Kelpie

Prologue

"I believe," The vile man twisted strands of silver horse hair as he spoke - extending them fully, inches away from his narrowed eyes, with an end between each forefinger and thumb, "That the monstrosity," He rolled his 'r's like he thought he had the tongue of a snake, with all of the quiet vindictiveness of one seeping through his thin lips, "Is commonly known as a Kelpie." Each pause between words, each time his eyes scanned the shimmering hair, while his wrinkles deepened with the effort not to smile and his lanky, suit-clad form twitched in anticipation, sent shivers down my spine.

"I don't give a rat's arse what it's called!" The voice of a much larger fellow boomed so loud that it echoed off the metal walls and rattled in the pipes, "What in God's name is it doing on my airship!?" The captain, clad in a cream coloured uniform - with large boots, brown gloves, and decorative medals and buttons and badges galore - wore a matching cap that almost fully hid his tufty blonde hair, and cast shadows over his reddening face in the dim lighting of the maintenence corridor.

I opened my mouth to speak, but was immediately silenced when the boney finger of the vile man - whose name I still had not had the pleasure of learning - dropped the hair and extended semi-upright semi-outstretched, in both a pointing and a "shushing" gesture, uncomfortably close to my face. The aura of authority and excited calmness he held was intimidating at best, he looked down his vulture nose at the most important man on the ship - the captain - and the black suit and hair only added to the effect that he could take a few steps backwards and become one with the shadows, slithering off into the bowls of the ship like another threatening creak.

In the few moments before he validated his interruption by speaking, nothing but the sound of dripping water and the captain's anxious breaths filled the hallway - the vile man seemed the type to remain quiet in such situations, but I was taken aback by my own silence. By now I had expected to be absorbed in hurried thoughts, to be jumpy and mumbling, to be at least somewhat wounded by what I had seen that evening, but instead I could feel myself adopting the role of the counter voice of authority - I felt myself ready to spin complex arguments against whatever this man said or did, like his very presence made me feel both entitled and obliged to disagree with him.

The one orange bulb that illuminated the portion of corridor in which we stood seemed like a spotlight angled towards what we had positioned ourselves around; there was a worker sprawled across the floor, soaking wet despite there being no leaks in the pipes above or around, despite the metal grating of the floor being otherwise bone dry. His mouth was open wide with yet more water filling it to the brim - it was still now, but when we first arrived it was dribbling out of the side of his mouth, occasionally interrupted by bubbles - and his whole body was bloated and swollen, clearly sharing the same condition.

"An act of terrorism, no doubt." The man hissed, lowering his hand and diverting his eyes to the corpse - he should have looked sullen, not envigorated and intrigued, "Your ship is large, armed to the teeth," His own were like fangs, "A bomb would be useless and-"

"So you're telling me the resistance summoned a supernatural horse!?" The captain scoffed, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

The man smiled, "Does your zoo keeper have any better suggestions?"

All eyes fell on me, and the faux-confidence that my anger at the strange man - who, in a ship only the size of a city with relatively few notable figures, I should have at least heard of before - dissipated quicker than it had formed. My breath wobbled and consequently so did my voice, "Witnesses were disorientated, confused," I knew how they felt, "We know there's an animal on the loose, but I don't know of any horses that can…" I trailed off and decided a gesture would suffice. "This is too theatrical for the resistance." I had to end with a non-commital shrug.