Kilgore's Five Stories #12: July 2021: Kilgore's Five Stories, #12

By Shaun Kilgore

Kilgore's Five Stories #12 includes four fantasy stories and one deindustrial sci-fi story from author Shaun Kilgore. In this volume you'll find A Wager in Caldred, The Shaldar's Pride and the Temple of the Damned: a trio of tales about the wandering warrior Fendreg of Senagra, Moonlight: A haunting fairy tale co-authored with writer, D.B. Keele, and Walking Home: The end of a man's journey home across and collapsed and broken country.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Founders House Publishing LLC
• Release date: Aug 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201295806

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.

Book preview

Contents

Introduction

A Wager in Caldred

Moonlight

Temple of the Damned

Walking Back

The Shaldar’s Pride

About the Author

Copyright Information

Kilgore’s Five Stories #12

July 2021

Original Short Stories Every Month

Shaun Kilgore

Introduction

Here it is, July 2021’s issue of Kilgore’s Five Stories coming at you. This one contains three stories about my wandering warrior, Fendreg of Senagra, and couple of other unrelated stories—of of which was a collaboration with my fellow writer, D.B. Keele. You know the drill, gang. Get busy reading!

Shaun Kilgore, July 2021

A Wager in Caldred

Fendreg winced. The cut on his lip burned. The taste of his own blood was like metal. He staggered to his feet despite his blurred vision. For a moment he stood there wobbling, blinking away the confusion. He focused on the man standing across from him, waving at him, taunting him with his smug, smiling face. The jeers of the men gathered about them surged up. Laughter, curses, and the clinking of coins filled the air of the dank tavern. The crowd had grown since the fight broke out and the wagering was carried out in earnest.

Come on, you god-cursed dog, come and meet my fist. I’ll put you to sleep and take your silver besides.

Fendreg eyed his opponent. The man was all thick-shouldered muscle just straining to burst from his grimy shirt. A few bloodstains dotted his chest and blood trickled from his nose. Fendreg had managed a few hits of his own. The pair of them circled each other.

Quit your dancing, lad, shouted a toothless old man who sat perched on one of the tables while he slurped his ale.

Others in the crowd echoed the old man and the jeering grew even louder. Fendreg glanced at the tavern’s owner, standing there near the back of them wringing his hands nervously. He wasn’t particularly happy that a fight was being carried on in his establishment but there was certainly no way to call for help. There was little in the way of law in Caldred. What could be had was bought and paid for so fairness and justice were rare things indeed.

Fendreg shifted to one side and let the other man’s fist sailed past. He kept moving and struck out with his own fist, glancing off the side of the bigger man’s head. He shook off the blow and glared at Fendreg. He was breathing heavily through his nose, his teeth gritted. He cried out and barreled forward and collided with Fendreg.

The crowded cheered.

He struggled with the much stronger man, muscles strained to keep him from being pushed against the nearest onlookers. The man’s breath was all kinds of foulness, a mixture of soured wine and cabbage soup. Fendreg scrunched up his nose.

By the Two Mothers, you stink!

His opponent became livid. I’m going to break you in two, you bloody git.

Fendreg twisted in his grip, using the fool’s momentum against him so that he stumbled straight into the arms of drunks. He shoved them away and they spit at him. When he faced Fendreg, his eyes were nearly red with rage. He was like a bull charging. As he surged towards him, his head lowered slightly. Instead of trying to dodge him, Fendreg bent lower and raised his fist just as the man came into reach. The uppercut shoved his head upwards and the next moment he was down on the planked floor.

Fendreg waited but the man didn’t get up. Covered in sweat and several painful cuts and bruises he looked around at the patrons of the tavern. The tavern keeper just stood there in a daze until one of the plump serving girls squeezed his arm then led him away. The circle was already starting to disperse. Money was exchanging hands until only one man remained. He was scrawny and had a beak of a nose and long, thin neck. This man approached Fendreg.

That was some fight, he said.

Fendreg nodded lightly then turned to collect his coat and cloak from a bench. Then he strapped on his sword belt.

Well, here it is fifty in silver. All yours, mister...uh? He paused to wait for Fendreg’s answer.

Fendreg took the money from the man. He eyed him up and down, noting the slim dagger at his hip, the simple style of his dress. The patches and the mending on his sleeves suggested this man was concerned about maintaining what little he had.

He paused there looking like a bird perched on a branch.

Glad you made a little coin at my expense, said Fendreg. You seem like you want something else. Perhaps, you should be on your way. Fendreg’s voice was low and calm, but the man took his meaning readily enough.

Can’t give me a name at least? I made a nice profit off you, that’s true. How about we find another contender and maybe earn a few more coins? You’re a fighter. I can see that. Even if none of these fools did at first.

I want nothing more to be on my way. Be happy with what you have, my friend. I am not ready to get my face bloodied again today.

My name is Riles. Bendryn Riles. Most folks call me Riles. I’m a businessman of sorts.

What business would that be, asked Fendreg.

Riles smiled. I’m a man of many professions.

That’s not an answer, said Fendreg. His tone made Riles’s eyes widen briefly.

Uh, that is to say, I have many aspirations and have attempted any number of ventures.

Fendreg turned away and headed towards the door. He tossed a few coins to the tavern keeper. The patrons of the bar all watched him leave, losers in Riles wager were muttering curses and eyeing the other man with hard expressions. Fendreg noticed but kept walking. Riles trailed after him.

The streets of Caldred were dim. A few scattered torches sent flickering light out a few paces before the darkness returned. It was a night of the black moon so it was especially dark. A dangerous time to be out on the street. Thieves and cutthroats were very much at home. Fendreg held onto the grip of his blade.

Riles was standing right behind him. It’s true. I have no prospects right now. All of my ventures have ended in failure thus far. At least until tonight. I was on my last coins until I took wagers on you. You saved me from absolute destitution.

Fendreg glanced back at him skeptically. I’m no prizefighter.

What then? A soldier perhaps? I watched you closely. You have training.

Fendreg didn’t respond. He stepped onto the dirt road and started walking up the empty street. The sounds of music and drunken singing drifted in the air. That section of Caldred was where most of the taverns and inns were concentrated. Fendreg kept his ears trained on the night lest he be caught unawares. Riles continued asking him questions that he did not deem to answer. Still, the man persisted. He followed Fendreg up one street and then down another, seemingly oblivious to the potential dangers.

We can help each other, I think, said Riles. You’re a stranger in Caldred. I can tell that much. You’ve the look of an outlander. Maybe one of the northern tribes? Teredan, Cerabel, Senagra?

Fendreg was impressed. The man was more perceptive than he thought.

They had the street to themselves now and the sounds of the taverns were left behind. There were still soft noises. No city was every truly silent. Fendreg was aware of the subtle sounds that came from the buildings and from those that sought to mask their movements in the night. A breeze brought smells from the chimneys of the stone and wood houses, the shops now shuttered for the night, and the sweet