The Chronicle of Achren 'Werwulf': The Chronicle of Achren, #5

By Michael J Dennis

In the year 674, Ecgberht the Cyning and his entire giseth were slaughtered in the Anderedsweald. Their defeat sent shock waves throughout Cant.

In Thanatus, Almund, Smith and the surviving men are struggling with the trauma of their battle with the Draugr. An experience that changed each of them forever.

   With a handful of warriors, Almund and Smith enter the forest to hunt down the truth behind the horrors he suspects deep within the Anderedsweald.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael J Dennis
• Release date: Feb 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386746621

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

PROLOGUE

SAMHAIN 673

THE RAIN FELL HARD upon Ecgberht the Cyning and his remaining Ealcund. Exhausted and hungry, driven deeper and deeper into the Anderedsweald, they needed to keep moving at any cost to break free of the trees, find a clearing where they could form a shield wall and fight.

With the heavy rain and coming of night, they could no longer see their pursuers. But the noise coming from all around was enough to turn the bravest man’s bowels to water.

‘Light the last of the torches, Edgard,’ Ecgberht commanded. 

‘Yes, my lord.’ And within minutes the small shield wall was ringed in flame, the battered remains of a once proud army.

‘How is this possible?’ Ecgberht wondered. My Sorcerers gone, So Many of my Cantings lost...

Ecgberht removed his battle helm and looked up at his rampant horse banners. Torchlight played on the sacred symbol of his people. The Cyning thought they stood proud, and strong on their blood red ground.

The men he knew were anything but.

For many days they had harried them through the Anderedsweald forest, into a Saxon Hel. Shepherded forward, ambushed time and time again from all sides, day and night. For days, all Ecgberht had heard were the death cries of his men in this dark shadowed nightmare.

The nights were the most terrifying.

The incessant howling like those moonstruck, gnawing into their being as mercilessly as any long sword. Ecgberht closed his eyes, ignoring the splattering rain and hissing of the torches and thought of his hall at Eastry, the scent of meadow flowers in the spring, the heat of the sun upon his face.

Now, all he felt was cold and wet. His ears ringing to the terrifying sound of his men’s flesh being torn and bones being broken as though naught but dry twigs.

‘My, Lord!’ Edgard came up to stand beside his Cyning. ‘They are about to come at us again!’

Ecgberht opened his eyes, looked about him at the tree line, black shapes cursed and screamed, swords, spears, and clubs waving maniacally at the Cantings. ‘It looks that way, Edgard.’ he replied with a tired smile.

‘What are your orders, Cyning?’ the earl pressed.

‘To die, Edgard, to die.’

The earl stared at his lord, frustration written upon his face, he shook his head and moved on to join his men.  ‘Shieldwall! Ready yourselves for an attack!’ He ordered before placing his battle helm upon his head to join the battle line with, shield, axe, and sword. 

Ecgberht noticed the look of disgust on Edgard’s face the disrespect in his voice, but he could think only of loss and the rain upon his face. He no longer thought of Edric, his son, his betrayer. He cares little for his subjects abandoned to the Saxons once the attacks had started.

As the raging howls of the enemy reach new levels to torment his men, Ecgberht Cyning of Cant thinks of his ancestral long sword strapped to his side. When the raging animal rush begins, their barbarous visages transformed, teeth gnash and tear through Canti shields, chain mail, flesh, and bone only then does Ecgberht draw his sword.

The creatures rush in, huge, dark and matted with blood and gore, he watches transfixed as his men, crumple on all sides. They toss Edgard over his head like some grotesque rag doll.

He stands, waiting, even as Edric his son struts up and hacks his head from his body without hesitation.

Mona cuts through the clouds to shine upon the field, the hunt comes to its violent conclusion. It is full and bright this Samhain eve, all at once many hundreds of the victors bay at its ethereal light.

CHAPTER ONE

SHOCK

Thick mist shrouded the early morning fields surrounding the city of Thanatus. Those working the fields were making their way to begin their labours, tilling the fields, collecting and gathering, moving animals from summer pasture to winter. They all moved around tied up in their everyday world.

Almund ran past them every day since his return to Thanatus, ignoring those labouring in the fields or by the wayside, not that he was uncaring or felt them beneath him.

He ran because something drove him.

Each morning, Almund rose long before dawn, to lose himself in the predawn darkness, running out of the city to the harbour, to the west. Once there, he would drink water, and then return to Thanatus, driving his body relentlessly.

Those working close to his route stared at this priest of Achren who raced past them each morning as though the hounds were after him. He never spoke, never stopped. They could see that he was not of this world, for his eyes blank and staring. They feared this strange young man and made the sign to avert evil as he passed even though he had never made to harm them. They knew nothing of Rowena, Arth, Achren, or of the draugr, nor that the pater who raced past them had run with a goddess out of the depths of Hel.

He ran to expunge the dreams that still haunted him.

Run with me, Seeker, the voice in his mind said, pushing him on faster and faster until he was beneath the city gates.

Those on guard duty had got to know of his comings and goings and cheerily waved him through.

Almund poured sweat as he ran past the workshops and houses of the lower city, pressing on up the hill to the citadel where Smith waited for him to break their fast together.

He rapped on Smith’s door, greeted by a pair of sleep-filled eyes, ‘I’ll be with you once you’ve washed and changed.’ Smith said. ‘Did you have a good run?’

‘Yes, I did, thank you, I’ll be back shortly, to give you time to pull yourself away from Annis.’ With a parting smile, he jogged back to his cell to splash water over his face and body before towelling himself dry and putting on a fresh tunic. Cuthbert his old tutor popped his head around the door, ‘still up early and running I see?’

‘Yes, It’s the dreams, I can’t seem to stop them coming, so I do my best to run them out.’

‘It’s been almost a cycle why does Achren  still torment you so?’

‘This has little to do with Achren, my friend.’

‘Who then? Or What?’

‘The cloaked figure and the cruel laughter flowing through the trees, the slaughter of my men still echoes in my mind. Of blood and death. But I’ll deal with it.’

The old man nodded, ‘if you need to talk, never forget where I am.’ He put a hand on his shoulder, smiled weakly. ‘Just to let you know that young Kipp is coming along well, a bright lad.’

Almund smiled. ‘Thank you, tell him I’ll call in to see him before sunset.’

‘That will cheer the boy up, may I walk with you to the feast hall?’

‘Yes. Smith is on his way.’

A short time later they were seated at the long table, eating fresh bread and cheese, washed down with small beer.

THE DAY WENT QUICKLY, with his work on the council, training and rebuilding his war band, he finally went to the library to see Kipp, the boy was pleased to see him but appeared downcast.

‘What is troubling you, lad?’

‘I still have those dreams, of draugr, my parents.’

Almund sighed, he had hoped his bringing him here to Thanatus, his education and a new life would help him forget.

He was wrong, if they still troubled him, why would they not follow the boy, the horror just as terrifying and persistent. It was something that they shared.

Almund sat down next to the boy, staring at the floor.

‘Let me tell you something, I have those dreams every night.’

Kipp looked up, startled. ‘You?’

‘Yes, and all the men who survived that night, they also have dreams and cannot forget, you are not alone, we will work through this, just remember Achren is with us, she will protect us. It was she who gave me the strength to run and fight even when exhausted, she ran with me. And remember they tie you not to tell others of the draugr just as we are, so promise me you’ll say nothing of this to any but Smith and me.’

‘I promise,’ the young boy said.

‘Thank you, now you’d better find Cuthbert, I’m sure he has plenty to keep you busy.’

Kipp nodded and gave him a smile before running off the find his teacher.

The main square was awash with a pink light that reminded Almund of his childhood days of contemplation sitting on the steps of the abbey. Once his lessons had finished, he would sit and watch the world around him, the people passing by. He had always found Philosophy somewhat strange if not saddening and introspective.

Stopping to sit by the well.