Page 70 of Rise of a Fallen Man

“I want to be just like Bear when I grow up.” A boy hopped on one foot around the pole.

His father took his hand, stirring him to follow the rest of their family. “You’d better eat all your dinner every day then, to grow as big as he is. Did you see how big Bear is?”

“And strong,” another boy said from a group of people walking along. “He fought against a hundred men last week and won!”

“He’s stronger than any man,” a girl chimed in from the road up ahead. “He fights bears and tigers. He wrestled a sword-toothed alligator last week, and I heard he’s going to fight a dragon today.”

A dragon?

The games master claimed to have the three-winged dragons in her possession, but I haven’t heard of her using them in any of the shows yet.

Also, gladiators usually performed the same act for a few weeks, slowly rotating a few over a year to keep things entertaining. The games master clearly used a differentapproach with Salas, throwing everything from men to beasts into his acts.

It had only been about a month since I’d last been to the games, but Salas’s fame had soared.

The pictures of him were everywhere around the arena too, as well as inside it. Many in the crowd wore animal furs and replicas of his helmet, chanting his name so loud, the music drowned in the noise.

As Father’s chair was placed on the royal platform and Mother took her seat next to him, Leafar and I sat to the right side of the royal couple.

“Now I wish we came here last week too,” Leafar said, leaning to me. “If this gladiator really is so good, we’ve been missing out.”

I came here for my father and to spend some quality time with my husband. However, apprehension pulsed through me. The last time I’d come here, I watched Salas getting hurt. I didn’t want to see that again.

From the rows behind us, a court lady all but moaned. “Goddess, I’ve been trying to see him in private for weeks now. The games master said he hardly makes himself available to anyone and is already fully booked for months to come. Is there any way to get into the master’s good graces and speed things up? I’ve already made a generous donation for the upkeep of the boys, but she wouldn’t budge.”

“Do you really want to be alone with that beast?” another woman gasped. “Have you seen him crushing rocks with his bare hands last week? He’d tear you to pieces before you even make it to his bed.”

“Does he even have a bed?” someone wondered out loud. “Or does the games master keep him in a cage day and night?”

“Actually, I’ve heard he’s fairly tame outside of the arena,” another woman said. “Countess Ciryl claims she’s been domesticating him through music.”

“Oh, no, I don’t want him domesticated,” the first lady protested. “I want him to ravage me in all his wild, untamed glory. I’d take him covered in blood and rolled in the arena sand.” She sighed wistfully. “If only the games master let me have him for a night or two.”

I was glad when the music surged higher and the chatting behind us finally stopped.

Acrobats bounced into the arena. Jumping and flipping in the air while holding long strips of sheer, colorful material, they created a weave of movement and color in ever-changing fantastic patterns.

The crowd’s enthusiasm swelled as the gladiators entered the arena. They marched around it, and I counted forty-eight muscular bodies. Salas was not among them.

The weave of multi-colored scarves parted in the middle, and his cage rose from the sand. The man-beast character that Salas portrayed so well raged behind the thick bars. His growls overpowered both the music and the noise of the crowd.

As warmly as the crowd had welcomed their queen and king earlier, they seemed to have lost all restraint when greeting their favorite.

People screamed, clapped, and cheered. They stomped their feet and tossed their helmets into the air. Bouquets of flowers flew to the arena, with precious gems attached to them glistening in the sun. All of it happened before Salas had even left his cage.

For a moment, he stilled completely, staring in my direction, and my heart stilled too. I lifted a hand from the armrest of my chair in a small wave. He lowered his head with a deep rumble through his chest, playing the part of the beast.

A pair of swords criss-crossed his back, and I wondered if those were the ones he’d created himself. Drawing them out, he lifted them above his head, and the crowd quieted in anticipation.

Salas dragged his swords across the bars of his cage, eliciting a powerful melody that mimicked the music played by the horns and drums of the orchestra. I smiled. Countess Ciryl had finally taught him to play an instrument, only the instrument was the cage.

The crowd’s enthusiasm exploded with excitement. The chants of Salas’s arena name rose high into the sky.

Leafar covered his ears with his hands.

“They’re exceptionally loud today,” he complained.

They were. And I reveled in their adoration of the man who deserved every drop of it. He played the crowd well, conducting their delight as if it were a powerful orchestra of clapping and cheers instead of instruments.

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