Become: To Catch the Lightning: Become, #1

By Meredith Mansfield

He could become a god. He could just burn to death.

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 die—by burning—first. He's not quite ready to try that yet, especially since fire is the one thing he's afraid of.

 

He was raised to be a warrior. His father wants him to be the next king, if only to keep him from thinking about Becoming. Neither feels right. There must another purpose for his more-than-human strength. The Goddess must have had a reason for giving him that gift.

 

When he meets Mariel, Gaian is willing to put all thoughts of being a king, a warrior—or even Becoming a god—aside. Little does he suspect that family may be the one thing worth burning for.

 

Inspired by the legend of Hercules.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meredith Mansfield
• Release date: May 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386717997

Book preview

Map

Table of Contents

Map

I: Warrior

II: Possible Futures

III: Disappointment

IV: Kalindra

V: Questions

VI: More than Friends

VII: Kaleran

VIII: This Changes Everything

IX: Loss

X: Victory

XI: To Seal the Peace

XII: Frustrated

XIII: The Tangled Forest

XIV: Mariel

XV: Ambition

XVI: Getting to Know Each Other

XVII: Here be Dragons

XVIII: Whispered Warning

XIX: Courtship

XX: Preparations for the Hunt

XXI: Suggestion

XXII: Doubts

XXIII: Dragon Hunt

XXIV: Suspicions

XXV: Triumphant Return

XXVI: Repercussions

XXVII: Wedding

XXVIII: Honey Moon

XXIX: Starting Out

XXX: The Mountain Pass

XXXI: The Pool

XXXII: Khatar

XXXIII: Temple Guards

XXXIV: Bandits

XXXV: Idun

XXXVI: Father

XXXVII: Home

XXXVIII: Family

XXXIX: Revelations

XL: Warrior’s Circle

XLI: Great Combat

XLII: Parting

XLIII: Discontent

XLIV: The Golden Road

XLV: What Now?

XLVI: Dreams

XLVII: Awakening

XLVIII: New Temple

XLIX: Birth

L: Consolidating Power

LI: Dream Warnings

LII: Flight to a New Life

Bonus Material

Author’s Note

About the Author

I: Warrior

Gaian rode at a ground-eating trot ahead of his small group of scouts. One hand steadied Shadow in front of him, though the cat had never yet fallen from her perch, even at the wildest gallop. Over the thudding of his horse’s hooves, he heard a shout and the unmistakable sounds of battle. Just over that next rise. Shadow stood with her front paws on his saddle horn, straining in that direction. She’d never done that before. Gaian wanted to gallop straight over the hill to the rescue, but he’d learned the hard way not to run blind into possible danger. Not that he was afraid for himself, but not everyone who followed him had his strength—or healed as quickly. He’d gotten men killed that way once. Never again. Gritting his teeth, Gaian reined his horse to a walk and signaled to his command to do the same.

Another shout rang out. No, a scream. A woman’s cry of outrage or grief, he thought, not pain.

Tomran flinched at the sound. Gaian, aren’t we going to do something about that?

Gaian nodded. Of course we are, but we’re not going to gallop into trouble without a plan. And the first thing we need is information. He turned to one of the younger men, a raw recruit but one of the best riders and indisputably the fastest runner. He didn’t like sending the untried boy off alone but he needed speed right now. Get up to that ridge—climb the last slope on foot—and get a look at what’s going on. Don’t show yourself. And come straight back with your report.

The man nodded and galloped off.

Gaian turned to one of his veterans. As I recall, there’s a side road on the other side of that hill. Am I right?

The man’s teeth gleamed in his dust-smeared face. Yes, sir. Smaller caravans sometimes use it to avoid the main road. The Idunians do patrol it . . . sometimes.

So, it could be bandits attacking a caravan. Or it could be Idunian cavalry. Gaian chewed his lower lip. Bandits might run away from his small group. Idunian cavalry . . . wouldn’t. And the Idunians might well outnumber his men. Another scream—definitely a woman’s voice—shattered his thoughts. There was no way he could just ride away, no matter the odds. But just charging out there blind, against a possibly larger force would only get his men killed along with whoever was in that caravan. So what should he do?

He fought the urge to pace, silently urging the boy to hurry. He couldn’t give even the appearance of indecision or uncertainty. This was his first command. A lot of responsibility, especially since he wouldn’t be nineteen until the coming autumn equinox. Half his troop were veterans with more years in the field than he had years of life. The rest, like Tomran, were even greener than Gaian was. He couldn’t let them down. Or his father, the king, who’d entrusted him with this command.

Before he could get too jittery to stay still, Gaian’s scout came galloping back.

Report, Gaian ordered.

It’s a small caravan sir. Khataran by the markings.

Gaian suppressed an urge to bark at the boy. The caravan and its origins were hardly the most important thing right now. He drew in a deep breath. Not the boy’s fault that he lacked the experience to know what was critical information and what wasn’t. The caravan is not what’s important right now. Is it being attacked by bandits or Idunian cavalry and how many?

Oh, uh. Idunians. About twice our number.

And what’s the terrain look like? Gaian asked.

The boy pointed back uphill. This ridge curves around two sides of a shallow valley. The road, if you can call it that, runs down the bottom. The boy swallowed. And, sir . . .

Yes? Gaian swore silently at the delay while women were in danger.

It doesn’t look like a trader’s caravan. They seem to be mostly women with very few guards and . . . The boy gulped. The wagons bear the Goddess’s mark.

This time Gaian did swear. Priestesses. Had to be. And that probably explained Shadow’s unusual reaction. She was a creature of the Goddess, after all. The Temples sometimes exchanged priestesses among the kingdoms that worshipped the Goddess. He knew that because his sister, Leria, had been sent to a Temple in Versenna three years ago. But why would the priestesses try to sneak past Idun? True, the Idunians didn’t acknowledge the Goddess, giving their worship instead to a mountain god. Still, surely even the Idunians wouldn’t attack a group of priestesses. Gaian shook his head. Time to worry about that later. Right now, he had to find a way to rescue his Mother’s devoted servants with a force half the size of their opponents.

He glanced back up at the ridge and his eyes narrowed as an idea came to him. There was no need for the Idunians to know that they outnumbered Gaian’s men, now was there? All right, this is what we’re going to do. He pointed to the scout and Tomran, the two youngest of his command. You two are going to ride as fast as your horses will carry you back to Father’s camp.

Why two of us? It only takes one to carry the message, Tomran objected.

Because I’m not sending anyone across enemy territory alone, Gaian barked. Another lesson he’d learned the hard way. He drew a breath and softened his tone, only because Tomran was his half-brother. If we fail, Father needs to know about this. It’s an important job I’m giving you, so don’t let me down. Now go.

Gaian didn’t wait to see if his order was obeyed. He turned to the rest of his men. We’re outnumbered, but our opponents don’t need to know that. We’re going to spread out along the top of that ridge. Leave your horses, just visible, in between to make it look like there are more of us. On my signal, we all show ourselves at the same time. We’re going to try to intimidate them into retreating.

And if that fails? one of the veterans asked.

Gaian acknowledged this with a tilt of his head. Then it’s likely to be a bloody fight. But we will have the Goddess on our side. He dismounted and instantly felt his Mother’s power radiating up from the earth even more strongly than usual. It made him feel as if his strength were doubled. He felt ready to take on ten of the enemy himself—though that would probably be a bad idea. Still . . . And me.

The veteran, who’d fought at Gaian’s side before, grinned at that statement.

Gaian led his own horse, Shadow riding on the saddle, up to the crest. He scratched Shadow’s ears. You stay here and keep an eye on Cloud for me, eh? He patted the grey warhorse on the shoulder before moving off to a position halfway between Cloud and where the next man had picketed his horse.

Gaian had positioned himself roughly in the middle of the spread-out line his men had created. Apart from the wagons, all he could see were a handful of bodies—none of them female—and about two dozen riderless horses milling around. The screams had stopped from below. Whatever else was going on down there was behind the cover of the large wagon. He couldn’t afford to guess what that might mean—yet. He hoped he’d still be able to rescue his Mother’s priestesses. If not, he would surely avenge them.

He looked left and right, checking especially for the men he’d sent around the curve of the ridge to close off the head of the valley. His men were in position. This was the best chance he could give both them and those below who had a claim on his protection.

Gaian strung his bow and stepped over the crest of the hill. He sucked in a deep breath and silently called on his Mother’s help. Idunians! We have you surrounded. Come out and surrender now and we will spare your lives in spite of the sacrilege you have committed. This is your only chance. His voice reverberated through the shallow valley. A little help from his Mother? He’d take all the help he could get at this moment.

The silence seemed to stretch interminably. Finally, when Gaian was just about to give the signal for a hopeless charge, a voice answered, There’s been no sacrilege here, since none of these intruders acknowledge Orodan as their god.

Gaian huffed. We can argue over that later. You will come forward and surrender now or pay the consequences.

There is a larger force coming up behind us. They’ll be here by the end of the day. I think it might be best to just wait here and . . . entertain ourselves until they arrive.

Gaian’s blood boiled at the implication, but he tried to force his voice to sound amused. We’d already sent for reinforcements before we realized your numbers were so few. I count only two dozen horses. You are too few to hold out against us.

Maybe we’ll just wait and see.

Gaian fitted an arrow to the string of his bow. The wagons were out of normal bowshot, but his was not an ordinary bow. The first bows he’d tried, even as a youth, had merely snapped in half when he drew them. It had taken Father’s armorer seven tries to make a bow that matched Gaian’s strength and the resulting weapon had a range to match. The Idunians were still hunkered down behind the wagons. He’d have to shoot blind. He hoped to hit one of the enemy, but he silently offered a prayer to his Mother that his arrow wouldn’t find one of the priestesses instead. A warm vibration of the earth reassured him that his Mother had heard.

Gaian fired and sighed in relief at the distinctly masculine sound of pain that followed. Maybe we’ll have some entertainment of our own while we wait, he called back as he nocked another arrow he hoped he wouldn’t have to use.

That was a lucky shot, the voice called back before Gaian could fire the second arrow.

Gaian smiled. Are you sure enough of that to want me to shoot again?

An arrow arced out from behind the wagon, falling back to earth less than halfway to where Gaian stood. He laughed. You have no bow that can reach me or my men from there. He loosed another arrow and heard another masculine groan. I have plenty of arrows, Gaian called. And the high ground. And a much more powerful bow than anything you possess. I can do this all day. Can you?

Gaian was just reaching for another arrow when the voice spoke up again. All right. We’re coming out.

Gaian let out a breath. Good. Send all your prisoners out first. Then drop all your weapons and come out with your hands on your heads. He watched as seven women hurried out from behind the wagon. One gave a pained cry and ran forward to land on her knees beside one of the bodies strewn on the ground. Presumably the priestess’s guards. Another, possibly the youngest of them, looked disheveled as she adjusted the bodice of her gown. Gaian grasped the bow still in his hand tighter. He’d find out soon enough if there was anything he needed to avenge there.

He counted as twenty-three men came out from behind the wagons. Twenty-three? He counted the loose horses again. Twenty-four. One of the men he’d shot might be too badly wounded or even dead—or he might be hiding in ambush. Down on your knees, Idunians. When they had complied, Gaian turned toward the women. Is this all of them?

Delter is too badly wounded to move, the Idunian captain answered.

At least, Gaian assumed he was the captain. It’s what all that braid on the man’s shoulder would mean in his father’s army, anyway. I was addressing the priestesses.

One of the women put an arm around the disheveled girl. He speaks truly. I don’t know the man’s name, but your first arrow went through the gut of the man who was just about to assault Kalindra here.

Gaian smiled grimly. I had asked the Goddess to guide that arrow.

The woman below smiled. Seems she answered your prayer then.

She usually does, he said too quietly to be heard below. Gaian gestured to his men. Two at a time, so that some of them always held the high ground, they started down the slope. Gaian stayed in place, his bow trained on the leader, until the very last. By the time he slung his bow over his shoulder and rode down the hill, his men had already started to tie up their prisoners.

The enemy captain looked up at Gaian, astride his grey warhorse. You claimed to have us outnumbered.

Gaian shook his head, smiling slightly. I never said that. I said we had you surrounded. You only assumed there were more of us. He rode past the man to the priestesses, his main concern. Were any of you hurt?

No, you arrived just in time, the woman who’d answered him before said, patting the girl’s shoulder.

Gaian turned his attention to the woman who’d run out from the wagons first. She was still kneeling and weeping beside one of the fallen men. He sucked in a breath as one of the man’s hands clenched and unclenched. He swung out of the saddle. He’s still alive.

The other woman put out a hand to hold him back. He won’t be for long. Not with a wound like that.

Gaian moved a few steps so he could see. Oh. Gut wound. The man might live as much as three days, if he didn’t bleed to death first. But it wouldn’t be a good three days by any definition. Kinder, really, if he did bleed to death, but . . . .

He turned back to his saddle and lifted Shadow down. Usually, the healing magic channeled by the Goddess’s cats was restricted to Her descendants, but Gaian thought She just might make an exception for this case. It was worth a try, anyway. He held the cat in his arms and whispered to her. He was wounded defending Mother’s priestesses. Do you think you could heal him as you . . . He paused. He hadn’t really needed healing the last few years, since Shadow had been with him. His first cat, the one that had been with him from the cradle, she had healed him several times, though. Well, as Cat used to heal me?

Shadow jumped down and stalked over to the fallen man. After a moment, she pushed her nose into the clenched hand, which relaxed. Then she jumped up onto the man’s thigh and started kneading his belly. The weeping woman started to brush the cat away and then gasped and bowed her head, hands held out palms upward, in prayer.

The first woman turned to stare up at Gaian. You are one of the Goddess’s own descendants, I see.

Gaian blinked. She couldn’t have seen his aura. Only other descendants of the Goddess could see that. Hmm? He followed her gaze back to the wounded man, and Shadow kneading his belly. Oh. Because each of the Goddess’s descendants was watched over by a grey cat belonging to Her. He nodded, still watching Shadow. Yes.

The wounded man started to sit up and was pushed back down by the woman kneeling beside him. Lay still, Reldan.

Shadow came back to wind around Gaian’s legs, asking to be picked up.

The Idunian captain crawled forward on his knees, hands tied behind his back. My man, Delter has a similar wound. Could your cat save him, too?

Gaian picked Shadow up, stroking her fur. He looked toward the girl with the torn bodice. She looked fragile. Small and pale---though he supposed that might be due to her recent experience. This . . . Delter . . . is he the one who assaulted you?

The girl sniffled. Yes. He would have . . .

Gaian nodded. You don’t have to say it. He turned back to the captain. The Juturnan punishment for rape—or the attempted rape of a priestess—is . . . harsh. It might be kinder to let him die of his wounds. Besides, I’m not even sure Shadow could—or would—heal him. Though I’ll permit the Healers, if there are any among these priestesses, to do whatever . . . they choose to do for him.

But, your cat just—

Shadow was only the conduit. She is a creature of the Goddess and it was the Goddess who healed that man. Mother can be harsh, too, sometimes. To those who commit sacrilege, especially.

What has your mother got to do with it?

Gaian turned his sky blue eyes on the captain. My mother is the Goddess you don’t believe in.

II: Possible Futures

The men laughed and sang as they rode slowly—at the wagons’ pace—back toward their encampment. Celebrating their victory. Gaian smiled. Any skirmish that could be won without losing a single man—not even one of his scouts wounded—was surely worth celebrating. One of the younger men started a cheer for Gaian.

He raised his hand and shook his head. Mother had at least as much to do with that shot as I did.

That was only the truth. His strength was a gift from the Goddess, not any virtue of his. Knowing how to use it properly, that was the trick. And this had felt good. Right. Like the proper use of his gift. Better than being a warrior ever had—though that was what his father currently needed him to be.

Dornan rode up beside him. Come on, Gaian. I know you can sing.

One side of Gaian’s mouth quirked up. He let his voice rise above the soldier’s song the others were singing and led them instead into a hymn to the Goddess. Though he did choose one that was almost like a marching song, not to break the mood too much.

~~~

Halfway back to the encampment, Gaian’s scouts met the much larger force Father had sent to back them up. Gaian gladly left the prisoners to the relief force. He personally escorted the priestesses to a little dell just the other side of a ridge from the command tents—so that they enjoyed both the safety of being close to the army and a measure of privacy from it. He and his men helped them set up their camp.

Only then did he climb the ridge back to the command tents to report to his father. He was very much afraid that this incident had just elevated the ongoing border clash between Juturna and Idun to a full-scale war. Father wouldn’t be pleased by that—not that Gaian had had any other choice.

Gaian rapped twice on the square of wood nailed to the outer post of his father’s tent for that purpose. It’s me Gaian.

Come on in, Father answered.

Gaian stepped inside and came to attention. I’m here to make my report, sir.

Yes, yes. Father waved to a chair. Sit down. No need to be quite so formal when it’s just us. He turned to his servant. Bring two suppers, please, Dern. My son will eat with me tonight. He smiled at Gaian. We have several things to discuss. But first, your report.

Gaian began with hearing the shouts and Shadow’s unusual reaction and went through the entire incident in detail, ending with his own fears about the results.

Father nodded as Gaian finished his account. Good job. Very clever. I’ll want to talk to the senior priestess myself, but I think it would be better to leave that until tomorrow. Give them a chance to get settled and rest. He sighed. Unfortunately, your assessment is correct. This attack against the Goddess’s own servants leaves us very little choice but to escalate from a border dispute to all-out war.

I was afraid of that, Gaian said, stroking Shadow’s head as she purred in his lap, occasionally extending her claws into the thick fabric of his trousers. He offered her a tidbit off his nearly-empty plate.

Father rubbed his chin and stared at Gaian for a moment. I was going to wait until your next birthday to tell you this. But I think now might be the right time.

Gaian’s eyebrows pinched together. What?

Father poured wine into his own goblet, then reached across the small camp table and refilled Gaian’s. You know that three years ago—almost four, now—by the dispensation of the Goddess, the Great Combat was extended from every year to every ten years.

Gaian paused with his goblet halfway to his lips and raised it in a salute. One of Mother’s best decisions. You’re the best king Juturna’s had in generations.

Father smiled back, but shook his head. That’s not why She changed the term of the year king. I asked Her for the extension to give you time to grow. So you could follow me as king.

Gaian set his goblet down so hard that some of the wine sloshed out. From ancient times, the only way a new king was chosen in Juturna was by defeating the reigning king in the Great Combat. The combat wasn’t often fatal, but . . . still . . . . "I won’t fight you, Father."

Father waved his hand in dismissal. That won’t be necessary. I promised the Goddess that I would be a willing sacrifice. I have never feared the sacrifice. The Temple will likely still choose a challenger for you, but I have no doubt you can defeat anyone they can find.

Gaian knew, as his father could not—as Gaian couldn’t tell him—that the sacrifice only meant that Father would go into the Goddess’s Temple—most likely not one in Juturna—to fulfill one of the roles usually reserved for men. Maybe as a guard, like those who had died or nearly died to protect the priestesses today. Which didn’t mean that it wouldn’t be a very real sacrifice of everything to do with Father’s previous life. For Father, that wouldn’t mean only the kingship. Gaian could see Father relinquishing that without a qualm—to the right successor. But also leaving his wives and all his children. Leria, as a priestess, might be able to find out where he was sent and even to see him. Gaian might also. But none of the others—not Benar, or Cordan, or Tomran, or any of them.

That sacrifice would be worse than death for Father. And Father had already accepted that and set it irrevocably in motion when he’d bargained with Mother for ten more years. Gaian couldn’t just dismiss that sacrifice out of hand. But . . . He couldn’t imagine Juturna without his father as its king. He certainly couldn’t imagine himself taking Father’s place. Gaian had never wanted to be king. His goal had always been quite different. I . . . That’s not . . . not what I’d planned—

Father leaned forward, speaking urgently. Listen, Gaian. Carala is right about one thing, at least.

Gaian grimaced at mention of the queen, who’d been the bane of his young life.

Juturna needs more stability than a year king can give it. Father chuckled ruefully. "It took me almost my whole first year as king just to get a handle on the job. And I had the experience of having been a younger son of the Khataran king. And it took nearly the next ten years to repair the mistakes made by my predecessors. That’s another thing. The Great Combat only ensures a great warrior for the next king—not a great, or even a good, administrator. Totally different skills. And we don’t need more war. He waved a hand to the east. We’re on the verge of a full-scale war, here. A war that may well last more than the six years remaining in my term. The border dispute has certainly dragged on longer than that. Men will die and be maimed—on both sides. Imagine a new king—an untried king unfamiliar with the rule of Juturna and its problems—taking over in the middle of that war. Even a capable leader would have difficulty having to cope with all the demands of ruling Juturna on top of an ongoing war. The war could be lost in a single bad decision. All that sacrifice of blood and lives, for nothing. Add to that the permanent disruption of trade and communication with Farea and Khatar. It’s not a risk Juturna can afford."

Then, clearly, you should remain king at least until this war is won, Gaian said, though he was aware that Father had not been training in the warrior’s circle nearly as diligently as he used to. Still, there were six years for him to get back into fighting shape and Father wasn’t that old, yet.

Father shook his head. I am no longer young. Not as strong or as fast as I once was. It’s by no means certain that I could win the next Great Combat. I very nearly didn’t win the last one. And, in fact, I don’t want to try. But you could win against any opponent they could find for you.

Ask Mother to extend the term of the year king again. She did it once.

No. The Great Combat does serve a purpose, or I might have asked for a longer term, more time to train you and prepare you for all the challenges of ruling Juturna. Though I doubt your Mother would have granted it.

Gaian nodded. I know. The Great Combat doesn’t just serve to reinforce the people’s faith. Its greater purpose is to demonstrate that the right to rule comes from Mother. But—

Father smiled agreement. Yes. Rulers of countries, like Khatar, where the Combat has been discarded, have forgotten that. To their cost. But your victory in the Great Combat and the Goddess’s own son on the throne will prove that even more clearly than the Great Combat alone ever could. And provide the stability that Juturna needs.

I . . . I never thought about following you as king . . . . Gaian took a sip of wine to give himself time to collect his thoughts.

But it is a destiny worthy of your strength, Father insisted.

Gaian shut his eyes as he realized that was what Father was really trying to do, here. Divert Gaian from the goal he’d had since he was ten years old and first learned that it was possible for him to Become a god, like his Mother—if only he was willing, and strong enough, to burn for it.

You could win the Great Combat for decades, Father went on. Set Juturna on a course into the future. And then leave it to a son of your own who could carry on. Strength is the gift the Goddess gave to you and your line. Your son would have a strong edge in the Great Combat, too. And, if anything, reinforce even more strongly that the right to rule comes from the Goddess.

Gaian shook his head. That sounded far too much like the kind of dynasty that ruled in Father’s long-ago home country. It didn’t sound like a good idea to Gaian, but his half-brother would jump at a chance like this. And Benar would likely make a better king, anyway. For a job like that, surely wanting to do it should be one of the most important qualifications. Benar—

Father interrupted. "Benar is as capable as you in many ways, but he is not a son of the Goddess. Nor does he