Sceaduban And The Book Of The Elder

In the hour of his death the old mage Readfrea foresaw his own demise and called his five apprentices to him. Readfrea owned six magical tomes, all containing unique powers and knowledge. To his first apprentice he gave the book of the birch, to the second the book of the alder, the third was given the book of the rowan, the fourth the book of the elm and finally to the fifth the book of the ivy. This left Readfrea with his final tome, the book of the elder, which he chose to be buried on top of. The book was sealed within a box cast of iron, and bound to Readfrea’s coffin by chains. 1

The five apprentices stood by their master’s grave as the soil was patted firm, and debated what they should do next. Anginn of the Birch was the first to suggest that they should go their separate ways, a move opposed by Foran of the Ivy and First of the Elm. Foran of the Ivy warned of the foolhardiness of lone travelling, whilst First of the Elm foretold of the possible obstacles they would meet. The party disputed and argued until the light began to fail and the snow lay thick around them. It was decided that they would divide, with Anginn of the Birch heading north, Ceosan of the Alder heading west, Beorgan of the Rowan heading east, and Foran of the Ivy and First of the Elm heading south.2

Beorgan of the Rowan travelled for only two years, spending this time in the wilderness, learning from his tome the power of knowledge, the importance of instinct and how he may protect himself. On the final month of the second year Beorgan found a stone house in the wilderness of the east. The master of the house, Sceaduban, greeted him, and his instincts told him to be wary. But Sceaduban was the most genuine and gracious of hosts, offering good food, plenty of drink and a heart-warming fire. As they sat by the fire, talk turned around to Beorgan’s travels. When asked of the events leading up to his travels, Beorgan hesitated. Quickly the drink overcame his instinct and his comfort made him lower his protection. Beorgan revealed to Sceaduban the story of the six magical tomes and the party’s dissolution. 3

Of all of this one thing fascinated Sceaduban the most, the book of the elder, which, according to Beorgan, was capable of revealing the secrets of mortality and eternity. Sceaduban lusted eagerly after the secrets of death, and had been for some years now a practicing necromancer. Sceaduban was not capable of magic by birth and so had to rely on tools of magic, which were not powerful enough to bring life back to anything larger than a dog. This tome hinted to him of secrets whispered from beyond the grave, the kind of knowledge that puts the grin on a skull, coupled with the incredible power of eternal life. Sceaduban knew what he must do to ensure his prize was free of obstacles. 4

Late at night Sceaduban stole into the room he had lent to Beorgan and grazed Beorgan’s arm with a knife smeared with a powerful poison. Sceaduban waited about an hour before dragging Beorgan far into the wilderness to die in the grip of the poison’s fever. The next day Sceaduban trekked to the nearest town and hired a horse, which he rode from village to village, searching for the grave of Readfrea.5

One dark winter morning three months into his search, Sceaduban found the village of Leasærdæg, the village where Readfrea was buried. He weaved between the gravestones and quickly found Readfrea’s resting place. The icy frost broke crisply like a brittle shell as Sceaduban began to dig. As the sun began to rise Sceaduban dragged the iron box from the grave and across the icy grass. His horse was unable to take the burden, forcing Sceaduban to force the box open with the spade head. After a gruelling time he managed to release the book from it’s casing. With his new treasure tucked firmly under his arm Sceaduban rode away from his scene of desecration and found himself by a riverbank. Sceaduban eagerly opened the tome and skimmed greedily through the pages. As each page passed he grinned wider and wider until he stopped on one page with a look of childish wonderment. This was what he wanted from the book, what he had wanted since he learned of the book’s existence, the key to immortality. Sceaduban sat down upon a large rock and began to recite a chant.6

Readfrea was not a fool, he knew better than to put such a powerful item a mere seven feet under the ground and expect men not to quest for it. When word got around the village that Readfrea’s grave had been defiled and a stranger spotted riding to the riverbank, a party of armed men were assembled. All that the men found by the riverbank were horse hooves leading off and across the river. “Tis a shame to let such a vile creature roam at large lads, there’s no catchin’ him now. Tis a strange thing though,” said the blacksmith leaning against a curiously shaped elder tree perched on a rock, “I would think I could almost hear cruel laughter on the breeze.”7