NOVEL WEB Chapter 20: Gryzlaud Palace
“The hour and day grow near, and soon I’ll be one again,” Xilor’s oily voice slithered out, almost tangible. Sidjuous suffered the crawling sensation twisting smoothly down his flesh. “Not even all the wizards of the Ermaeyth will be able to contend with my hate once I’m released.”
Sidjuous bowed low and rolled his eyes when his master couldn’t see. He had listened to this all before, yet he still hadn’t seen any action. Sometimes, he didn’t know why he bothered to follow Xilor anymore. He was gone, and only the promise of his return kept him and others in his thrall.
“Yes, Master. Only you will be able to restore Ermaeyth to its true integrity.”
He would certainly accept the rule of his fallen lord; but as the circumstances fell, his master hadn’t returned fully—and Sidjuous believed they stood little chance without him. Krurik, though powerful in his own way, lacked the vision of his master, relying heavily on subterfuge whereas Xilor trusted his overwhelming strength. Sidjuous believed in his master’s cause and lived it wholeheartedly. In many ways, Xilor’s grand vision was akin to the Krey of the Grand Royal Army. The dark lord wanted to cull the weakness out of civilization, but as to why, Sid only guessed. Those reasons he kept closely guarded. Often, Sidjuous perceived he was a dupe, a handy pawn in his master’s schemes rather a true apprentice and possible heir to his mantle. Occasionally, Sidjuous became bold and needed to be reminded of his place.
“I’ve grown powerful in knowledge, more powerful than any wizard could fathom while in this hell,” he intoned. His eyes rolled around the edges of the mirror’s frame to make his meaning clear. “But it has been useful.”
“What do you mean, Master?”
“I discovered the ability to enter and control the mind of another being. This imprisonment isn’t without its benefits and drawbacks. Had I not been caged, I would’ve never slowed to learn such ingenuity.”
Sidjuous shuddered, a cold tingling dripping down his spine, settling in his stomach. If he possessed the ability as he claimed, what kept him from entering Sidjuous’s mind and controlling him? The thought of Xilor’s idle boasting crossed his mind. Did he think inflicting fear would keep his servants from abandoning him? Other than Krurik, Sidjuous was the only one that remained in his presence. Perhaps the threat was meant for him?
“Then, my lord, why not enter the body of a creature or wizard and come back to us?” Sidjuous challenged.
“Fool, I can’t stay there indefinitely. Anyone that I take a hold of will die. No one—only my body—can hold such power.”
“How do you know your body can withstand it?” Sidjuous asked, egging on the confrontation.
“Would you like me to demonstrate my capabilities to you, neophyte?” the voice whispered. An implied threat slithered over Sidjuous. Rising panic flushed through his body, an automatic response from years of servitude, a natural reaction. He had to distinguish fact from a veiled threat.
Sidjuous bowed low, a hidden smirk on his face. “An excellent idea, Master, I’d be honored for you to demonstrate your abilities.”
Sid’s hands reached for his throat instantly. His lungs seized, he couldn’t breathe, denied precious air. Black spots peppered his vision along with plumes of colors, red, gold, and green. He fell to his knees with a hard, soundless thud. The only sound he heard was the drumming, the deep pounding of his own heart as it hammered his rib cage and throbbed in his ears. His lungs blazed as if he swallowed fiery coals.
The hold released from his windpipe, and he gasped. Sweet oxygen rushed through his mouth and into his simmering lungs, making him gag. “Master, I … know th—that you … can … do that,” he croaked between coughs.
“That wasn’t a demonstration but a reminder. You’re not beyond my reach. Don’t ever mock me again.”
“Yes, Master.” The apprentice remained on his knees, subservient, and regarded the mirror with his head bowed, hiding the hate in his eyes.
“This is my demonstration,” the mirror whispered.
Sidjuous’ mind exploded with pain and light, blinding, like lightning shot out of his frontal lobe, light from the suns poured out of his eyes, blinding him forever. A hand instinctively reached for his face to press against the anguish flooding through him. With a jarring impact, his hand keeping him from toppling completely to the stone floor. Distress lanced through the bones in his arm, his forearm snapping, a mild annoyance in comparison to his mind.
Another fresh wave washed over him, smothering him and he toppled. A scream ripped from his throat, but he didn’t hear it as he writhed on the floor. His head threatened to cave, rip inside out, slowly from his eye socket to the back of the skull and down his spine. When the light grew so bright and hot that he became oblivious to all else, a suffocating darkness enclosed him, a chilling pressure compressing from all points. The constricting cold tightened, his skull, mind, and body closing in on itself, crushing him to death. His left ear sloped down the side of his face, becoming one with his jaw while his body snapped in a thousand places, crumbling in on itself.
And then, the pain was gone as if it never happened. He blinked in the sudden brightness of the candle-lit room. Unable to believe, shaking hands ran down his body finding him whole, unblemished. Amazement and relief riddled him when he found that his arm whole. He could have sworn it had broken during the moments of agony.
At some point in Xilor’s demonstration, Sidjuous had lost control of his bowels, and he laid in a puddle of his secretions and vomit. He blinked a few moments before struggling to rise, his energy sapped. His throat was hot and angry, raw from overuse as if he had been screaming through the totality of the demonstration. Staggering up to his knees, he rested on his heels, his head spinning.
“That’s why I can’t take over someone else’s body. They can’t contain my power,” Xilor whispered. “That was just a brief touch of my essence to yours. Had I stayed longer than a few heartbeats, you’d be driven mad with the agony.” The eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him. “Call for Derms to clean up your mess. Remove yourself from my presence and make yourself presentable.”
Shaken to the core, cowed by the display of power, Sidjuous meekly left the chambers, having tasted Xilor’s displeasure. The Dark Lord’s impatience was palpable, and if he didn’t want to feel his wrath again, he’d need to make better use of himself. Daring himself to toe a line, Xilor had punished him for his insolence. Sid vowed to find a way back into his graces.
The trolls were late in returning with Xilor’s body, which meant the trolls he dispatched to the City of Despair had failed. He’d have to do it himself, needed to do it himself. Only success would assure his continued existence once his master returned, and he vowed to make sure that happened.