Rise of a Fallen Man (A Look in the Mirror #2)

Chapter 19

Salas

D eep in the bowels of the elaborate web of tunnels under the arena, I sat on the floor of the cage with my back pressed against the bars.

An energetic staccato of heels clicking against the stone floor came from one of the tunnels. Then Lerrel emerged, carrying a metal mug.

“They liked your swordplay.” She grinned, crouching by the cage to hand me the mug through the bars.

“It looks like they did.” I’d finally finished my swords, and they turned out functional and quite musical.

“We’re sold out for the rest of the year. Can you believe it? Every single ticket is gone. I’m trying to figure out how to add a few more rows of seating. Maybe at the top?”

“As long as it’s still safe. Not too high.” I took a sip of water from the mug. All that roaring and growling I did in the arena dried my throat.

“Right. We may have to rethink your dragon act if we put seats that high. But isn’t it exciting?” She jerked her head, tousling her curls. “So many people want to see you! The royal couple is here too today. Two royal couples, actually. The princess and her new husband came along as well.”

Her husband.

The word scraped at my hearing. I struggled to accept the fact that Ari was a married woman now.

The last time I saw her, it felt like no time had passed and nothing between us changed when so many changes had happened lately. Every moment we were together, both in my room and later in the carriage, I had to remind myself she wasn’t mine. I had no right to hold her hand, to wish to kiss her, or to remember how it felt to hold her naked body in my arms. Yet those were the memories I’d cherish to my grave.

“Well...” Lerrel got up to her feet. “Are you sure you want to stay here until it’s your turn?”

“Yes. I may as well.” I took another sip of water.

Metal chains rattled through the tunnels, pulling props up or down for the next act in the arena above.

“Suit yourself. I should go check how it’s going up there. Do you need me to send someone down here to bring you anything?”

“No. Thanks. I’m good.”

My act was the last one in the games, and I liked having this time of peace and quiet to calm my nerves and collect my thoughts before the performance. Because that was what all of it was—a performance. Even when gladiators got injured, even if they died, ultimately, it was all about how it all looked for the audience.

And tonight, Ari was in the audience too.

Lerrel didn’t need to tell me that. I knew the princess was here. Every time the cage rose from the ground, the royal sitting platform was the first thing I looked at. For the past four weeks, it remained empty. But today, she was there, dressed in a shimmering, pale-blue gown, like a fairy princess surrounded by the colorful royal court which now also included her husband.

When I saw them together the last time, the day we brought Rotcod to the palace, the prince came out, but Ari didn’t kiss him in greeting. She didn’t take his hand. She didn’t look at him the way she looked at me, like I was the only person in the world and no one else mattered.

It was no wonder that when she felt scared and vulnerable, she didn’t come to him to cry on his chest. She came to me.

“I don’t deserve you,” the princess had said to a fallen man.

My sense of self-worth had changed over the years. One couldn’t live in a society and be completely unaffected by its judgment. When I was younger, the slurs and curses people tossed my way hurt more. As I grew older, my skin grew thicker, better protecting me from the darts of scorn and hate.

However, I never thought of myself as worthless, not even when I was told I didn’t deserve to be alive. Even in my darkest days, I always believed that everyone’s life was worth living, even the life like mine.

Until that day, however, no woman had ever told me she didn’t deserve me. Ari’s words kept echoing in my head, resonating through my chest with feelings I knew I shouldn’t allow myself to have.

In the orchestrated rumbling and clanking of metal that filled the tunnels, I recognized the hissing of receding lava that came at the end of Falo’s act.

Mine was next.

Doing a new act was always nerve-racking. But we’d practiced it enough times for it to go well. I just needed to focus and stick with the script.

I set the mug on the floor outside of the cage. Fixed the helmet on my head and got up.

The floor of my cage shook. The trap door above my head opened, momentarily blinding me with sunlight. The noise of the crowd embraced me as the cage rose to the surface.

I played my part, growling and lunging at the bars until they were lowered, setting me free.

Lerrel took the idea for my newest act from the extensive lore about the Great Goddess’s children who defeated the legions of monstrous demons that plagued our world at the beginning of times.

According to the legend, the demons captured Nus’s daughter, the Goddess of Governance, and chained her to the top of a mountain for dragons to tear her apart. However, her sisters killed the dragons and rescued her.

Lerrel decided to give the story an unexpected twist by having a wild mountain man rescue the goddess. The games master hoped that the audience would find the unique premise of a man rescuing a woman fresh, entertaining, and fun.

My cage delivered me to the north end of the oval arena. In the south end, the mob of the terrifying monster-demons were already dragging Nave, the actress hired to portray the Goddess of Governance, up a prop mountain.

Nave was wearing a costume designed as ancient armor and looked like she was fresh out of a battle. Her breast plate was dented and scratched, her arm splattered with blood-red paint, and her helmet and sword were missing.

I was supposed to ignore her struggle for now. The savage man I played had to hunt for his dinner first.

Paying no attention to the demon-monsters and the goddess, I went about the prop forest, looking for Daisy, the unicorn goat, that I had to catch for the amusement of the crowd.

Like she was trained to do, Daisy peacefully grazed on a patch of grass behind a brook with a waterfall. I approached her in a crouch from behind and launched for her, but tripped on my bear cape and fell.

Instead of jumping up right away, I stretched on my belly and grabbed her by her hind legs.

The goat bleated, jerking her legs. She turned her head, trying to reach me with the long horn that grew in the middle of her forehead.

I kicked my feet, pretending the struggle was harder than it actually was.

The crowd laughed and cheered. People shouted advice about how best to tackle the goat.

My fall had been accidental, but the rest of it was not. The sound of laughter felt just as rewarding to me as the screams of adoration. It meant people had fun.

The gladiators often took what we did too seriously. They aimed for the image of a perfect, infallible hero without a single fault, which was hard to attain and even more difficult to maintain.

Lerrel often said that there was nothing more lethal for entertainment than boredom, and I discovered that the crowd responded well to an occasional mistake, as long as the mistake was entertaining.

I made it look like Daisy was winning by letting her go, then recapturing her to the utter delight of the crowd. Finally, I hauled her on my shoulders and stomped into the nearest cave.

Inside the cave, a pile of goat bones waited for me with a collar and a leash attached to a ring in the floor, and a carrot.

I put the collar on Daisy. She bleated one more time before I gave her the carrot and knocked on the floor. A trapdoor opened to below, and the goat safely descended to her handlers under the arena floor. I tossed the goat bones out of the cage, as the proof to the crowd that Daisy had met her untimely end as my dinner.

Some in the audience gasped. Others shouted and cheered. But overall, everyone seemed to have a good time, which was all that mattered.

Now came the hard part.

A vibration through the ground signaled the gears were turning, opening the tunnels for the giant fire-breathing worms.

Each worm was about as thick as me and about twice as long. Their proportions made them look more like huge maggots than worms. Pale and blind, they spent most of their long lives underground in the marsh along the shore of the Western Islands, causing no harm unless forced out into the open. If disturbed, however, they spewed fire.

Lerrel had mechanisms to pull the chains through the tunnels below to irritate the worms by bringing them to the surface at certain intervals. She had also marked the openings to the tunnels for me and the others to see where the danger might come from.

The first opening was right in front of the cave. I had to get out or I’d get fried.

I rushed out, and the fire blasted behind me, spurring me forward. Another burst of hot air and flames exploded to my right.

Short blue posts marked the openings in the sand. They weren’t easy to spot unless one was looking for them, but the sand over the opening formed a shallow funnel. I noted both the posts and the funnels, then headed toward the mountain with Nave chained at the top.

For the audience, it looked like the wild man was escaping the fire explosions bursting from the sand and came to the mountain for a refuge, then spotted the goddess.

Most of the monster-demons had left already. The few that remained tried to fight me, but I threw them off the mountain quickly enough, unstoppable on my way to the goddess.

Of course, the goddess was supposed to be appalled by my unkempt appearance, and Nave acted that part perfectly.

At the opposite end of the arena, gates opened, releasing the three-winged dragon.

He was a magnificent creature with shimmering royal-blue scales that shone with silver in the sunlight. Massive, the size of about six horses, he soared over the arena, his powerful wings whipping the fire of the worms into an inferno.

“Holy mother of gods.” Nave paled.

“It’s fine. Lerrel is in control,” I assured her quietly, climbing up to her.

The games master stood at the foot of the mountain, hidden from the audience by a prop boulder. She held onto a transparent cord. It was thin but strong, infused by magic, unseen to anyone who didn’t know about its existence. One end of the cord was tied to a massive ring in the arena’s floor. The other end was secured to the dragon’s foot. He lurched higher, but Lerrel jerked on the cord, stopping him from getting away.

Staying in character, I growled and bit with my teeth at the knot of the rope that tied Nave’s hands to the mountain. I had two swords on my back, but Lerrel thought untying the rope with my teeth would be more entertaining. She was right, as the noise of the crowd surged when Mountain Bear snarled, bit, and gnawed on the rope—wild and unhinged.

The dragon roared and spewed a burst of fire up into the sky, to the screams of awe from the crowd.

Unlike the orange-red flames of the fire worms, the dragon’s fire was bluish white, casting a moon-like glow down onto the arena.

“Open the mirror,” I urged Nave, who seemed to freeze in shock, her eyes fixed on the magnificent creature soaring above.

The small mirror on her shoulder was obscured by the remnants of her cape on purpose. She was supposed to reveal it after the dragon’s dramatic entrance to make him fly to us. The reflection of sunlight in Nave’s mirror would attract the dragon, mimicking the glistening of the mirror trout in the streams of the dragon’s native Ekans Isles. The trout was the preferred food of the three-winged dragons, and they hunted it from the air by spotting the sun reflecting on the fish scales in the water.

Once the dragon would come closer, I was supposed to catch its tail. Lerrel then would tug onto the cord again, sending the dragon into a tailspin. He’d roll in the arena, and I’d tackle its third wing, preventing him from rising back into the air. That was the plan.

The dragon beat its wings over the arena, fanning the fire of the worms and raising clouds of sand. His third wing bellowed like an iridescent sail above his back. It helped the creature navigate in the air, allowing the massive animal to make sharp, tight turns during the flight.

Lerrel pulled on the cord. The dragon lurched to the side. He roared, blowing fire and frantically beating his wings.

The games master suddenly dropped her arms. Alarm replaced the calm concentration on her face. She tugged at the barely visible cord, gathering it into a coil with no resistance.

Unrestrained, the dragon soared higher.

“It got loose,” Nave gasped. The rope had long slipped from her wrists, only her legs remained tied to the mountain.

“Open the mirror, Nave!” I growled through my teeth, tugging at the knot next to her ankles.

She reached for the shredded remnants of the cape over the mirror on her shoulder.

“Why?” She hesitated, a wave of reflection running through her skin and clothes. “I don’t want him here now. He’ll kill us.”

I couldn’t blame her for refusing to be the bait for the unchained beast. The dragon flew in jerky uncoordinated loops over the arena before spiraling downward.

The audience screamed. Those who still believed this was all a part of the show shouted in excitement. The few who’d realized that something was wrong screamed in horror, ducking in the wind raised by the dragon’s massive wings.

A blast of white-blue fire set aflame the queen’s banners over the top row of seating. Horror spread through the crowd.

Nave grabbed one of my swords from my back.

“Mirror, Nave!” I yelled as the dragon dipped lower over the seats. “Just bring him over here. I’ll deal with him.”

With trembling fingers, she fumbled with the rags over her shoulder as people screamed for help. The dragon zoomed over the rows of seating.

Then, I saw what the dragon must’ve spotted too—the royal platform glistened with the sea of gems, diamonds, and shiny fabrics with golden embroidery. The long train of Ari’s gown draped down the stairs like a waterfall of precious stones. As she turned, the sun reflected in the lenses of her eyeglasses, just as it would’ve in Nave’s mirror.

“Ari! Run!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

Over the hissing fire of the worms, the screams of the crowd, and the dragon’s roar, she didn’t hear me.

Frantically tearing the rags away, Nave finally exposed the mirror to the sunlight.

“He isn’t looking here!” she shouted in panic.

The dragon had already turned his back to us, taking the course to the royal platform.

I drew my remaining sword out and slashed through the ropes around Nave’s legs.

“Come. Now.”

I scrambled down the mountain as Nave followed. Normally, she wouldn’t have come down until the very end of the show. There hadn’t been the need for her to learn how to move safely across the arena with the worm fires bursting out.

“Fuck!” she squeaked, shrinking from a blast to our left.

“Stay close.” I maneuvered between the shallow craters in the sand, running but wishing I could fly faster than a dragon.

The three-winged beast headed for the royal platform. The guards rushed to help the queen and the king, who remained in his chair. They lifted him with the chair and carried him down the stairs. The prince ran after them. Ari followed, but her focus was on the arena.

Through the patches of smoke and fire, our eyes met.

“Run!” I begged. “Run, Ari!”

Even if she could hear me, she had nowhere to run. People rushed to the exit ahead of her. The guards carrying the king were in the way, blocking the stairs.

Several gladiators, led by Noil, headed to us from the fringes of the arena.

“That way.” I gave Nave a little shove toward the path between the two short blue posts in the ground that would lead her to Noil. “Stay between the posts.”

“But where are you going?” she shrieked.

I had no time to answer.

The princess was trapped.

And the dragon was already there.

Ari ducked, shielding her face with her arm. He sank his claws into her shoulders, plucking her off the stairs.

“Ari!” I sprinted toward the stairs as if my life depended on it, because it did. I could no longer imagine life in the world without Ari.

Leaping over the barrier, I jumped up the rows of seats already vacated by the panicked public.

Wind churned under the mighty wings of the dragon. He flew over me, rising higher and higher, with my princess in his claws.

“Ari! No!”

“Salas!” she cried out in terror.

The long trail of her dress swept above me, like a shimmering sail billowing in the wind. I jumped and grabbed onto it.

The dragon roared, lurching to the side. A mirror trout was a big fish, but not nearly as big as a person. The three-winged dragons were known to carry away a sheep or even a small child occasionally. But the combined weight of the princess and me was likely close to that of a real mountain bear.

It proved too much for the dragon. With a roar, it tried to adjust its grip on Ari but ended up letting her go.

I hit the ground and rolled all the way to the waterfall. As I scrambled to my feet to catch her, she fell into the pond with a splash.

“Ari?” I dragged her out of the water and leaned over her. “Are you hurt?”

It was a stupid question. Her gown was ripped on her shoulders. The dragon’s claws left deep gauges in her flesh. Water sluiced down her skin, mixing with blood and soaking the shredded fabric.

“Salas...” Her eyes opened wide behind her glasses. “What happened? What did you do?”

I held her face in my hands. “I made you fall.”

Terror melted away from her expression as she ran her gaze over my face.

“That you did,” she breathed out. “I have fallen. Hopelessly.”

I didn’t dare to believe the true meaning of her words.

The sand shifted around her head, and I realized with horror that we lay right in the middle of the opening to the worm tunnels.

“Move!” I rolled to my side, taking Ari with me and shielding her from the worm’s round toothless mouth poking from the sand.

Fire blasted from the worm’s mouth, scorching the bear hide on my back. Pungent smoke enveloped us.

The dragon had made a tight loop in the air and was now coming back for us.

“Come.” I sat up, helping Ari up as well. “We need to get out of here.”

“Your cape is burning.” She tore at the bear hide frantically. “Take it off.”

I opened the buckle on my left shoulder. Coughing from the stench of the burning fur, Ari opened the right buckle for me. We tossed the hide into the pond, where it spattered and hissed in the water on its way down.

The dragon lowered his head on the approach. A worm spewed a spray of flames in his path, and the dragon lurched away. As a fire breathing creature himself, he clearly disliked the flames of others.

I grabbed Ari’s arm.

“Come.”

She pulled the train of her dress out of the pond, and I helped her gather it all. We only made a couple of steps before the dragon straightened his course, aimed his head at us, and closed his eyes.

“He’s going to—” I tried to warn Ari. But there was no escaping the bright blue flame that rushed out of the dragon’s mouth toward us.

“Down!” Ari shoved an elbow into my side. I dropped to my knees, and she tossed the water-soaked train of her dress over us both.

The fabric steamed in the fire. Hot air scorched my lungs. Ari coughed, tossing the train back. The dragon had passed, and we were still alive.

“Smart.” I tipped my chin at the scorched fabric of her train that had saved us.

“Thanks.” She beamed, climbing to her feet.

The dragon appeared to be momentarily distracted by the screaming crowd rushing to the exits. He blew fire, setting aflame the empty top seats. But he might turn back any minute. I had to get Ari to safety.

I’d lost the advantage of the high ground of the mountain where I was supposed to catch the dragon’s tail. Even when the dragon had attacked us, he remained too high for me to reach.

“We have to go,” I said.

Ari made a move toward the exit from the arena, but I stopped her.

“The worms.” Fire blasted from the ground where she was about to step. “Watch for the blue markers.” I tapped a post with my boot.

She nodded, following me between the markers along the safe path. “I was wondering how you do it.”

“You watched me?” Thousands of spectators who came to the show watched me every week. But the fact that Ari was one of them was the most important.

“When you’re in the arena, I don’t watch anyone else,” she confessed, running a hand over the scars on my arm. “Though it costs me years of my life when I see you get hurt.”

“This time, it was you who got hurt.”

The deep scratches bled on her shoulders. It was my fault. I failed to keep her safe. Guilt and worry burned through my chest and tied my stomach into knots. No one had assigned to me the task of protecting the princess, but her safety and her happiness had become my mission. And I failed.

“Careful.” I hugged her to me, yanking her away from the path of yet another fire blast.

Led by Lerrel, the gladiators were running toward us from the opposite end of the arena. The royal guards tried to make their way to us from the left. They were closer to us than the gladiators, but the fire breathing worms kept them at bay.

Why were the worms still here? Why didn’t Lerrel order to close the tunnels? I feared something must’ve gone terribly wrong, not only allowing the dragon to get loose but also blocking the mechanisms inside the arena.

Cutting off the gladiators on their way to our rescue, the dragon soared toward us again. The guards raised their crossbows, but their arrows bounced off the dragon’s scales, leaving the creature unharmed.

Nothing could stop him.

Ari gathered her train again, but scorched and tattered, it was no longer wet enough to hold back the dragon’s fire.

I stepped in front of her, shielding her with my body.

“Salas. No.” She gripped my arm, but I didn’t know how else to protect her.

We were trapped on a small patch of sand, surrounded by the gazers of fire shooting from the ground, with the dragon heading straight at us.

I lifted my sword, but the weapon was too short to reach the dragon before his fire would annihilate us. I knew it. I knew we stood no chance. The only choice we had was either to die from the fire of the worms or from the flames of the dragon.

“I’m with you.” Ari stepped forward, taking a place at my side.

She gazed at me, and I realized she knew it too. She knew this might be our last moment.

“We’ll stay together,” she said.

Together.

She and I. As it should be. As it always should’ve been.

Regret, anger, and fear raged inside me. I couldn’t let her die. I had more to lose than ever. She gave me everything in my life that was worth fighting for.

My hands flexed on the sword’s handle. My fingers suddenly turned transparent, mirroring the arena. I stared at the reflection in disbelief. It hadn’t happened to me in so long, I’d almost forgotten why it existed.

Unconquerable fear filled me. But it didn’t make me want to hide. It urged me to protect. My fear was not for myself, but for Ari, and it burned through me stronger than fire.

The flame of the worms reflected in my hands. Ari leaned into my side. And instead of trying to contain my fear, for the first time ever, I let it take over me completely.

I let the terror rage through me, filling me with rage too. Inferno stormed all around me, and I blended with it.

I became the storm.

I ruled the flames, sending them toward the dragon.