The Grim Conspiracy

by C. Craig Coleman

  “Forgive this lowly priest, blessed Yingnak. I beseech you to see that High Priest Ickletor is false. He seeks power and will call upon you for support in a war he’s stirring up to secure his new position. Have mercy on your devoted Octar and the people of Tigmoor whom he’d sacrifice to enrich himself.”

  He heard a noise and looked back.

  Did I see Ickletor’s attendant who watched my every move in the throne room? He wondered. Has he followed me here? Toda's heart raced as he glanced back again but saw no one. I must hurry. I’ll be spotted any minute. Facing Yingnak again, he pressed on to complete his prayer.

  “If you have any mercy, please spare and protect Prince Malladar of Tigmoor. He is a good man, my god. He is deserving of your…”

  Toda’s hand slid up, daring to touch his god to enhance his plea. The slight pressure caused the stone god an insignificant movement. The barely discernible sound of stone crushing sand seemed to blare out across the temple. The skull rocked! Toda jumped up and back; his eyes fixed on the god. Yingnak’s skull head toppled forward shattering on the edge of the dais. Fragments tumbled across the floor. Toda backed away several steps still staring at the catastrophic scene. He held his breath expecting terrible retribution; nothing happened… nothing at all. A massive heartbeat broke Toda’s spell. One last look at the headless stone body and Toda fled the temple and pyramid, heading for Octar’s southern gate.

  The priest had to hide behind a mansion’s pillar as three of the city’s richest and most powerful nobles approached. Thinking they were alone away from the near riotous mob on the plaza, they stopped to converse. Scanning the throng, the most lavishly attired of the nobles grinned.

  “Those fools think Ickletor will save their measly holdings and feed them through the coming winter. From what our new king said in the reception hall, I’m quite certain he intends to round up the militants so recently threatening their betters. He’ll send them as waves upon the rock of Tigmoor. They will die for the fool that means to eliminate them and any opposition. We, gentlemen, will find this war the means to enrich ourselves selling goods and services to support the slaughter no matter who wins.”

  The man laughed. His fellows smirked, and the three passed on. Toda slipped out of the city and journeyed down the road to Tigmoor.

  I must warn Malladar, he thought. With the dragon as head of Ickletor’s army, Tigmoor can’t survive.

  52: Coming Together

  In Tigmoor’s royal palace, King Agmar was relaxing with Eva in her quarters. The king pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her.

  “Let me up, you brute,” Eva said, smiling and eyes twinkling. She threw her head back in mock protest. He squeezed her closer and kissed her cheek. She melted into his chest all but purring like a kitten.

  “With all the chaos, I haven’t thanked you properly for all your work welcoming Malladar home.” Agmar grinned, and Eva blushed.

  “Properly?” Eva said and winked.

  A knock on the door disrupted their intimacy. Eva frowned stood and went to her dressing table.

  “Who is it?” Agmar growled. “Why must someone always disturb my rare moments of peace?”

  “Forgive my intrusion, Majesty, but the guards have arrested an Octarian priest trying to enter the palace. The man insisted on speaking to you and Prince Malladar. They were taking the Octarian to the dungeon when the prince entered the hall and vouched for him. His Highness said they were close friends. They insisted I come at once to request an audience.”

  Agmar rose and went to pat Eva on the cheek as she stood, “I shall see what this is about and return to you in the blink of an eye. Remember where we were.” He patted her bottom and went out into the hall.

  “Very well,” the king grumbled, “this had better be serious. After that dragon attack, I’m in no mood to be tolerant of Octarians.”

  *

  In the king’s private audience chamber, Malladar stood talking to Toda when the king entered and closed the door. Malladar bowed to his father. Toda dropped to the floor, prostrating himself before the king. Agmar nodded his annoyed face at the prince then turned to the priest on the floor.

  “Get up, man! By your attire, I see you are a priest of Yingnak. That would make you a close associate of High Priest Ickletor. Did he send you to mollify us… to lull us into not responding to his monster’s failed attack? You’d be in the dungeon by now had my son not vouched for you. Speak your piece before I send your head back to your master.”

  Toda stood, bowed, and glanced at Malladar, then faced the king, “Your Majesty, King Jornak was assassinated.”

  “Yes, we know that. Is that what you came to tell us?”

  “Majesty, High Priest Ickletor has achieved powers heretofore unknown. Malladar and I unknowingly provided him with a sky-rock apparently with strange powers. Lord Ickletor has used it to create a dragon. I’m certain it was he who sent it against Malladar recently.”

  Agmar began to lose patience and fidgeted.

  “Indeed, we’ve suffered an attack from the dragon. It ate some of our soldiers and almost killed Malladar. You say the high priest controls this beast?”

  “Yes, Majesty, I believe he does. He has The Book of the Underworld and is using the spells in frightful ways. I fear the dragon is but one of his experiments.”

  “Does Queen Kayla know of this?” Agmar asked.

  “Queen Kayla cannot stop Ickletor. I myself snuck her out of Octar and away to exile in Korkufin to save her. Ickletor planned to force her to marry him for legitimacy when he claimed the throne.”

  “What!” Malladar exclaimed.

  Agmar raised his hand, and the prince stepped back.

  “Who rules in Octar?” the king asked.

  “That’s why I’m here, Majesty. I came to warn you High Priest Ickletor has seized the crown and sits on the throne of Octar. He has proclaimed himself king in the queen’s absence and convinced the people of Octar that Tigmoor is behind the assassination of King Jornak.”

  Agmar was stunned.

  “We have no involvement with the assassination of your king.”

  Toda stepped forward, “But Ickletor has blamed the current economic crisis and even the drought in Octar on Tigmoor. He told… no assured the people Prince Malladar was a spy and traitor to the city that nurtured him. He’s whipped up the citizens’ anger and focused it on Tigmoor. Majesty, Ickletor means to declare war on Tigmoor!”

  Agmar paced around the room, glancing at Malladar and Toda from time to time.

  “This is madness! We had nothing to do with any of it. I shall send an emissary to King Ickletor at once denying any involvement.”

  “That will do no good! Octar’s drought has emptied the storehouses. There is no food to get the kingdom through the winter. Octar cannot survive without the food stores here in Tigmoor. The nobles, too, know Octarians must take their rage and frustrations out on Tigmoor or the people will overthrow and slaughter Octar’s elite. Ickletor is using the trumped-up charges against your son to rally the masses behind the war. He intends to destroy Tigmoor and seize your provisions for Octar. It will be total war for plunder.”

  Prince and King stared at Toda who stood tall and confident.

  “Then there is no option to war, no appeasement sharing the rations?”

  “No, Majesty. Ickletor has claimed Prince Malladar was a traitor to King Jornak, an agent of your sending. Ickletor has convinced the people Malladar’s assumed treachery has angered Yingnak. He declares Yingnak will withhold the rains until as high priest he sacrifices Malladar as the only way to appease the god. They demand the prince forfeit his life.”

  Agmar looked at his son who was pale as the moon.

  “I had no part in any treachery, Father.”

  “No, of course not.”

  “There’s something else, Majesty,” Toda said. “Yingnak is no god!”

  Agmar looked at Malladar, “Are you sure this man hasn’t gone mad?”

  The prince shook
his head, “He’s not insane, Father, I can vouch for that, addle-brained at times, but not mad.”

  Toda took one step forward, “Majesty, I touched the god in his enclosure. The skull-head toppled and smashed to pieces on the floor. There was no reaction... no response at all from Yingnak. This god is no more than a skull head on a stone body.”

  Agmar dragged out a chair and sank into it, speechless. Malladar did the same.

  “Majesty, one more thing,”

  Agmar glared at the priest, “There’s MORE!”

  Toda sank on one knee, “I know Ickletor is jealous Kayla, Queen Kayla favors Prince Malladar. I’m certain he sent the dragon to eliminate his competition. I read it in his plots. He’d hoped to force Kayla to marry him to legitimize his claim to the throne. I fear Ickletor’s gone mad with jealousy and the desire for vengeance. I think he might use spells in The Book of the Underworld to create and send other unknown terrors to assassinate Prince Malladar and Your Majesty. With both of you disposed of, the city’s defenses would be chaotic just as the army and dragon of Octar assault the walls of Tigmoor!”

  *

  In Octar, the generals were preparing to make war on Tigmoor. The wealthy landowners and merchants were scrambling to supply the needed weapons and other supplies. While Ickletor waited on the preparations, he reveled in his new lavish suite within the royal palace. Bored after a week, he dismissed the young harlot that had been servicing him and began admiring himself in his military uniform. He summoned Sestec.

  “What do you think?” Ickletor asked. He put on his resplendent helmet and robe. “More feathers? I think more of the long plumes on the helmet… red ones. See to it!”

  Sestec took the headdress and paused.

  “Yes, is there something else you wish to say?”

  “Majesty, I hate to bother you with it again, but Nebo is growing by leaps and bounds. He can’t remain in the caves any longer. He’s over sixty feet long now. He eats the dead slaves and criminals, but he been growing much faster since the people have raged in the plaza demanding war on Tigmoor.”

  Ickletor sinister smirk silenced Sestec.

  “I will attend to new accommodations for our little lizard. You may go.”

  Leaving, Sestec passed the chamberlain coming in.

  “What do you want now?” Ickletor snapped.

  The official bowed, “Majesty more and more reports come daily that there is a dragon flying through the kingdom snatching up beasts in the fields and some of the farmers as well. Can Your Magnificence find means to kill or control the reptile? We can’t go into battle against Tigmoor with that monster ravaging the countryside here.”

  Ickletor roared with laughter. He then looked to the minister, “I control the dragon! It will lead our army in the destruction of Tigmoor.”

  The chamberlain’s eyes swelled as his jaw dropped.

  “You CONTROL that creature?”

  “Yes, now, be gone. I’ll call you when I need your assistance.”

  The chamberlain withdrew, and the king sneered. I suppose I best go deal with Nebo and Tingtwang.

  *

  Ickletor walked up below the caves just beyond his country estate outside Octar. The stars were bright in the clear night sky. Nebo’s black silhouette stood out atop the crest of the cliffs. His yellow eyes glowed, watching his benefactor approach.

  “I suppose Sestec told you I need more suitable accommodations,” Tingtwang said to Ickletor’s mind.

  “I’m working on it,” the king said, “but finding shelter for something of your ‘magnitude’ is difficult.”

  Nebo’s head nodded. “I might have to burn down part of Octar so you can build me something more elaborate than a cave. This body and I are now inseparable. I must have suitable shelter.”

  Ickletor trembled, “Don’t even think of it.”

  “My patience is not unending, my dear Ickletor. You’re the king now. And while you’re working on my new residence, be sure to stir up the peasants’ rage. The energy is waning. I grow hungry.”

  “Tingtwang, we agreed that I deliver flesh for your spawn. I failed to anticipate the magnitude of your appetite for negative energy derived from hate and fear, your appetite so insatiable.”

  Nebo leaped up in the air, flapped his wings, and soared overhead before gliding down to land in front of the creature so utterly insignificant facing him.

  “Stupid little man, I removed your obstacle to the throne and made it possible for you to claim and hold it. You will do whatever I say.”

  Nebo’s blood-stained fangs gleamed in the moonlight when he forced a slight and unnatural grin. He snapped his jaws, and Ickletor stumbled backward falling in the dirt.

  “I require meat for my spawn, and this shall we call it… shell, but I require raw energy to grow this beast of hate. The best source emanates from human fear and rage. You know you feel it, too. Now go back to your mob and whip up their need for vengeance on Tigmoor.”

  Signaling an end to his patience and the communication, Nebo leaped into the air and flew back up atop the cliff. The wind from his flapping wings blew Ickletor across the road and into a bog. He managed to struggle his way out and scrambled back to his villa to clean up before returning to the city.

  What will that thing feed on when the war concludes, and the people have spent their rage? He wondered. “I’ve enough trouble trying to control that anger and direct it where it needs to be as well.

  53: The Vile Plot!

  Nokmay stood motionless in her cave as the shimmer she’d been expecting began to take form and materialize. Rasa stood immobilized in a fixed moment in time. Nain stood on the other side of Nokmay’s visionary pool where tiny ripples kept the surface in flux. The Abkor looked at the pool and then fixed his stare on the witch.

  “I know why you’re here,” Nokmay said. “It’s Tingtwang; he’s taken form. I’ve seen it too.”

  Nain’s eyes remained fixed on Nokmay. “The Abkor are strained with this new development. That foul god has upset the order of things. You, Nokmay, have in meddling facilitated this disaster.”

  The witch’s hands spread with her forearms as she shook her head in protest, “What have I done?”

  “Don’t waste your denial. Our order is debating eliminating you for your transgressions. The humans are merely ignorant players fumbling through existence. You have seen things through many ages, Nokmay. You should have known better than to interfere. You let that petty god manipulate you.”

  Nokmay slumped, “What must I do?”

  “What must you do indeed! Tingtwang is free to roam the world at large as an unassailable dragon. He’s the embodiment of death and will spread destruction wherever he goes. He must be stopped. Think hard and fast, witch if you don’t want the Abkor to terminate you with him.”

  “Your order is not permitted to interfere, Lord Nain.”

  “We may not interfere with fate, but eliminating you would be acceptable for your offenses. You are among the living. There may be time for you to right your wrongs. Even so, you will pay a terrible price for what you’ve done.”

  Nokmay stepped around the pools and dropped to her knees, clutching at the Abkor’s hand as he faded away, “What do you mean, pay a terrible price?”

  *

  King Ickletor dismissed the petitioners ending the formal audience for the day. A dozen of Octar’s wealthiest merchants and generals milled about mumbling among themselves as the hall emptied. The king rose from his throne and noted they collected in a tight group.

  “I see my closest associates seek something as yet unspecified.”

  The most lavishly attired noble with the senior general stepped forward.

  “Majesty, we must have more resources, both men and supplies if we are to prosecute the war soon.”

  Ickletor sneered, “I’ve enriched you merchants beyond your dreams and bankrupted the treasury in the process. Even by my imagination, you are all wealthy as none before. And you generals… for twenty years you’ve stru
tted around in your ever more elaborate uniforms doing nothing to earn your keep. I’ve conscripted most of the adult population and plundered every source to arm them. What more do you want? Does your greed know no bounds? Now be gone. I expect to declare this war before King Agmar and Prince Malladar can prepare for it.”

  “We need more time to train the new troops, Majesty,” the general said.

  Ickletor’ flashed a sinister grin, “Your troops’ preparations are incidental, General. No army in our history had a dragon to spearhead an attack. However, I shall see if I can’t weaken King Agmar’s resolve a bit.”

  The petitioners looked to each other, bowed, and began to slink out of the throne room.

  Ickletor had become quite proficient at reading The Book of the Underworld. The king utilized incantations found there, twisting them to his base desires. Being a fool, he saw direct actions without thinking of the ancillary ramifications.

  Entering a sealed chamber down deep in the royal palace’s dungeon level, Ickletor took The Book of the Underworld from its locked compartment. The Eye of Dindak he took from his pocket. He’d already decided on a spell, but it took the intimidating group he’d just left to fortify his resolve to take action.

  He’d sent Sestec to his former quarters in the temple pyramid to retrieve several rare ingredients he needed to perform the spell. Those, too, he laid out on the rustic table. It had taken great effort, but the chamberlain had finally found and secured a very rare plant that was critical. It lay withered along with mandrake on the table beside it. He started a fire in a brazier and waited for it to settle to coals. While he waited, he copied the spell and returned the book to its locked container before proceeding.

  All those hearts hacked out for a skull on a stone, he thought. What could I have done with all that blood?