The Cursed King

By Shaun Kilgore

Fresh from a battle, Fendreg, the Senagran, encounters a blind wizard on the road. Before he knows it, the warrior is drawn into a desperate quest to break a dark curse placed on the king of Noria and stop the undead sorceress Kayessa from rising from the dead and wreaking havoc across the kingdoms of men. Will Fendreg turn the tide?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Founders House Publishing LLC
• Release date: Aug 4, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476134536

Shaun Kilgore

Shaun Kilgore is the author of various works of fantasy, science fiction, and a number of nonfiction works. His books appear in both print and ebook editions. He has also published numerous short stories and collections. Shaun is the editor of MYTHIC: A Quarterly Science Fiction & Fantasy Magazine. He lives in eastern Illinois.

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THE CURSED KING

A NOVELLA

Shaun Kilgore

Copyright Information

The Cursed King: A Novella

Copyright © 2012, 2021 by Shaun Kilgore.

Published 2012,2021 by Founders House Publishing, LLC

Cover Design Copyright 2021 Founders House Publishing

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Other Books By Shaun Kilgore

Cries Of The Faithless: Book One of the Davionite Saga

Helioclypse: A Novella

Table of Contents

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Copyright Information

About the Author

Thanks to Tammy for the brainstorming session

Chapter One

The cries of the Free Companions filled the field, a charnel house of the broken and the dying. Fendreg, the Senagran, spun his mighty sword in flowing arcs of destruction. His cries were swallowed up in the roar of battle. He rushed forwards, never slowing down as he demolished the ranks of the Develsh mercenaries. His body gleamed with the magic of the mystical gaden-armor, blazing like a beacon.

Rally to me! By the Two Mothers, rally to me I say!

The Free Companions inched across the blood-soaked grounds, passing their fallen brothers just as often as their enemies. Fendreg had moved ahead of the others, trying to give them a chance to regroup and consolidate their strength. As it was, the battle had finally turned in their favor.

Follow the Senagran, shouted one of the bloodied soldiers. There he is, glowing like the sun. There is Fendreg!

The men came to him. Fendreg smiled viciously as his heavy blade sliced through the Develsh mercenary’s flesh, blood, and armor. May the Mothers be merciful, you wretched dog.

The men were closer now. Fendreg drew more from the magical armor, increasing his strength and prolonging his stamina. The mercenaries kept sending in more troops, a seemingly endless line of fools ready to die.

The field was partially sloped. As Fendreg led his forces up the slight hill, he was nearly undone by the blood-slick grass. He lost his footing and fell down on one knee. The nearest Develsh came at him, screaming in his harsh tongue, an enormous battle-axe whirling down towards him. Fendreg launched himself to one side, barely keeping ahold of his sword, while he struggled to avoid the axe. The power his armor helped him clamber to his feet just as the Develsh found him. The axe left his hand in a smooth motion, seeming to move slower to Fendreg’s heightened senses.

There was a brief second where the blade grazed his neck on one side, before he was clear. The mercenary screamed and rushed him. The two of them fell to the ground, the sound of their armor grinding together loud enough to make Fendreg realize that the battle had moved beyond them up the hill. They were surrounded by a few smaller fights, but din of the blades had become quieter.

Pain blossomed in his jaw when the Develsh struck him hard with his gauntlet. They rolled across the ground, getting covered in mud and blood, until Fendreg was free and pressing down on the other man. He struck him until he was senseless and sought his sword in the chaotic landscape. It was yards away sticking out of the ground. A few leaping strides got him to it. Fendreg yanked it free and stooped down to wipe the blade on a dead man’s tunic.

The battle still raged. Fendreg left the man behind and ran towards the thickest part of the fighting, where the men were fountaining their blood from severed arteries and spears held the dead aloft. The Senagran came to deal more deaths and bring Lord Malban’s tyranny to a fitting end. Aglow with ancient power, he was the harbinger of justice down among the men of the Free Companions. The heat of battle soon consumed the warrior. There was no sense of time, just the steady movement of flesh and muscle. Down deep, in his soul, there was one thought only. Everhold. Home.

In time, the field grew quiet, except for the forlorn cries of the wounded and the dying, lying among the dead. For the Free Companions it was a victory and Malban’s head was mounted on a spike. The warriors unscathed helped to gather their brethren. What remained of the Develsh forces fled into the forests of the north country.

The skies were a dull gray and a mist fell across the fields of Alaba. Fendreg sat downwind of the carnage, staring into the fire. The others let him be for a time. The Senagran let his mind disentangle from the rage and let himself feel the sharp edge of weariness that lay hidden beneath the preservative powers of the gaden-armor. He had drawn deeply of those powers and needed much rest.

One of the Free Companions approached the fire. He knelt down and bowed his head in respect. Lord Fendreg, we welcome you to our lodge in Tieral. My brothers and I are in your debt. You may take your ease the city and recover. You will have a place at the table of the Elders at the feast tonight.

Fendreg glanced up at the Alaban. The man was a warrior, well seasoned by more than one battle, his brown hair streaked with patches of gray despite still being a young man. His armor was battered and dull. The mist was beading on the surface and running down the grooves in the plating.

I accept your invitation, Calen. Fendreg reached out and shook the other man’s hand. I plan to drink to my heart’s content, by the gods.

The gore of the fields was left behind and the memory already started to fade for the Senagran. Another battle, another victory that kept him from the path to Everhold. He followed the restored lords of Tieral into the smallish city, walking through the gates with the Free Companions. The cheers from the people rolled over him like thunder. He met the tear-blinded eyes of old men and women, saw the capering dances of young ones who did not know the costs of war. Many eyes fell upon Fendreg. His foreign features and gleaming armor set him apart from everyone. All that was missing was a good horse to walk him through muddy streets that threatened to suck his boots off.

Calen and the others marched along the street, puffing their chests out with pride. The crowds swelled on both sides and some strained to reach them with wiggling fingers, hoping for the chance to touch the armor of their champions. Fendreg shied away from them, and picked up his pace. Damnation’s foot, there just no reason to laud praises on me like I’m one of the gods! Certainly would be news to my da, the Mothers keep him.

Fendreg laughed suddenly, caught up by his own thoughts.

The crowds never noticed. The procession of the Free Companions moved onward leaving the people behind as they marched up to the Keep. Tieral was barely worth the name ‘city,’ but Fendreg wasn’t about to offend anyone. He moved along, keeping his motions steady despite his bone weariness. More cheering met them ahead and the praises were bandied about in rich measure once they were inside the walls of the Keep. When serving maids came up to him in the courtyard, Fendreg smiled and accepted their bold kisses. He wasn’t the only one of the Free Companions to garner the attentions of such sweet young ladies.

So it was that the celebrations began in earnest, even as the men removed their armor. The maids drew several of the leaders away and Fendreg was being beckoned to a fine room by the same red-cheeked beauty. Once the doors were closed, Fendreg let her minister to him, helping him with the clasps that held the gaden-armor in place. A tub of hot water steamed nearby. Fresh clothes had been set out. It had all been capably, though hastily arranged. As soon as the battle was over, Fendreg thought. As soon as they knew they weren’t going to die too by Malban’s hands.

Soft hands removed the quilted