Page 25 of Rise of a Fallen Man

Gripping the bars of his cage, Salas tossed his head back and roared. His deep voice needed no amplifier. It rolled out into the audience, met with their delighted shouts and applause.

Worry pulsed inside me. Was it all an act? Or did the games master do something to Salas? How did she turn the gentle,caring man I’d gotten to know into the wild beast I could hardly recognize now? Or was that wild, unhinged part in him all along? Had he just never let me see it before?

The bars of his roofless cage slid down into the floor, leaving him exposed to the predators prowling in the arena. Men, dressed like hunters, appeared from the fringes of the arena. They held weapons and carried nets and metal traps, closing in on the area where the cage used to stand.

Salas dropped into a crouch, carefully scanning his surroundings.

I gripped my armrests so tightly, my fingers cramped.

“He looks old for a new gladiator,” Prince Leafar suddenly remarked.

“It may be the beard and all that rugged look they’re going for that ages him,” Mother replied casually. “The games master loves the details. Look at that gnarly scar they painted on him. Though you’re right, he must be well past his teens to amass all that bulk.”

I forced the air in and out of my lungs in even, measured breaths. Yes, Salas was well past his teens. His age was not a disguise or a part of his costume. His scar was also real.

How did he feel about being dressed like that and put on display? A man who’d been hiding from attention for years was suddenly thrust into the spotlight in front of thousands. And he had no one to blame for that change in his life but me.

Salas snarled and ran in a crouch toward the closest pile of rocks.

Two hunters leaped at him from behind the cliff. Spreading the net between them, they tossed it over Salas and trapped him.

He roared and clawed at the net, but its ropes held, digging into the bearskin on his shoulders. The hunters pulled on the ends, wrapping him tighter into the trap.

The crowd booed and cheered at once, either delighted for the hunters or disappointed by how easily they had trapped “the beast.”

With a gargantuan effort, Salas rose to his feet. The muscles in his neck and arms bulged. Gripping the net, he spun around. The net twirled, knocking the hunters off their feet. They wouldn’t let go of the net, however. As Salas turned faster and faster, the hunters spun around, holding on to the net and screaming for their lives.

The audience burst with laughter, thrilled by the spectacle. The hunters finally let go of the net. Blown away by the force of Salas’s spinning, they rolled along the ground, stopping only by the rocks and the shrubs.

Salas tossed the net aside, then grabbed a giant boulder. He raised it over his head, stomping toward the closest hunter.

I held my breath. Would he attack the man? Would he kill him? The boulder was big enough to crush a skull.

As he passed a rocky cliff, a snow-white lion leaped onto his shoulders from above. Salas dropped to the ground under the weight of the beast, the boulder rolling away from him.

Judging by the shock on the hunters’ faces, I feared that the animal attack was unscripted. Worry speared through me. I glanced around the arena, searching for someone to help. But no help was coming to Salas from anywhere. The hunters climbed to their feet, but they wouldn’t come any closer.

The lion tore at the bearskin cape, lumps of fur flying in every direction. Its massive paws dug for the flesh beneath.

“Where is the games master? Can anyone help?” I whispered, afraid to breathe and unable to tear my gaze away from the man and the lion.

Salas struggled to get up with the beast on his shoulders. He swung the bearskin cape off, tossing it aside. The lion rolled inthe sand, trapping itself in the hide. Salas staggered behind the rocks where another predator lurked.

A giant mountain bear rose on its hind legs, sniffing the air. At the sight of Salas, it roared and lurched forward.

Salas sprang backwards to where the lion had freed itself from the hide. The bear dropped to all four and charged the man. In two long leaps, it caught up with Salas and landed on his chest, crushing the man under its massive bulk.

My heart leaped to my throat.

This was no longer a game.

“Stop this!” I yelled.

But my voice was lost as the crowd screamed and roared, going wild like beasts themselves.

The bear and the man rolled on the ground in a giant ball of fur and limbs. The hunters finally ran closer but could do nothing but watch. The bodies of the beast and the man had intertwined so tightly, it was hard to tell them apart.

A bright streak of blood painted the white sand of the arena, and my insides froze. All sounds suddenly seemed suspended in the air as my heart leaped high with terror.

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