Tug and Ward

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 11

Torments

The cubozoans twirled around Lazmet. Clearly, they missed him as much as he missed them. The prince reached for them and they adhered, attaching their tentacles to his skin. He felt the sensation of relief as if they were sucking out all of his troubles and worries. For a moment, he was free. All of him submerged in the Royal Lagoon yet breathing and glowing with the cubozoans. He let himself fell asleep, letting their stings and venom replenish his soul.

"Heimir is here," they whispered. "Pull me up," he replied. The exchange was telepathic and in the old Paucusian language. The cubozoans clustered and helped the prince swam up from the middle bottom of the lagoon.

As soon as his head popped up the surface, he looked around for his primus. There was no one, not even a silhouette. "Glance up, Your Royal Highness!" a soft but firm shout from the branch of the tree.

"Come down, Heimir," he commanded.

"I need the shadows; else the queen might go after me. She's staring from her balcony."

The prince turned his head to the queen's balcony. Truly, a woman's figure was there. If it was the queen, he was not certain. It was too far for his eyes to assess. "Whatever for?"

Heimir searched Lazmet's face thoroughly. "Have you not spoken with her?"

"I did. At dusk."

Heimir only sighed and averted his sight. It was almost midnight. Time had adrift yet again. He must have heard nothing then. Certainly not ordered Silas. He had ought to tell him, of course. Only he could not bring himself to tell which tale first. And as whom? As his loyal warrior, as his friend, or as his brother.

After a while of silence, Prince Lazmet figured he should just approach him. He swam to the side and pushed himself up to the stone. Then climbed up the tree to the branch where Heimir was. He sat beside him. "Oman stood by his duty 'til the end. He'll have smooth sailing to Valhakirat," he tapped his shoulder.

"The killing," Heimir turned to him. "It was unnecessary. She could've just imprisoned him. Or banish him. Retorting is not so grave of an offense. Does he really have to die at an excuse like that? Not even an honest reason for his death? More importantly, at her behest? He loved her. We both did. Why did she raise us when she ought to rid us in the end?"

"We both know why," Lazmet muttered. "For me." He looked down at the water. "Has she bid anything to subdue thee as well?"

Heimir grunted. "Without fail," he said. "I no longer serve you."

"At least thou not dead," the prince tried to spoke in a kidding manner.

Heimir laughed subtly. "O, she would have. Had I been a real threat to you. Unfortunately, I share not my brother's blood."

And then there was a pause. Until the prince glance at him. "We will meet again," he whispered. He held his gaze and asserted, "When all is gone and forgiven."

Heimir only smiled. A pained one. He was not mad at the prince or the queen. He and his brother should have died a long time ago had not the queen spared them. He could only think that it was time for their debts to be paid.

Yet a part of him also knew that they owed nothing... to anybody. They never deserved to be threatened even before. And although his brother was entitled to everything the palace had provided for him, he had given his service to the royal family. Heimir remained loyal too. What the queen did was unjust. The prince doing nothing was worse.