The Grim Conspiracy

by C. Craig Coleman

Toda turned and started back up the tunnel.

  Malladar grabbed his cloak. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Toda snatched his cloak back. “You aren’t seriously thinking of going further down there, are you? Those things were some kinda bug, bugs big as a man. Just imagine what those things eat. It’s not a pretty picture, lord prince. I say we take our chances with the winged things.” He turned to flee and again Malladar stopped him.

  “We don’t know what those things are. They may eat stuff in the water or dead stuff that finds its way down here. We don’t know if they are dangerous to us or not. We do know the beaks and talons of the bird-bat-men tear up meat.”

  “Some choice, huh?”

  “Give me the oil from your pack.”

  “What for? How will we cook anything to eat?”

  Growing impatient, Malladar glared Toda in the face. “Do you want to wander around in here in the dark with the black bugs?”

  Toda jerked the pack off his back and frantically rummaged until he handed the prince his oil jar. Malladar poured the last of their grease into the torch and moved down to the water’s edge.

  “What good will that do? Maybe we can see them when they come to eat us. There’s no way out other than this tunnel we stumbled down through.”

  Malladar held up the torch where Toda could see the flame. “What do you see? “

  “Well, it’s a lovely flame. Is that a cut on your arm? Don’t worry about that scratch; we’ll be bones soon enough.”

  Malladar shook his head, “The threads hanging down. Don’t you see the threads moving? There is fresh air moving through the cave’s underground river system.”

  “So this is part of the river to the underworld like the one under Octar’s great temple mound?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d rather like to think it comes out above ground somewhere… soon.”

  “I don’t swim well... well, at all.”

  “Remind me to beat you when we get out of here.”

  “Well okay, but none too hard, I have a delicate complexion.”

  “What?” Then Malladar laughed for the first time in a while. He walked over to a log on the beach beside the river. “Help me with this log.”

  “That’s going to be a rather large torch, isn’t it? Oh, for a fire, of course, we can cook our last meal. How nice.”

  “Toda!”

  Dragging his feet, Toda sauntered across the gravel to the log.

  “Help me lift it enough to move it into the water.”

  “My last day of life and you still work poor Toda like a well-digger. Now you want me to clean up my tomb. There is no mercy.”

  They moved the log into the water and wrapped their backpacks as tightly as they could then fastened them to the top of the log.

  “Toda, we will each hold onto a side of the log with one arm and swim with the other one. Together we should be able to keep the log in the center of the stream. That way we can guide it keeping it in the current and not getting hung up.”

  “Right, if I lose my grip, don’t worry about me. I’ll sink like a stone. Those black bugs will flesh my bones before you can save me.” He glanced at Malladar, “You would try to save me, wouldn’t you?”

  “I’m going to beat you like a dusty rug when we get out of here.”

  “My last hours and you’re so mean to me.”

  Toda, Toda, Toda, how is it Ickletor didn’t sacrifice you long ago?”

  “I got him the best chocolate.”

  Malladar again shook his head. “Let’s go, hold on tight.”

  They worked the log into the current and started moving downstream.

  “Keep that torch high above the water,” Toda said. “I’m afraid of the dark.”

  “Hold on tight and keep your head down. Here comes the end of the cave, we’re going down a tunnel. I hope it’s not flooded.”

  The current picked up speed as the channel narrowed rushing under the limestone above it. The ceiling rose and fell, but for a long way there was air above the water. The torch held but the light was growing dim as the last of the oil was burning out.

  “The water is so cold,” Toda said as they flowed along. “My feet and legs are getting numb.”

  Malladar noted his teeth were chattering as he spoke. “Hang on!”

  They passed into another small cavern, and Malladar steered the log to the small beach. They got out of the water.

  We can’t take the cold much longer, the prince thought. He studied the end of the cave where the water swirled and foamed before disappearing under the stone ceiling. There’s no wood on this little beach. I can’t start a fire to warm Toda up. He’ll soon notice the tunnel fills with water. There won’t be torchlight or surface air; Toda is going panic.

  “We’re going to die, aren’t we?” Toda said. His voice was weak. His despair was increasing as the cold spread through him.

  “No, Toda, we’re not going to die here.”

  “I wish I had your confidence.”

  “You hang tight with me. We haven’t come this far to die here. Toda, the torch will soon burn out. Try not to panic when darkness takes back this cavity. I’ll be right here beside you, okay.”

  Toda didn’t respond with his usual quips. A moment of reflection and he spoke, his voice frail and resigned to his fate. “I’m honored to die with such an amazing young man like you. Thank you for caring about me. No one else ever has.”

  Goosebumps ran over Malladar. “It’s been an honor to share this adventure with you, my friend.” He saw a faint smile on Toda’s lips.

  The priest shook his head. “The only true friend in my life and you come at the end.”

  “It’s not over yet, Toda. Be brave, the light is going, and we must go under that wall with the river if we have any chance of getting out of here.”

  The torch flickered and dwindled to a blue speck then went out. Malladar dropped the torch and held Toda’s shoulder so he wouldn’t lose him in the dark.

  “I can still see you.”

  “There’s a faint light in here, Toda!” Malladar scanned the cave. He dipped his hand in the river and raised it. “The air! The air is coming down from above. There! The light is coming from a shaft or fissure high up on the wall.”

  Toda struggled to stand up. “Is it a way out? The opening isn’t wide enough for us to crawl through, is it?”

  “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  Toda sank back down on the sand. “I don’t think I can make it. You go ahead, save yourself.”

  Malladar grabbed his shoulder and pulled him up. “Don’t make me drag your scruffy butt up those rocks.”

  Toda shook his head. “No mercy at all.” Struggling, he followed the prince climbing the wall. They came out on a hillside overlooking the plain and made it to level ground below. Malladar built a fire to warm his companion and dry their clothes. They watched boulders and trees shake loose and cascade down the slopes of the disgruntled mountain in the distance. Plumes of dust rose as if whatever had guarded The Eye of Dindak was passing away

  29: Revolt

  Getting close to the outskirts of Octar, Nokmay had led Rasa off the main road and along a nearby path she knew through the undergrowth not far from the road. They had only gone a few miles when the path rose enough that shouting and sounds of smashing ceramics, splintering wood, and violence caused her to hesitate. The scent of fire drifted by and Nokmay stopped in her tracks.

  “What’s that noise?” the witch said.

  Rasa unconsciously hunched down and listened.

  “Sounds like a lot of people rioting or something. Do you think we should go back?”

  “No. Wait here and keep quiet.”

  Nokmay crept up the slope and checked to be sure no one was around. The noise grew louder with each step. Wild animals appeared through the trees on the other side of the road racing away from the noise. The witch worked her way over and down the other side of the road, into the undergrowth, and closer to the source of t
he sound.

  She spotted a clearing through the trees. As she sneaked closer, she saw boney peasants in their shabby clothes and armed with their farm implements, looting a nobleman’s estate. Flames seemed to lick at the sky and from one of the adjacent fields.

  A man ran out of the house, blood running from his mouth. He stumbled and fell. She saw the ax handle protruding from his back. There was another body lying in the nearby field. She turned to get away but then saw six or eight men with weapons starting to come her way. They were looking down, tracking something.

  They’re looking for someone and not with good intentions, she thought. I better get out of here. As she retraced her way back and stepped over a log, she heard a muffled gasp and whimper.

  “Who’s there?”

  She held still… no response. Looking to her left, she saw the rich clothes of a nobleman’s fat sides showing from behind a tree.

  “You there, what’s going on?”

  The terrified man stepped around the tree, saw Nokmay, and dropped to his bloody knees.

  “Please, don’t harm us.”

  A young girl not yet a teen stepped out beside the man clutching his garment.

  “Who are you?” Nokmay asked.

  The shaking man heard noises and looked first to his right at the source then back to Nokmay. “That was our home. They came out of nowhere and attacked us. We fled out the back just in time, but my wife and son didn’t get out in time. Please don’t kill us.”

  A wave of pungent smoke blew through the trees. Nokmay looked back and saw smoke billowing up from the shell of the great house. The men she’d seen were coming in a straight line across the parched field towards where they stood.

  They’re no longer tracking but scanning the woods. They’ll soon spot us, she thought. Her heart was pounding. We can’t outrun those men obsessed with hunting down this man and killing his family.

  “Come with me!” she said, motioning the two traumatized people to her.

  She hustled them along back beside the road and told them to cross over and stay with the woman on the other side. Nokmay made her way back into the thicket not far from where the murderous men were beginning to work their way into the woods.

  Concentrating hard, she chanted a spell and then made the scream of a jaguar. The men halted in their tracks glaring into the woods at the source of the sound. One turned and fled back to the smoldering ruins of the house where the other peasants were celebrating the destruction.

  Three men advanced, cautious with every step. They glanced back and forth to each other, apparently needing that reassurance to keep going. The leader never took his sight off the tracks leading to where the man and child had been.

  Nokmay pulled several dried and powdered things from a pouch that hung from her skirt. She skimmed the area around her for a living animal. A small rodent scurried along a tiny trail. The witch shot invisible energy stunning it. Snatching the small creature she dusted it with powder. Using a piece of some long-dead animal, she cast a spell over the rodent. She tossed it out ahead of her towards the two men still approaching.

  With a guttural chant, she activated the spell. The animal’s appearance morphed into the speckled orange of a jaguar as it appeared to grow in size. The appearance of the illusion took on that of a huge male cat crouched down on a limb staring down not far in front of the men. Nokmay screamed once more like a jaguar.

  The men looked up and saw the killer cat appeared ready to pounce. They turned and fled the forest back to the safety of the crowd, now watching the woods to see if the two men would make it back to their numbers.

  The witch then rushed back to Rasa and the two shaking refugees.

  “I take it you are the nasty landlord that has starved your people through this drought,” Nokmay said.

  “Kill me but take my daughter to safety, please,” the man begged. “She is an innocent child.”

  Nokmay picked up her pack, “Get up, you worthless parasite. Come with us. We will see you get to Octar. What happens to you after that will no longer be my concern.”

  Nokmay led them to the city and sent Rasa to find Ickletor.

  *

  30: Hatching a Plot

  When Rasa returned with Ickletor to meet with Nokmay, his excited demeanor revealed he’d heard something about the uprising.

  “What is this about some of the peasants have stormed a noble’s country estate? I heard the chatter spreading across the plaza and back streets as I left. Rasa said the peasants rose up and destroyed the land owner’s home and killed most of his family. You brought the man and his daughter safely to Octar I understand.”

  Nokmay stood stoic listening to the anxious priest. “We came across the attack. It seems the peasants killed the wife and son and burned his compound.”

  Ickletor walked around mumbling, looking at nothing as he thought. He looked back at Nokmay.

  “I’m certain the nobleman is pleading for retribution before King Jornak as we speak. This is a disaster. Civil order is breaking down. Of course, the king will send soldiers to slaughter the insurgents. It’s the larger issue that worries me the most. Disgruntled peasants attacked my villa outside the city, too. Now this, it means the people have suffered to the point they will no longer accept the terrible conditions we find ourselves in now. The mob mentality is feeding the anger and frustration such that now we are on the edge of open revolt against all nobility and the priesthood who have failed to bring rain. Only the fear of Yingnak keeps them from open revolt in the city. Soon, they will no longer fear Yingnak’s retribution.”

  Nokmay’s face never showed the slightest change. “Yes, I’m aware.”

  “What to do, what to do?” Ickletor mumbled, pinching his neck skin.

  “You’ve known what would happen if the rains failed.”

  Ickletor looked up at Nokmay. “What are you suggesting?”

  “War is inevitable, priest. The people won’t lie down and die quietly. This is just the beginning. Soon this will spread. All will turn on you and the nobles and overturn the order of society. They will have vengeance, Ickletor. The only way to save the nobility is to declare war on Tigmoor. The people can vent their frustrations, gain badly needed food stores to get through the winter, and the nobles will go along with it if they get new lands in the bargain.”

  Ickletor nodded, “I’ve known this was coming. I’d hoped we would have longer to prepare. Jornak refuses to consider war. I may have to displace the king if we’re to survive.” He’d been thinking out loud and flushed red when he realized what he’d said. “I will counsel the nobles. They must see war is their only option now that insurrection has taken one of them. They must fear the revolt will spread.”

  “You may have an ally, Ickletor.”

  The priest’s eye fixed on the witch. “What ally are you referring to?”

  “Do you remember my telling you I’d met the god of death?”

  Ickletor’s eyes narrowed as his head angled watching Nokmay. The stench of burning flesh appeared in his memory.

  “Yes, I seem to remember such foolishness. You were likely in some drug-induced stupor from those spells you’re always casting disturbing things people have no business meddling in.”

  Nokmay then focused her eyes on Ickletor, and a sinister smirk appeared.

  “This god, Tingtwang is real enough, fool. He abides in the dark places running through the sacred rivers that flow under these lands. You know the tunnel under your temple that is the gate to the underworld. Well, that tunnel leads to one such river, Ickletor. Perhaps you should go and see if you can enlist Tingtwang in this war you seek.”

  “Me, you said once you need bodies to appease that god and save yourself. It would seem we might form an unholy alliance to promote a war, you, Tingtwang, and me.”

  “So be it. You must go deep beneath your temple and seek out this god.”

  Incognito, Ickletor made his way back to the city and the uncertain security of the great temple. Long he sat alon
e in his study deep in the temple mound mulling over what the witch had said.

  In his dreams that night, he imagined he smelled smoke and then the stench of decaying flesh. He tossed and turned in his bed before dreaming he’d awakened and walked unaccompanied with but a torch down the long stairs and through cobwebs to the chamber before the tunnel to the underworld. The sandy floor had been disturbed leaving sunken spots, spots he thought might be where he’d ordered the slaves, and Tulon buried. It gave him chills. Then a black mist wafted up out of the tunnel and floated around him.

  “So you now seek my assistance in your plot,” a voice in his head said.

  It was so frightening; Ickletor bolted upright in his bed. He rose and went to wash his sweaty face and change his garment. “It was a dream,” he mumbled, “just a dream.” He started back to bed when his foot slid over sand on the floor with a burned-out torch beside it.

  31: The Eye of Dindak

  Malladar and Toda worked their way back east traveling around the village where the thieves had followed and attacked them.

  “Come on, keep up, Toda,” Malladar said.

  “Must we walk all the way around that village?” Toda asked.

  Malladar waited for the priest to catch up. “They have a lot of questions about the disappearance of several members of their community that left right after we did. They avoided the trail as well. When the men don’t return, and the villagers don’t find them in that cleft in the rocks, those people might kill us assuming we killed them.”

  Toda sat on a rock fanning himself. “You’re right as always.” They traveled on for several days beyond the village off the main road.

  “We must find supplies somewhere soon,” Malladar said.

  Toda’s stoic tone emerged, “Yeah, I’d noted there are more weevils in the bread we’ve been eating of late. I know bugs are food, too, but there’s no weevil poop listing in the book of herbs and spices.”

  Malladar chuckled then thought he saw a wisp of smoke in a thicket ahead of them. The trees were old and gnarled rising for a depression that must contain a swamp.