The First Story--The Book

The First Story--The Book
Copyrighted (c)2009 Mariko Pratt

Several centuries ago, there was a sorceress named Algrisa, and she wrote a book.  The purpose behind writing it was neither for profit nor fame, but for revenge at the unexpected demolition of her house.   

Algrisa lived on the icy, wind-swept coast of northern Mur.  Some scholars claimed her house was a grand crystal palace, but this was very unlikely, for she wasn't a show off.  Most reliable sources agreed it was a hut fashioned from driftwood, fragments of wrecked vessels, and whalebone.  

Despite the remoteness of her house, people came from all around for advice on their various problems.  Although she preferred to be left alone, poring over volumes of archaic lore, Algrisa often answered her visitors' queries out of politeness.  However, not all the pilgrims sought her sage counsel, some sought her hand in marriage.

Now this wasn't at all surprising, despite her one hundred and twenty-three years, Algrisa appeared to be no more than eighteen years old.  However, she preferred a withdrawn life of prophetic wisdom to one busy with chores and babies.  So she refused them all, including one who was a very proud and powerful wizard.

The wizard saw her refusal as a sign of arrogance and contempt.  He waited however, biding his time patiently.  It wasn't until the sorceress left for a hunting expedition that he acted.  Conjuring up a fierce storm, he sent it plowing inland.  Lashed by the howling wind, the sea unleashed a raging series of monstrous waves that swamped the entire shore, completely obliterating the hut along with its contents.  By the time Algrisa got back, all that remained of her hermitage and libraries were some splintered timbers and a few pathetic scraps of parchment.

Immediately, Algrisa set to work.  Scouring the market place and various magicians' guilds for writing material, she finally pieced together a book of magic.  Some of the spells were perfectly safe, but most were designed to backfire with hellish results.

One night, she went down to a crossroad where the wizard was known to pass.  Placing the book in the middle of the road, she then hid herself in the hedgerow to watch.  

The bait was soon taken.  What specific spell he used afterwards the tale doesn't tell, except to say that what remained of him was enough to fill a snuffbox.

Several more centuries elapsed, and eventually, the sorceress died.  No one, not even the most wisest and well-preserved magicians could escape Death.  

The Algrisa, as it came to be known, still existed-and still unleashed its fury on any incautious person who discovered it.   It soon earned the reputation of the third dangerous magic book in the world.  The second dangerous was that of the Grisly Grimoire by Oglath Azgroth of Zilth.  The most dangerous book of all was the Spontaneous Combustible Besephalaminon, which, even a mere mention of its name, caused one's shoes to burst into flames.

After traveling from one library to another, and generally making life miserable for countless monks, scholars, and meddlers alike, the book was lost.