20.S.O.S
20. S.O.S
Dammit! I should have brought shoes. The jagged rocks surrounding the beach have only become more of a minefield after the landslides, so I had to take an indirect path and exit the water to get to the secluded sands of the small beach.
The place may be empty of others, but it's full of stuff.
"What did I ever do to you?" I complain when stepping on something hard and pointy.
Sprinting desperately towards the dock, the uneven sand of this secluded beach is littered with debris. Navigating the slippery cliffs in bare feet is manageable and necessary, but I've met my match. Traveling across the wet rocks is actually easier for me than seeing all the small pointy things hidden in the sand.
“Ow, fuck!” I curse as a sharp seashell pierces the arch of my foot. But there's no time to stop; the longer I take, the farther away Samson gets.
I skid to a halt on the weathered planks of the dock.
I thought I’d be too late. He could be halfway across the bay or struggling to dive down into the depths of the water. I knew I’d need to rush if I had any hope of catching up to him. Except he isn’t in the water. He’s right here, still moored at the dock.
Samson's just standing there. A single rowboat sways gently in the water below him.
"Samson," I gasp out. "You’re... you’re here! Sorin, is it really you?"
"Who else would it be?" He turns around with a lazy smile and drawls, "Another guy with my exact face and the same tattoos?"
"This isn’t funny."
"I know." He sighs, showing me his back once more as he turns towards the waves. Later, I'll have to get familiar with the few tattoos he has there. The smooth expanse of his back is almost a blank canvas.
Taking off his shirt and shoes is as far as he got, even though he had more than enough time.
"Why are you here?” I ask, still trying to catch my breath. “I thought you’d be halfway out into the bay by now."
"A few minutes ago, I was asking myself the same question," he admits, staring out at the sea. "Got to the dock, jumped in the boat, and prepared to set sail... then I just stayed here. I told myself to get going. Every time I tried, my body wouldn't move. I couldn't go."
"Why not?"
He scoffs. "What the heck is a firebrand gonna do surrounded by a bunch of waves?"
"Didn’t think that would stop you," I offer quietly. "You seemed pretty set on going."
"Much as I tried to fight it, common sense kicked in," he says. "I don’t have a chance by myself, that’s what I realized. I’m at half strength."
"Because you don’t have a brand yet?" I wonder.
"Because I didn’t have you." He stops gazing at the sea and faces me, his eyes smoldering. "I was so upset after we listened to my dad's message, but by the time I reached the dock, I realized I never should have left you behind. My best shot at helping, at using my magic, at doing anything, it’s with you." He reaches out, offering me his hand. "I’m strongest with you next to me. Sorry I ran off."
His confession hits me like a rogue wave. Samson couldn’t go, not without me. He needs me by his side. I came to tell him this exact same thing, but it's so much more satisfying that he wised up on his own. Instead of having to knock some sense into him, his declaration nearly knocks me off my feet.
And it gets even better.
"So in case it's not clear," he continues. "I need you by my side and it's also where I want you to be. I want to be with you."
A lump in my throat, all I can manage to say in response is, "Mhmm. Me too." I clear my throat. "Glad you came to your senses."
Taking the hand he offers, his fingers intertwine with my own. I savor the warmth from his palm as I step closer to Samson, the weathered wood of the dock creaking softly beneath my bare feet. Everything felt so chaotic and hectic when he left and I rushed to catch up to him, but the panic and urgency is gone. Now everything feels right.
The sunlight catches in his deep brown eyes, and the sight of him truly takes my breath away. The waves crash nearby, and seagulls squawk in the distance. I love how at home he looks here, even though fire and water don't usually mix.
I have to resist the urge to pull him close and never let go. There's still too much to do.
"As much as I'd love to stay here with you, we have work to do. Are you ready for this?"
"No." A determined expression takes over his face. "Let’s go anyway."
~
We hop into the boat, and this time, Samson doesn’t need to bother with the oars. Given that my magic isn’t capable of combating this rot, there’s no harm in using it for something simple like propelling us through the water.
I focus, and the waves part around us as I summon my magic, sending us gliding along the surface.
The ride is a bit bumpy, but he doesn’t complain. Instead, I watch his eyes scan the dark, choppy sea, searching for any trace of his father. The wind whips through my hair as I steer our boat toward his father’s last known location, trying to make it there as fast as possible.
"There!" Samson hollers. "Is that it?"
I catch sight of something smoking ahead and direct the boat there. A dark shape juts out against the pale sand of the dune.
And there it is, covered in sand and grime and looking worse for wear. Solis’s boat. The vessel sits abandoned, smoke still rising faintly from the console in the center.
My stomach lurches at the sight. Even though we were prepared for this and the others told us about the crash, it's still an unsettling sight.
Other nymphs searched the boat and the dune it collided with, along with the nearby waters so I steer our boat to the next sandy stretch of land amid the waves.
Samson and I hop out, our feet sinking into the soft sand as we split up and start searching. The dune is desolate, save for a few scattered pieces of driftwood and debris.
"Oh god…" As I round a piece of driftwood, my heart drops. There he is, face down in the sand, his body partially obscured by the log.
Samson rushes over, only to stop frozen several feet away from his father, so I spring into action and fall to my knees in front of the older man.
I roll the professor onto his back, hating how still and weak he looks, the color drained from his face and coarse grains of sand clinging to his skin. My hands tremble as I reach out, checking his pulse and trying to see if he's still breathing.
"Come on, Solis, come on."
"Argyle, is he okay?"
"I’m trying to find that out."
"Is he… is he alive?"
My fingers are pressed tightly against the professor's neck, and I pat his face gently with one hand, trying to rouse him. Please. We can't be too late.
"Argyle, tell me. Is he—"
"He's alive."
A heavy hand lands on my shoulder and then Samson is sinking down in the sand next to me.
With a mighty cough, Solis rouses, twisting to his side and hacking up a small mountain of sand. Fortunately, he seems to have inhaled more sand than water.
I try to help him sit up, though it's hard to tell if he's working with me or against me. He's disoriented and shaking, trying to get his bearings, as his eyes scan his surroundings wildly. After the scare he experienced and without his glasses, it takes him a moment before he registers that his son is here. When he does, he tries to spring up.
"Samson! You’re here. You came," he rasps, his voice gravelly.
Samson gently tries to keep Solis from jumping up, his hand resting on Solis's shoulder. "Hey, take it easy."
"Trying to help," he sputters. "Not here to hurt anyone."
"Don't hurt yourself."
"Need to fix my mistakes."
Samson's hand tightens on Solis's shoulder. "I believe you, okay? I believe you. Just lay down."
Solis shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "No! We have to end this. The last landslide is the first time I was allowed in these waters without the nymphs chasing me away. I’ve been scanning the seabed, trying to find the source. I was so distracted searching below the water that I missed what was right in front of me and crashed.”
"Did you find what you were looking for?" I wonder.
Solis's eyes meet mine as he nods. "Yes, I know where to go."
"Hold on," Samson interrupts. "You're in no condition to do anything."
"We have to do this now." I meet Samson's eyes over his father's hunched form. "The nymphs are preparing to sacrifice themselves. The three of us have to stop the rot first."
Samson looks at me like I'm crazy. "Can we do this now? How are we going to remove all the rot by ourselves?"
Solis coughs, spitting out more sand. "We don't need to; we just have to destroy the source."
"The caster? You two want to confront him and kill him? We can't just—"
Solis cuts him off. "All we have to do is go to the right place. Did you get my message?"
Samson shakes his head. "Wasn't quite easy to understand."
"Think I got the gist," I say. "You knew the whole time, didn't you?"
"Not for sure," Solis says. "Not until I was able to get access to the bay and find what I was looking for. It was only a theory."
"What are you two talking about?"
"You and I should have exactly what it takes to end this," I tell Samson. "Will you help me?"
His eyes meet mine and he nods. "Of course. Whatever you need."