The Grim Conspiracy

by C. Craig Coleman

  “Back! Get back in your cave, Nebo! Get back, or I’ll burn you again!”

  Bloody foam bubbling from his mouth, Nebo hesitated then, with eyes fixed on the sky-stone, he backed up, turned, and retreated into the dark grotto.

  I wonder if those long ago who wrote The Book of the Underworld created such a beast and that’s what destroyed them. Ickletor rushed back to the house and The Book of the Underworld. Frantic, he scanned the index with The Eye in his hand.

  Pale, Sestec dashed into the room with eyes all but glowing in the dark.

  “Something terrible has come out of the caves, Master! I felt it stamping its feet coming this way and went to look. I can’t make it out in detail, but the black silhouette against the night sky shows the most monstrous thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Ickletor looked back to the book index without responding to Sestec, who stared at him. The warnings Nokmay had given him seemed to repeat once again with new intensity. He trembled as his finger ran down the index faster. Then the stamping feet of the huge beast reverberated through the floor under his feet. His nerves caused him to flash hot and cold.

  Another foot slammed down just beyond the terrace. It made the house shake. The sudden crash of kicked stones from the wall tumbling across the terrace made both men look up. Sestec dashed by Ickletor towards the interior of the house.

  Gone to hide, Ickletor thought. As if this house could save him if the dragon is hungry or angry.

  A long toenail scratched against the room’s door. Ickletor found a spell in the index that would allow the sorcerer to control unruly animals.

  Probably never intended for such a beast, Ickletor thought as the dragon’s sinewy toe smashed through the door.

  Ickletor was casting the incantation as Nebo’s head slid through the doorway facing his master. The dragon stopped frozen in place. His brilliant eyes focused on the priest began to haze over.

  Uncertain as to the effectiveness of the spell, Ickletor was still shaking when he raised The Eye of Dindak.

  “Back to your cave, Nebo! You will remain there until I summon you.” Nothing happened… “Go! Get back to your cave. Do as you’re told, or I’ll burn you again?”

  As if in a daze, the dragon withdrew his head and lumbered back the way he’d come. Relief spread through Ickletor and exhausted, he collapsed into the chair beside him. Amazed the spell had worked, he finished reading the disclaimer. Ickletor had control of the animal now, but now it fed on more than meat. It had another hunger that his master would be only too happy to exploit.

  But first, I think a little test run is in order, Ickletor said and chuckled.

  *

  King Jornak was on a much-needed tour of his kingdom’s outer estates accompanied by a dozen of his guards for security.

  “I hope my presence touring estates of the nobility will suppress the friction and rebellions,” Jornak said to the captain of his guards.

  The soldier looked to a stand of trees. “You’ve ridden all morning, Your Majesty. The litter bearers seem exhausted. Perhaps you’d like to rest in the shade of that grove and take some refreshment while they rest a bit?”

  “An excellent suggestion,” Jornak said, smiling. He directed their movement to the shadows of the grove. The entourage made the king comfortable and began preparing some drinks.

  The captain made his way through the thicket down to a spring bubbling from a small grotto. He squatted down to draw cool water for the king when the stench of sulfur followed by a yellow gas seeped from the cave’s darkness. The captain started to jump up but fell back. Before he could stand, the finger of yellow gas slid around his throat. He gasped and unintentionally sucked in the vapor.

  “There you are,” Jornak said to the captain when he ambled back up to the king. One look at the man’s blank face and Jornak was concerned. “Are you alright?”

  Without a word, the soldier drew his dagger, snatched the king’s head back, and slashed his throat ear to ear.

  As the body jerked in death throws and pulsing blood squirted from the laceration, the other members of the group stood dazed in shock. The litter bearers were the first to recover. They fled, knowing as the most expendable; they’d be blamed for the king’s death.

  The other soldiers in the party rushed to grab the captain, but he reached up with the bloody, obsidian knife and slit his own throat.

  When the rest of the entourage recovered and realized the captain had acted alone, they put king and captain on the litter and hurried to the nearest estate to get more bearers to rush the bodies back to Octar.

  In the frantic activities breaking camp, no one noticed when Tingtwang’s yellow fog slipped from the captain’s gaping neck and slithered through the leaf litter back down the hillside and disappear into the hollow. Careful to avoid spots of sunlight, his creatures appeared and lapped up the blood as the people rushed away.

  One noble thought he heard a strange chittering behind the group as they moved out of the thicket. He started to call attention to it, became frightened as to what caused it, and hurried on faster.

  *

  Back in Octar, the news of the king’s death came first from weeping citizens running into the city and on to the royal palace. Whispering followed the frightened harbingers like the tail follows a comet. People streamed together flowing to the plaza to stand before the palace pyramid.

  Several people stood clustered in the reception hall, eyes jittery as they chattered. The chamberlain, staff of office in hand, entered the hall approaching the men. One pushed another among them forward.

  “What is the meaning of this?” the chamberlain asked. “The king’s audiences were canceled while His Majesty is touring the provinces.”

  The jumpy man in front of the quaking cluster snatched off his cap and bowed to the high official. A glance back to those who’d pushed him forward and he again faced the chamberlain.

  “The king is dead, my lord, King Jornak, is dead!”

  The chamberlain’s eyes swelled; the high official stepped back into his fellows.

  “Who are you to dare to spread such a rumor? A full force of guards accompanied the king. His life isn’t in danger.”

  Another man among the messengers behind the speaker stepped forward and bowed.

  “Begging your pardon, my lord, but I myself saw and rushed past the royal party bringing the dead king and the captain of his guards back to the city on the king’s litter. They are not an hour’s march from here.”

  Emboldened, the first man stepped around the second, “One of the king’s attendants said the captain slashed the king’s throat and then his own!”

  The chamberlain paled. He turned to guards, “Detain these men lest they spread this rumor.” With that, he called an assistant. “Go at once, as fast as you can to the tower over the city’s southern gate. Report to me at once if you see the king’s party coming this way.”

  The frightened assistant ran off. Then the chamberlain began to hear the murmuring of the crowd on the plaza below. He turned and disappeared back into the palace.

  *

  Sad, Kayla was packing away her treasures, gifts from Malladar, when a frantic knock rattled her door. Puzzled at first, a surge of fear passed through her when the frantic knock repeated. She nodded to a noblewoman assisting her. The lady barely cracked the door when it flew open. The chamberlain rushed in.

  “What’s the matter?” Kayla asked. “Why do you look so frightened? Has there been another attack on a noble’s estate? Father will attend to it on his return.”

  The chamberlain’s eyes swelled and watered.

  Panic flushed Kayla seeing the man trembling and hesitant to speak. She went to him.

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t want to alarm you, Princess, but there is a rumor, unsubstantiated, that the king has been assassinated.”

  Eyes fixed on the chamberlain, Kayla stumbled backward slumping down on her bed. The others in the room stood transfixed.

  The chamberlain
stepped forward, “I’m posting guards outside your door. Please remain here until I can get to the bottom of this. I hope it is a nasty rumor, but we must take precautions.”

  *

  The chamberlain took other steps to quell the rumor spreading through the palace. He was rushing down the hall when he ran into the assistant sent to the gate’s tower. He halted, seeing the terrified man’s face.

  “It’s true then?”

  The man nodded his head.

  “You’re certain?”

  The man stepped forward, “I can just make out two bodies on the litter in the center of the guards and a large group of followers surrounding the king’s entourage.”

  The sound of weeping and wailing rose like a wave when the king’s litter passed through the city gate and moved slowly through the crowd on the plaza and up into the palace.

  Kayla had pushed past her guards who followed and met the litter as a throng carried it into the reception hall. They put it down in front of the chamberlain and the princess. One look at the corpses still dripping blood and Kayla fainted.

  “Take the queen back to her room and see to it she stays there until I can restore order,” the chamberlain said.

  Palace and plaza erupted into chaos like a hornet’s nest pummeled with a stick.

  *

  Having heard the early reports on the plaza, Toda rushed to tell Ickletor. The high priest went up to the temple platform and observed as the chaos spread like fire in a dry forest. Only when he saw the bodies of king and captain on the litter confirming the rumor did he descend the staircase to his office.

  It’s now or never, he thought. I can’t wait for the stupid girl to lay claim to the throne. She’ll never agree to marry me if that happens. I must act now while the throne is more or less vacant. How fortunate my little Nebo is almost fully developed, too. I should never have doubted a god. Tingtwang is as good as his word.

  Chuckling, Ickletor closed the door and sat at his desk to write down his speech.

  No, a proclamation, I think.

  48: On the Road to Tigmoor

  Rasa was in suspended animation outside Nokmay’s cave in Nokmoor Forest. Inside, Nokmay stood slumped before Nain the Abkor. She raised her head in defiance.

  “It’s not entirely my fault.”

  Nain’s eyebrows rose; the whites of his ancient eyes flared as his chest drew back.

  “Fool witch, you’ve lived through many ages of man. How could you have been so careless? You’ve awakened forces that should never have come to light. That evil and ambitious high priest is now calling upon and beginning to unleash those powers toward destructive ends. You’ve known what that book could expose. You’ve known the use of it wiped out those so long ago that compiled the tome.”

  “Lord Nain, you and the Abkor oversee this world and keep it in balance. Why didn’t you prevent that book from ever falling into the hands of one such as the High Priest Ickletor?”

  “You know the Abkor are not permitted to interfere in the affairs of men. Despite that, we’ve attempted to do so on two occasions and failed. We have been reprimanded for the interference nonetheless. Now see what you have set in motion.”

  The Abkor waved his hand over the visionary pool. The water seemed to boil then a blue flame rose from the ripples then the water calmed and cleared. Nain motioned for Nokmay to approach.

  Reluctant, she hesitated then shuffled closer to the basin. Again she looked first to Nain.

  “He’d never have been able to utilize the most dangerous incantations without The Eye of Dindak. Why didn’t you keep it hidden?”

  Nain drooped, his head shaking side to side, “Some force allowed that prince to retrieve the sky-stone. We don’t know what it is. I’ve tried to stop him from delivering it to the priest, but we failed.”

  Nokmay straightened up, “Some force, fate perhaps, has overruled us. Perhaps it’s meant to be.”

  Nain closed his eyes and swept his hand over the pool. She leaned forward and looked down into the vision forming in the dark water.

  *

  Ickletor stood over Nebo in a shadowy room. He held The Eye of Dindak in one hand while pressing his index finger on the Book of the Underworld’s selected page. He was reading and speaking the words of a spell. A green glow emanated from the meteorite shooting out from between the high priest’s fingers. Then the priest flipped pages to another spell in the book and repeated the process.

  *

  “What’s he doing?” Nokmay asked. She looked up at Nain whose face winced as if pained.

  “He’s combined two incantations to create a monster.”

  She looked back at the pool, as the vision faded, she realized Nebo had doubled in size, grown strange tendrils on his face, and his former tiny teeth were fangs dripping saliva!

  “Yingnak!” Nokmay exclaimed. “Did you see that? Did you see what I saw?”

  Tears ran down the Abkor’s wrinkled face as he nodded. Without a word, he faded away like the vision. Nokmay stood stunned.

  Rasa rushed in, “Something strange happened to me out there, Mistress. It’s as if I lost an hour.” She looked at the witch, “Are you okay?”

  Nokmay looked at her and saw she paled at the sight of the trembling witch.

  *

  Malladar trudged down the road south towards Tigmoor with his entourage of servants and six guards. It was midafternoon, and the sky was clear.

  “Make camp there by the stream,” the prince said.

  The leader among his servants looked to the others who shrugged. He then stepped up beside him.

  “Your highness, we still have several hours of daylight. Shouldn’t we travel on? Don’t you want to see Tigmoor, your home as soon as possible?”

  Malladar shook his head, “My home was Octar since I was a small boy. Now I’m sent away. There is no rush to get to Tigmoor.”

  “Highness, you miss the Princess Kalya, but your future lies ahead. Your father needs you. Tigmoor needs you.”

  “Yes, duty is all there is for a prince. My life isn’t my own.”

  “One day, the lives of all your people will be in your hands, my lord. You mustn’t despair. You will find a new life in Tigmoor and dare I suggest it a new love.”

  Malladar waved the servant away, “We’ll camp there by that stream.”

  The man bowed and waved the others off the road to a small clearing by the brook. Malladar heard the grumbling and muttering of those anxious to get back to their families but ignored it.

  One of the guards first noticed a strange dark cloud appear from behind them. It streamed out a finger ahead of it. The cloud had a whitish edging, but the edging morphed to green as it stretched out over them. The cloud passed over the sun seeming to suck up the light around them. A cold chill swept in through the refugees. Fear spread among servants and guards alike. Their eyes glanced one to the other, and they shivered standing still.

  The guard drew his sword; then, the others followed suit jerking left and right scanning for some visible assailant. The leader who’d first spotted the cloud sniffed the air.

  “There’s something evil behind this. Close ranks around the prince and servants.”

  Charcoal colored fingers split from the billowing cloud’s lead. They curved down to the ground and began to circle the travelers. A guard slashed at one that turned towards the men. The sword slid through the haze, but it showed no effect. The then pointed tendril probed, tapping among the people on the outside of the cluster of skittish people.

  “It’s searching for something!” the guard said.

  From the center of the group, Malladar, his voice resigned, said, “It’s searching for me.”

  The soldier was stunned. Another stepped forward and tried to stamp out the vapor. The black finger jerked back then stabbed forward into the guard. The man gasped, turned dark, almost charcoal and fell dead. His eyes bulged, and his tongue hung out before turning to ash. Stunned, no one moved. A sudden gust of the cold wind blew away every trace of
the ashes. No sign of the man remained.

  The other fingers became more agitated circling the group. As one, they turned in towards the men in the cluster then drew back and coiled like snakes.

  WHAM!

  A blinding white light flashed surrounding the travelers! The fingers writhed as sparks splashed for the light burning them. They faded quickly like fog in direct rays of the sun. The cloud dissolved, revealing the sun again and the chill, too, seemed swept away by the warmth of the afternoon sun’s breeze.

  “What was that?” the lead guard asked.

  From behind a tree up on a hill, Nokmay turned away, her whole body rocking. She grinned and thought, not this time, Ickletor.

  The travelers collected their baggage and rushed on along the road towards Tigmoor, not stopping before it was too dark to see the road anymore. No fire that night, they slept as they were, leaning against the baggage they carried.

  Nokmay kept watch from a distance. They’ll not sleep much this night, the witch thought. The sound of a snapping twig and they’ll dash off in the dark like panicked peccaries. She chuckled, careful not to make a sound.

  *

  King Agmar rushed into Eva’s suite, grabbing her as she stood stunned. He lifted her and spun her around.

  “I didn’t do it!” She said eyes about to pop out. “Spare me, and I’ll pack and leave at once.”

  Agmar laughed and set her down. “You’ll do no such thing.”

  “Thank goodness,” Eva said, “I’m not lugging these fine clothes all the way back to Octar.” She looked about the room at scattered garments, grinned, and gazed at the king. “I suppose there is some reason for that spangled entrance or have you developed a sudden love of drama?”

  Chuckling, the king poured two glasses of libation handing one to Eva before he sat down and took a swallow of his.

  “I was in the throne room about to fall asleep as a petitioner babbled on without pause about some dribble when the chamberlain rushed up and whispered in my ear.” He stopped to take a sip.

  Eva planted her hands on her hips and cocked her head.