I said in my last post that I was about to write a scene in BECOME: TO CATCH THE LIGHTNING that echoed the Herculean story of the Nemean Lion.
Well, here it is (in first draft, anyway). A little background, first. Gaian is that name of my Hercules-like character. Mariel is his wife of a little over a week at this point. They’re on their way to visit some of his relatives along with four others. And, for reasons you’ll need to read the story (when it’s done) to understand, certain people in this fantasy world have small grey cats that act as their guardians. Gaian and Mariel each have one–named Greykin and Kitty, respectively.
Gaian had just dried off and pulled on his clean trousers when he heard Mariel scream. He dropped his tunic and ran, leaping down the small drop of the waterfall without slowing. He hadn’t stopped to grab his sword, laying on the bank of the pool, so he grabbed a tree branch as big around as his upper arm and wrenched it from the tree as he ran.
As he neared their camp, he took in the scene even as he continued to run. He owed that to battle-trained reflexes, but he didn’t think his heart had ever pounded this hard in any battle he’d ever been in, especially as he realized the danger.
Dornan and the others were still fighting their way through the panicked horses. Their spears leaned against the tent and two of their swords lay nearby. Except for Dornan. Goddess bless the man, he still wore his sword no matter how inconvenient it was when trying to hobble horses. But Dornan was also flat on his back, gasping for breath, felled by a vicious kick from Benar’s Tolaro. Couldn’t blame the horse for going into battle mode under the circumstances. Shouldn’t anyway.
Across the campsite, Mariel had her back to the tent wall, staring death in the face. Death in the form of the most gigantic cat Gaian had ever seen. Brave Kitty stood before her, back arched and every hair on end, growling at the monster. Greykin sped past Gaian to stand beside Kitty and add her yowl to the warning. Neither seemed to worry the big cat in the least.
Mariel grabbed one of the spears and pointed it at the big cat, though it was clear to Gaian that she had no clear idea how to use it. Brave, but he had no room for the flash of pride. Not yet. The spear clearly didn’t impress the beast crouching in front of her any more than the smaller cats did. With a terrific leap, Gaian landed in front of her. With the full force of his momentum as well as his strength, he swung the branch at the head of the big cat. It connected with a satisfying crunch.
As the monster collapsed, Gaian dropped his makeshift club and dove in, grabbing the cat around the throat and squeezing until he was certain there was no life left in the beast. Only then did he stand and gather in a sobbing Mariel. Their cats wove madly about their feet.
This is, actually, very much the way Hercules was supposed to have killed the Nemean lion–but not for the same reason.
Meredith Mansfield, Author 