Page 23 of Rise of a Fallen Man

“I started with a pony, of course. It’s a mount of an appropriate size for that age.”

“Still, it’s impressive.”

Prince Leafar was undoubtedly lovable. It should be entirely possible to fall in love with him. Maybe I just hadn’t tried hard enough?

I smiled at him again, making an effort for the smile to look warm and gentle.

The crowd exploded with a sudden burst of excitement, bringing my attention back to the arena. It had been cleared from the hurdles. And now, a procession of gladiators entered it.

All my best intentions in regard to Prince Leafar momentarily evaporated. Instead, I found myself searching the arena for the man I’d promised to stay away from.

Among the guards carrying the queen’s standard, the marching band of musicians, and even among the colorful group of the tall and well-muscled gladiators, Salas would be easy to spot. He usually towered over both men and beasts.

During the past two games, I’d caught glimpses of him here and there. He’d been a part of several group battles. Though, he’d seemed to hold back and stay out of the spotlight to keep the crowd’s attention on the well-known stars of the games.

Today, he was nowhere to be seen at all, not even in the opening parade that all gladiators usually took part in.

A tendril of worry slipped into my chest. Why was he left out of the games this week? Had he been hurt? Or did he displease the games master in some way? As the conductor of the queendom’s most popular and beloved games, the games master held a power that rivaled that of an army general. If crossed, she could make a formidable enemy with plenty of means at her disposal to ruin a man’s life.

I racked my brain about how to find out what happened to Salas. I had no direct contact with the gladiators’ quarters. Gem had not been forthcoming with any information about him. Understandably so, she was still upset with me about the way I’d forced her to become his official benefactor.

I watched the first battle restlessly, as if sitting on pins and needles. Falo, one of the newer gladiators, took the spotlight on the arena. From the day he joined the games a couple of months ago, he’d quickly become the crowd’s favorite.

Dressed in a spectacular outfit of golden armor and white feathers, he channeled the God Yarnus, the only son of the Great Goddess Nus. His performance was based on one of the legends about the goddess’s children freeing our land from bloodthirstybeasts and monsters for the people of Rorrim to live in peace and prosperity ever since.

The music intensified as Falo reached the center of the arena. The drum beat grew faster. The crowd stilled in anticipation.

Wide golden pillars rose from the ground. Falo jumped onto one of them just in time as scorching hot lava spread through the arena. It melted the sand. White smoke rose into the air with a sinister hiss.

I gripped the armrests of my chair, my attention now fully focused on what was happening in the arena. Rumor had it that the games master employed dark warlocks to create the magical effects for the games. She had never denied or confirmed that, vigorously guarding all her secrets.

The skill and magic of healing witches was honored and celebrated. The wizardry of warlocks, however, was feared and forbidden, forcing them to practice their dark craft in secret. Collaborating with warlocks had consequences. Only someone as powerful as the games master could get away with it. All for the entertainment of the masses.

The golden pillars kept moving, sliding in and out from the floor of the arena and constantly changing their height. The one that Falo stood on slid down. The glowing red lava licked over its top, nearly scorching the gladiator’s boots. He leaped up into the air, then landed on another pillar. The moment his feet connected with it, however, this one started moving down too.

Taking the coil of golden rope from his belt, Falo tossed it toward the next pillar. The rope uncoiled in the air. Its end caught the top of the pillar in a noose. Falo jumped, nearly losing his footing as the pillar he’d stood on completely submerged into the liquid fire. Swinging on his golden rope, he reached the next pillar, then climbed on its top.

I released a breath, allowing myself to be deceived into believing he was safe now when I should’ve known better.

Battle cries ripped through the air, coming from all around the arena. Dressed as savage cannibals, men rushed to Falo from all sides. They jumped from pillar to pillar, closing in.

He evaded the first attacker by leaping away. The second man rushed Falo. The gladiator punched him in the chest, almost losing his balance, before jumping to the next pillar.

Hopping from pillar to pillar, Falo tried to escape. But there were just too many of his attackers closing in on him from all sides.

I watched with bated breath, fearful of what might happen next. I’d never spoken to Falo, never even came close enough to shake his hand, but I rooted for him fiercely at that moment.

He drew his sword and stabbed through the chest of the man who’d blocked his escape. The man howled in pain, losing his footing as Falo shoved him off the pillar and into the fiery hell below.

He killed three more of his attackers before the cannibals finally retreated. Flames flared in long, sparking licks as the river of lava swallowed the fallen men. The crowd gasped. Smoke rose from the lava like a thick black cloud, shrouding the arena.

The music blasted anew. As the smoke slowly settled down, Falo emerged. Standing on the tallest pillar in the center of the arena, he raised his sword high and released a triumphant cry of victory.

The lava receded with a defeated hiss, leaving the scorched black ground in its wake. The golden pillars slipped back into the floor and out of sight, save for the one that our hero stood on. Chains rattled, pulling long wagons filled with sand across the entire arena. The back walls of the wagons opened, spreading fresh white sand to cover the devastation caused by the lava.

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers so loud, it sounded like a wave of explosion rolling through the arena. Women tossed bouquets of flowers with jewels and other giftstied to their stems. They landed on the freshly spread sand to be picked up by the arena helpers and laid at Falo’s feet.

I unclenched my fingers from around the armrests and leaned back in my chair.

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