The King's Messenger

Chapter 3

Messenger opened his eyes to more darkness. Other than a faint ache in his chest, he felt whole again; his jaw didn't even ache.

That didn't matter to him. What mattered to him was the pitch dark and the wooden slats pressing in on him from all sides.

His breath escaped him in a panic, exploding into bubbles. Bubbles? Yes, bubbles; he was underwater, cold, boxed in, breathless, immobilized-- he strained against his confinement, but he could barely move, barely even twitch. His lungs burned; by foolishly wasting all his air, he would have less time than he would have. Not that it mattered. He couldn't move, couldn't move, couldn't move, couldn't breathe...

Messenger opened his eyes to darkness. If his lungs had burned before, now there was a living flame writhing in them, replacing the dull ache from his chest wound with an intense poison. He couldn't even scream, not with only water in his lungs. Any air was long gone. Messenger strained in vain against the walls of his confinement in vain. A clear-headed Messenger may have slowly, methodically, maneuvered himself in such a way that he could retrieve his knife, sheathed on his back. Perhaps he would have gone for his pendant, his lifeline to the prince. This Messenger could barely hold himself together in the face of walls closed in on him. There wasn't much time without air...

Awake again. His lungs, his throat, his nose; that fire clawed through them like they were kindling. He wanted to scream, but only water would come out, and when he breathed again, it would be water again...

Awake. Messenger felt movement, opened his eyes, and saw. Underwater still, but gone was the pitch dark; late sunlight filtered in, indicating that hours had passed since the morning. There was an arm around his torso, supporting him as another dark figure pulled him toward the surface. They broke through, and Messenger immediately began coughing, trying to expel the water from his body. It burned as it came up, but now, Messenger could help his savior clumsily kick and paddle toward a dock. They reached one quickly, despite their slow speed.

"Can you keep yourself afloat for a moment?" the other man asked.

Messenger tried to speak, but only sputtering followed. He nodded. The other man pulled himself onto the dock before helping pull Messenger up, doing most of the work. Once on land, Messenger tore his mask off, still hacking violently on his hands and knees. The familiar weight of his cloak was gone, likely abandoned to make the swim easier when he was still unconscious.

"Are you alright?" the man asked as Messenger's coughing subsided somewhat, changing to him gasping for air.

"...I'm fine," Messenger choked out. He fought to steady his breathing; the worst of the water was out.

"It took a long time to find you," the man explained, wringing out his pants. He'd removed his shirt and coat before jumping in, it seemed, and they lay in a pile next to him. "I'm sorry."

"No, I was careless," Messenger said hoarsely. "Thank you, Eden."

"You're welcome." Messenger's hands still shook. He closed them into fists. It wasn't the drowning that did that to him, nor the pain. No, his weakness was much more... mundane than that.

Messenger sat up and took inventory. His shortsword was gone, though the sheath remained; his dagger was there too. He looked down. His once pristine uniform was marred by a slice in the chest and a rusty pink stain.

"You should rest," Eden said. "Come back to the castle, or if you prefer, I can pay for a room--"

Messenger waved a hand. "No; I'll be fine. I just... need a couple minutes to catch my breath."

Eden said nothing more, but sighed through his nose. "What did you find?"

"There's a leyta refinery here. I think they deal in flash as well, and there's a man missing."

"Dead?"

"I'm not sure. With flash dealers, there's always another possibility."

Eden grimaced. "You think he's to be indentured, then. Sold."

Messenger rubbed his chest. "I hope so. Then I can bring him home." He stood up, picking up his mask from where he threw it.

"Is there anything you need?" Eden offered.

"Not now," Messenger replied. "I'll get my sword back. You'd best get back. How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to be noticed, likely," Eden said. "You're right. I don't want my father getting suspicious." He brushed his soden brown hair out of his face. "Though this won't help," he said, gesturing toward his dripping visage. "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm certain," Messenger assured.

"Then I'll be off." Eden hesitated. "I'm sorry again." He wasn't talking about being late this time.

"I wanted to do this," Messenger reminded him. "Go."

Eden nodded to Messenger in farewell and set off.