CHAPTER 2
A long distance away from the place where Belgarath and Polgara had landed, a cadaverous-looking man was watching them in his fire and gritting his teeth.
"Belgarath, Gods be cursed!"
The man could not believe that his enemy of old had found a way into his new realm. He watched them intently, and when their faces started showing signs of concern, an important aspect he had forgotten came back to him: They had no magic whatsoever in this world! The Will and the Word had no significance in this place, as it had not been made by the Gods his enemies were serving!
Grimly, the man thought back... It had been years upon years ago when they had invaded his city, trying to steal Cthrag Yaska, their Master's accursed Orb, from him... the terrible moment, when he had seen no other choice as to try and will the stone out of existence... and the consequences: He had felt as if his body was forced through a passage smaller than a common keyhole, he had been turned inside out for some agonizing moments, and then, after a dreadful period of utter nothingness around him... He had awakened in this world.
Stripped of his sorcery, he had been forced to eke out a living as a common beggar, until he had met a small group of Zemoch Styrics. They had told him about their God Azash, and although he did not recognize the name, the manners of the Zemoch God had been very familiar.
He had served as one of Azash's priests for some time, while the Zemochs had taught him their brand of sorcery, or "magic", as they called it. The man chuckled when he thought briefly about the fact that what passed for magic in his old realm had been so much weaker, so much more redundant than what he had learned here.
After Azash's Fall, when the Stranger called Anakha had defeated Him, the man had made sure to flee Zemoch and hide away from the roving bands of Church Knights. At one point, when he was searching for something edible (starting to weaken, as there was no God to infuse him with prolonged life), he stumbled upon a forgotten temple...
That was how he had found his current Master, a God stronger than Azash had been, than his Master Torak had been in the Old Realm.
His power had grown above all he had known back in Cthol Murgos, when he had been disciple to the Dragon God.
Ctuchik, formerly of Rak Cthol, stood up from his jewel-adorned chair in his tower, his thin lips twisted into an ugly grin. Without the Will and the Word, the two disciples of Aldur would be helpless, and he could crush them like flies! He decided that he would think up a most painful way to dispose of them, cherishing every moment...
Suddenly, the flames in his fireplace flared up in a dull green, and a deep voice growled at him:
"Ctuchik, do not engage in petty thoughts of revenge! Do not forget thy contract with me, lest I see myself forced to dispose of thee and find another vessel to do my bidding! It is the world I want – old scores of thine are of no importance to me. I shall allow thee to crush them once I see results!"
The Grolim bowed respectfully to his Master. "It shall be as you wish, Lord Zoltach."
The face vanished from the frozen flames, which turned their usual yellow-orange again. Ctuchik's vexation at the Elder God's command subsided when he thought about the implications of Zoltach's little speech. Yes, he would be able to see to the despised sorcerers' destruction later – after all, they couldn't run from him here... and if he managed to further the plans of his Master to his liking, he would be given the crown of the world, to force Zoltach's whims on all of his subjects...
Ctuchik's lips parted in a grin. He started to chuckle deep in his throat, the chuckle soon growing to a terrible laugh.
Well, Ctuchik is here – surprise surprise! So everything willed out of existence in the Belgariad/Malloreon-World shows up in the Elenium/Tamuli-World... Ah, the implications...
Please review!