The music flowed through the air and Creak imagined it made colorful, swirling patterns. It was beautiful. It was perfect. It was the life she wanted to hold onto forever and never let go of. It wasn't her reality, but in that second it really, truly felt real.
Her lips pressed against her cool mouthpiece and Creak blew into her baritone. It's deep tone filled the air. She wanted to play something cheerful and happy, but the notes wouldn't come. Instead her sound was sorrowful and full of pain. Deep and dark, filled with determination. She played loud, louder than she had ever dared to play. Who would find her? Who would dare to stop her?
'Riptide.' A voice in her head whispered, but Creak refused to believe it. He couldn't stop her. She wouldn't let him.
Eyes of ever changing color flashed behind her eyelids as she continued her song. He was beautiful beyond belief, but he was also toxic. Given the chance, Creak knew he would destroy everything she loved. Everything she continued to live for.
The trees caved in towards her sound and darkness closed in around her. Her melody dark and powerful, shook the earth beneath her.
Maybe the king did have something to fear in music. Used wrongfully it could destroy lives, but Creak knew that wasn't the music's fault.
The king had it wrong. Music wasn't his enemy; the people who used it against him were. And if Creak had to be one of those people she would be.
* * *
With a gasp Creak awoke in the mud-walled infirmary. When her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized that Floral wasn't there. She was all alone.
A soft snore had her jump out of her skin. No, she wasn't alone. In a shadowed corner a guard sat in watch, but he wasn't doing a very good job. If he was put there to protect her, Creak figured he wouldn't be very helpful asleep. Vern really needed better knights.
Smiling, Creak gently slid out of her bed. The poor knight many not have been helping Vern, but he's exhaustion would be useful to her.
Creak didn't want to stay in the infirmary. She didn't want to stay with the Ground Elves. She needed to move on. Staying with them would only put them in danger. Just as Riptide was toxic to her, she was toxic to everyone else. Vern had done enough for her. She didn't want to get her new best friend killed. He wouldn't be safe with her, but something in Creak made her feel like she wouldn't be selfless enough to let him go.
Slipping out into the night, Creak crept through the mud huts. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew she had to find a way out of the odd city. She had to find the rebel kingdom.
Strange, teardrop-shaped, glass lights glowed along the city's streets. Everything about the place felt more like a refugee camp than the capital of a kingdom of elves. It felt like the elves living there never left their homes. Creak rarely saw anyone and maybe that's because there was no one to see. Was the city mostly abandoned? Had it always been like this?
Creak shook her head. Certainly it had been better at one point. Vern had said the mud castle had once stood in glory. His parents hadn't been the rulers of a falling kingdom.
Then when did everything change? Creak wandered through the streets. She needed to leave, but she had to talk to Vern first. She was selfish. She always told herself she had left her brother to protect him, but really she had done it for herself. She couldn't bare to see the way he would look at her. The disappointment she would be forced to see in his eyes every time she looked at him.
Creak hated it, but there was no way to change the way she was. She was selfish and she couldn't leave her best friend behind. Without him she wouldn't make it to the rebel kingdom. Without him she would be lost.
Creak had only met Vern a few weeks ago, but now she felt attached to him. She couldn't imagine a life without her elven friend. Vern was the self-impeached prince of a fallen kingdom. A man who knew the consequences, but still left his people to fend for themselves. He had just come back to his people, people that still put their hope in him. Creak was selfish because she wanted Vern when his people needed him more than she did.
Creak shook the thoughts from her head. She didn't want him to have to choose between his people and her. She didn't want to put him through that, but she needed him. She needed help.
Mud squished between her toes as Creak walked past a small circle of huts. A fire burned in the center of the homes, sending sparking dancing off into the dark canopy. Creak felt like the giant trees were closing in on her, just like the trees in her dream. She felt trapped more than ever.
She also felt more alone than she ever had. Gorgos and Angel hadn't spoken to her in days. Vern came to see her constantly, but he could never stay too long. Floral was always watching over her, but she never tried to start a conversation.
Creak just wanted to keep going. She wanted to leave the elves and travel to the rebel kingdom. Then she would find her brother, met Bane in person, and stop the king. 'Try to convince Riptide that you're not a criminal. Make him understand.' A part of Creak threw that thought into her list of things to accomplish, but she quickly squashed that side of her. It was a weakness. Something that would only bring her down. The one thing most likely to prevent her from overthrowing the king. Her love for music would be her strength, but whatever it was she felt of Riptide was just an obstacle she had to overcome.
Singing voices brought Creak to a stop. She hadn't been sure of where she was going, but this was new. The ground was a bit higher and a lot drier. Unlike everywhere else there were elves out and about in this small part of the city.
They all had the same reddish-brown hair and dark skin. Some looked a bit more like Vern, with a lighter shade of skin and crazy, curly hair. They all wore the same style of clothing which was made from the giant leaves that grew high above their heads. They all looked happy. Joyful and dancing.
There was music! Something Creak didn't think still existed. It filled the air. Deep tones and light notes blended together in a way Creak had never heard before. It was peaceful and fun. Creak felt the music pull at her heart, urging to join the festivities.
But the elves hadn't noticed her yet and Creak was sure their joy would leave when they did. Creeping around the circle of huts, Creak scanned the crowd. Vern wasn't there, but he had to be somewhere close.
"I'm sorry, Dew. I didn't want to leave, but after he killed them... it was my fault. I shouldn't have trusted him, but we needed the money. We were going under and my parents didn't want anyone to know. They didn't want you all to worry. They didn't have a plan and I couldn't just sit by and watch as we lost everything. He promised me so much... our debts would have been long gone. And for just a few of my drawings? They were just pictures. I didn't think they were worth anything, but he promised to pay me more money than you could ever imagine. Dew... he killed my parents. He promised me so much and just gave me pain. It was my fault. I had to leave." Creak had never heard so much emotion in Vern's voice. She just wanted to make him feel better, but what if she only made things worse?
"Vern," the sing-song voice of a female elf floated towards Creak. 'That must be the Dew he was talking to.' Creak thought to herself as the woman continued.
"You know I don't care about that anymore. You were like a son to me even before your parents were taken from us. I made a promise to them a long time ago. I would and always will take care of you as if you are my own blood. I don't care that you left. I just don't understand why you can't stay." Dew sounded fierce, like a protective mother who was about to lose her son.
"I'm sorry. Creak is getting restless... and to be honest so am I. I was never meant to be these elves's prince. I can't stay here and let the king get away with murdering my parents. Creak thinks this rebel kingdom can overthrow him." Creak snuck around the side of a hut to see the two elves talking. Vern was looking off into the distance, his voice dark when he spoke.
"He took everything from me. I just can't stand by and watch while others fight a fight that I have a part in. I want him dead." He shook his head. "But it's more than just that. I want to see him suffer. I want to take everything he loves from him. He needs to feel the pain he put me through."
Dew's dark eyes widened with worry as she put a hand on his shoulder. "And that's exactly why you should stay here and rebuild the kingdom your parents loved so much. You're too emotional to be fighting a war. Those emotions will only get you killed."
Vern shook off her hand and began to pace. Creak felt her heart squeeze at the pain and frustration on his face. She was used to seeing him happy and smiling. She had never thought about the hardships he had gone through in his life. The pain he had suffered, pain worse than her own.
"I don't care!" He spat. "I would rather die trying than live knowing I just let my parents's killer go."
Dew pulled on his arm to get him to stop. "Please! Vern I need you! Your people need you!"
He shook his head. "No, my people need a strong leader. A king who won't put his trust in the wrong people. A king who can see through the frauds and fake masks of the world. I'm not that elf. I'm not my people's king."
Dew looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Please... don't leave us again."
Vern closed his eyes. Creak could see he didn't want to hurt her, but he couldn't stay. He wouldn't. "I'm sorry. I promise I'll come back. I'll make everything right again when all of this is over. Once I've avenged my parents's deaths."
He pulled her close, so she couldn't see the tears in his eyes. "I promise I'll make it all better."
Dew pulled out of his grasp. "That's what you always say, but you're wrong! You can't make it all right, Vern! Not when you keep leaving. Your people still have faith in you, but this time you will destroy them!"
She was crying and turning her back on him. "If you leave this time it would be for the best if you never come back. They won't want you." Her voice crept to a whisper. "You'll be disowned just like Quin. Is that what you want?"
When Vern didn't answer, Dew began to walk away. "If you're not gone by the morning I'll be expecting you to stay. If you leave I'll set up a counsel meeting with the advisors. We'll decide on a new family to take the thrown and you will never be welcome again."
She walked away before Vern could say another word. Creak felt her heart sink for him. Leaving would mean truly losing everything he had left. She could never ask him to do that for her.
Running a hand through his messy curls, Vern turned towards where she was crouched. "You can come out now."
She was already busted, so Creak decided to just go with it. Standing up, she walked over and took his hand. "I didn't mean to listen in... I just... I was looking for you and well..." She didn't know how to explain herself.
Vern squeezed her hand and began walking back the way she had come. "It's okay. I don't care."
He pulled her through the silent streets and back to infirmary. Pulling her inside and waking the guard, who scrambled to explain himself, Vern looked at her. "Gather your things, we're leaving. And you," he said looking at the guard, "you're excused."
The guard left as Creak quickly grabbed the few things she had. Once she was done, Vern looked her over and clicked his tongue. "You're going to need warmer clothes." He glanced down at her bare feet, still in the process of healing from the frostbite. "And some shoes."
Creak nodded. She hated shoes, but frostbite was way worse. She followed Vern to a small hut not to far from the infirmary. It was a plain place, with a bed and small chest as it's only occupants.
Vern went straight to the chest. "I used to collect the clothes we got from Florencian traders. They were unique and funny looking to me when I was younger. Never thought I would actually need them."
He pulled out a long, thick, woolen cloak. It was the nicest thing Creak had ever come so close to. It was a deep blue with white laced fur around the hood, sleeves, and bottom trim. Taking it from Vern, Creak ran her hands over the silky fabric and soft interior. It was too hot in the jungle, but she couldn't resist trying it on. It was a bit big, but everything was on Creak. The sleeves fell over her hands and when she put up the hood it almost covered her eyes, but at least the bottom didn't drag on the ground.
Taking it off, Creak hugged Vern from where he was still digging through the chest. "Thank you. It's lovely."
"You're welcome." He responded pulling out a pair of winter boots. "Here try these on."
Wiping the mud off her feet, Creak pulled the boots up her calves. They were a bit loose, but once wet Creak figured the dark leather would shape to her feet. She decided to leave them on to protect her feet from the mud of the jungle.
Vern filled two sacks with various things from his chest and handed one to her. Folding her new cloak the best she could, Creak stuffed it into the sack.
"Vern." She put a hand in his back. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to leave your people."
He looked at her desperately. "You're wrong. I can't stay here and, because I care about you, I hope you never understand why. Now come on. The sooner we find this rebel kingdom the better."
Gabbing one of the strange, tear-drop lanterns, Vern walking off into the night and Creak followed him.