The Chronicle of Achren 'Draugr': The Chronicle of Achren, #4

By Michael J Dennis

Draugr, the first of three Novellas In The Chronicle of Achren Series.

The Warbands returned safely as a civil war in Cant was averted.

Almund and Smith after months away had returned to Thanatus to continue their training.

  While all enjoyed this period of peace. A new foe bent upon the destruction of Achren and Thanatus gathers in the Anderedsweald.

  When a boat laden with Saxon bodies are washed up on the beach, a young boy is found to be the only survivor. It falls to Almund along with Smith and his Mentor Rand to unravel the horrors described by the young Saxon.

  It's just the beginning of a struggle in a place where the essence holds no sway,  between the forces of Achren against the Undead, sent by an enemy so tied to the dark it could mean the end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael J Dennis
• Release date: Jan 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386037279

Michael J Dennis

Michael is the author of action-packed fantasy and historical fiction. His first Novel in The Chronicle of Achren series 'Thanatus' introduces Almund Penny to the world, followed by three Novellas 'Draugr' 'Werwulf' and 'Ankou' Michael is a massive history fan bringing much historical detail to even these fantasy books. (Although many liberties have been taken) One of the main factors in writing this series was to allow him to explore historical events and places within his home county of Kent. He loves historical fiction by. Conn Iggulden, M. C. Scott, Henry Sidebottom, Madeline Miller, Berwick Coates and Bernard Cornwell. Reading many of these books far more times than can be seen as healthy, along with many other great storytellers. Michael a Man of Kent, husband, father, and grandfather, often found a camera in hand wandering the downs, ancient sites or by the seashore. 

Book preview

The Chronicle of Achren ‘Draugr’

Chapter One

The Equinox

‘H ear us, great Mother of Light! Receive our thanks for delivering us from the dark.’

Almund’s words echoed off the shell-lined chamber walls. The only light from the small shaft opened to the night sky allowing Achren’s starry light to shine upon the thirty-five men seated there; in cloaked silence as they listened to the words. There were forty but five now walked with Achren in the light.

Almund spoke the words their Pater should have been speaking when leading this rite, it fell to Almund as the Seeker, to do the ritual, as Mona’s gaze shone upon the shell formed image of Achren sitting upon her throne of glistening white bones. Almund walked to the centre of the ritual circle letting his cloak drop, he was standing naked but for his seax, suspended above him a large boar.

‘What is the season?’ he called.

‘It is the equinox, time of the season’s death.’ the seated men replied.

‘What is before us?’

‘Darkness.’

‘And you are?’

‘We are the Light.’

‘Who are you?’

‘Achren’s! Achren’s! Achren’s!’

‘Achren goddess of Light accept our offering.’ he called as he thrust the seax above his head into the boar’s soft underbelly. Sliced north, south, east then west as the beast’s blood burst forth as dammed water released during the spring thaw.

His arms out in supplication, eyes, and mouth shut. Almund allowed the sacrifice to wash over his entire body. He felt the power of his goddess in that sacrifice; absorbing the power of the light and blood in the ritual.

Elated. So, this is how it feels. He thought.

Just before a wave of nausea struck him, with the spreading stink of the punctured intestine.

The blood and offal stopped falling, he stepped from the circle to accept a clean white towel from a senior priest. The men filed out of the inner sanctum through the serpentine passage, around the rotunda out into the light of early morning, the dawn sunlight warming their bodies.

‘Arleigh,’ Almund called to a servant standing close by. ‘Take two others and cut up the offering. The brothers will dine on it tonight.’

‘Yes, Seeker,’ the girl answered, she gestured to two other servants to follow her into the temple.

‘Be sure to wrap the thigh bones in fat and offer them to Hertha.’

‘Yes, lord.’

Almund left the girls to their task and looked at the beach its wide sandy bay overlooking the expanse of ocean; sun-dappled, seabirds riding its swell in the early morning breeze.

The cliffs to either side stretched bright against the grassy plains beyond, greener now the heat of summer had subsided. 

In the distance, the clouds clung to the high weald, the slopes now awash with patches of green, gold and red.

Almund wrapped his seax in the bloodied towel turned and walked towards the sea, his bloody footprints fading as he got farther from the temple.

It was the second year of Almund’s time on Thanatus, thoughts of war and insurrection put on hold whilst they adapted to the new order and gained strength. The petty struggles in Cant, continued with only the odd skirmish, although the fighting often proved grim and desperate it was short-lived, the war-bands of priests and soldiers returned to Thanatus with few casualties. Two war-bands had yet to return.

Chapter Two.

Thoughts of Home

TWO HOURS AFTER THE rite in the shell temple Almund was back in the citadel, walking into one of the few remaining buildings left by the foreigner invaders, the baths. He allowed his cloak to fall before easing into the hot water of the caldarium to wash off the remaining blood from his hair, face, and body, after having lost most in the sea. He sat in one corner enveloped by the steam rising from the water, Almund allowed his mind to wander from this wondrous corner of his world to those he left behind in Wouldham had they forgotten him, his memory was slipping, so much had changed in his life over the past three years.

‘Thinking of home, Almund?’ boomed a great voice preceded by a big splash. Almund jumped up in surprise as his senior teacher Rand rose like an Eotan out of the water.

‘Yes, Pater.’ Almund answered.

‘Enough of the Pater, for now, Seeker.’

‘Sorry, Pater. You startled me.’

‘Well, that’s a first, nothing much startles you.’ The senior warrior priest sat across from his student.

Rand was a huge man, scarred from many a battle and tavern brawl, a priest of Achren he may be, but he was brutal in battle and demanded the utmost dedication from his students, he would never accept mediocrity coming down hard on any weakness. For a man as big and hard as an Oak tree, Almund thought his bald pate looked somewhat comic.   

‘Ahh!’ The big man said splashing hot water over his face and leaning back against the tiled wall. ‘Good to be home.’

‘Home?’

‘Oh! stop your grumbling, Almund. I know you hanker to get back to Rochester why I’ll never know. Believe me, I understand.’

Almund doubted it since Rand was of the order through and through, he took girls to his bed but always said he’d only settle once his fighting days were over, and then to a girl twenty years younger who would give him plenty of children in his old age.

‘Don’t get to thinking you’ll be wandering back there soon. I’m prepared to wager there’s more of those Saxon rebel bastards just waiting to strike back. Mark me well.’

‘We gave them a hammering last time Pater.’

‘That we did. But you never know do you, besides I love a good fight. And I’ve got you young bucks to do all the hard work. Ha.’

His ham-like fist nudged Almund’s arm. The seeker knew what was coming next: the pep talk.

‘You know Almund, best thing I ever did taking you on as one of my students. I can trust you and you fight like a demon straight from the underworld.’ Rand turned to the rest of the bathers. ‘Best fucking student I’ve ever had, got the makings greatness this one.’ his voice bouncing off the tiled and painted walls. ‘You’ll see Rochester again. I’m sure we can spare you at some point.’

‘Smith and the rest of our band could use a break, to be sure.’

Almund never got his hopes up. He’d only made it home once in the past two years. Two years ago!

The wind howled beyond the high-windowed bathhouse. The Pater grew serious.

‘How was it? leading your first rite?’

‘Good,’ Almund answered the Seeker to the Pater.

‘Do the men walk with Achren?’

‘They walk with Achren.’

‘Good. It’s a shame I could not join you.’ He paused looking Almund in the eyes, his voice but a whisper, now speak. ‘Did you feel it? The power?’

‘I did,’ Almund bowed his head, ‘Achren was with us!’

‘Amazing, isn’t it?’

In the next breath,