Mikros Leonidas's Arc

Chapter 7 of 11

Mikros walked into the coliseum with his chin up. The crowd packed the stone seats above him. Laughter rolled down when they saw his glowing nose. Someone threw a crust of bread that bounced off his bronze shoulder. He did not look up. He fixed his eyes on the line of contestants near the arena wall and kept walking. An armored official waved him into place. "The jester fills the last spot," the man said. "Stand there and wait for the emperors." Mikros took the end of the line. The other fighters towered over him. Each one carried a weapon taller than Mikros himself. They did not look at him. He was too small to matter. Then the ground shook. A gate at the far end ground open. The crowd went quiet. Something stepped through smoke, and the laughter died in every throat. It was a living skull crowned with great curling horns. Blue lightning crawled across its bone face. Seven eyes burned orange in their sockets. Fire dripped from its open jaws and hissed on the sand. The beast swung its head toward the line of contestants and breathed. A rope of flame shot across the arena. The tall fighters broke. They ran for the walls, dropping shields and spears in the sand. The crowd screamed. The emperors had not yet entered. No one stood between the creature and the open stands. Mikros did not run. He saw the dropped spears gleaming in the dirt. He saw the beast turn its burning eyes toward the lowest row of seats, where children clung to the rail. He grabbed the nearest spear and sprinted straight at the horned skull. The beast breathed fire where the big men had stood. Mikros dove under the flame. The heat washed over his bronze plating. The blue veins in his armor flared bright and drank the fire like water. He rolled up beneath the creature's jaw, planted his feet, and drove the spear up into the soft spot beneath its burning eye. The skull shrieked. Lightning burst from the wound. Mikros clung to the spear as the beast thrashed. He leaned his whole small weight into the shaft and shoved deeper. The orange eyes dimmed one by one. The great horned head crashed into the sand and went still. Silence held the coliseum. Then a single voice shouted. Another joined it. Soon the whole crowd roared, but not with laughter now. They chanted for the little warrior in bronze. The official who had called him a jester stood frozen, staring. Mikros pulled his spear free and raised it. His nose still glowed red above his grin. But today the crowd cheered the nose instead of mocking it. Then a line of grand figures appeared at the high gate. The emperors had arrived. Every one of them looked down at the small fighter standing over the dead beast. Mikros met their eyes. The games had not even begun, and already the whole world watched him.