Page 77 of Rise of a Fallen Man

Heat radiated from his hands, blowing back my hair. Terror shook me from head to toe. I couldn’t let him burn alive, but he wouldn’t let me fight it.

“Stand back,” he ordered, then dropped his sword and thrust his hands forward.

Transparent spirals of reflection ran up his arms. Fire surged through them like blood coursed through vessels or water filled a dry riverbed after a storm.

Flames surged up from his hands in a continuous stream that grew wider, flowing upwards like a powerful fountain of light and heat.

The dragon stumbled in the air, as if hitting a wall. His blast of blue flame hit sideways, scorching the rocks and setting the prop shrubs aflame. His third wing tilted sharply. His tail whipped through the air, hitting a rock. He lurched toward the ground, losing the lift. Salas leaped up and grabbed the beast’s tail, yanking it down. The dragon’s wings faltered, and he hit the ground.

Clouds of sand, fire, and smoke rose in the air as the creature rolled on the arena. Salas jumped on top of him, crumbling his third wing under him.

Lerrel and the gladiators rushed to his aid. Two of the men trapped the remaining two wings. They folded them to the body of the dragon. Then, the games master helped them tie the dragon with a barely visible shimmering cord.

The gladiators tried to catch the dragon’s head next with the games master holding out a muzzle, but Salas ran back to me.

“Ari. Are you all right?”

I hugged him, pressing my cheek to his bare chest. He wrapped his arms around me, and I kissed his bicep. His skin was slick with sweat and smeared with soot.

His muscles tensed, hard like rock. Reflection ran through his body under my touch. Only instead of the usual undulating wave or a ripple, it crackled like lightning in rugged, broken lines.

“Calm, my darling,” I whispered, stroking his back. “Whatever it is you did, however you did it, Salas, you won. It’s over. You saved us.”

A shudder rocked his body. He tightened his arms around me, holding me closer.

“You’re safe,” he echoed.

“I am,” I assured him.

The dragon’s claws left deep scratches around my shoulders, both in the front and on the back. They burned, dripping with blood. But I was alive. I was in his arms, and it felt good.

“I’m fine.”

His shoulders dropped with a breath of relief. I slid my palms up his arm. It was warm, but not hot and not burned.

“How did you do it, Salas? You shot fire from your arms. I saw it with my own eyes.”

He kissed my hair.

“No fire. Just an illusion, Princess. ‘Smoke and mirrors,’ like they say.”

The threat from the sky was gone. The ground, however, was still aflame with fire bursting all around us. The royal guards gathered on the edge of the arena, but they couldn’t get to us.

“Stop the fire!” They yelled to the games master.

“Why are the worms still active?” Salas asked the games master who ran to us.

She looked confused. “I-I don’t know.”

I’d never seen the games master so unsure about anything. Usually, she had an answer for everything. Real or evasive, but she always had a reply.

“I’ll figure it out,” she added, much more confidently.

Noil, her husband, rushed to me. “Let me take you to the guards, Your Highness. I know the safe path.”

“I’ll take her.” Not releasing me from his arms, Salas led me through the fire to the edge of the arena where the guards grabbed me.

“Wait.” I turned to him as they tried to lead me away. “Thank you...”

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