"A Priest-Knight disnae leave his companion. I'll distract it, you find yer son."
The Guivre continued snapping at the dense air, its gargantuan body all the while slithering forward, driving them closer to the river.
"Bloody Crabbit… we're baith gonnae die."
"Willnae be the first time a MacDonald an' Wallace fell in combat."
They backed to the very edge of the river, its rushing waters licking at their heels.
I hurried through the darkness, my scent cloaked by the stench of the burning crude.
Angus turned to his left and saw me coming. Standing, he waved defiantly at the creature, trying to distract it. "Go on then, Nessie, ye dinnae frighten me! Finish me off if ye dare!"
The monster's jaws opened to strike, and so did I, plunging the ancient sword deep into the Guivre's soulless blind left eye, penetrating its diseased brain with my steel.
The creature seized, its body writhing in tight coils, its colossal head whipping upward hard against the ceiling. The impact shattered its skull and unleashed an avalanche of stalactites, while the ceiling's blue flame ignited the monster's oil-soaked hide into a bright orange conflagration.
The ceiling crumbled, the insane beast snapping blindly in every direction. Oil dripped into the Guivre's nostrils and the dragon snorted flames, while Angus and Alban and I huddled together behind a boulder.
The enraged beast's tail whipped over our heads, and the three of us took off running, heading for the chamber's exit. I pushed my father and Alban ahead of me, then paused to look back as the Guivre shrieked its final death cry and collapsed, belly-up, upon the rocky shoreline. The lifeless left eye was gushing dark blood, the sword still positioned deep in the wound. For a moment I thought about retrieving it, but the monster's tail was still flailing from side to side in convulsions.
And then I remembered Johnny's remains.
Hurrying to the river, I searched the bank, then spotted it near the aquifer's opening. As I grabbed the mutilated body by its jacket collar, the monster's convulsing tail flew over my head and landed in the river. Caught within the current, the Guivre's carcass fed slowly into the raging aquifer, nearly dragging me out to sea with it.
"Zachary!"
"Yeah, coming."
Hurrying back to the exit, I dropped on all fours and crawled through the tunnel, dragging John Cialino's remains behind me.
For fifteen minutes, the three of us crept forward on hands and knees, coughing and grunting until we reached the exit and fresh air. Silent moments passed as we lay back and breathed, our faces covered in sweat and carbon soot, my own in blood.
Angus finally reached over and slapped my knee, his piercing blue eyes now soft, glistening with tears of pride. "Dragonslayer, that's whit ye are. Never seen anythin' like it. Sir William an' Sir Adam, they'd baith be proud."
"Was it Adam's sword then?"
"Actually, it wis William's, at least accordin' tae my faither's translations o' Adam's diary. Maybe we should go back for it. Be worth its weight in gold."
"It's gone. Washed out to sea with the monster." I turned to Alban. "I tried to save her—"
He held up his hand, caught between coughs. "I'm indebted."
"We'll call it even," I whispered. Then I remembered. "Alban, the Braveheart?"
"Gone, too. Perhaps it's best. These days, we'd only commercialize it, chargin' people tae gaze upon it frae behind layers o' glass. Let it die wi' Nessie."
"Others may come searching."
"No' likely. The Templar own Aldourie Castle. We'll seal the shaft off soon enough."
Angus motioned to the lift. "Go on, the two o' ye, the weight's balanced for thirty stone. True can use yer help draggin' me an' Johnny's remains up after ye."
I helped Alban to his feet. We stepped onto the platform and tugged on the rope, which raised us easily up the shaft to the distant pinpoint of daylight.
My father watched us ascend, then crawled back into the tunnel.
Chapter 36
News of my father's daring escape had gone worldwide by the time the five of us emerged from Aldourie Castle into glorious daylight. Judge Hannam was furious, and many predicted Angus would be the first murderer to swing from a Scottish gallows since twenty-one-year-old Henry Burnett was hanged in Craiginches Prison on August 15, 1963, for shooting his lover's husband.
The irony was lost on no one.
The "announcement" that Angus would be arriving via ambulance at Raigmore Hospita l within the hour to "prove his innocence" sent the press and sheriff's headquarters scurrying. By the time we turned onto the A9 highway, seven police cars and two helicopters had joined us. People were waving and honking their horns… the whole thing reminded me of O. J. Simpson's escapade in the white Ford Bronco.
Theresa Cialino was at the hospital, surrounded by reporters, when her cousin, James, drove our ambulance through the hospital entrance. We were immediately surrounded by a dozen heavily armed police officers and hordes of media, everyone moving into position as the ambulance's back doors were swung open.
I was the first one out, my head heavily bandaged, my nostrils filled with soot. Nurse Kasa helped my father down from the van, the police immediately shackling his wrists and ankles, as if he were going to escape from this throng.
And then, as the flashes flashed and the cameras whirled, the remains of John Cialino were removed from the ambulance on a gurney, and the lore of the Loch Ness Monster suddenly took on a whole new meaning.
The Inverness Courier would later pen the moment as the press conference of "the dead, a dead man walking, and the thrice dead man."
Theresa fainted and had to be carried into the hospital. Angus demanded to be released, threatening to sue the High Court. The judge ordered him to the cardiac unit and sent Johnny C.'s remains to the lab for a forensics evaluation.
It was a bizarre ending to a bizarre trial, one I would have enjoyed more had I not collapsed.
Rushed into the Emergency Room, I was placed on a ventilator and spent the next twenty-four hours in Intensive Care, suffering from carbon dioxide poisoning and a concussion.
I awoke with an all-too-familiar tube down my throat as Brandy entered my private room.
"Gosh, Zack, you look awful."
It was like bad déjà vu.
"Rar roo reaking rup rith ree?"
Brandy smacked me hard on top of my bandaged head.
"Oww."
"That's for tossin' me overboard, ye bastard. An' no, I'm no' breakin' up wi' ye, though I should, after all ye put me through."
"Rarry ree?"
"Marry ye? Is that how ye want tae ask me, wi' a bloody pipe shoved down yer throat? No, we'll wait "til ye get out o' here, then ye can buy me a nice ring, get down on yer knees, an' ask me properly."
Brandy talked, and I listened. The ambulance driver, James Fox, had released a statement explaining that he had diverted from taking Angus to the hospital only because "the old man convinced me his son was in serious trouble." Both Fox and Nurse Kasa swore that they had found me unconscious on the eastern banks of Loch Ness with Johnny C.'s remains.
For my part, I claimed a loss of memory as to where the Guivre's cave actually was.
Forensics confirmed John Cialino's identity and his cause of death. The High Court of the Justiciary wasted little time in reversing its jury's decision, and Angus was now a free man… and a local hero. There was even talk about the Council hiring him as their official "Ambassador of Tourism."
I imagined Angus, dressed in his kilt, eating haggis. "Come tae Loch Ness, where the haggis is aye fresh, an' oor fish bite back." That one brought a smile to my face.