Drawn into a battle he had not sought, Fendreg, the Warrior of Senagra, lends his fighting skills to aid the plight of nomadic Kelvana against the deadly encroachments of the Shaldar. Bringing his knowledge to bear, the pilgrim warrior leads scores of the Kelvana against their enemies. Will they triumph?
“The Shaldar’s Pride,” by Shaun Kilgore, is free on this website for one week only. The story is also available as an ebook here.
If you you like this story you can leave me a tip by visiting https://www.buymeacoffee.com/shaunkilgore
The Shaldar’s
PrideShaun Kilgore
Once the old man, Junar, had been
reunited with the rest of the tribe, Rulrick declared before all that the
Kelvana people were in his debt. Fendreg chose to stay and help them drive the
Shaldar and his thousands from the plains.
“What did you see?” asked Corba.
“The Shaldar has many warriors,
many horses, and more than enough steel. We must speak with Rulrick.”
“But how many, Lord Fendreg?” asked
Zene. His voice still had a boy’s squeak. He was barely seventeen years old.
Fendreg’s expression was grim;
neither could see him in the darkness. “At least twenty thousand.”
Fendreg moved to take the reins of
his own brown stallion, Artress. The warhorse snorted and tried to nick his
gauntlet. Once astride the beast, he spurred into motion. The Kelvana followed
close behind trusting Fendreg to lead them down the right path. All of the
Kelvana horsemen knew something of the powers granted by the gaden-armor—that
with it he could see in the dark as well as a mountain cat.
The path was little more than a
narrow trail that left the top of the ridge and angled downhill until it met
the thin ribbon of water known as the Cormand. The terrain was rugged and dry
with the summer heat. The rocks of the high country quickly gave way to the
brittle grass of the plains. Down along the banks of the Cormand, Fendreg heeled
Artress long enough for the animal to drink. Corba and Zene were there too,
watering their horses. Both refreshed their water horns. Fendreg had barely touched
his since they left the previous day.
Once they were ready, he led them
parallel to the Cormand until he found a place to ford the small river. The
water level was much lower due to the lack of rain, barely reaching the bellies
of the horses. After they crossed, Fendreg led them up and away from the
low-lying riverbed, and emerged up on the unbroken vistas of the plains—Themadra’s
Plains, so the Kelvana called them. They were adherents the goddess’ religion
and just another offshoot of the cults that dotted the broad expanses of the
plains from the Dark Mountains to the Broken Sea. Out in the open, the horsemen
let their horses rush forward, trusting in the familiar terrain as well as the
keen eyes of the outsider to lead them home safely.
For a time, the only sounds were
the steady pounding of hooves on the ground and the deep breaths of the horses.
Fendreg bent low in the saddle, leaning forward to urge more speed from
Artress. Corba and Zene followed only a pace behind. They were in their
element. For what seemed like hours, they rode across the open plains, not
pausing even when the first glimmers of sunlight spilled over the edge of the
horizon. They were riding directly east, right into the reddish-golden blaze.
The sun rose as a swollen and angry orb, pouring out heat to dispel the chill
of night.
In time, the party slowed to rest
their mounts. They were ten miles or more from the Shaldar’s encampment.
Fendreg’s eyes were the first to sight the red banners of the Kelvana camps.
The crimson cloth drooped against the stake, bereft of even a breeze to display
the single eye, the mark of Rulrick’s clan.
Fendreg and the others carried on
at an easy trot. He noted when the guards posted out away from the main camp
noticed their approach. Word was spreading now. A half an hour’s ride later,
they entered the camp amidst of flurry of questions and wolfish gazes. The
Kelvana were ready to seek their revenge. Fendreg knew it was his job to temper
their rage so they would not be cut down in droves. The Shaldar’s men were
ruthless and well trained. They would need good planning on their side if they
wanted to drive the horde off the plains.
Fendreg slowed further until
heeling Artress to a halt before the chieftain. Rulrick was a broad-shouldered
man. His long-braided hair was touched with streaks of gray, his moustaches
reached the middle of his chest, and he wore a wicked curved blade at his hip.
His face seemed to be chiseled from stone.
“We are grateful for your return,
Fendreg. I trust you’ve discovered a few secrets about that murdering Shaldar?
My warriors will have blood. We will strip him of his fine vestments and chase
him naked from our lands. This I swear by the goddess, by the blessed name of
Themadra.” The chieftain held up his right hand and those gathered shouted
their pledges, filling the camp with their voices.
Fendreg remained silent. His
warrior’s mind strived for calm and focus. Emotion had no place in such
gruesome work. In his mind, he saw the fields damp with the blood of thousands.
He could almost hear the cries of the mourners for the dead and the moans of
the dying. He let the painful images play in his mind so they would be fixed
there. It was a form of meditation and the way he prepared before every battle.
With vengeance within their grasp,
Rulrick bellowed orders to his warriors. Somewhere near ten thousand Kelvana
horsemen were ready to ride out to fight the Shaldar’s forces. The rallying
cries sounded. The chieftain decided they would leave the camps later that
afternoon. For now, a small feast was held to welcome back Fendreg and the
others. The people had a reason to celebrate, though Rulrick put a restraining
hand on the wine. The warriors would abstain.
Fendreg took his ease, retiring to
his tent at first. At the threshold, he turned to the young Kelvana woman,
named Iessa, who had been ordered to serve him.
“I wish to wash away the dust of
the road. Bring me hot water.”
“Yes, honored one,” replied Iessa.
Fendreg caught a glimpse of the
woman’s generous bosom when she bowed. Her eyes darted up to look at him. They
were like pools of jade, a lovely and bright shade of green. She smiled then
ran off to fulfill her duty. Fendreg wanted to laugh. The girl had some spirit.
Entering his tent, Fendreg began to
remove his gaden-armor. The enchanted plates felt much lighter than steel
should. Though its lightness said nothing about the unbreakable strength of the
armor. With its protective aura removed, he felt the soreness and weariness of
his body once again. Beneath the armor, he wore a thin quilted jacket and
breeches. Fendreg sat on the camp chair and pulled off his boots and just
enjoyed the quiet moment alone.
The soft sound of feet on the grass
brought him up to his feet. A shadow hovered at the threshold.
“Honored one. I’ve returned with the
water you requested and cloths to wash with.”
“You may enter Iessa.”
The woman parted the canvas and
came in bearing a pot filled with steaming water. Across her shoulders, Iessa
carried the cloths. Fendreg pointed to the floor directly in front of him.
“Set it there.”
Once she finished, Iessa bowed
again and started to retreat out.
“You forgot the wash cloths,” said
Fendreg.
Iessa blushed. “Forgive me, honored
one.”
She handed him the clothes. Fendreg
held on to her small, delicate hand, then grabbed her wrist. At first, Iessa
resisted, struggling to get free. Then she let him draw her back. Iessa smiled
as Fendreg pressed her breasts against his chest. She melted in his embrace and
the warrior kissed her fiercely. The water forgotten, Fendreg carried Iessa to
his bed, pulling at the bindings on her gown while she tried to pull off his
coat. The two of them disrobed and slid beneath the blankets. Their bodies
became entwined in passion and release.
When their lovemaking was over, Iessa
stayed to wash Fendreg. The water was tepid but good enough to do the job. She was
tender and slow with the ablations. Fendreg watched her work the cloth across
his chest, his stomach, along his legs—his feet. She occasionally glanced up at
him, her beautiful face shining even in the dim light of the tent. Finally, she
finished attending him and made ready to leave. There was something in her
manner that made Fendreg pay closer attention.
“May you have victory over the
Shaldar and his armies, honored one.” Iessa scrubbed her face and made to go.
“You cry for me, woman,” said
Fendreg.
Iessa stopped, her hand gripping
the tent. “Yes, honored one. I weep for I fear for you. I fear for all of our
men. I know the Shaldar’s men are fearsome fighters.”
Fendreg stood up, wearing only a
loincloth. “Yes, but they have never faced me!”
“Yes, you do look fearsome
yourself, especially wearing that tiny loin cloth. The sight of your sword
alone would frighten them away.” Iessa could not disguise her amusement.
“Ha!” bellowed Fendreg. He
continued laughing. “You do have spirit, don’t you Iessa.”
Fendreg grabbed for the woman but
she danced out of reach.
“My lord, you must prepare for the
feast. Are you not one of the guests of honor?”
“Hmm. I shall see you there. And I
will find you when I return.”
Iessa bowed. “I shall await your
return, honored one.”
Fendreg watched her leave. He
turned back to the riding boots and his mystical gaden-armor. It called to him.
It was time to wield them once again. The Shaldar would not be able to
withstand the might of Fendreg of Senagra, High Guard of Everhold.
***
The previous night’s celebrations
had been more subdued given the lack of wine and Fendreg had left early and
returned to his tent. He spent the night with Iessa and rose from his bed just
before sunrise to ready himself for the battle. In the light of the sun under
clear blue skies, he joined the Kelvana horsemen. The snorting and stomping of
the anxious mounts, the jangling of bridles, and rattling of armor and weaponry
were clamorous sounds that disrupted the quiet of the plains. All were familiar
sounds to Fendreg. They were reassuring sounds. He mentally reviewed the plan
he had discussed with Rulrick during the feast.
The high thin sound of the ram’s
horn blew across the encampment.
Rulrick was mounted on his painted
horse dressed in the all of the regalia of the Kelvana war band. Beside him,
Lutan blew the horn once again and much of the chatter ceased, even the horses
seemed too quiet down to hear the chieftain speak.
“Listen to me, brothers. Listen
well for soon we will fight the Shaldar and his thousands. On this day we shall
shed their blood and scourge them. Then we will chase them into the endless
sands of the Torecha deserts. They will pay for their crimes with their lives!”
The Kelvana erupted in shouts and
war cries. Spears were struck against shields, short swords too. Sitting on
Artress, Fendreg adjusted the gaden-armor and made sure his gauntlets were secured
to his wrists. All of his weapons—the short sword at his hip, the dagger jammed
into his boot, the bow slung across his back--were at the ready. With another
cry, the Kelvana spurred their horses into motion and Fendreg surge with them,
flowing into the thunderous maelstrom of ten thousand horses racing across the
plains in one massive wave.
For some time, the Senagran’s
concentration was given over to the running, guiding his horse over the
terrain, steering the beast when necessary but generally just trying to keep up
with Kelvana and their painted horses. They could ride much longer distances
before tiring than Artress. As they turned towards the Shaldar’s camp, Fendreg
urged the horse for more speed so he could ride up next to Rulrick. The sound
of the hoof falls was a tremendous noise so he could only motion to the
chieftain. Rulrick knew his intention and held up a hand, clenching the fist
and pumping it up and down to signal the riders.
Fendreg veered off away from the
main body of the Kelvana, taking a thousand horsemen with him. It was the first
step in the plan. Fendreg had explained that he would take a small group and
skirt the camp to the east and then approach them from the other side, making
sure not to hide their intentions. They were a decoy and a distraction that
would occupy the Shaldar’s forces just long enough, allowing the other nine
thousand Kelvana to descend upon them in a fury from behind. It was a simple
strategy but one that Fendreg hoped would be executed with enough force that the
enemy would not have time to gather their strength. The delay would be timed so
that Fendreg could sow enough chaos to make the other attack effective. Those
men who had joined his ranks knew the risk they were putting themselves in by
drawing the Shaldar out and doing their best to confuse them. Many would fall
to the Shaldar’s arrows.
Fendreg had Artress running at a
grueling pace. His senses were sharp and bright with the power of the
gaden-armor coursing through him. He was in the lead and would be the first one
into the camp. The terrain changed as the Kelvana left the grasslands and hit
the drier, rocky soil. The Cormand came into view and Fendreg led them far
around the ribbon of muddy water. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught a
glimpse of the larger force as it slowed to a march that would put it at the
camp at a slower pace to give them the lead.
Fendreg and his company continued
to ride for some minutes. The land was broken by the jagged shapes of rocks
that jutted up and the rise and falls of numerous ravines and small canyons.
The Senagran squinted into the sunlight and noticed the faint wisps of smoke
from the campfires. The Kelvana rode on Fendreg turned Artress in the direction
of the camp. The pace ate away the ground and soon the forces rushed down a
broad slope. His keen eyesight spotted the sentries hidden between the rocks
and in one smooth motion, he pulled his bow free removed an arrow from the
quiver and drew back. The man fell back into a crevasse with the arrow jutting
from his ruined throat. The sound of a ram’s horn was cut off as another sentry
went down from an arrow in the chest; the wretch toppled from one of the rock
formations.
Below in the camps, the Shaldar’s
forces were just beginning to be aware of the danger. They were struggling to
rally as Fendreg entered the parameter. The other Kelvana followed suit, neatly
trampling warriors just recently stirred from their pallets. The screams went
up and the fighting began. Fendreg had his sword out swiping back and forth, the
cut down the Shaldar’s men, Artress stepping on the corpses and kicking those
who had not been struck by his blade. The warhorse was well trained. The
carnage unfolded slowly in the confines of the camp. Tents collapsed as
guidelines were cut and peg ripped from the ground. Slowly, a point of
organization emerged close to the center where the Shaldar himself was rallying
the buckling forces.
Fendreg pushed inward, breaking
down the barriers between himself and the Shaldar. The Kelvana were meeting
resistance and some of the warriors were falling. The chaos of battle had
descended around him but the Senagran kept his calm, moved through the motions
with a methodical, practiced ease. His motions were slightly faster, his blows
rained down harder, and his reflexes were singing through the enchantment of
his gaden-armor. Still, he missed the ax hurtling towards Artress’ leg.
The scream of the horse was a
terrible sound. The beast went down swiftly catapulting Fendreg from the
saddle. He sailed through the air, the sound of the fighting dulled in that
extended moment in time. As the ground rushed towards him, Fendreg reacted,
twisting his body preternaturally fast to recover. He landed in a roll and was
up on his feet the next moment. Somehow he had retained his sword. Some
distance away, Artress was crumpled on the ground, his leg severed, and an ugly
spear protruding from his side.
“The Two Mothers take you!”
Fendreg ran towards the nearest
enemy warriors. They were no matches for him. Bodies flew into the air,
sometimes whole sometimes in pieces as he tore through the defense to get at
the Shaldar. He caught his first glimpse of the leader just as the sound of
dozens of ram’s horns echoed across the canyon. Rulrick had arrived.
Nine thousand Kelvana horsemen surged
down the slopes and negotiated their way down into the shallow canyon. The
Shaldar screamed orders to those surrounding him. The warriors formed a ring
ten deep surrounding their leader. The rumbling of the horses’ hooves echoed
loudly through the canyon and ground trembled slightly. For that brief moment
everyone had seized fighting to watched the spectacle of the advancing
Kelvana...everyone except Fendreg. The Senagran roared and charged the Shaldar’s
men and brushed several aside, their armored bodied battering against his gaden-armor
before they were flung away. His armored body parted through the wearied
warriors like a horse. Arms were broken, necks snapped, ribs crushed. Fendreg
grabbed one man bodily and threw him like a sack of grain.
He emerged inside the defensive wall.
The Shaldar spun around just as he entered. The man was nearly seven feet tall,
girded in a heavy armor plating, his face hidden behind a full helmet. Fendreg
wore a simple, open helmet that protected his head from the worst of the blows.
Now he smiled at the Shaldar.
Across the camp Rulrick’s men were
making short work of the Shaldar’s remaining soldiers, crushing them under the
hooves of their horses or skewering them with their spears. The sounds of the
fighting were flagging in some places, dying in others. It would not be long
now. Fendreg waited. The Shaldar glanced around, noting the tide of the battle.
It was clear that it was over.
“Your men are finished,” yelled
Fendreg.
The Shaldar seized his helmet and
wrenched it off. The long flowing locks spilled out into the light, spreading
in black luscious waves. Smooth cheeks, deep blue eyes, and soft lips.
Fendreg gaped.
The Shaldar was a woman.
Fendreg walked forward, sheathing
his sword along the way. As he walked closer, he realized that the woman’s
proportions were much larger than a normal woman’s. She stood nearly to head
higher than he and she seemed to be all muscle. Shaldar had a savage look to
her eye.
“And what would you do with me
then?” she asked. Her voice was deep but certainly feminine.
Fendreg considered. Was she truly a
warrior? How was she with a sword? He wondered if she was feigning passivity.
Did she wait for the opportunity to strike?
“Rulrick wishes you beaten then
driven from their lands naked.”
“I have little say in local
matters.”
The Shaldar smiled then, the
expression a slight twitch at the corners of her mouth. “You’re an outlander
like me then. Why do you fight with these nomads? What common cause could you
have with them?”
The battlefield had cooled. One every
side, the Shaldar’s warriors were holding their hands up in surrender. The
Kelvana were corralling them and taking away their weapons. The Shaldar paid
little attention. She had her eyes on Fendreg.
“I take issue with anyone who makes
their way across the land pillaging, burning, and raping those who happen to be
in their path. You have Kelvana children and some of the younger women. You
will be letting them go, but why did you take them in the first place?”
The Shaldar held out a hand. “My
men were in want of women so I sought them out. The children I wished to take
to my home in the south, along the Albaridian coast. My people lost their
children to a plague.”
Her reasons were stated so
remorselessly. She could have been recounting a supplies list she needed to
replenish. Indeed, she may have seen her actions as such.
“And that gives you the right to
steal from the Kelvana?”
The Shaldar laughed, a deep throaty
laughter. “Right outlander. You speak of what is right? Shall you preach to me
from the scrolls of Themadra too? Right is what I decide, what I take by force.”
The hoots and hollers of victory
filled the canyon as the Kelvana approached the center of the encampment. The
Shaldar waited. Fendreg watched. Soon the gathering Kelvana parted so Rulrick
could get through. He walked up to Fendreg and clasped his forearm.
“I am grateful for your help, Lord
Fendreg. You have helped us route these dogs.” He paused to glance at the
Shaldar. Rulrick nodded.
“I had heard rumors you were a
woman, but did not quite believe them. From your height and features, you must
descend from the giants, eh Shaldar?”
“It is as you say, savage,” The
Shaldar replied coolly.
Rulrick grinned. “Ah, you call us
savages, when you are the invaders.” He motioned for two of the Kelvana. “You
remove her armor. Leave her with nothing but the skin she was born with! The
same with what remains of her army. Those men who remain uninjured will be
stripped and sent away to the Torecha deserts.” He pointed to the west.
The Shaldar offered no resistance.
They removed every piece of the heavy armor until she was wearing a padded
jacket and breeches. Her womanly shape was evident, though Fendreg noted that
her dark, brownish skin covered taut muscle. Finally the Kelvana removed everything
and she stood there amidst the warriors unashamed by her nakedness. She seemed
like a goddess among the men. Her supple body drenched in sweat.
Rulrick seemed unmoved by the
Shaldar’s appearance. “Go now. We shall follow you to the edge of the deserts.
Once there, we shall provide you a few small water skins. One hundred of my
warriors shall guard stay there along the border for three days. May Themadra
have mercy on you.”
The Shaldar snorted and started
walking west. Fendreg watched as she walked away making her way every westward,
the soldiers that remained followed her like obedient hounds. They never
hesitated. Fendreg found himself admiring the woman in a strange way. She
commanded loyalty and enforced her will on countless peoples. She felt certain
that she would remain unchallenged. The Senagran could see it in the way she
walked, the way she held her head up. She was facing certain death in the
western deserts yet she still moved like she was the commander of a great army.
“God-cursed pride, woman. You lost
your edge and let us roll over you like a wave in the ocean.”
Rulrick came up to him. “Lord
Fendreg, come we must celebrate now.” He was smiling, giddy with victory.
Fendreg looked around him at the
carnage. The moans of the injured and the dying drifted to his ears from every
quarter. How many had perished? Was it worth the price?
The Senagran let the Kelvana lead
him away. He was given a new horse. They retrieved the prisoners and looted the
foodstuffs and carried other boons with them. The Shaldar’s thousands were left
to rot beneath the hot sun.
When they arrived at the Kelvana
camp, Fendreg found Iessa waiting in his tent. She said nothing but drew him to
her. He let the woman remove the gaden-armor. They were together until the
feast commenced later than night. The wine flowed richly and Fendreg drank
until he wandered back to his tent and Iessa’s arms again.
***
The sun poured its heat out on the
plains. Fendreg cinched the saddle straps on the brown mare tightly. The saddle
pack was filled with fresh provision and his gaden-armor was attached in the
ack. He wore a white shirt with blocky glyphs embroidered around the neck and
on the sleeves. He worse the sword at his hip but the bow and quivers were
handing from the pommel.
The Kelvana were gathered on the
edge of their camp. Rulrick came forward. He had an ornate dagger in his hands.
“We give this to you as a token of
our thanks. May Themadra bless you, Lord Fendreg and give you safe passage
across the plains and to your home.”
“Thank you, Rulrick. You are an
honorable people.”
A cheer went up, shouting Fendreg’s
praises. The Senagran let his gaze roam until he found her. Iessa’s face was
red and blotched from crying. But it was dry now. She merely watched him. There
was no reason to say anything more. Iessa would not leave her people for an
outlander no matter how much she might have come to care for him.
Fendreg sighed. It is time to
leave.
He pulled himself onto the saddle
and once more extended a hand to the chieftain. “The Two Mothers bless you,
Rulrick.”
Wheeling the horse around, Fendreg
set the animal at a slow trot. The cheers followed him a short distance before
the Kelvana turned back. Only when the camp was lost behind a slight rise in
the land did he turn back. There was nothing but the endless plains, the open
skies, and the feeling of being alone in the whole world.
Fendreg looked north towards his
homeland, where the summer celebrations would be echoing through the halls of
the fortress, and the Vale of Everhold would be buoyant and joyful. The
Senagran spurred the horse and galloped northward.
Copyright
© 2019 Shaun Kilgore
Cover
art copyright Dreamstime.com
Cover
design copyright © 2019 Founders House Publishing, LLC
First
published as an eBook single in 2012
Published
by Founders House Publishing, LLC
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any semblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
If you liked this story you can leave a tip or buy me a beer:
No comments:
Post a Comment