The Gods of Chenoweth - Fantasy/Sci-Fi/Interplanetary

The Gods of Chenoweth

 By Chris Reher

All rights reserved

ISBN: 978-0-9916985-0-9

Chapter One

“Is he alive?”

“Put him over there. The other one, too.”

“I think you killed him, Yobar.”

“Get water.”

“Galen? Galen, can you hear me? Wake up!”

The cause of this anxiety stirred and there were some sighs of relief when his rigid muscles relaxed and his body resumed its usual routines as if they had never been interrupted. He groaned when the glare of the sun stabbed into his eyes. Someone helped him sit up. He wished they'd stop shaking him. He wished they'd leave him alone.

“Yobar, you stunted little lizard,” he managed finally, his voice sounding like it belonged to someone else. “You told me this wouldn't hurt. Let me rip your spine out so you know what this feels like.” But when Galen's vision cleared he realized that his threat would have to remain an idle one. “I’ll be damned,” he breathed, looking up at the pale, underfed Yobar who now stood almost twice as tall as he.

He found himself, covered only by a light film of sweat, sprawled on the tiled floor of the reservoir tower’s sun-drenched upper story. Gracefully arching columns on all sides allowed a breeze to surge unhindered through the vaulted chamber, cooling his feverish body as it passed. His head felt as though someone had replaced his cerebellum with a large rock, possibly a rather sharp-edged one.

He shook off Yobar’s hands when the older man reached out to help him to his feet. “I'm all right,” he said, feeling far removed from ‘all right’ but not about to admit that. He raised his hands as if to assure himself that they were still there before looking down at his body.

Yobar chuckled. “It's all there and rendered in perfect proportion. See for yourself!” He pointed to Galen's left. Indeed, Galen's twin, Chor, had also survived the transformation without any visible damage. “How do you feel?”

Galen’s soft hiss was echoed by Chor and he did not need a mirror to see the stunned expression on his own face. Standing only waist high to the adept beside him, Chor gripped the stone balustrade in unconscious imitation of his twin. He would have to stand on his toes to look out over the city below – not likely something he’d do, knowing how much it pleased the old adept and his fawning aides to see the twins so much reduced in size.

“How do I feel? You should try this some day,” Galen growled, stretching his shrunken limbs. “I thought you were tearing my arms out. You could have warned me.”

“It wasn’t pleasant for us, either, but our choices are few. You can't go to Thali moon in your true size. They haven’t seen one of us in over three hundred years.” He motioned to some of his assistants. “Get their clothes.” The twins' discarded clothing lay in a heap nearby, useless now. They were handed shapeless shirts and trousers and began to dress with ponderous care.

“I don’t think my fingers are working right,” Galen said, tugging impatiently on the laces of his shirt. Chor dropped his belt twice before it closed around his waist. “It’s like I’m under water or something.”

“You’ll get used to your new bodies soon enough.” Yobar peered into Chor’s face. “Not dizzy? How’s your memory?”

“My memory of you throwing me around the room?” Galen grumbled.

“Let him talk!”

Chor’s gaze had been fixed upon his twin and he now slowly turned his face toward the elder adept. “I… don’t.” He frowned and tried again. “Head hurts.”