The Grim Conspiracy

by C. Craig Coleman

  “Whap!” sounded Malladar’s club when he stepped forward and swung it slamming it into the beast’s throat, cutting and crushing his neck and windpipe. The head’s grin morphed into shock as the head fell back and the monster toppled to the ground. The female’s scream bellowed across the shaft.

  “Toda! This way!”

  Toda’s stunned look evaporated with the scream. He dashed over to Malladar, and they raced over the body and down the tunnel. The female was roaring and grunting as she took up pursuit at once.

  Back down at the underground room, Malladar and Toda took the same positions on the sides of the tunnel opening. When the creature ran into the room, she tripped over Malladar’s club he’d shot out causing her to stumble forward. She flailed, attempting to regain her balance and somersaulted over the edge of anther shaft that dropped out of sight at the far side of the room. Both men stood listening to her scream fade before they heard a splash then silence.

  After a moment or two waiting for what else might be coming at them, Malladar stood hands propped on his war club and grinned. Toda fainted.

  When Malladar found a pot of water, he splashed Toda’s face. The priest thrashed and spat as if drowning.

  “I’m dead, I know I’m dead.” Toda looked about with head whirling. “Yingnak be merciful! Forgive my endless sins. I never meant to… Malladar? Is that you, Malladar? Are we both dead? You poor boy, you died so young.”

  Malladar laughed. “Oh shut up, Toda.”

  The priest lifted his chest to his elbows and flushed red. “Not dead? I didn’t mean all that about sins. I was just… well.”

  Malladar grabbed one of his hands and pulled him up. The priest dusted off his cloak and stood with his meager chest out, hiding his wounded dignity. Malladar grinned at him and turned to lead the way up a passageway they hadn’t seen from where they were in the other tunnel.

  “Where are we going?” Toda asked.

  “There is fresh air coming from this shaft. It must lead up.”

  Toda looked back at the shaft the female beast had plunged into.

  “That hole must drop deep to an underground river in the underworld,” Malladar said. “I checked it and heard water rapids. From the look of these tunnels, there are likely more of these creatures living underground. We need to get out of here.”

  Holding a torch that lit the chamber, Toda stepped to the shaft where the creature disappeared. He leaned over the edge, peeked, and then jumped back.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Malladar said, having glanced back at Toda.

  “I swear I saw black, six-legged bugs bigger than capybaras scurrying over what must be that creature’s body down there.”

  “Good grief, Toda. Your imagination has gotten the best of you again. Come on; we need to get out of here before more of those things come looking for them.”

  Toda dashed across the chamber and almost ran into Malladar as they headed up the tunnel.

  Toda was gasping for breath, “Run Malladar! I heard grumbling behind me coming from other tunnels as I left that room. There was more than one ranting!”

  They eventually came out of the tunnel inside the hut they had seen when first entering the clearing.

  “Grab that rope-ladder and pull it up so those things can’t follow us before we can get away.” As Malladar set the hut’s thatched roof on fire, he noted there were human skulls among that pile of bones behind the hut. He didn’t mention it to still-trembling Toda as they were retracing their steps back to the trail heading west to the Purple Mountains.

  14: Eva’s Fresh Start

  As soon as Malladar and Toda left on their expedition, Ickletor went to Eva’s residence. He pushed past her maid and knocked on her bedroom door.

  “Wake up, Eva; your behavior has sealed your fate. You must dress and be ready to depart soon with your mother.”

  He heard grumbling before some object slammed against the door. He opened it, and Eva sat up in bed.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  The maid slipped past Ickletor and handed Eva a cup of steaming chocolate. She stood by the bed as if to protect her mistress from the high priest’s anger.

  Ickletor faced the maid, “Go pack your mistress’ things for an extended trip. When we leave, close up this house, and report to my wife, Numa. She will be your new mistress.”

  The maid’s jaw dropped. She looked to Eva and then back to the high priest.

  “Get to it, girl, and do as you’re told.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Ickletor,” Eva said. Her voice was calm as she set her chocolate on the table beside her bed.

  Her father stepped forward, grabbed her arm, and jerked her up from the bed.

  “Oh, yes, you are. We both know you have no future here. Get yourself ready to travel. I’ll return in an hour, and you will be leaving whatever state you’re in.”

  When he returned, a temple guard fully armed stood at his side. Submissive, Eva followed her father as the guard carried her belongings behind them. They left the city and met with Nokmay on the outskirts. Ickletor had made clear his expectations for his daughter. Her protests met with ‘shut up’ at any attempt to speak. The high priest left Eva and the guard in the care of Nokmay and Rasa with instructions to beat Eva if her insolence resurfaced.

  *

  “Well, my dear,” Nokmay said, “shall we be on our way? It’s quite a distance to Tigmoor, and we must take back roads. People frown on me within the kingdom of Octar’s borders. We want to travel as far as possible while we have daylight. The journey is dangerous even then.” Eva began crying. “That’s enough of that. You’re getting a fresh start in life, a rare privilege especially for someone of your status or former status. You’re lucky you avoided sacrifice to Yingnak.”

  Some days later the four had traveled the poorly marked trail without incident. Morose, Eva had hardly spoken. The guard hadn’t uttered a dozen words since they’d left the city. Nokmay became agitated on the evening of the fourth day.

  Rasa noted her mistress’ distress. “What troubles you, Mistress?”

  Nokmay gave a rare, fleeting hint of a smile. “There is a sinkhole only half a day’s journey from here. I had a bad encounter with a troll there once. There’s nothing for you to be concerned with.”

  No sooner had she said that than a mound rose on the ground in front of the witch. A group of carrion beetles emerged as she sat transfixed on a log near the fire. Eva started to stomp on them. Nokmay extended her arm, restraining her daughter.

  “Leave them be. They’re a message, one not lost on me.”

  They came to a small village the next morning and stood staring, horrified at the sight. All the inhabitants lay dead on the ground. It appeared something terrifying had happened in the center of the huts. The people had attempted to escape. They all faced out towards the jungle in every direction. It was as if something had just knocked them down as they ran in the night.

  The temple guard snatched his sword, hunkered in a defensive posture, and scanned the area for a possible attack.

  “How horrible! What could have caused this?” Eva asked.

  Nokmay’s stance was stiff. Her face as if rock sealed all emotion behind it.

  “Another warning.”

  With no other explanation, Eva looked to Rasa who just watched Nokmay. “What is wrong with you people? Doesn’t this bother you?”

  Nokmay didn’t respond to her question but turned to the guard. “Search the area. There will be a deep shaft in the earth nearby. Find it.”

  None spoke until the man returned.

  “We must drag these people to the shaft and drop them in,” Nokmay said.

  “That’s not a decent burial, Nokmay,” Eva said.

  “All of you do as I say. We don’t have much time.”

  The travelers lugged the bodies to the shaft and shoved them over the edge.

  The corners of Eva’s mouth frowned as she wiped her hands on a wet cloth. “It doesn’t seem right not t
o bury them properly.”

  Nokmay’s features showed no emotion. “We had no choice in the matter. Had we not sent them to the god of the underworld, we would never see Tigmoor.”

  Eva glanced at Rasa whose eyes revealed both shock and certainty there was more to this than her mistress would reveal.

  “But mother…”

  “Silence, child,” Rasa said. She moved to put her arm around Eva and drew her away from her mother.

  They continued to travel the trail to Tigmoor in silence.

  In the night, the ground rumbled. Pebbles and leaves hopped about like water beads on a hot grill. The great jungle trees shook violently. In the morning, a few last tremors ended as the sun rose and its rays passed through the tree limbs.

  They ate hurriedly and traveled in haste until at midmorning when they came upon a deep fissure that went east-west across the trail.

  Eva, Rasa, and the guard searched left and right along the cliff edge hoping to find a way to get over the tear in the earth. Nokmay stood stoic staring across the chasm.

  “We just have the worst luck,” Rasa said.

  “There’s no way across,” Eva said.

  “There wouldn’t be,” Nokmay’s low, restrained voice responded.

  Eva looked at Nokmay, “You know what this is about, don’t you? Something here is acting against us, isn’t there?”

  Nokmay tossed a pebble over the edge and turned away from the barrier. “There are some things you don’t want to know about, child.” She noted Rasa and the guard looking back and forth at each other between glances at her. “We’ll go west until we find a way over.”

  “Will we find a way over this barrier?” Eva asked.

  Nokmay ignored the question and looked at each of them in turn then down at the chasm’s edge.

  “Watch where you step. Don’t approach any holes or cracks in the ground. Don’t get near any caves or tunnels. Dark things live in dark places. We aren’t traveling alone.”

  15: Ickletor’s Test

  In his villa’s private office where even his servants weren’t permitted to go, Ickletor put down the book and wrung his hands as if he felt the book burned them. A faint odor of burning flesh invaded his nose, but there was nothing cooking in the house. He thought back on what he believed he’d just made out of it. A chill crept up his spine like a slithering snake. He returned the book to its hiding place, reset the intricate trap protecting it, and sealed the nook with care.

  So, he thought, each new revelation appears to be more insidious and more impossible to believe if I’m interpreting any of it right. Those strange people who wrote it discovered and invoked magic to accomplish increasingly complex outcomes. Magic indeed, the witch would love to get her gnarled hands on this book. She knows of it. I wonder how much Nokmay knows of its contents. Likely she’s the only one living who can read it.

  I can’t believe there is a mythical stone that trailed fire as it fell from the sky possessing the power this book suggests. And yet, the tome declares is to be so. The ancients must have hidden the sky-rock away in the mountains. If Malladar should live to return, which I doubt, it will be a total surprise should he bring such a powerful stone with him.

  He flipped back through his papers for a scrap with four short lines of words he couldn’t understand. Skeptical, he found it and looked askance at lines.

  This short spell appears harmless enough, he thought. What harm could come from so few words? He stepped to the window and looked up at the cloudless sky. The sun beat down on corn stalks streaked yellow-green among crinkled brown. They rustled in a slight breeze like the shaman shaking a curse.

  I shouldn’t waste my time on such rubbish. He tossed the bark paper back on his desk, hesitated, then picked it up again and went out on the veranda.

  How do I pronounce these pictographs, he wondered?

  He tried putting emphasis on the first syllable, and nothing happened. Then he emphasized the second syllable and thought he felt the slightest tingle on his lips.

  My imagination is getting the best of me, he thought. I’ve caught gullibility from that fool Toda. He chuckled and dismissed the whole experiment, starting to turn back into the house. A sudden wisp of cool air blew across the veranda. He spun around and uttered the second pictograph. The thin hint of a white cloud began to coalesce in front of the sun.

  Impossible, he thought. No cloud is going to form in the direct rays of the midday sun.

  Ickletor took a deep breath to calm his tensing frame. He cleared his throat, faced the sun, and in a confident voice, read the first line of the incantation. His eyes swelled as a grey veil appeared from nowhere across the length of his property and began to swirl gathering into clouds, gray clouds heavy with moisture. The air chilled further. But then the clouds burned away as quickly as they had formed.

  What happened, he wondered? What went wrong? Blood, he remembered. Spells as powerful as this required the sacrifice of life to take hold. Those last human sacrifices to the stone Yingnak were a tragic waste of life, but this, this ability to gain control of the rain with an incantation, this is worthy of the sacrifice of life.

  “Sestec! Sestec!” he called as he rushed back into the house to find the club-footed attendant.

  “Sestec get me a chick… no… a goat, get me a goat. Bring it here at once and tie it to the tree off the veranda.”

  Ickletor rushed to the kitchen and got a bread bowl from the pantry. Tapping his foot, he waited on the porch for Sestec to arrive and tie off the goat. That done, he dismissed his assistant and waited to be sure he’d gone before bringing the sheet of spell-bark from a pocket in his cloak.

  Taken from his herd, the bewildered goat bleated constantly. Ickletor shut out the sound. He raised the bark sheet to the heavens, a symbolic gesture and set it aside. Then with one swift slash he cut the stunned goat’s throat and caught the pulsing blood in the bowl. As life fled the dying sacrifice, Ickletor raised the bark and read-aloud that first line of the four.

  Again gray clouds formed and gathered over his holdings. This time they didn’t dissipate. The priest read the second line of the incantation. A light rain began to fall. Incredulous, Ickletor’s jaw dropped as he gaped. His hand was shaking when he raised the sheet a third time. With trepidation, he flung the blood and read out the third line.

  The clouds began to darken and swirl. Ickletor backed up onto the porch as the raindrops grew larger and fell as if hurled onto the landscape. The fields splashed blasted by the rain; water quickly pooled and swirled, reflecting the angry clouds overhead. Rows flooded and disappeared under what looked like a lake. Water began to flow everywhere. Silver linings lit the charcoal clouds’ edges. Lightning shot down on the landscape exploding withered trees. The flooded fields began to erode as the water ran in torrents in every direction.

  Terrified by what he had unleashed, Ickletor dashed down the steps and hurled more of the goat’s blood from the bowl onto the raging water. The rain stopped, clouds faded to gray then dissipated. The sun shone again on the lake that was his former parched landscape.

  The priest stood with water running from his head and cloak as the deluge soaked into the thirsty soil or flowed away, taking the goat’s blood with it. When the sun shone again, he drew out the bark sheet and looked at the fourth line.

  What does this line invoke? He wondered but dared not whisper the words.

  16: Dinner Too Hot

  Malladar and Toda managed to scramble back through the forest to where the tree had fallen along the road. The snakes had gone. The men were able to hike through the limbs to get back on the simple path leading to the Purple Mountains.

  Sitting on a log beside the trail, they were about to eat a cold dinner a few days later when an old lady came through the lush foliage and confronted them.

  “You seem quite comfortable sitting here on my log stuffing yourselves when the owner of this land hasn’t given permission to settle here.”

  Malladar trained in courtly politeness s
tood and bowed to the old crone who had tangled white hair, a prominent nose, and one singular protruding tooth behind her pale, tin lips.

  “My dear lady, please excuse us for trespassing on your land. We were following this trail to the Purple Mountains and thought it a public road. We were set upon by some strange beasts further back along the path and lost a great deal of our supplies. We would be glad to pay you for trespassing if we could help you in some way.”

  The old crone grinned at him, cocked her head down slightly, and presented what could only be her rendition of a coquettish flirt.

  “You handsome young devil,” She said then gave Toda a bug-off glance. “She began to sway back and forth. Her tattered dress swaying obediently though weighed down by crud. “My house has a leak in the thatch. I don’t wish to delay your journey, but I’d be much obliged if you could but stay the night and make a quick repair in the morning.”

  Toda grabbed his arm, but Malladar shook it off without looking back at his traveling companion.

  “We would be glad to be of assistance, madam. We shall meet you in the morning to repair your roof.”

  The older woman’s eyes narrowed. “You’d run off in the night should I leave you here. You best come with me and sleep in my barn tonight.”

  Toda whispered in his ear, “She wants more than the roof repaired, I’ll wager.”

  Malladar glared back at Toda. “We’d be delighted to stay the night in your barn and help you on the morrow.”

  The two men followed the old lady through the thick foliage. There didn’t appear to be a path, but she seemed to know her way. A ways through the darkening forest, they came to a hut in a clearing with a barn on the far side. The old woman pointed to the barn with her cane and went on to her hut.

  “See, your skepticism was pointless,” Malladar said, “We get to sleep on dry hay in a sheltered barn for a change. It won’t take long to repair her roof, and we will be on our way by noon.”