Even though Robbo’s clearly impressed, my anxiety remains undimmed, and I blurt out something I shouldn’t. “Do you want me to show you how I do it?”

No, no no! My brain screams. You do not want to see that hulking beast again. What are you thinking?

But fortunately, Robbo shakes his head. “I think it’s best if you limit the number of times you disturb the water. We don’t really know what the effects are on aquatic life, so you should avoid any unnecessary disturbances.”

My brain screams that I’m an idiot, even though technically it is the idiot, responsible as it is for my thoughts and actions, irresponsible and thoughtless as they might be.

“You’re right, Robbo. I apologize. I should have thought of that.”

“Mate, you’re getting used to having the ability to control things under the water. Not just anything – people, jewellery, fishing boats for shit’s sake. It’s just that, unless everything living in the sea is psychically proactive – able to swim away before you start parting the sea, as it were – some of them are bound to get caught up in the mess. Especially when you go shifting heavy stuff around.”

“You’re right. I’ll keep a lid on it.”

“Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to swim out as far as I can, stay under water for as long as I can, and see if you can locate me and raise me up out of the water. That way you can demonstrate what you’ve got, with minimal disruption because I’ll try to find a spot where I’m all alone in the water.”

“Okay,” I say, my heart pounding. “It’s just – what if this time it doesn’t work? I don’t want you to put yourself in peril, in case I can’t do it.”

“I have confidence in you. Plus, no disrespect to your skills, mate, but I could probably swim out there and back fifty times without any help from you.”

“Oh – okay then.”

With a curt nod of his head, Robbo takes off his clothes – all of them – and strides into the water. A few minutes later he calls over his shoulder, “Bloody hell, mate – does this ever get deeper?”

I’m about to yell that the sandy shelf gives way suddenly to very deep water, but at the same moment Robbo’s body disappears, and all I can see is the top of his head. I call out to him, asking if he is okay, but then I see that he’s doing a powerful breast-stroke, cutting through the water like a shark chasing its prey.

Several minutes pass, as he keeps swimming, and my blood pressure and feelings of inadequacy rise. Somehow, I still think these skills are going to abandon me when I most need them.

Robbo’s left arm shoots straight up in the air, then sinks into the water, as he disappears under the surface. This is it – my test.

I close my eyes, and scan the water for him, but it’s so dark right at the surface – not its usual clear, almost tropical teal blue – that I instantly panic. Why can’t I see him? I squeeze my eyes together more tightly, hoping for some reason it will help my underwater vision. But still I see nothing – not a single living, moving thing in the water.

I cup my hands over my mouth and shout, “Robbo! I can’t see you! Come back up to the surface!” I open my eyes and scan the water, but I don’t see him in the spot where he disappeared.

“Robbo! Something’s wrong! I can’t see you!” But still, he stays under the water.

Desperate, I bend my fingers over the place I last saw him, and flick them upwards, hoping with everything in me he’ll pop up above the surface. Nothing happens – there’s no sign of movement in the water.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

I cup my hands, lower them as far down as I can reach without bending, imagining that I’ve got Robbo’s body in my hands, and then raise them up steadily, but still he doesn’t appear. I wonder how he can still be holding his breath under there, when it occurs to me: he can’t be. It’s been too long.

In one final act of desperation, I clamp my eyes shut and picture Robbo as he swam out to the depths. I raise my hands and fix them onto the mental image of him as he was swimming strongly, flick my hands 180 degrees, then concentrate on his form as I guide him back towards the shore, steadily, surely.

Eyes still closed, I hear a little “phut” sound, and open them to see Robbo beached on the sandy shelf, spitting sand out of his mouth.

“Jeez, mate, you could have stopped before I ended up face-planting on the sand bar.”

*

Possibly because of the not-so-subtle way I guided him back to shore, Robbo doesn’t ask me to do any more tests of skill. He gets me to walk back and forth in the shallows a few times, observing how the water responds to my presence. He tells me it bubbles and spurts as I walk past, even though he can see no evidence of anything under the surface causing the disturbance.

I spend quite some time on visualization, because he wants a detailed account of everything I can see in the water. It’s only after he’s told me to open my eyes that he says, “At the beginning, I sensed your fear, which quickly dissipated. Was it the thing you saw early this morning you were worried about?”

“Yes. The thing is, I felt physically threatened by it this morning, and ran. But then, later, I realized I was worried because I thought that’s how my friend who was abducted might look now.”

With a quick nod of the head, Robbo says, “There are some things I could say about that. But I’m so hungry I could chew the leg off a table. And Alasdair will likely want to hear it too.”

We walk back to the house without speaking. I’m proud of myself for keeping quiet, but the truth is I’m worn out, partly because of my efforts to save Robbo from drowning, but also, I realize, because I really want to impress this man.

Dr. Pendle is waiting – hovering, maybe, even – at the front of the house, a book in his hands, but I get the distinct impression he’s been watching for us. Robbo says he wants to talk to him, and Dr. Pendle ushers us quickly through to the dining room, a formal space with antique mahogany furniture we rarely use. When Dr. Sidris sees us, his face lights up like a child on Christmas morning.

“I’ve fixed a plate of sandwiches,” he says, excitedly. “I’ll make a pot of tea and bring it through. Don’t start without me.”

Acting like he hasn’t heard him, Robbo closes the dining room door, and gives Dr. Pendle a blow-by-blow account of the events at the loch. When he gets to the part about being beached, Dr. Pendle snorts loudly, then says quickly, “Oh I am sorry. How rude of me.”

To my relief, Robbo looks at me, eyes twinkling. “Thank god the beach was deserted. Somebody’d have filmed it and posted it online for sure.”

He’s describing the water’s reaction to me when Dr. Sidris loudly, and awkwardly, pushes the door open and plunges the tea tray onto the table. “You started without me, didn’t you? What did I miss?”

“I’ll fill you in on the specifics later, Sylvester. Robbo, please continue.”

“The thing is, I’ve never met a Sentinel before, obviously, but I have met some who’ve been – attuned, shall we say – to sea beasts. They can visualize them even when they’re standing on the shore, without using any special equipment. And every single one of them I’ve met has experienced visual enchantment.”

Dr. Pendle and Dr. Sidris are nodding, like they understand what Robbo is saying, but I interrupt, ask him to explain what that means.

“They’re seeing things that someone – or something – has manipulated them into seeing,” Dr. Sidris says. “It’s very common in the lore. It's sea magic, so that mortal beings - even those capable of magic – can never know the secrets of the sea.”

“It’s very common in the accounts people have told me,” Robbo says. “Another example of the lore grounded in reality.”

Like a mediator, Dr. Pendle says, “Yes, quite Robbo. And there’s something here that’s connected to Thom’s experience this morning?”

Robbo looks at me quickly, and I feel a jolt of fear combined with excitement at what he is about to say. “I believe so, yes. Above all else, Thom hopes that he will be able to enact a rescue of his friend from the deep, no?” I nod my affirmation. “And at the same time he is at least a bit terrified about what his friend has become?” I nod again.

“The visual enchantment is playing on those fears,” Dr. Sidris says.

“Planting doubt in Thom’s mind about the wisdom of bringing Rufus back.”

“It was working,” I say quietly. “I was beginning to believe I was seeing Rufus, somehow.”

“The whole point is to feed your uncertainty, your responsibility to protect the general population versus your desire to see your friend again.”

“It’s not going to work.” My voice is stronger now, confident. “I’m going back for Rufus, no matter how many visual enchantments they throw at me.”

Dr. Sidris cheers, Dr. Pendle looks at me like he’s proud, and even Robbo manages a half-smile as he says, “Well that’s that then. Let’s get you ready for it.”