The Draugr

The first chapter of a short story I started, loosely based around Norse mythology. It is the story of a man following in the mysterious footprints of his ancestors.

The sun was coming to its rest as I reached the entrance to the catacombs. The cold was still rattling in my bones and my muscles ached from the arduous journey preceding the discovery. I was confronted , at last, with the mysterious place my father had spoken of so long ago.
My name is Sindre Dødssøker and this moment was long awaiting, for it is in my blood and my lineage. It is a pilgrimage all men in my family undertake when we reach the age of 40 years and have not yet fallen in battle. Even my son will tread this path, should he survive to this age. There is no doubt to the frightful nature of this voyage, for none of my predecessors returned henceforth. No knowledge or information was ever acquired once they had left their homes. All that remained was the continuing tale passed from father to son.
I still hold onto the sadness of the day my father departed from our company. But it was tradition and, as such, necessary to fulfill. All that I obtained on that day was a rolled piece of leather, bound in black woven string. I was not to open it until my journey had begun. On the aged document were directions and details on how to find the hidden entrance of the catacombs. I have no real understanding of how these directions came to be or who had recorded them. It was information never passed unto me and at the time my young mind did not consider such a thing.
My contemplation grows evermore over the reasoning behind this tradition and I ponder upon the enticing words my father bestowed to me. The story he conveyed, was as follows.
“Our blood, our might and our ancestors must persist. Should any of us acquire the day of 40 years in age, we are to make our journey to the Evinnelig Catacombs. There, in its veiled depths, awaits treasures abound. But there is more than trinkets and gold to be had in those caves. A treasure far greater than any other among our earthly realm. It is the gift of eternal life.” There was a few more details in that exchange but those mentioned have been imprinted in my memory quite vividly.
Over time, I understood our family tradition less and less. Such a place that is full of treasures beyond imagination, should be immensely sought-after by more than just one family. If this mythical dwelling was in fact real, any adventurer could seek its mysterious hoard of wonders. Should there be any others seeking out these catacombs, I know not of there doings.
After many years of expeditions, battles and plunders, I managed to survive to this day. Though, I left each endeavor physically unscathed, I was plagued with growing turmoil in my mental status. The unknown journey to the Evinnelig Catacombs clenched my heart in uncertainty.
Nevertheless, I have arrived at the end of my journey or in this instance, only the beginning, I presume.
Outside, of the Catacombs, was a great stone entrance that led to a black abyss. Its darkness was terrifying yet it beckoned the imagination. On both sides of the entrance, two pillars stood erect. They did not appear to hold anything up for this entry was built into the side of a small mountain. It was otherwise plain and lackluster for such a mythical location but perhaps that is what hid the intrigue.
Hanging from above, where I stood, were dark green vines that carelessly draped over the stone and dirt. Curiosity and fear kept me at a stand still, for even the outside of the catacombs was unusual, given its location. The surrounding areas contained only exceedingly large forests, frozen rivers and jagged peaks of mountains. This entrance was quite unknown to any normality.
It was now time to press forward and proceed on the expedition knowing that I may never see the light of the sun ever again. Before doing so, I briefly perused through the leather bag which I was carrying upon my shoulders. Only the necessities were to remain in my possession. The belongings consisted of two leather pouches that concealed water, five torches coated in resin, two days worth of dried rations and my flint striker. I kept a sixth torch out, that I was lighting with the striker. A few sparks quickly took to the torch and it slowly smoldered. I returned the striker back into the bag. Once everything was accounted for, I strung the sack back over my shoulders and made sure that it was properly secured. I now gazed ahead into the blackness that lay before me. It was time to behold the true nature of what my ancestors had found. The secret that caused them to never again return home and leave nothing behind except uncertainty.

Author's Note

I am still trying to learn and improve my writing. Turning my ideas into words is a challenge for me so I appreciate all advice.

Reviews

[restcity]

I loved you're description. I could see the 'Jagged Mountains' in my head.

The only piece of advice I could give was that when you said, 'Hanging from above, where I stood,' you didn't need, a comma in the middle.