18.Drastic Measures

18. Drastic Measures

The sun sinks lower by the time we join back up with the nymphs, painting the sky in a riot of colors that dance above the churning waves. Samson and I make our way through a stable part of the cliffside.

"Still think you're ridiculous for jumping into the water after me."

"You took your sweet time coming up to the surface."

"So what? I'm a water nymph."

"How does that protect you from all the shit crashing into the water?"

After our swan dive, Samson and I got to shore and stayed away from the front lines. The forest rangers and some of the fae who lived in the nature preserve above the bay were coordinating efforts to minimize the damage and helping the imps who were displaced by the landslide.

This is the first chance we've had to talk as we head back to the nymph's intact section of the cliffside in the evening.

Samson’s heart was in the right place, so I don't bother arguing about which one of us was foolish. It all boils down to the same thing: we were worried about each other.

It isn't until we're right in front of the entrance to a seaside cave that I realize we aren't up here alone. Echoes of voices drift to us. I stop walking and feel Samson brace himself with his hands on my shoulders so he doesn't crash into me.

Following the voices, we enter the cave and I'm struck by the sight before me— a gathering of nymphs in a flurry of activity illuminated by flickering torchlight. It's surreal to see them moving naturally on land instead of gliding through the water.

I'd almost think they ventured above the surface all the time, but I know better. So many of us are together, out of the water, and yet the circumstances couldn't be worse.

"What are they doing?" he murmurs behind me.

"Uh… no idea."

Their exact purpose is a mystery. A ritual maybe? They work with glowing stones, glistening shells, strands of seaweed, and sharp sea glass, shaped into ominous points with dangerous edges.

The elders of our community are gathered in the center, consulting a waterproof scroll that looks ancient for instruction.

Several sets of turquoise eyes turn to me as we walk further inside, and the cave falls silent. The flurry of activity has slowed to a crawl.

…Crap. That can't be a good sign.

My mother emerges and gestures for me and Samson to follow her to a secluded alcove away from the others. If the nymph's behavior created a trickle of panic, it just turned into a raging waterfall of bad vibes.

“We saw Solis at the landslide,” Samson's telling my mother while I puzzle over the tension in the cave. “I think he’s behind this chaos and everything happening at Calypso Bay.”

Maris shakes her head slowly. “Zale decided to destroy us decades ago. He's done this before, returning to finish what he started. Reef and some of the others filled me in about your fathe—about what you shared with us about Solis. He's likely a pawn, carrying out his master’s bidding.”

Zale is a reasonable enough assumption, if only because he was behind the same sickness that plagued our waters before. But is he really still hell bent on destroying us just because it's something he started 40 years ago? He'd be an old man now. There has to be more to the story, something we're not seeing.

Solis is guilty in Samson's eyes. But his motives seem less sinister and more personal to me. He didn’t tell me about his connection to Samson, but nothing he’s done has been malicious. I don’t think he went about things the best way as his son wasn’t ready to reconnect with him yet, but I don’t think he caused all this destruction.

I could be wrong, but I think he genuinely cares about his son. Back on the boat, it was obvious. Samson wasn't moved by it, but as one person who cares about him, I can recognize another.

"The damage is getting worse," Maris says gravely, drawing me away from my thoughts. "Instability and landslides prove the damage infecting the bay is spreading. We need to act now before our waters turn completely black and the whole cliffside collapses."

"I know how serious it is," I reply. My voice comes out sharper than I intended. I've been her son for 42 years. I know her breaking bad news tone and I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. That expression never really suited me before, since nymphs don't wear shoes. It feels oddly appropriate for the situation now.

"What you don't know is that we have a solution."

"A way to get rid of the rot?" My eyes widen in disbelief. "Then why aren't we using it?"

"It's not something to be done lightly," she says quietly. "It can't be undone."

"What?"

She takes a deep breath. "Argyle, the last time this happened, our people found a solution by accident…"

Samson's hand lands on my shoulder and his arm wraps around my waist before I've even registered what she means. Good thinking, since my knees nearly give out when it hits me.

"You can't mean—"

Last time, nymphs ended up pouring more and more of their life force into healing the bay. The damage wasn't healed until half of the community had been drained of their entire life forces.

And now the other half is poised to make the same sacrifice. It's the only thing they're sure will work.

"Mom, no... Please tell me you aren't..."

"The situation is serious. If we don't do something soon, the bay will be destroyed, and we'll be destroyed with it."

"That doesn't mean you need to destroy yourselves!"

"For my own peace of mind, I'm going to ask for something I may have no right to ask." If she's going to ask for my permission or blessing, she's out of her mind. But she's looking at Samson, not me. "You'll look out for him, won't you?"

"Absolutely," he replies immediately.

Mom smiles. "Good. I figured that would be your answer, but it's best not to leave things unsaid at a time like this."

I twist my head to glare at Samson, ready to push away from him, but the look he gives me stops me.

When did we become able to read each other without saying a thing? I have no idea, but I know what he's thinking or close enough. Something along the lines of 'I'm going to look after you anyway, no matter what' and 'do you really think I'm going to deny a dying woman's last request?'

Guess I can’t really blame him.

"Mom please," I beg.

She reaches out to cup my cheek. "Nymphs aren't immortal, darling.You know that. The water we're part of is meant to outlive us, and we want it to go on, even if we don't."

I feel the sting of tears in my eyes, and I blink them back, my throat tight with emotion. "But you can't—"

"If we can save the bay, then it's worth the price." She pulls me into a fierce embrace, and I cling to her, my heart breaking at the thought of losing her.

This can't happen. The nymphs can't sacrifice themselves… but I have no idea how to help the bay. I have no idea how to stop them.

~

The dead piece of coral taunts me.

This cave is so close to where Samson and I sleep and yet everything in this section is tainted and warped by evil magic. Nothing I do has an impact on the rot. Nothing I do or say has an impact on my mother either.

“Please Mom, can’t you wait a little longer—”

“The sicker the bay gets, the more our power wanes," she interrupts firmly. “If we wait too long, our sacrifice may not be strong enough to clear away all the rot. Then all this will be in vain.”

“Mom—”

“Argyle, it’s simple. Can you remove this rot from the coral?"

The blackened coral reef before us is an ugly scar marring the beauty of our home. Its once vivid hues of pink and purple are now replaced by black muck, choking the life out of everything it touches.

"No," I admit. "Not yet but—"

Before I can finish my thought, she interrupts. “I can.”

Mom unsheathes a dagger crafted from blue-green sharpened sea glass. She slices her palm open without hesitation and holds it over the corrupted reef. Droplets of her blood tumble down onto the blackened surface. The red color is swallowed up by the darkness.

Gray spots appear against the black rot, the sludge receding from the places where her blood dripped.

A few drops of blood aren't enough to heal the damage completely, but the lightened patches show that the sludge has a reaction to her blood even though her magic is useless.

Mustering all the magic within me and calling forth the purifying essence of water, I try to wash away the rot. I try to help the areas she affected and clear away more of the sludge, hoping the grey spots will be less resistant to my magic, but it’s a stubborn adversary.

“I’m sorry, Argyle.” She places a hand on my shoulder. "I know you’re upset but you have to listen. You have a role to play in all this."

"Uh, what now?" Samson says from behind me.

When I stop wasting my energy on the coral and face them, I find that Samson has frozen mid-stride, one foot still hovering in the air as he stares at my mother with a scared and faintly threatening expression.

Other people would cower before him. Mom only rolls her eyes. I don't think I've ever seen her do that before.

"His life is safe," she clarifies. Now she summons her own more-than-faintly threatening expression. "Do you honestly believe I would put my son in harm's way?"

"No. Sorry." Samson's foot lands on the floor and he shuffles nervously at the stern expression my mother directs at him. "Sorry, ma’am."

At any other time, the big, tough fiery man being scolded by my tiny mother would be amusing, but I'm not really in the mood to laugh.

Mom turns away from him and grabs my hand. “Sending you away was a mistake, We need you. You can care for the bay when we're gone. You'll have help from the younger members whose lives are not yet tied to these waters. But they're young and inexperienced, and they'll be hurting too. You’ll need to guide them."

"Mom, please." I try to pull my hand away, but she holds it too tightly to escape. "I'm going to find another way.”

"Nothing would make me happier, but we're running out of time."

She lets my hand go, giving me the same sorrowful expression that has almost become permanent on her face since I came back and leaves the cave.

I slump against the chilly surface of the cave wall, giving in to the defeat that's been tightening in my chest as soon as I learned of their suicide mission. What if I really can't stop them?

"We need more time," I lament. “There has to be something else we can do. We just need more time to keep trying.”

Samson refuses to join my pity party. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

"You don't know that.”

"I do."

He steps closer to me and I shake my head, leaning away from him. “Stop trying to make me feel better. This isn’t okay.”

“I know that. But it will be.”

“Is that so?”

Samson grabs my hand and pulls me away from the wall, and I collapse into his embrace, letting his strong arms wrap around me. The warmth of his body is a welcome relief. I close my eyes, letting the world fade away for just a moment.

"Ugh. Samson..." I murmur into his shoulder. "I needed time. I didn't want to forgive my mother. I wasn’t ready, not yet."

"Understandable."

"And now she might die." The words spill out, and I can feel the tremor in my voice. "All the anger and hurt are gone and now I'm just... I'm terrified. I can't lose her."

“Argyle, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to save your home," he tells me like it's a fact. "We’re going to save everyone.”

He sounds awfully sure of himself, and I can’t resist asking, “How are we going to do that?”

“I have no idea,” he says.

I groan and pull away from him, “You’re mean.”

He seemed so sure I almost believed him for a second.

“Argyle, I don’t have all the answers yet. I just know we’re going to find them.” His hand shoots out, latching onto mine and reeling me back towards him like a lifeline. I see the determination in his deep brown eyes. "There isn’t much time left, but there is still time. We won't give up. I don't care how bad it looks, you and me are here together and we're going to come up with something."

I shake my head because it's not that simple. This dire situation requires more than whatever two struggling students can provide.

"Fire and water magic is an odd combo, but when we come together, we’re a force to be reckoned with.”

“How do you know it will be enough?” I whisper.

"When I came to school, I wasn’t even sure if control was possible for me. Whenever I felt anything too strongly, it gave fire the opening it needed to take over, and that made me see my emotions as a weakness. Then I met you.” Samson releases my hands and cups my face gently, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheek. “When we were on my father's freaking boat and I thought I was gonna lose control, I focused on you. My feelings for you made me stronger; they gave me the strength to hold the fire in and make it work with me instead of consuming me. I’m closer than ever to becoming a real wizard, and it’s because I’m not alone anymore. You helped me so much, and I know I can do the same for you.”

Samson steps away and turns to the coral. His hands start to glow with an intense orange light. The fire magic pulses through his palms, crackling with power. He directs flames at the coral's blackened, decaying surface.

The rot hisses and bubbles when hit with the fire. The fire roars, growing brighter and hotter, chasing away the darkness. As the last of the rot burns away, Samson pulls his hands back, the flames extinguishing.

I give him a weary smile, though I'm not sure how much good his firepower does us. “Not all of the rot is above ground Samson. You can't burn the sea.”

“Your magic can’t hurt the rot at all. But mine can." His eyes are blazing as he speaks with conviction. "You can’t give up now. We’re close to stopping this.

“Sorin… We might not make it in time." If we're lucky, we might have 48 hours before the sacrifice. But nothing about this has been lucky so far.

“Come on, you trust me, right?”

“Yes,” I answer.

Samson steps closer, and my breath catches as he places his hand on my chest, right over my heart. “Then trust me, trust us. Argyle, I… What I feel for you—I—”

Before he can finish, footsteps echo in the cave. Anemone storms in, followed closely by a river god named Pearl.

Pearl blinks at Samson, her eyes wide. “Wow, you are much bigger than I pictured.”

“Thanks?” Samson scratches the back of his neck, looking a bit bewildered at their sudden entrance.

That makes two of us. I really wanted to hear where Samson was going with that. It sounded… like something I really want to hear. But we're in a crisis and them bursting in can't mean anything good.

“Pearl, Anemone, what are you doing here?”

Anemone’s expression is grave. “We were out on the edges of our borders when we found something… a crashed boat. And this.”

She hands me a cracked cell phone, and looking through it reveals the owner. Samson’s father.