The Grim Conspiracy

by C. Craig Coleman

  Ickletor realized he’d allowed his rage and ambition to make him careless.

  “What are you talking about, Jornak?”

  “It’s Your Majesty. You have no permission to refer to me by the name of a close friend. I’ve learned you’ve been making unspeakable advances to my daughter in the very halls of this palace. You are old enough to be her father. You are not suitable to be her lover, much less her husband. You will never be king of Octar!

  Never again will you make advances of any kind to Princess Kayla. Is that clear? Should I hear of another such incident, it is your heart that will feed Yingnak! Now get out!”

  Ickletor felt the blood drain from his face. He turned and stormed out pointedly failing to show the king due respect. As he marched back across the plaza unaccompanied by guards, his rage boiled.

  So, I’m not good enough for the likes of the royal family, he thought. It’s never occurred to me Jornak would consider me beneath their status. My father and grandfather were high priests to Yingnak back beyond memory. How dare Jornak be condescending and insulting me.

  He looked back at the palace and saw Kayla watching him then duck back behind a column when he looked back.

  So the little princess thinks she’s too good for me. She dares reject me, does she. She’s behind this. He glanced back again; Kayla had disappeared. So she will marry a foreign prince and deny me the throne. One day she will grovel at my feet begging for mercy and find none.

  He thought of The Eye of Dindak and the Book of the Underworld. Perhaps there is something there to change attitudes and alter the royal plans.

  46: The Players Shift

  King Agmar entered Eva’s suite, where she sat at her dressing table. She rose to greet him. He kissed her on the cheek and flopped down in a chair.

  “What troubles you so, my lord?” Eva asked. She went to sit on the arm of his chair. He swept her into his lap.

  “Repairs are going well, but the people are so demoralized. I’m going from one site to the next trying to encourage and cheer them, but still, they seem fearful as if something else is about to happen.”

  “Perhaps they fear more aftershocks. Nothing you can do about that. I see many families sleep out in the open.” She hesitated.

  Agmar looked her in the eye, “Now what troubles you?”

  “Agmar, you wear yourself out trying to do it all, please them all.”

  “What else can I do? What courtiers can I entrust details to? I’ve delegated responsibilities in the past to nobles I thought loyal only to see the closeness to the throne is too enticing. I raised up Mensor from the lowest of the courtiers. His dynasty was bankrupt. I was sure of his loyalty in return. You saw how that worked out.”

  Eva stood up. “Perhaps it’s time to petition King Jornak to release Prince Malladar to come to aid you in the rebuilding of Tigmoor. He would be loyal, and you’d have someone you could trust and lean on. His youth and vitality would be a great help to you.”

  Agmar’s face pinched, and he stood up. “Were you in love with Malladar when living in Octar? Do you seek to be with him again?”

  “My lord… Yes, I won’t deny I wanted Malladar in the past. But since I’ve come into your mature presence, living in the aura of your majesty, I’ve truly fallen in love with you.” She stood, wrapped her arms around him, and held him tight. Her kiss sealed her love. “You may bring him home without fearing his being a rival for my affection.”

  The king’s beaming smile and a twinkle in his eye told Eva she'd relieved him of a great concern. They walked arms wrapped around each other’s waists to his suite. There, he wrote a letter to King Jornak formally requesting he release Prince Malladar to return home and aid his father in the rebuilding of Tigmoor.

  *

  The petition arrived in Octar only days after King Jornak and Princess Kayla’s squabble over Malladar’s future. King Jornak saw it as a sign from Yingnak and summoned the prince.

  “Prince Malladar, your father has requested you return to Tigmoor to help him through the restoration of the city. We no longer feel the need to hold you here as a hostage against Tigmoor’s vengeful aggression. That’s especially true now that an earthquake has damaged its walls and disheartened your people.

  Therefore, it is our wish that you do indeed leave as soon as possible for Tigmoor with our best wishes for the city’s recovery.”

  “But Your Majesty, surely you know I love Princess Kayla and wish to marry her.”

  Jornak rose, staring at the prince. “Love, I allowed this childish affection to linger too long I see. It’s not suitable that you and Kayla should marry. That is the end of that. You should pack and leave as soon as possible. Princess Kayla will marry with the house of Korkufin. You may go.”

  Malladar hesitated under the royal stare. Seeing the king’s continence made clear he would broach no argument in the matter, the prince withered and bowed himself out of Jornak’s presence. He went at once to find Kayla and met her coming to find him.

  “I’ve just heard father summoned you, my love,” Kayla said. “What did he say?”

  Malladar’s head shook, “We are not to be together after all. It’s as you said after your meeting with him. He’s determined we’ll not marry. He’s sending me back to Tigmoor right away.”

  “I’ll go talk to him again,” Kayla said. “Maybe I can persuade him to at least let you remain here longer.”

  Malladar hugged Kayla and then stood back. “No, he was most emphatic. You will only anger him further. We are royals as he told you. We have our destinies set before us. It’s the price we pay for our power and privileges.”

  Kayla stamped her foot, “I won’t let you go!”

  Malladar’s head sank. “You know it must be this way. We aren’t children anymore, Kayla. You’ll align with Korkufin. I must return and serve my father and our kingdom. Wish me luck, dearest. I will never love another as I love you, but the future waits not on our wills.” He kissed her on the cheek and walked off with a heavy step down the hall.

  *

  As Malladar passed, he ran into Toda in the hallway near his room.

  “Toda, what brings you to the palace? I was coming to see you this afternoon.”

  Toda scanned the hallway and then pulled Malladar into his room, closing the door.

  “Something terrible has happened between Ickletor and King Jornak. Ickletor has fumed for days. He sent me as a spy in the palace and to find out what goes on now. He no longer feels welcome here.”

  Malladar frowned, “Neither am I it appears.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “King Jornak has ordered me to return to Tigmoor and never to hope to marry Princess Kayla. It seems she’s to marry a Korkufin prince.”

  “No!”

  “Yes, and now I must pack. I’ve spoken with Kayla; she’s so upset. Please look out for her, Toda.”

  Toda’s head sank, and then he looked up, “I’ll go with you. Ickletor treats me like a slave. Even Sestec gets priority over me the official assistant to the high priest.”

  “No, your place is here, my friend. I need you to look out for Kayla. She told me just days ago Ickletor has made advances to her. Nasty old man, he’ll be glad to see me gone. You’re a high official in Octar. You’d not be welcomed much in Tigmoor.”

  *

  Ickletor was plotting Malladar’s assassination when Toda ambled into his study below the temple. The high priest covered his writing.

  “What news from the palace?”

  Toda sat in a chair. Before he could speak, Ickletor blurted out, “Did I offer you a seat?”

  Toda hopped up, standing straight and rigid.

  “The king has ordered Malladar to leave the city and return to Tigmoor.”

  Ickletor couldn’t repress a smirk, “Past time for that.”

  Toda had a brave moment, “He’s been a good friend to me. He saved me many times on our journey.”

  “Perhaps you should go with him. I give you leave to do so.”
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  Toda’s head sank again, “No, he said I wouldn’t be welcome in Tigmoor and that I should…”

  “Should what?”

  “Nothing, just stay here and attend to your needs.”

  Lying worm, Ickletor thought. He’s hiding something. But knowing him, it’s not likely to be much.

  “You may go.”

  When Toda left, Ickletor tore up his assassination plot plan for Malladar. As he set fire to the crumpled sheet and dropped it into a waste receptacle, what Toda had said reverberated. It reminded the high priest what King Jornak had said to him in regards to Kayla. She was to marry with the royal house of Korkufin.

  That won’t do, he thought. Time is shorter than I’d thought. It seems I must call upon Tingtwang much as I hate the prospect. I have to procure something special for another impediment.

  He sniffed. Is that the smoke from the page, he wondered or did I catch the slight stench of sulfur? That vile god can’t read my thoughts, can he?

  Ickletor rushed down the stairs to the deepest chamber where the sulfur assaulted his nose for sure.

  “Are you here, Tingtwang?”

  As threads of black vapor coalesced in front of the tunnel, a severe pinching clamped the back of Ickletor’s neck. His muscles cramped, forcing him to his knees. It was if a great weight pressed him face-first into the sand and clay.

  “You failed to show respect for a god, priest. Keep your mouth shut, bow and scrape before me and pray I allow you to utter your questions.”

  Ickletor’s hands scratched at the sand; his face remained mashed hard against the floor.

  “Forgive me! Have mercy!”

  “What mercy would you have for that poor prince for being a mere romantic rival?”

  Ickletor raised his head slightly peering up at the undulating vapor, “How did you know about that?”

  Tingtwang sent laughter to Ickletor’s brain.

  “You wrote your thoughts down and burned them. They came straight to me. And now you want a devious means to eliminate King Jornak that won’t reflect on your ambitious self. My but your aspirations are growing, are they not?”

  The weight receded, but Ickletor tested each slight move before attempting to rise facing the god. He stood and brushed the dust from his clothing.

  “Still vain and getting worse all the time I see.”

  The priest’s head jerked up, red face and eyes, “Yes, this king must die! He’s weak and incompetent. The social order is crumbling around him, and he can’t see beyond the latest skirmish.” He stepped closer to the hovering vapor. “I’m the only hope for saving Octar.”

  “And what makes you so sure you alone are so worthy?”

  This is my only chance. I must seize it, Ickletor thought.

  “Octar will fall and not rise again if something drastic isn’t done at once. It’s too late to save enough of the harvest to get the people through the winter. They know it, too. Only the temple guards and royal troops are standing between the masses and chaos. Jornak can’t see it. If I can take the throne, I can save the city.”

  “What makes you think people will accept you as their king. Princess Kayla will be the queen on her father’s death.”

  Ickletor’s arrogance and confidence welled up. He stood straight, shoulders back, and cocked his head with chin protruding. “I shall take the crown, and Princess Kayla will marry me ensuring legitimacy to me on the throne.”

  Laughter wracked his head. His hands cupped his ears.

  “She will never accept or marry you; you know that.”

  “I’ll see to that myself. What I need from you is a means to endure Jornak dies in a way that can’t be connected to me. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  A temple servant rushed down the stairs and into the room stopping so fast he barely kept himself from falling over. His eyes swelled, seeing Ickletor staring at a thick black fog rippling across the chamber from him.

  “Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but I saw you rush down the stairs and feared something had happened to you.”

  Before Ickletor could speak, the vapor shot down across the room. The servant gasped, sucking in the black mist. He laughed before his face went blank and he spoke.

  “It seems we both want something, Ickletor. I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll kill Jornak for you. You’ll have to arrange your seizure of the throne. In return, you will declare war on Tigmoor.”

  Ickletor beamed, “It seems we both require that. I must crush Tigmoor and seize their food stores that Octar survive.”

  More laughter. “What a petty, sleazy little man you are, priest. You want revenge on Prince Malladar and to ensure Princess Kayla has no champion preventing you from forcing her to marry you.”

  Ickletor’s head jerked back, “Nevermind my motives, you kill Jornak, and I’ll attend to Malladar and King Agmar. The war will ensure my support on the throne. The bodies will feed those foul things you created that scurry about you in the dark.”

  “I want one more thing, Ickletor.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “The blank face of the servant stared past Ickletor, but it spoke, “I want being, and you will accomplish that.”

  “That makes no sense, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make it possible if you’ll but relate what I must do.”

  “Why Ickletor, you’re so compliant, how unexpected. You’ve already thought of it.”

  “I beg you to stop bantering with words and tell me what I must do.”

  The possessed servant’s face turned red; his eyes protruded, even his lips swelled. He stared directly into the priest’s face. His breath was foul, thick with sulfur.

  “Your precious Nebo is the key to all! You have the concept, The Eye of Dindak to power it, and the book’s spells to make it happen. Grow your Nebo, and none can oppose him or you.”

  Blood began to run from the servant’s eyes, ears, and mouth signaling the end of the chat. His tongue swelled, pushing out between his lips. He fell forward quite dead.

  Chittering began behind him as Ickletor ran around the dead man to the staircase. He feared to look back. The laughter in his head began to subside, as panting he climbed up back to his suite’s level and down the hall to his study.

  He slammed the door shut in Toda’s face. Recovering, he retrieved both The Book of the Underworld and The Eye of Dindak. He flipped open the tome to the index and clutched the meteor in his hand. When his index finger on the free hand touched to the page, the strange writing translated before his eyes to that of his language!

  So the first of the powers of this sky-stone is revealed, he thought. I can read the book’s secrets myself so long as I hold the stone in the other hand. It’s a key, the connection.

  Ickletor read through the night and the next day. At dusk of the second day, he opened the door and called for food.

  *

  Jittery, Toda brought a tray. Ickletor had white hair, his hazel eyes had turned yellow, but it was the fiendish look from those eyes that terrified Toda most.

  Ickletor took the tray and plunked it on the table beside the door. He turned back looking through or past Toda. “Tell Sestec to bring Nebo to me at once!”

  47: Turmoil in Octar

  The Crowd before the great temple of Yingnak had diminished in size as the population no longer believed the god would respond to their prayers and offerings. The faces were as likely to show anger as devotion. The sacrifices were no longer the offered young sons and daughters of the citizens of Octar or even war slaves. The people turned away the temple guards who came to seize their children. The sacrifices this day were citizens-peasants themselves and slaves whom the king’s courts found guilty of rebellion against their overlords. The royal justice had failed to stay the spread of the revolt.

  Ickletor regularly used the sacrificial bodies to feed Tingtwang’s nasty creations. The disappearance of the bodies caused more suspicion among the people who had hoped to bury them. And there was another that ate the flesh of the sacrifices
.

  In what had become a regular practice, the high priest had ordered two of the bodies hidden in a cart and sent by night to his estate. Only Sestec knew what happened to them. Disgusted, he was forced to flesh the bones when the creature was small, but now they fed the bodies’ whole to Nebo.

  Ickletor regularly took food to a larger cave at the far end of his estate. There the combined incantations had grown little Nebo into a spined, fanged, dragon. Another spell had grown wings on the beast that became increasingly aggressive. On moonless nights, Ickletor released Nebo to flap his wings now grown to the point of being able to lift him from the ground. The winged beast was thirty feet long. Its ability to fly coupled with the fact the cave was now too small for the beast worried the high priest.

  This night Ickletor hauled the human carcasses to the cave himself. When he smelled the bloody meat, the dragon paced violently jerking on his chain. Just short of the cave entrance, Ickletor heard the chain snap and whip against the cave wall in front of him. He slunk back behind the cart. Nebo pranced out and gobbled up the bodies with relish. The grizzly sound of smacking jaws and crunching bones turned the priest’s stomach as if the grizzly flesh itself hadn’t already.

  What shall I do with Nebo? Ickletor thought. I’ve no place to hide him anymore, and he’s become more and more disobedient.

  The dragon’s bloody face looked up; his cold yellow eyes focused on his master. A sinister grin appeared, and then the long tongue whipped around his jaws licking off the blood.

  Ickletor began to tremble. He shuffled backward before realizing he couldn’t outrun a dragon. He grabbed The Eye of Dindak from his pocket and held it up, trusting it towards the advancing giant reptile. A bolt of blue fire flashed smashing into the dragon’s shoulder! Both priest and dragon stood shocked for a second. A wisp of smoke rose from the wound. The stench of burning flesh brought back Ickletor’s sensibilities.

  Nebo raised his head in a scream like nothing Ickletor had ever heard. Iguana’s made no sounds, but this creature had morphed into something more than a lizard. Quick to react, Ickletor advanced holding the meteor out before him.