Become: Brothers: Become, #0.5

By Meredith Mansfield

Two half-brothers born a day apart.

First born, Gaian is the son of the king and a goddess. His more-than-human strength seems a poor exchange for the support of a flesh-and-blood mother as he struggles to be worthy of Becoming a god himself. Or just struggles to rise above the machinations of the queen.

A single day younger, Benar is the son of the king and queen. Like his mother, he refuses to believe the story of Gaian's birth. He struggles to fulfill his mother's wishes by proving himself to be his father's true heir. But frustration and guile prove to be poor weapons against Gaian's unnatural strength.

Until a coming-of-age trial forces them either to cooperate—and become brothers in truth—or else one of them may not survive the trial.

Inspired by the legend of Hercules.

Prequel novella to the Become Series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meredith Mansfield
• Release date: Jul 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386253549

Book preview

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Part One: Ten Years Old

The Promise of Fire

Gaian stood on the edge of the warrior’s circle with the other noble boys who had turned ten years old between the Longest Day and the Autumn Equinox. That included Benar, of course. Benar was just a day younger than Gaian, almost Gaian’s twin. Gaian would have liked to consider him a friend, but Benar quite clearly didn’t want to be Gaian’s friend. What he wanted, as far as Gaian had ever been able to figure out, was to prove he was better than Gaian, just because Benar was the queen’s son. And failing at that goal—as he always did—just made Benar more frustrated and angry. So Gaian mostly avoided him when he could.

None of that mattered today, anyway. This was much more important and exciting. Today their real training would begin. Not that the education they received in the Temple wasn’t important, too, of course. But today they began training in the arts of war. And every one of them was practically bouncing with anticipation.

The battle-scarred combat tutor strode into the center of the circle, clasped his hands behind his back, rocked on the balls of his feet, and raised his voice to address them. I don’t know how many of you have been good at scraps among the other boys. And I don’t care. I do know that that kind of fighting is nothing like what you will learn here, so lose any overconfidence that may have given you before I’m forced to have it beaten out of you.

The tutor paused to fix each boy with his one good eye. All training for your first year—at least—will be unarmed. You will have to earn the right to learn weapons. This first lesson is about falling, not fighting. You will fall and be thrown many times during your training and during battles. Best you learn now how to do it without getting hurt.

The tutor raised his arm and a young guardsman came forward to join him in the circle. It wasn’t one of the big, heavily muscled guardsmen that surrounded the king. Gaian eyed him speculatively, suspecting that there was more to this choice than met the eye. This guard might not be as big as his father’s honor guard. That didn’t mean he was any less well-trained. Any volunteers?

Gaian raised his hand immediately. He wasn’t surprised to see Benar across the circle trying to push his arm higher than Gaian’s.

I claim the right to go first, Benar said, thrusting out his chest. As the son of Leradan the Bull.

Gaian jerked his chin higher. Benar always thought he should go first at everything. What’s that got to do with it? We’re both Leradan’s sons. And I’m a day older than you.

The tutor took a step forward and pointed at Benar. And you are?

Benar straightened to his full height. Benar.

Gaian pulled himself into as close an approximation of the military attention he’d seen around the palace all his life. His Mother outranked the queen, though she and Benar tried to deny it. Gaian, sir.

The tutor rubbed his chin for a moment, then pointed. Step forward into the circle, Benar. He moved out of the circle, leaving it to the combatants.

Benar strode forward with a cocky stride and took up a fighting stance, feet apart. Gaian watched with interest as the young guardsman took up a similar stance opposite Benar, noting how the guardsman appeared more balanced.

The tutor gave the signal. Go!

Benar, typically, leapt forward to attack. The young guardsman merely waited. As Benar reached him, the guardsman grabbed him by his belt and used Benar’s own momentum to toss the boy over his shoulder. Benar landed hard, half in and half out of the circle and lay there, audibly trying to force air back into his lungs. The tutor helped him up, then turned to Gaian. You next.

Gaian stepped forward without hesitation and made no attempt to take up a fighting stance. It hadn’t helped Benar and, anyway, they hadn’t been trained in that yet. No use doing it wrong. When the signal was given, he also declined to charge in, not wanting to repeat Benar’s mistake. Instead, he began circling, forcing the guardsman to move to keep him opposite.

The guardsman feinted right, drawing Gaian to that side and ever so slightly off balance. The guardsman darted in to take advantage of it, but Gaian instinctively squatted down, closer to his Mother’s earth. The guardsman grabbed Gaian to pull him off balance, but his bare feet seemed almost glued to the ground. The guardsman braced his feet and yanked, trying to lift Gaian off the ground. Gaian pulled back. The guardsman’s feet slid out from under him and an instant later he was lying on his back looking up at Gaian. Gaian smiled in triumph and held out his hand to help the guardsman up.

He chose to ignore Benar’s low-voiced, Show off.

~~~

Flushed with victory, Gaian ran through the large rooms on the ground floor of the palace, dodging servants who only half-heartedly tried to stop him, his bare feet slapping on the marble tile floors. The small grey cat that had been his constant companion from the cradle ran behind, mewing like a mother cat calling her kitten. Gaian raced ahead, determined to be the first to bring the news to his father.

He wanted to see the look on Father’s face when he heard that Gaian had bested a guardsman on the very first day of his training. Whatever the queen whispered to her ladies—and the ladies murmured to the servants, who gossiped among themselves, not always out of Gaian’s hearing—surely that proved that he was truly the son of Leradan the Bull, eleven times victor of the Great Combat.

Gaian skidded to a stop just outside the room his father used as an office. He knew better than to just barge in on the king. He straightened his tunic and raised his hand to knock, but then he heard voices and paused. Usually Father was alone at this time of day. Surely the old tutor couldn’t have gotten here that fast. Or was it another conference about the drought in the South? Lately, Father’d been very troubled about that and the famine it might cause. Gaian looked up and down the corridor. No one was nearby to catch him. He cracked the door open just enough to hear who was inside, not really meaning to eavesdrop further than that.

Father’s voice was easy to recognize, but Gaian had to put his hand over his mouth to suppress a gasp when he heard the other. He’d only ever heard the musical tones of his Mother’s voice in his dreams. He pushed the door open a little farther so he could see inside.

The glowing form of the Goddess stood—or rather floated—about a foot above the marble floor in the center of the room. Father was on his knees, on the thick, patterned wool rug by his desk, with his head bowed before Her.

You have trusted me with a great responsibility, Goddess. What if I fail him? What if he doesn’t learn how to be a good man, a great man? Father said.

You will not fail him, Leradan, the Goddess answered.

Father shook his head. What if he becomes a god without understanding the responsibility of power?

"If he is not worthy, he will not Become."

Become a god?! Gaian