The Complete Become Series: Become

By Meredith Mansfield

The complete Become series in one place.

Inspired by the legend of Hercules.

Become: Brothers:

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.

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.

Become: To Catch the Lightning:

He could become a god. He could just burn to death. Maybe he'll wait on that.

Son of a mortal king and the earth Goddess, Gaian has known since he was ten that it was possible for him to Become a god, too. The catch is that he'll have to burn to death first. He's willing to wait a while before he tries that.

Raised to be a warrior, he's certain that there's another purpose for his more-than-human strength. Something, perhaps, he should be doing before he tries to Become. The only thing he's sure of is what his father taught him—that the only true purpose of strength is to protect those who are weaker. Everyone is weaker than Gaian.

Become: To Ride the Storm:

As a son of the Goddess, Gaian might become a god himself—if he can remember to try.

In the conclusion of the Become series, Gaian has no memory of who he is, where he lived, or who he loves. He can barely remember his own name. The only thing he knows, the only thing he holds onto is the belief that his purpose is to protect others. That, and the certainty that leaving his solitary existence in the forest would cause immeasurable harm to others.

Everyone else believes Gaian is dead. But they know what he has forgotten: that an ancient prophecy says that a son of the Goddess could become a god—the Sky God—with the right help.

At the prompting of a new prophecy, Margan, the son born after Gaian's "death", comes over the mountains to find his father's grave. There he meets Rose, the girl with a gift for dreams who was once rescued by a strange man in the forest.

Together, they might have the abilities needed to help Gaian complete his destiny. If they fail, it could end in catastrophe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meredith Mansfield
• Release date: Feb 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386301394

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Become: Brothers

Become Prequel

By Meredith Mansfield

Part One: Ten Years Old

The Promise of Fire

Gaian stood straining forward on the edge of the warrior’s circle along with the other noble boys who had turned ten years old between the Longest Day and the Autumn Equinox. Across the ring, Benar scowled at him. Gaian ignored it. Just a day younger, Benar was almost Gaian’s twin. In fact, having been born a day after the equinox, Benar shouldn’t even be here, but the queen had carried on until Father had agreed to have him admitted to the training early. Benar seemed to think that this was a sign of superiority, which didn’t make much sense to Gaian. But then, Benar was always trying 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 his half-brother, 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. He 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 a close approximation of the military attention he’d seen around the palace all his life. His Mother outranked the queen, though Benar and the queen 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 hadn’t known that was even possible. Gaian leaned a little farther into the room, fascinated.

Father raised his head. What would happen to him if he failed?

He will go beyond my power to follow.

You are the Goddess of everything that lives. What place is beyond your power, Goddess?

Death.

Father blanched. If he tries and fails, he will die?

The Goddess’s voice remained serene. "No, Leradan. The only way for one of my children to Become is for the mortal flesh to burn away, leaving only the immortal. After that, there are only two possibilities—to Become or to die. Her voice dropped to a sadness Gaian had never heard from her before. Dying is easier."

Gaian slipped his left hand over his right that already covered his mouth to stifle an exclamation. His eyes flew wide with wonder at the prospect.

Father’s hands clenched into fists where they rested on his knees. He doesn’t know this, does he?

Cat slipped through the narrow opening in the door before Gaian could stop her. She ran straight to the Goddess, purring and weaving around the glowing form. Mother reached down to scratch Cat’s ears and turned Her head towards the door. He does, now, Leradan. He has heard us.

Father drew in a deep breath and looked up to the doorway, where Gaian stood. Gaian, come here.

There was such a floaty feeling in Gaian’s chest, he thought for a moment his feet wouldn’t touch the ground. He paced into the room as if he were in a dream. Father laid his hand on Gaian’s shoulder. Remembering himself, Gaian bowed his head briefly and then lunged forward to hug his mother. It was the first time he’d ever been able to do that in reality. I can become a god?

Father’s fingers tightened on Gaian’s shoulder, digging deep enough to hurt. You’re not ready for that, yet.

Mother placed her hand on the tousled blond hair, looking into her son’s eyes. Someday, perhaps, if you choose to try. But not yet. When you are grown.

Gaian tilted his head back to look up at her. But I could be with you, all the time, like now? I could have a real mother, like the other boys, not just in my dreams. No one ever believes me about my dreams. Can I really be like you, Mother?

Mother chuckled. Not exactly like me. But you have my blood as well as Leradan’s. It is possible for you.

Or you could live a long and blessed life, Gaian, Father said. You don’t have to try to become a god.

Why wouldn’t I? Gaian asked. What could be better than being a god?

Didn’t you hear? You would have to . . . die even to try. Die by burning. Father shuddered. And then you still might fail. You might suffer and be lost for no purpose.

Gaian smiled. Don’t worry, Father. I never fail at anything. Just now, I bested one of your guards in our very first combat training. The tutor said he’d beat all of us, to teach us to fall. But I made him fall instead. I was coming to tell you. At the stricken look on Father’s face, Gaian placed a hand in his. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really.

Mother put a glowing finger under his chin and turned Gaian’s face to Hers. You could fail at this, Gaian. All those who have tried have failed. For a moment, it almost seemed that tears glistened in the Goddess’s eyes. There are other things, just as important, that you—and your future children—could do for the world. There is never only one path.

Gaian straightened, standing up to his full height. He knew this was his destiny. I won’t. When I’m grown, I won’t fail.

His father choked on an indrawn breath, but Gaian didn’t understand why. All he knew was that a great future had been laid before him.

~~~

That night, alone except for the cat, Gaian lay on his bed and thought of all the things he would be able to do when he became a god. He could be with Mother—really with her, not just dream about her—anytime he wanted.

He could wipe that smug, condescending look off Benar’s face. No. That wouldn’t be worthy of a god. And Mother had said that he’d have to be worthy of he would fail. Besides, he could already beat Benar at anything. He didn’t need to be a god for that.

He could make all the whispering nobles and servants—especially the queen—take back everything they’d ever said about his parentage. He shook his head. No. That wasn’t worthy either. Anyway, Father and Mother knew the truth. And just becoming a god would prove all the whisperers wrong. Not just anybody could become a god, after all. He wouldn’t need to do anything else.

He had to think bigger if he expected to be worthy of such a destiny. No hero in the legends ever succeeded in a great quest by worrying about such insignificant things. They had bigger goals, like saving the world or their people or winning a war. But here his imagination ran aground. He had no idea what he’d be able to do as a god.

What kind of god would he be, anyway? Mother was Goddess of the Earth and all that grew from it or lived on it. That was already covered. What was left? The sea? The boys were taken down to the coast to play on the beach every summer, but the cold ocean water had never appealed to Gaian. It interfered with his sense of his Mother’s loving presence. He didn’t much care for that possibility. Fire maybe. That’d make a certain amount of sense, if he had to burn to become a god, but it seemed a little . . . limited. Maybe he’d be the bright and glorious sun, working with his mother to bring life to the earth. Or maybe even bigger than that. Maybe the whole sky.

Gaian smiled. To be the sky itself! He could fly on the wind and move the clouds around to suit himself. He could even give Benar and the queen their own personal rain clouds. He shook his head. No, that was unworthy again. But . . . if he could control the clouds and the rain, he could stop that drought that had Father so worried. That was worthy. That was the sort of thing a god should think about. He needed to think about more things like that if he wanted to become a god.

Gaian imagined himself, flying on the wind and adjusting the weather so there was always enough rain and enough sun and the whole world was a beautiful garden. That would make Mother happy, too. The whole world lay at his feet and all he had to do was burn. That didn’t sound too hard.

Curious, Gaian sat up and reached for the candle by his bed. He put his hand into the flame, to see what it would feel like. Cat yowled in protest. Gaian bit his lip until he tasted blood to keep from crying out, fighting against every instinct in his body to keep his hand in the flame. He had to be able to do this. His arm shook with the effort and then his whole body. He snatched his hand back, but the pain didn’t stop. It hurt just as much now as it had when the fire danced across his skin.  He cupped his injured hand with the other and looked down at the angry, blistered wound.

In all his ten years, Gaian had never felt more than a momentary discomfort. Cat had always been there to protect him and to tend to any cut or scrape with the Goddess’s own healing power. He had never experienced a pain like that or known that pain could continue even after the cause was removed.

Cat pushed her nose into the wound on his hand. Her rough tongue on the injured skin elicited a small cry, but then the pain ceased and the burn healed, leaving Gaian’s hand unblemished. Cat put her front feet on his chest and butted her nose against his lip, healing that, too. Cat swatted Gaian’s arm in admonishment before turning to stomp back to the end of his bed, as if she were telling him not to do something as stupid as that again.

I’m sorry, Cat. I didn’t know it would do that. Thank you for the healing.

Cat gave a quiet purr and curled up.

Gaian licked his fingers and reached out to put out the candle. His hand stopped, shaking, inches away from the flame. He’d pinched out the flame like this a hundred times before. Tonight, he could not force his hand closer to the candle, remembering what it had felt like to have his hand in the flame. After a moment, Gaian cupped his hand behind the flame and blew the candle out.

He lay down, covering himself with the blanket, still shaking. Cat, is that what fear feels like?

The cat meowed a sleepy affirmative.

Huh! Gaian said in a small voice. I’ve never been afraid before. Not like that, anyway. He couldn’t pretend that the queen didn’t intimidate him, sometimes. He could remember being a little anxious the last time Father’d had to fight in the Great Combat. But Gaian had never been physically afraid before.

He stretched himself to his full length, as if he was standing tall. When I’m grown, I won’t be afraid of anything. I’m just not ready yet. Even Mother said so.

Cat purred, stretched, and turned around twice before settling herself to sleep.

With a sigh, Gaian rolled over to his side and closed his eyes. Goodnight, Cat.

Instigation

Benar rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants legs and stepped through the door into the sunny room where his mother spent most of her days. The walls of the room were covered with tapestries, all embroidered by the queen and her women.

The current work in her frame wasn’t one of the flowery scenes she favored, though. It looked like a representation of one of the heroic legends. Benar was afraid that one was destined for the walls of his bedchamber. He pulled his attention from that to the woman behind the embroidery frame. You wanted to see me, Mother?

Queen Carala raised her head from her needlework and eyed her older son coldly. I’m disappointed in you, Benar. You allowed that misbegotten brat of some unknown Temple priestess to show you up again. How do you expect to be given the respect due to the true first born of King Leradan if you can’t even best a common bastard?

Benar’s shoulders slumped a little. He didn’t like Gaian any better than his mother did, but he never seemed to be able to demonstrate his own obvious superiority enough to suit his mother. Gaian had the advantage of seeing how the man threw me, so he avoided my . . . He couldn’t call it a mistake, not in front of his mother. . . . my strategy. If I’d let him go first—

The queen slapped her hands on the edges of the standing embroidery frame, cutting him off. I am not interested in excuses. And don’t hunch. Stand up straight like the prince you are.

Benar pulled himself up to his full height, standing at attention.

Queen Carala sighed. Not so stiff. You need to stand straight and at the same time appear as if you don’t care what anyone else thinks. The only one whose opinion really matters is your father.

Benar knit his brow as he tried to follow these contradictory instructions. "I know I’m better than Gaian, Mother. I’m your son and he’s just the son of some Temple priestess, even if he is a day older. But why does it matter so much that I prove it?"

The queen wove her needle into the fabric on her frame and studied Benar for a long moment that forced him to fight not to squirm under her scrutiny. Finally she nodded. You’re not too young to begin to understand politics. It will be important for you to understand, later. Very well.

She drew a breath as if organizing her thoughts. Juturna is the last country to still choose its king in this barbaric fashion. Mother’s lips thinned in indignation. Combat! How is that any proof of the ability to rule wisely? Only here do we still hold a combat every Day of Turning to select a king based solely on his prowess in the warrior’s circle. Only Juturna takes the chance of a complete change of regime every year. This instability keeps us weak when we could be stronger than all our neighbors.

This was a revolutionary thought. Juturna’s king had always been chosen by combat as far back as Benar’s history tutors had ever said. But, Mother . . . how else is the king supposed to be chosen?

She tapped her fingers on the edge of the embroidery frame. "Across the mountains, in Farea and to the north, in Versenna, the council chooses their king from among the near kin of the last ruler. In your father’s homeland, Khatar, and to the south, in Idun, the law mandates that the king’s nearest male relative is the heir. And they all benefit from the stability of a life-long ruler. Leradan knows that.

"It was all before you were born, of course, but we’ve had some pretty foolish or ineffective kings whose only talent was fighting. Your father excluded, of course. He is a very great king and we all hope he continues to rule over us for many years.

Leradan knows that, too. The first man he beat had been a very poor king. Much of the first year of Leradan’s reign was devoted simply to trying to repair the damage. And he knows that all his work since could be undone by one mistake in the Great Combat.

Father won’t lose, Benar said staunchly.

The queen smiled. We all pray that he will not. And, indeed, Leradan is still young enough, vital, and strong. He has won the Great Combat eleven years running and there’s no reason he shouldn’t win another five, perhaps even ten. But even Leradan the Bull will eventually grow old. Age will steal some of his strength and leach his speed and agility from him. Someday, a younger man will beat him. Unless . . .

The queen paused as if she was waiting for Benar to finish for her, but he couldn’t think of any way a man could escape time. Unless what, Mother?

Unless he forces a change, Benar. He is the king. A good king. Juturna has prospered under his rule. He’s had eleven years to consolidate his power and he has the support of the people. A man who was ambitious enough to leave his homeland and risk all in the Great Combat certainly has enough drive to want to see one of his own sons sit upon the throne after him. He has the strength, will, and support to make it happen. Tell me, my son, if he succeeds, do you want to be the prince who will follow your father to the throne—without the need to fight in the warrior’s circle—or do you want to spend your life serving the bastard son of some Temple priestess?

Benar forgot that he was supposed to look nonchalant and stood up as tall as he could. I want to be king!

The queen smiled. That’s my boy. Just remember that and make sure that you’re the one your father notices and relies on when the time comes to name an heir.

Benar relaxed a little again—without allowing himself to slump. He rubbed at his ear and screwed up his courage to ask a question that had been bothering him. "Is Gaian Father’s son, too? He looks as much like Father as I do."

The queen shrugged. He may be. It’s tradition for the Year King to spend the night after the Great Combat in the Temple where he ritually marries the land he will rule. Then again, he could be the son of any of the northerners that came south with Leradan. They’re all big, blond, and mostly blue-eyed, too. She fixed Benar with her eyes. "There’s no doubt that you are Leradan’s son, though. We need to make sure everyone remembers that—especially your father."

Benar thought back over their first combat lesson the day before. No one else had come close to repeating Gaian’s feat. Mother didn’t seem to realize just how hard it was to outdo Gaian. Mother, do you think Gaian could be the son of the Goddess?

Queen Carala picked up her needle and started to work on her embroidery again. An angry flush spread across the visible part of her face. Don’t be stupid, Benar. Whatever deceptions the priestesses use to gull lust-blinded men, do you really think the Goddess has nothing better to do than lie with a mortal man and bear his child? Don’t let that foolish superstition stop you from doing what you know you need to do.

Benar let the subject lie. He should have known better than to ask. It wasn’t just the priestesses that aroused his mother’s jealousy. That was only one night out of the year and part of a religious rite. It was the new wife that Father would bring into the palace the next day. A new wife for every victory in the Great Combat. That was tradition, too, but you’d have to be a fool—and deaf—not to know that the queen deeply resented sharing Father’s attention with ten other wives.

It’d be eleven come the Day of Turning. And likely still another brother sometime around the autumn equinox. Leradan the Bull had sired only one daughter, but he’d gotten almost a dozen and a half sons. There’d never be a shortage of princes, but he and Gaian were the oldest.

Benar looked out the window where some of the younger ones were playing in the garden. If he was going to pit himself against Gaian, friends at his back would be good. Goddess knew, he’d never managed to defeat Gaian by himself, but maybe this was something he didn’t have to do alone. The other princes and the sons of the most influential nobles would back Benar, if only because of his mother’s influence over their parents. Well, most of them. Gaian was popular among some of the boys, too. At least, he could count on his little brother, Cordan, for a start. A full brother was something Gaian didn’t have—would never have.

The Nature of Strength

Gaian stared at the door that had just closed behind his father, leaving him alone in the King’s private dining room. The Festival surrounding the Day of Turning would officially begin at noon tomorrow. The night before was traditionally a time for families to gather together. All the other boys of the Palace—royal, noble, sons of his father’s guards, or servants’ children—would be dining privately with their mothers. Their fathers, too, if they were off duty. But a king was never really off duty and Gaian didn’t have a mother he could dine with.

It wasn’t the first time Father had been called away from such a meal, of course. And Gaian understood; he didn’t resent it. Not really. But . . . always before Gaian had at least had Leria. Six years older, his gentle half-sister—the nearest thing he’d ever had to a flesh-and-blood mother—had gone into the Temple to complete her training as a priestess of the Goddess and a Healer just after Gaian’s birthday at the equinox.

Even this small, private dining room felt very lonely without Father or Leria. Gaian moved some of the specially-prepared food around on his plate without actually taking any of it on his fork. Father had ordered all Gaian’s favorites for this meal, but it wasn’t the same if he had to eat it alone. He’d always looked forward to these dinners—the night before the Festival, his birthday, and Leria’s were the only predictable private times he had with his father. Not that Father neglected him—or any of his children. Just that those were the only times when he could count on the three of them being alone together like an ordinary family, without guards, or bureaucrats, or half-brothers—or the queen.

He looked up at a noise outside the door, but it must have been just some servant hurrying past on an errand. Gaian dropped his fork on his plate and rested his chin on his hand, elbow propped on the table.

If he’d had a real brother, as Benar did, maybe things would be different. He huffed a sound too sad to be a laugh. If Benar were really his brother, Father would be likely to come back to find they’d spent the time throwing their food at each other rather than eating it—or trying to stab each other with their forks. Maybe that’d be better than sitting here all alone, though. Almost anything would.

He sniffed and wiped moisture away from his eyes with a furtive gesture. He was old enough to train in the warrior’s circle. Much too old to cry like a baby. He just wished . . . Gaian shoved his plate away and laid his head down on his crossed arms. He wished he had a real family, like the other boys.

Cat rubbed against his ankles and jumped into his lap, nuzzling his face. Gaian sat up and clutched her close. At least I’ll always have you, won’t I? Don’t take this wrong. But . . . I wish you could talk.

When he heard his father’s step outside the door and the click of the latch turning, Gaian quickly rubbed his face against his tunic sleeves and sat up. Keeping his head down, he pulled his plate back in front of him, trying to look like he’d been eating. He should have thought to slip a few tidbits to Cat so his plate wouldn’t looks so full.

Father stood in the doorway, not saying anything, until Gaian had to resist the urge to squirm.

What is it, son? What’s the matter? Father asked.

Gaian shrugged, ashamed of having to blink away tears again. Nothing.

Don’t lie to me, Gaian. There isn’t anything you can’t tell me.

Gaian swallowed. Yes, there was. He couldn’t say anything that would add to his father’s burdens. He shrugged again. I just miss Leria, I guess.

Father strode around the table and hugged Gaian. I miss her, too. He stepped back to hold Gaian at arms’ length. I’ll speak to the High Priestess. The novices are supposed to spend their first year isolated from their families, but maybe an exception can be made for you. Would you like that?

Gaian sniffed again and nodded. It still wouldn’t be a real family, but at least he could talk to Leria about . . . about everything. And maybe that would help some.

~~~

The next day, Gaian lingered as the other boys filed noisily out of the Temple school where they learned to read, write, and compute as well as learning the proper worship of the Goddess. They were all excited by the beginning of the three Festival days. The Festival wouldn’t officially begin until noon, still an hour or so away, but traveling traders had already set up their booths alongside those of the city’s merchants lining the streets leading into the great square. The streets were well-patrolled by Father’s guards as well as the city watch to insure peace during the celebration, so the Palace boys were allowed to wander among the booths at will. Though, being better trained than the city boys, they wouldn’t be permitted to enter any of the contests or games. That wouldn’t have been fair.

Gaian’s feelings about the Festival were more complicated. Mixed with more fear and anxiety than the other boys felt. The dizzying array of goods brought from the farthest reaches of the kingdom and beyond held less interest for him than certain questions he couldn’t ask anyone at the Palace.

The priestess turned from tidying up the room and started at seeing Gaian still in his seat. What is it, Gaian?

He turned to make sure no one else was in the room. I . . . I was wondering . . . after the Great Combat . . . Gaian paused to take a deep breath and said the rest in a rush. What happens to the loser? They called it a sacrifice, which sounded ominous. But he couldn’t believe his Mother, the Goddess of Life, would actually demand any man’s death. He didn’t voice the other half of his question. What happens to me if Father loses? It felt disloyal to think that Father might not win. But . . . still . . .

Ah, the priestess said sympathetically. I suppose it is about time that you would start wondering that. Unfortunately, I’m not the proper one to explain these things to you. Come with me.

Gaian followed her up a staircase and through the Temple’s warren of corridors. He’d never been in this part of the Temple. It seemed . . . almost like the upper floors of the Palace—devoted to private sleeping chambers, mostly. Where is she taking me?

His question was answered when the priestess knocked on an open door and then ushered him into a private office. He recognized what it was from its resemblance to Father’s—shelves full of books and a big desk. The High Priestess looked up from a ledger and glanced from the priestess to Gaian.

Gaian has asked about what happens after the Combat, Mother Thedra, the priestess said.

The High Priestess drew in a breath. I see. You did right to bring him to me, Darina. You can go now. Shut the door on your way out. When the door had closed, Mother Thedra turned to Gaian and gestured to the chair facing her. Please sit down.

Gaian sat, clasping his hands under his arms and wondering if his question had gotten him into some kind of trouble.

Are you afraid your father will lose the Great Combat?

No, Gaian lied. He shrugged. Not really.

Thedra smiled. And so you shouldn’t be. Leradan has won eleven times, after all. And he has the Goddess’s favor, which counts for a great deal.

Gaian looked up. You mean he can’t lose?

The High Priestess half-shrugged. No. There are no guarantees. No year-king has won the Combat more than fourteen times—so far. They all must lose someday. But I don’t think Leradan will fail this year.

But . . . what happens then? Gaian demanded, pulling his hands from under his armpits and wringing them in his lap. "Mother couldn’t really . . ." He choked, unable to complete that sentence.

Thedra smiled. That is a secret of the Temple. There are reasons why it must be so. But such reasons do not apply to the Goddess’s own son. However, before I go on, you must understand that you cannot—ever—tell anyone outside the Temple what I tell you now.

Gaian swallowed and nodded. I promise.

The High Priestess drew in a deep breath and let it out, the way Priestess Darina did when she was figuring out how to explain a difficult concept. The loser sacrifices his life at the end of the Great Combat—

Gaian gasped.

Thedra held up her hand. "But not in the way you—or the people—think. The Great Combat has not been a blood sacrifice for almost a thousand years. Well . . . unless one of the combatants dies in the circle, which is, thank the Goddess, a rare event. Otherwise, the loser sacrifices his old life by entering the Temple. Family, profession, possessions all are left behind to his heirs—sacrificed, if you will. Even his former name. There are a number of functions within the Temple that are normally performed by men. Not all of them come from the Combat, but many do."

Gaian chewed his lower lip. So . . . Father would just come here—if he lost?

No. Or . . . only for a little while. It’s usual to send losers of the Combat to one of our sister Temples. Someplace where they will not be tempted to try to regain their former lives and where they are less likely to be recognized. A man like your father . . . well, it would be even more important for him. Her gaze softened. In that event, you would be sheltered by the Temple until you are grown.

Gaian looked away for a moment, then back at the High Priestess. But not . . . with Father? Because I’d be part of his old life.

She smiled gently. Oh, you would be a special case. I don’t think even the Goddess could keep Leradan from you—or you from him. Nor would She wish to.

Gaian breathed a sigh of relief at that. But . . . "Mother Thedra, why is this so secret?"

"The Great Combat has two purposes. First, it reinforces that the right to rule comes from the Goddess—only. That part is not secret. The other purpose is belief. The willingness of the participants—of two strong, vital men—to sacrifice themselves is a key part of the ritual. It bolsters the belief of all the others who watch or hear of the Combat. It’s necessary that they all believe in the sacrifice."

Does Father know?

No. And you must not tell him. Or anyone. You promised. I will say this, however. One reason your father has won so many times—besides his obvious strength and skill—is that he doesn’t fear the sacrifice. His faith in the Goddess is too strong for him to fear anything She might ask of him. Demonstrating that faith is . . . a very powerful example to the people. And a very important source of faith and power for your Mother.

Gaian nodded, though his head was spinning.

Mother Thedra sighed. I know all of this must be confusing. Your father spoke to me this morning. Would you like to join your sister for the noon meal? Perhaps talking to her will help you understand better.

Gaian looked up eagerly. Yes. I’d like that a lot.

The High Priestess stood and walked around the end of her desk, holding out her hand. All right, then. Let’s go find Novice Leria.

~~~

Gaian woke early, just as the sun crept over the horizon. Festival morning. The Day of Turning when the days stopped getting shorter and started getting longer and warmer, moving inexorably toward the promise of spring. The day of the Great Combat.

Gaian scrambled out of bed and onto his knees to offer a Devotion to the Goddess. That wasn’t unusual for him, but this time he finished with a heartfelt prayer. Let Father prevail today. Please. His stomach unknotted just a little as the prayer left his lips. Surely Mother would hear him.

Not that there was really any danger that Leradan the Bull would fail, of course. But . . . a prayer couldn’t hurt.

He stood up and wandered off to prowl restlessly around the palace grounds. His stomach was still a little too tight for him to want breakfast. Movement . . . helped, a little. What would be better would be if he could actually watch the Combat. See what was going on. But he knew from experience that the guards wouldn’t let him get outside of the palace grounds until after the Combat was over. The boys weren’t permitted to watch the Combat. They wouldn’t even be permitted in any of the rooms with windows that overlooked the great square. That hardly seemed fair. Who had a better right? But Father had ordered that his sons not be allowed to watch this.

Gaian didn’t like to think about what would happen if Father did fail one of these days. Not today, of course. Gaian had no doubt about the outcome of today’s combat. But Father was only mortal, after all. Someday he’d get too old for the combat. When he lost—in the far distant future—Father would spend the rest of his life in the Temple, serving the Goddess. His wives would return to their families and take their sons with them. All but Gaian, who had no human mother or family to go to. No real brothers, either.

According to Mother Thedra, he’d go into the Temple along with Father—somewhere away from here. After all, the Temple was the nearest thing to his Mother’s family he could think of.

How weird would it be to grow up in a Temple full of women? There’d be no training in the warrior’s circle, that much he was certain of. Probably no other boys, either. Not that he’d miss Benar, but . . . that sounded . . . lonely. Almost as lonely as when he was little—before he started training in the warrior’s circle or even in the Temple school—and Father was away fighting or on other business, when Leria was the only one in the Palace who really cared about him.

Of course, Gaian repeated to himself, he didn’t have to worry about any of that, yet. He knew Father would win.

An hour later, Gaian still paced around the gardens like a caged lion, Cat following along behind. He couldn’t settle anywhere until he knew that Father had won. Eventually, he found himself at the wall that separated the palace grounds from the great square. The wall was ten feet high here, much too high to see over. But, a single tall tree grew in the corner, tall enough that an active boy could climb up to the top of the wall. He studied the tree. It was a pine and the lower branches had been cut off to make it hard to climb. That wasn’t enough to discourage Gaian. Those cut-off branches might provide just enough projection to grab onto for a hand- or foothold, especially for his bare feet. He could do this. He glanced around quickly. Guard patrols were infrequent back here in the well-secured garden, so he was unlikely to get caught.

He had to jump for the first handhold and scrabble with his feet for purchase on the rough bark. He pulled himself up until he could reach the tiny knob where the second branch had been cut off close to the trunk, legs still dangling. Good thing he was strong for his age and size. Gaian continued to pull himself upward. He was six feet above ground before his bare toes touched that first foothold. Not that it was much support. Good thing he wasn’t afraid of falling. His Mother’s earth always felt soft to him.

When Gaian stretched to reach the first branch that angled toward the wall, his toes lost their purchase on the scant footholds and he hung on by one hand. His fingers dug through the bark and into the wood before he could swing himself enough to grab that branch. Relinquishing his hold on the tree trunk, he pulled himself up and onto the branch, creeping carefully along the branch. If he fell now, it might not hurt too much, but he’d have all that climbing to do over.

Finally, he clambered off the branch and onto the wall, where he could sit with his back to the tree branch and watch everything that went on in the square. Perfect. He’d have the best view in the whole square and still be mostly invisible except from directly across the square—where everyone would be watching the Combat—or directly below. Cat mewed irritably but followed him and climbed higher to explore the branches above his head.

Gaian eagerly took in the whole scene. People thronged the square in greater numbers than for the lesser Festivals of the equinoxes or the Summer Solstice, which the boys had always been allowed to attend. Only the center of the square, which had been marked out in a warrior’s circle, was kept clear. On either side of the great stairs of the Temple, a green tent had been pitched. One for each of the combatants, Gaian guessed.

His nose twitched at the pungent scent of the pine resin coating his hands and clothes.

Somewhere below, a trumpet sounded the martial call to combat—a tune remarkably inconsistent with the rest of the Goddess’s Festival. Across the square, the challenger marched out of the tent on the left at the same time that Father emerged from the right-hand tent. Gaian swallowed hard. Father was a big man, but the challenger dwarfed him. If Gaian didn’t know better, he’d think the Temple had sent to the far Monzan Mountains for a rock giant. The Temple had to try to find a worthy opponent, of course, but . . . . Father strode out confidently, though, showing no sign of fear. The two men stepped into the ring and began to circle each other.

Gaian narrowed his eyes and looked again at the challenger. The combat tutor insisted that every opponent had a weakness. The first job of a warrior was to understand his own strengths and weaknesses. The second was to identify those of his opponent. Gaian tried to apply that here. The challenger was almost certainly strong. He’d also have a longer reach than Father. What was his weakness, though?

Below, the two men continued to circle each other. The giant made the first move, trying to use his greater reach to strike Father. Father slid aside and slashed at the challenger’s left side with his sword. The crowd cheered, First blood to Leradan the Bull.

Gaian studied the bigger man as he recovered. He thought he could see his weakness now. Compared to Father, the giant was slow and not nearly agile enough to adjust to Father’s rapid combat style. Maybe, he wasn’t used to getting hurt, either, because the cut seemed to enrage the challenger. That didn’t necessarily make him less dangerous, though. The big man swung his sword in an arc that would have decapitated Father if he were slower.

Father ducked below the wild swing, using the challenger’s own height against him. He cut backward at the giant’s leg as he passed. A slice there could cripple an opponent. Father was out of reach again before the giant turned to face him again. Gaian joined in as the crowd cheered again. Second blood to Father and he was still untouched!

What do you think you’re doing up there? Trying to escape?

Gaian tore his gaze away from the combat to look down. He breathed out. It was only Benar, not one of Father’s guardsmen. I’m watching the Combat. The challenger is really, really big. Looks like a rock giant out of the north. But Father’s winning.

Gaian turned back to watch the combat. The two men were circling each other again, but the bigger man was now limping with every step. Gaian was vaguely aware of grunts and muffled oaths below. Sounded like Benar was trying to climb up, too. Gaian spared a glance. Better hurry or you’ll miss it. Father only needs one more score to end the combat.

Well then give me a hand up, Benar answered. I can’t get a grip on this tree.

Gaian turned back to see how the combat was going. In his judgment, it wouldn’t be long before Father made his final move. He shook his head. Then we’d both miss the end of it. Use the places where branches have been cut off. That’s the best place to get a grip. When you get up to the branch, I’ll give you a hand over to the wall. That’s the hardest part.

More grunts followed from below. Gaian spared another glance to check on Benar’s progress, but his brother was still on the ground. Maybe he was more afraid of the fall than Gaian had been. Then again, he just might not be as good at climbing trees. Certainly, the queen wouldn’t have approved of that pastime.

His face a mask of frustration, Benar bent down and picked up a piece of brick that had fallen from the wall and threw it as hard as he could. For just an instant, Gaian thought he saw fear on Benar’s face before the frustrated rage returned.

Hey! Gaian shouted down and then gasped. The brick sailed over his head and struck the branch on which Cat lay stretched, knocking her off. Gaian held his breath as he watched her fall. Cat landed on her feet less than an arm’s length from Benar.

Benar’s hand whipped out like a striking snake. He grabbed Cat by her scruff and lifted her up, careful to hold her away from him. The cat growled menacingly.

Gaian clenched his fists in rage. Put her down!

This? Benar laughed and gave the cat a shake. Cat’s growl dropped to a lower and more menacing sound. I suppose she is the nearest thing you have to a mother, at that. He looked critically at the cat. Yes. I think I see a resemblance.

Gaian swung his legs over the wall and dropped fearlessly from the height, landing lightly in front of Benar. Give her to me, now. Gaian’s voice shook with contained fury.

Benar held the cat away from Gaian, giving her another rough shake. No. I think I’ll take her to the cistern and drown her.

Benar started to turn away. Cat yowled in pain and Gaian reacted without thinking. His fist connected with Benar’s jaw, spinning him around in a full circle until he faced Gaian again. Benar’s hand opened and the cat dropped, hissing. Gaian had never hit anyone that hard before. Not even in training with the tutor shouting at all of them to hit their opponents as hard as they could. It scared him a little, but not enough to drown his rage at Benar’s treatment of Cat. Gaian landed three more punches in quick succession. When Gaian paused, Benar dropped to the ground as if only Gaian’s blows had been holding him up. His face was a bloody mess.

Gaian was still shaking when he bent to pick up the angry cat. He stroked her to soothe himself as much as her. He’d never done anything like that before. Then again, no one had ever been foolish enough to threaten or mistreat Cat before. She was his Mother’s creature and should be held in respect by all true followers of the Goddess.

He turned toward the blank wall at the cheers and the cries of The Bull! Leradan, the Bull! No point in climbing back up. Obviously, the combat was over and Father had won. Gaian glanced down once. He wanted to go to the great hall, to be among those to welcome Father back, but he probably should get Benar back into his rooms, first. He wished Leria were still in the Palace. Even untrained, she was a better healer than anyone else here.

~~~

Gaian tossed in his sleep. Normally, his dreams were pleasant and untroubled, often including visits from his Mother. Not tonight. Despite his restlessness, Cat lay next to his side, as if glued to him.

Gaian dreamed that his feet and hands slipped and he fell out of the tree, crashing to the ground so hard the air whooshed from his lungs. In his dream, the earth was not soft and welcoming, as it always seemed to him, but hard and unyielding. He moaned. The fall hurt. He wasn’t used to anything, especially falling against his mother’s own earth, hurting like that. Gaian thrashed with the pain. Why didn’t Cat heal him?

The dream shifted. He was still on the ground and Benar was hitting him, each punch magnifying the pain. Gaian knew it was a dream, but he couldn’t pull himself awake. And, being a dream, he couldn’t escape the agony even by passing out. Just as he pulled in a breath to scream, a familiar glow appeared in the distance.

Finally, some help. Mother! Gaian called in his dream. The glow drew steadily nearer and solidified.

The look on the Goddess’s face was not loving or sympathetic. He’d never seen her look so stern. Gaian, you did wrong today. You should not have beaten Benar like that.

Gaian whimpered. The dream beating had stopped, but every part of his body still ached. He couldn’t even pull himself properly to his knees before the Goddess. He was going to hurt Cat. I couldn’t let him do that. It would have been wrong. And Cat belongs to you.

The Goddess’s eyes softened slightly. "Rescuing Cat was not wrong. Beating Benar after you had rescued Cat was. That was not necessary to save Cat; it was only venting your own petty anger and dislike. That was wrong. You are too strong to give in to that kind of weakness." She touched Gaian’s brow and the pain receded like the waves retreating down the beach.

Freed from the pain, Gaian scrambled to his knees and bowed his head. Yes, Mother. It wasn’t right to argue with the Goddess, even if she was his Mother, but Gaian wasn’t happy with this assessment.

Tomorrow, you must apologize to Benar.

Gaian’s head snapped up. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Mother!

You must apologize for striking him when he could not retaliate or defend himself. The Goddess’s voice softened. "Of course, it would be appropriate for him also to apologize to you for threatening Cat. But I wouldn’t expect it. And his failure does not change your duty.

After that, you must go to your father and tell him what you did, though he’ll likely hear about it as soon as he returns from the Temple in the morning. He will set your punishment. It is necessary for you to learn the true nature of strength. Now, before you become too strong for such lessons.

Gaian swallowed back a protest. He’d been as angry as he ever remembered being. Even then, he hadn’t felt particularly good when he saw the blood on Benar’s face. He sighed. Yes, Mother.

That’s my Gaian. The Goddess placed her hand on his head, tousling the golden curls. Remember that I love you.

With her voice echoing in his head, Gaian passed into a quiet dream and slept soundly until morning.

~~~

Even before breakfast, Gaian went down the hall to Benar’s room. He had a duty to perform, laid on him by the Goddess herself. The door opened at his knock.

About time you brought the prince’s breakfast, you . . . . The nurse’s words trailed off as she realized it was Gaian, not one of the servants. She stepped out, blocking the door.

I need to see Benar. Gaian tried to push past her.

The nurse pulled a chair out of the room, placing it beside the door, and sat down, arms crossed. Little demon. You won’t come near the prince while I’m here.

But I’ve come to apologize.

Hmph! I’ll believe that when I see it. Come to gloat and lord it over him, more like. Your triumph won’t be long-lived. Queen Carala is speaking with King Leradan even now.

Gaian glared at her, but couldn’t see any way to get past her that wouldn’t make things worse. He turned away to go down for breakfast. The little gray cat wound around his legs and stood up to put her paws on his leg, stopping him. Gaian sighed.

Gaian sighed. I know. Trying isn’t good enough. I have to do it.

Gaian went back to his own bed chamber. It was a corner room, with windows to the south and west. Gaian opened the south-facing window and stepped out onto the sill. There was an ancient elm tree outside that window. He’d climbed out onto its branches many times. This morning, remembering last night’s dream, he paused for a moment before he climbed out onto the huge branches of the tree. This was a lot higher than the wall. But it had been only a dream. And, anyway, he’d never fallen out of this tree. He climbed and swung from one branch to the next until he was below the window of Benar’s room. The branch here was low. Standing on it, Gaian had to strain to reach up to the sill and swing himself onto it.

The window was open a crack. Gaian pushed it open and stepped down into Benar’s bedchamber and stared for a moment at the tapestry of one of his favorite heroic legends occupying the wall opposite Benar’s bed.

Benar was still abed, bandages wrapped around his head. He woke when Gaian stepped closer. For a moment, there was fear in his eyes, quickly replaced by anger. He pushed himself up higher in the bed.

I’ve come to apologize, Gaian said. I shouldn’t have hit you again. Once was enough.

Benar scowled. That’s not much of an apology.

Gaian considered this. He’d done wrong. His Mother had said so and . . . Gaian had felt wrong when he’d seen what his blows had done. But even his Mother allowed that rescuing cat was right. So, he squared his shoulders. It’s a truthful one. I’m not sorry I hit you the first time. You were hurting Cat—and you threatened to do worse. I was right to rescue her. But I didn’t need to hit you after that. That’s what I’m sorry for.

Benar’s eyes flashed. You’ll be sorry all right. My mother is telling Father what you did right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if he sends you away for this.

Gaian glowered. Then you’re a fool. Father won’t ever send me away. Gaian knew that like he knew the sun rose in the east.

Benar squirmed down in the bed. What are you hanging around for?

Mother said it would also be appropriate for you to apologize for threatening Cat.

"Your mother? In your dreams! You don’t even know who your mother is. The snows will melt on the crown of Sky Pillar Mountain before I apologize to the likes of you! And, once Father sends you away, I will drown that cat of yours in the cistern. And every other cat I can find."

Gaian’s fist clenched, but he held onto his temper. That was an empty threat. We’ll see. Come on, Cat. He threw the words over his shoulder as he walked across to the door. The little gray cat leapt from the window sill and followed Gaian out into the hallway, tail held high. They both ignored the startled nurse as they went down to breakfast.

~~~

Gaian came into his father’s office, head bowed. Father. He’d been summoned and after his brief conversation with Benar, he had a pretty good idea why. Father already knew what had happened yesterday—or at least one version of it.

Father closed his eyes and shook his head. He looked tired. You did very wrong yesterday, Gaian. I’m disappointed in you.

Gaian stood straight and raised his head to meet his father’s eyes. Yes, Father. I know. Mother told me.

Father blinked. Your Mother?

Mother comes to me in my dreams sometimes. Usually, she tells me she loves me. But last night, she told me that what I’d done was wrong. She said I had to apologize to Benar.

Father’s eyebrows rose toward his hairline. And did you?

Was that surprise in his father’s eyes? Yes, Father. I had to climb in his window to do it. Benar’s nurse wouldn’t let me in.

Father closed his