Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
The definition of terrified? Being dragged underwater by a mythical kelpie because of a trap Nessie set to catch Alistair. Turned out, this entire time, I’d just been bait.
Unexpected. Scary. Deadly, because what if Nessie realized Alistair couldn’t care less what happened to me?
He’d said dragons had no emotions. I didn’t entirely believe that, but Alistair seemed convinced, and quite honestly, if it came to my life versus him doing something unpalatable, I didn’t see myself faring well.
To think I’d been so excited to meet Nessie.
I should have heeded the warnings by Alistair and Oliver.
In my defense, I’d grown up on her legends.
Stories that painted her as a gentle giant.
The reality? She was a cold-blooded reptile who shouted in my head the moment she fully appeared, “Be quiet, human.”
I had no choice. Unlike with Alistair, I couldn’t seem to ignore the command. All I could do was watch, listen, and come to the realization I should have never come to Loch Ness.
Forget an obituary mentioning my stupidity because no one would even know I’d died.
My body would likely never be recovered.
Eventually, the university would notice I’d disappeared, my few friends and colleagues as well, but no one would look very hard.
No one would care for more than a few minutes. How depressing.
Too depressing.
I couldn’t give up. Not yet. While I lived, there had to be a way out of this mess. And what of Alistair? Sure, he’d been drugged, but he was a mighty dragon. If anyone could get us out of this mess alive, it would be him.
My flitting thoughts kept me distracted as the kelpie upon which I’d been slung like a sack of potatoes plunged into the loch, going down, down, down, where even the scant daylight didn’t penetrate.
Somehow, I didn’t drown. A bubble of some sort encased my body, allowing me to breathe, but it did nothing to help with my hyperventilating terror or stop the penetrating chill. A good thing I wore layers.
As we descended, my ears popped from the pressure, unpleasant and a reminder that I wouldn’t be able to swim myself to safety. Not only did I lack scuba equipment, Loch Ness, with a depth of over two hundred meters, would require a slow ascent and decompression.
Would this be where my writing journey, my adventure, my dreams, and my life ended? At least my last moments would be interesting, but I feared they would end up painful, too.
My first hint we’d arrived at our destination? An approaching glow. The kelpie aimed for the beacon of light and charged through a membrane.
Pop.
The water horse penetrated a barrier, and immediately the invisible cocoon encasing me disappeared and warm air rushed in.
Before I had a chance to get my bearings, the Red Cap that held me in place during the journey pushed me off the kelpie’s back, dumping me on the floor of a rocky-walled chamber.
Thud and ouch. That would leave a bruise. The pain at least reminded that I lived.
I’d landed on stone, smoothed and clean but for a few damp spots likely caused by our entry into the room that appeared to be some kind of loading dock.
As I braced my hands on the floor and pushed myself into a sitting position, I noticed empty wooden skids stacked against a stone wall.
A few crates were neatly piled atop a dolly.
I noticed a boat slip, or so I assumed given the hitches used for tethering water-faring vessels.
The illumination for the space came from suspended round globes emitting a soft white light. No wires appeared to connect them, and I didn’t detect the hum of electricity, either. Maybe the spheres held some kind of gas? Or, given what I’d experienced these past few days, it could even be magic.
Pop. The odd noise turned my head in time to see the hooves of a second kelpie striking the floor as it shoved past the barrier holding back the water.
A membrane that I didn’t understand and hoped held, otherwise I’d be drowning.
That fear, however, didn’t get a chance to take root, as I saw who the water horse held.
I scrambled to my feet, yelling, “Alistair!”
He didn’t reply. Given his closed eyes and the fact tufted darts peppered his body, I assumed—and really hoped—he simply slept. The Red Cap holding Alistair in place didn’t rudely fling him to the floor but rather handed him off to a pair of blue-skinned men with green-hued beards and gray faces.
It hit me then. I beheld the Blue Men of the Minch, another legend that many called storm kelpies.
It was said they could create storms strong enough to sink ships.
Apparently, they also obeyed Nessie. Coerced, I assumed like the Red Caps because I didn’t see all these mythical creatures A) getting along and B) obeying without some kind of threat or, in Nessie’s case, mental manipulation.
As if thinking of the dragon conjured it, Nessie’s head popped through the barrier, her cranium extending far into the room on that long neck.
I found my gaze caught by a chain around her neck, the links finely wrought despite their size and seemingly made of gold.
The pendant hanging on it seemed to be made of thin mesh wrapped around a white rock.
Not the nicest piece of jewelry I’d ever seen.
The water dragon snarled, “What are you waiting for? Get Shamash inside the cage. Those drugs could wear off any moment.”
I should be so lucky. It hit me that she’d called Alistair by another name. Shamash. Likely his original appellation before he chose to live among the humans.
“Aye, mistress,” grunted the blue minion who had Alistair slung over his shoulder.
“Bring the woman to my throne room as well. Put her on the leash.”
Leash? What?
Shock rendered me mute. A rarity.
A Red Cap reached for me, and I didn’t bother fighting. What would be the point? I couldn’t exactly escape anywhere.
It tossed me over its bony and very smelly shoulder.
Its uneven gait caused me to bounce painfully as it removed me from the cavern into a hall large enough to accommodate the tall blue man ahead of us carrying Alistair, but definitely not Nessie.
I had to wonder how much of her underground palace she could actually access.
After several turns, which left me completely lost, we entered a cathedral-like space.
Massive. I mean, the ceiling was so high I had to squint to actually make it out.
The room stretched wide enough across I couldn’t make out the walls on the far side.
In the center of it, a small lake that acted as Nessie’s throne, for she rose from it like a goddess, liquid streaming and splashing from her head and body.
The light from the many opaque sconces bounced off her hide, refracting from the slick scales.
So distracted was I by her appearance that I didn’t immediately notice the cage.
Barely tall enough to hold a person, not wide enough for anyone to lie down.
Into this metal prison they shoved the still-unconscious Alistair.
As for me? I got dumped on the floor beside a coiled chain with a collar. Guess what happened next?
The metal ring snapped around my neck and a key turned, locking it in place.
Cold and heavy, quite depressing, too. This wasn’t at all how I’d pictured my day.
I should have listened to Alistair. Then again, I didn’t get the impression avoiding Nessie would have mattered.
She wanted Alistair in her custody, and I apparently provided the means for her to accomplish that feat.
“Poor Ali,” The soft crooning voice took me by surprise, as did Nessie’s movement. Her head swayed back and forth, her sinuous neck undulating. She paused while facing the cage and whispered, “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
I frowned. Why would she apologize when she engineered his capture? And why did she suddenly call him Ali when moments before she’d used Shamash?
Her head shook wildly, and when Nessie next spoke, her tone dropped an octave as she hissed, “Be quiet.”
I couldn’t tell who she spoke to, but just in case she meant me, I kept my lips clamped tight.
“I see you were successful.” The new voice had me glancing to see a man had entered and now strode toward the cage.
Seemingly human in appearance, if one ignored the mask covering half of his face.
He wore slacks and a cable knit sweater, and when he reached the cage, he tucked his hands behind his back and stared at Alistair.
“As if there was any doubt he’d come.”
“He’s smaller than expected. You’re sure he’s a dragon?”
Nessie snickered. “Yes. As I told you, Shamash has a very unique ability, one I’ve been coveting and wanting to take as my own.”
Wait, what? Take his power to shift? Was that even possible?
The man crouched and cocked his head, still observing Alistair. “It would be easy for you to eat his heart while he’s unconscious. The sleeping agents we administered worked better than expected. Guess his human shape isn’t as tough as his dragon one.”
“As I’ve told you before, I’m not taking the chance that consuming him in a non-dragon form might not transfer his ability.”
The man glanced at her. “I remember what you said, but the fact remains, you might not have a choice because, as a dragon, he outclasses you.”
“Only if he’s awake,” Nessie crooned. “Which is why you’re here. You will find a way to immobilize his dragon that I might consume his flesh.”
“I’m working on it. It’s not just getting the dosage right that’s the problem; it’s the administration of it. Dragon scales and needles don’t get along.”
“As if Shamash would let you get close enough to jab him,” Nessie mocked. “And you can forget about putting it in a drink.”
“Which doesn’t leave many options, other than gassing his ass after we convince him to shift.”
“Oh, he’ll shift, and when he does, you’d better be ready to put him to sleep.”