t Laurel have chosen a tavern that actually had a
systematic way of getting people rooms? Lyte dragged Laurel away from the bar and up the stairs, where they knocked on several doors before finding an empty one. With a sigh, Lyte dropped her lightweight packs on one of the two beds and rummaged through them, pulling out a long strip of gauze,
“So, what are you doing here?” Laurel asked, putting down her own packs and glancing out the window at the dark shapes outside the tavern. The words were so meaningful that Lyte wondered if Laurel had only bothered to take her to this tavern for a bed to sleep in. “Looks like we might have some company. Hope the innkeeper doesn’t let them in.”
Two figures were arguing with the innkeeper, who wouldn’t move aside to let them through. “Don’t they have enough money?”
“They won’t waste it on a bed they’re never going to use,” Laurel responded, pulling her dark hair out of her face in a leather strap and turning to Lyte. “Are you going to answer me?”
“I was here to figure out about the Creed.” Well, that wasn’t exactly why she was in Slâva, but Laurel didn’t need to know the details.
“The Creed… ah, I see. Is James worried about mutiny in Slâva against his precious Ones of Within members that live here?”
“Yeah, and I am too.”
“Well, your worries come to restless ears. Shurik won’t let anything happen in Slava. Only yesterday, he executed five of the Creed members.”
“What were you doing then, joining the Creed?”
“I guess-“Laurel said with a pause, “-I guess I want a slot of remembrance. A slot of time, you know what I mean? I want something to hold onto that proves my whole life wasn’t pointless.”
“But joining the Creed?” Lyte asked in disbelief. “Why are you trying to join the side that will kill the people you used to train with?”
Laurel’s deep sapphire eyes stared out the window, and her mouth twitched for a second. “Maybe I thought I would more likely be remembered if I had turned against it. I wasn’t like you, Lyte. I didn’t like training for endless hours. It wasn’t the life I wanted.”
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