The Throne of the Gods by Nicholas Kotar

Author:Nicholas Kotar [Kotar, Nicholas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781951536077
Publisher: Waystone Press

15

The tree swallowed them, the world turned upside down, then it flipped inside out again. Khaidu’s spinning head couldn’t distinguish between up and down for several minutes. During that time, dark-barked trees with trailing lianas and drooping, waterlogged leaves danced and did pirouettes with a sky that was grey-brown, with neither stars nor sun visible. When everything righted itself, Khaidu saw that she and Aglaia lay on a sward of prickly grass that was closer to yellow than green (if anything that drab could actually be called yellow). Those dark, thick trees were all around them, and next to them ran a brook with water so brown and still and fetid that it might as well have been mud. It was a depressing place. Khaidu sniffed her disapproval, completely sure there would be an accompanying smell of deadness and decay. There was nothing at all. A curious absence of smell. Had something happened to her nose?

She smelled her armpit and was immediately assured that her nose worked fine. But there was something very wrong with Aglaia, she now saw. She was dragging her haunches next to Khaidu, trying pitifully to get up on all fours, and failing. She whined, even barked like a dog half her size.

Khaidu, who had hoped that the transition from one Realm to another might jog Aglaia’s human side free, dragged herself nearer Aglaia and caressed her between the eyes in the place that she loved so much. It felt like a foolish gesture, but it was the only thing she could think of doing.

Aglaia shuddered at her touch so sharply that Khaidu recoiled—and then was distracted by another strange sight.

Though Khaidu was still dressed in the clothing that the Hag had given her, several other things were very different. For one, she was wearing her brother Etchigu’s best boots—the ones with a thick, solid heel and a touch of silver thread on the toe. She loved those boots. But she hadn’t seen Etchigu in what seemed like years. The thought came unbidden—perhaps Etchigu was dead, and her wearing his boots was a witness to that fact?

The second thing was that she had two long, sheathed knives on each hip. And she realized that she knew very well how to use them. That was very strange.

But it was nothing compared to the sight of the wide pantaloons the Hag had given her, lying flat against her legs. Something was very odd about the shape of her legs. They looked rounded with muscle. They looked . . .

“It’s just like when Sabíana used to take me to that dream place!” she exclaimed aloud.

There had only been one time and place in her life—outside her childhood—when she had actually walked around on her own two feet. When she had captured her very own Steppe eagle—who had ended up being an enchanted Sabíana, the Darina of Vasyllia—she would appear to Khaidu in human form in her dreams. But they were dreams that were more real than many of Khaidu’s waking days.

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