Meredith Mansfield, Author

I’ve made good progress on the very rough draft of BECOME, the first book of my next epic fantasy series. But I’m starting to get the itch to go back to WAR OF MAGIC, the final book of the DUAL MAGICS series.

This is exactly what I was hoping for when I took a short break to work on something else. Getting my enthusiasm for a project I’ve been working on for so long back up to the level I need to make the climax work.

I may work on the two in tandem for a while. I’ve done that before and the protagonists and stories are enough different that I think the risk of calling Vatar by Gaian’s name, or vice versa, is probably small. But I expect the momentum to carry me forward on WAR OF MAGIC before long.

Here’s a very early look at the first page of Become. This is part of the prologue. Gaian’s very first appearance shown from the point of view of one of his antagonists:

Queen Carala hung on tight to the railing at the top of the staircase for balance and scowled at the spectacle below her, clearly visible through the great doors, which had been flung wide for the occasion. A procession of priestesses, led by the High Priestess herself, climbed sedately up the broad steps of the Palace and were met by Carala’s husband of less than a year, Leradan, the Year King.

If she weren’t so heavily pregnant, she’d be down there herself. Not to welcome the priestesses, but to monitor whatever foolish promises Leradan made to them. Not that she’d have been able to sway him. Goddess knew she’d talked herself hoarse last night trying. But no one could change that man’s mind once he’d made it up. And he’d decided to let himself be thoroughly gulled about this.

Carala sighed. Much as she wanted to be there, it took two of her husband’s strongest guardsmen to see her safely down the steep staircase at this point. She’d just have to rely on her half-sister, Lady Damina, to let her know what ridiculous oaths the High Priestess extracted from Leradan.

Below, the High Priestess accepted a small, blanket-wrapped bundle from one of the other priestesses and passed it to Leradan. The infant squalled at the transfer and Leradan, blast the man, put the baby on his shoulder and rocked, completely oblivious to the effect on his dignity. Not that the demonstration that he would be a good father wasn’t reassuring. Carala placed a hand on her own swollen belly. But there was a time and place for everything. And the great hall, with the doors wide open to the whole kingdom, was not the place.