When they found the body, more of a skeleton really, it had for ages laid there, slumped over the old wooden desk, the tissues having long ago ran as nature intended; ingraining themselves into the hardwood top.

                It was a miracle that the ancient tome that sat atop it had survived unscathed. Perhaps the owner of it had known his end was near and had wisely placed it upon the lesser books of knowledge.

                The pages were stiff and strong in this book, obviously a sign that it was meant to last the ages. How long the body and tome had lain to rest here were questions of debate, but no one argued that it was decades or more. The dust alone told of the great passage of time.

                It was the last pages of that great book that drew immediate interest, as they were the last ones to be written. Instead of being arcane and mystical, they seemed to be more of a diary. They went like this.

            When you've reached my age, you know you'll always look back on the things you should have, or could have, or even would have done. It's stupid but we will all do it. You can't change the past. You only change now. Even the future can't really be changed, as it hasn't happened yet. When it becomes the present, you have a narrow window in which to perform your great feats. After that, it's history and your chance is gone.

            I have killed; in the names of kings and queens and princes. I have loved; from common girls to the most royal of princesses. I have lain with kings and concubines and warriors and field hands. They are all my brothers and sisters and I treated them all the same. A king is no greater than his subjects and a milk maid no less lovely than a princess.

            There is no greater enemy to the world than hate, and no greater ally than love. They are two sides to the same coin, if you will, and the fates may flip it to see where it will land. It is why a great love can, overnight, be an equal cauldron of hatred in the morn.

            I will be dying soon. After four hundred and seventy three years, even the strongest soul wishes for release. I have devoted my waning years to the full study of magic and sorcery, looking for some way of undoing the worst of my past failures. What I have learned, as I have said above, is that what is done is done.

            So instead allow me to document for you my greatest success. It did not initially involve magic, spells or incantations, though I have discovered the hard way that errors involving the occult can be disastrous. Nor is it a matter of living so very long. That is certainly a mistake, though not one of my doing. The gods who created us gave us each our own span, and the number of days they have allotted us should never be lengthened or shortened.

            My long life, I would like to believe, has in many ways helped to compensate for those lives I ended prematurely. I have tried to live an honest life where they could not. But still, this is not a failure on my part. I consider it a triumph. There is a certain amount of recompense in my continued existence. Who else could claim such compassion as to suffer for the wrongs they themselves have committed?

            I tell you that there are none. What I regret has nothing to do with the world at large, nor the problems of most petty rulers, or of wily generals and simple soldiers, nor of merchants and slavers. Knowing what I learned at the moment of my most difficult decision, I would have destroyed them all to have the very thing that I so loved. For never in my life had I ever known the depths of that emotion.

            My time in bed with so many; male and female alike, caused me to grow numb to the finer points of it; the art of love. After the first hundred years and several thousand bed mates, faces and bodies began to roll into one. But now, in my mind's eye, I can see only one. She was never supposed to live, much less lay a claim on my heart. That was a trick of the fates, may they be damned forever. Never was my life supposed to get caught upon such a snag. But there was never such a beautiful snag as Lobellia.

            Yes, it was my duty to kill her. Since I am assuming that someone will read this in the future, I will tell you how this failed to happened. It may help you to understand your history a little better. Death is no stranger to life; as evil is to good, death is the flip side, the ultimate result of life. You cannot have one without the other. I have lived my life, so I welcome death with open arms.

            I never considered myself either good or bad. One man's good work is another man's evil deed. If you don't believe me, then you need to go back and study your religions. Trust me when I say that everything I did, I did for what I considered the greater good. Killing one despot to save a thousand people was worth the cost to my soul.

            But poor Lobellia. Where did she fit in? How could one single woman fit so well into the scheme of things that it could cost her her life? It was uncanny. I did not realize until too late the fool I was, being played like a pawn in a game that was far greater than my limited intellect could ever comprehend. She had to die because of nothing she did, nor anything she would ever be aware of until the last possible moment.

            That was the cruel twist you see. If she had never met me, none of this would ever have happened. It wasn't as if we might have rubbed elbows in the marketplace, or caught each other's eye at the theatre. We were a mountain range apart. These things didn't matter to me. I took the hit as I did any other. It was a job, and the reason for taking her out was made clear by the oracles. She would bear a son who would either rule the world or destroy it. The first we could live with. The second alternative remarkably enough, was frowned upon by all who heard it.

            My fee for any assassination was forty pieces of gold, twenty up front and twenty when I returned with proof that I had accomplished my goal. On top of that, I charged for the distance I had to travel, and the terrain I had to cover. This one was costing the soothsayer's guild a cool two hundred gold coins. I assumed they were taking their oracle's prediction to heart.

            You may ask why we wouldn't rejoice in having a benevolent ruler to guide us. You see, we already had one. He was, they say, kind and generous, always looking out for the people. I never saw him, nor did anyone else. He had ascended the throne decades ago and few were privy to his chambers. The rules he passed down were just, giving equality to rich and poor alike. Prisons were echoing from the lack of occupants. His laws gave swift justice. Either you did penance for your sins or you hung by the neck. Most found penance to be no bad thing. The rest served as warnings to those who contemplated evil doings.

            A newer, kinder king to appear and replace him would be something to celebrate, but a despot that would destroy all that he had built up was worse than death. No one liked having their freedom and tranquility taken away. So this woman must die before she could give birth. The chances of the babe growing up to be one or the other were far too great. There was no certain way of tipping the scales to the side of good. Going to the darker side always seemed easier.

            I headed off, my weapons and books of spells packed securely in my bags or hidden in my cloak. There were plenty of good assassins out there who didn't know magic, but I liked having every advantage at my disposal. The trip to Averdon was uneventful. I killed several bandits and a murderous soldier along the way, mostly to give warning to those in the area that I was not to be waylaid, else the consequences would be dire. As I had a distinct mark I left behind, the word spread quickly.

            When I reach the city over the mountains, I secured a room in the lowliest inn the city could offer. There was no point in wasting money on good lodgings. Comfort was rarely something that concerned me. All I really needed was a base of operations until my mission was carried out. Then I would be gone. That might be a day, a week or a month. I had no idea where to find this woman. After all, the city only had forty thousand residents.

            Knowing full well that the best place for information was where tongues were the loosest, I made my way to a tavern on the main square of the city. Here eight streets came together at a circle, the center of which was the Temple of the Eternal Fires.

            Now days, the Sacred Fire is an obscure cult. Back then, in its heyday, it was the prime religion of this region. To me, it summed up religion in general. No matter what its tenets were, someone always got burned by it.

            I chose the most attractive of the drinking establishments. Whereas I cared naught for my sleeping arrangements, I cared very much about my drink. I sat down in the corner with a mug of ale and watched the comings and goings with interest. I finally attracted the attention of a large boorish man with red cheeks and a nose to match. Without asking, I learned his name was Taburnus.

            As it turns out, he was a mid-level politician. It might account for his lack of friends and the chronic red veined skin that was a sign of over indulging in alcohol. He was fat and ugly, which I'm sure didn't help, and he had a vulgar tongue to boot. Feigning interest in his life, I allowed him to prattle on for an hour before I held up my hand.

            “This is all well and good my friend, but might I ask you a question?"

            He blinked his heavy lidded eyes and nodded. I nodded in return, sort of a thank you, and asked, “Do you know of any woman who goes by the name of Lobellia?" It was an insane question. There might two or three hundred women by that name, or there might be only one. Either way, why would this sot know of any? His looks would turn off everything but a warthog or a troll.

            He smiled a little, spilling drool from the corner of his mouth. “Lobellia? Yeah, I know a Lobellia. Everyone is looking for her."

            My heart raced. Apparently the bone throwers and the tea leaf readers and the tarot card dealers had reached the same conclusion. I never considered that I might have competition for this hit. Killing her was obviously going to benefit more than just my region. The present ruler oversaw the lands for leagues and leagues.

 Still, I wasn't altruistic. If someone else killed her, there would go my fee. I hated forfeiting my money. I had been known to kill the killer just to save face. Call it pride if you will, but I will make no apologies. I was killing a killer and the same might happen to me one day.

            “Why is this woman, assuming she is the one who I am looking for, so popular?" I leaned in despite his awful breath.

            “My friend, you are showing your lack of citizenship to my fair city. Lobellia is the most beautiful of flowers that has ever bloomed on the soil here."

            “Good enough. Where might I find her?" I was already worrying that I may have been too late. A woman of such looks would have hundreds of men slavering after her. She might have a dozen children, any one of which, if male, might be the one the prophesy spoke of.

            The man laughed, spilling beer and spittle out of his grotesque mouth. “Find her? Why? You'll have no chance with her, any more than I would. Even the grand vizier must keep his distance."

            I smiled and mumbled a spell of sexual impotence on this quivering blob of flesh. “Be that as it may, I would still like to look upon her before I leave your fair city. Would this be too much to ask?"

            He sobered up for a moment. “Well spoken stranger. You have not far to go. She is one of the Guardians of the Fire."

            I sighed, as you might imagine. That meant that I was going to have to gain entrance to the temple to kill her. The Guardians were all, as the reports went, virgins whose only purpose was the keeping of the Sacred Flame. Sacred Flame! Like any hearth fire was any less divine than the stuff they kept lit in there. Fire was fire. A person might be smart, but people in general were stupid and gullible.

            “Is that so? Then I must pay my tab, order another round for you, and be on my way." I gave his a cursory nod and after tending to business, left.

            The streets were crowded with carts and horse, stalls and vendors, and plenty of people who ranged from lunatics to thieves. That is to say, politicians. There were plenty of ordinary people as well. I might be saving their lives, or the lives of their children. And they would never know of it, or of me.

            Even here, despite the mountain range, the rule of our leader held sway. So despite the throngs and the temptations for doing evil, few made a show of it. Death was as real here as it was where I came from. An honest living might be less profitable, but it was certainly safer. It was strange how I was doing both. Killing was repugnant even when the object of its undertaking was just. I was committing a crime to benefit the world. It was a good thing that my morals were not as well constructed as most.

            Getting into the temple proved easier than I expected. People flowed in, lit a piece of fragrant wood and then placed the glowing embers into a little silver or gold box to carry home. In this way, they could light the hearth or the lamp with it, bringing with them the value and the might of the Sacred Flame. Which, in the eyes of a mage and cynic like me, meant as much as calling a pile of dung a royal feast.

            There were a dozen or so woman dressed in purple robes that stood at attention, keeping a solid eye on the crowd. The only obvious thing they did was pour oil into the braziers to keep them burning. That hardly took so many, but every circus needed to have a show. And that was when I saw her. If this was a circus, she was the ringmaster for certain.

            That old sot at the tavern was right. She was a beauty beyond the measure of man. If she had stepped outside, the sun would have dimmed in her presence. I was grateful that she was here, in this service, for her position kept her away from males. Then I reconsidered. Supposed to keep here away from males was more accurate. Someone might find a way of coercing or wooing such a lady.

            I had a perfect view of her. I stood to one side, allowing the people to pass me by and back out again. I had a clear shot, though I felt a pang of guilt at the thought of extinguishing such a thing of beauty from the face of the earth. It would be as if I were to destroy a painted masterpiece for no other reason than to keep it from being stolen. It was going to be a terrible waste.

            Then it happened. Her eyes met mine. It was bad, being noticed by your victim. Worse yet, I found that I couldn't unlock my eyes from hers. She was most definitely a keeper of the flame, for I felt the heat inside me rise. She smiled, a lovely upwards curve of the mouth that turned my world upside down. I put my dagger away. I had a different weapon that was stirring to life.

            They say that there is such a thing as love at first sight. After having a hundred years under my belt, and having never felt more than the biological urges that came with sexual encounters, I was feeling overwhelmed. It was like the electricity in the clouds had finally matched up with the electricity in the earth. It connected with spectacular results.

            I had never felt this way before, and I followed my heart and fled the temple. Fear was a wise emotion, and though I had nothing to fear from this lovely creature, the state of my mind and heart were in disarray. That in itself was enough to evoke fear within me. I returned to the tavern. My friend from earlier was asleep, drunk out of his gourd, snoring at the table. I sat down, ordered a bottle of the best spirits, and drank it until I too was insensible.

            This job had suddenly gotten complicated. She had a face that a sculptor might try his entire life to accurately recreate. She was as pale as marble, as smooth as polished alabaster, and as lovely as any flower the gods could create. She was heaven on earth, a divine sight meant only for the chastest of eyes and the cleanest of souls.

            I was neither.

            I soon convinced myself that the oracles were either wrong or… No, they had to be wrong. The Guardians gave their life to their duties, no matter how much I might scoff at their beliefs. They believed that what they did was integral to the survival of their people. They would do nothing to disrupt their daily routine. I doubted you find a more misguided bunch of people who took their jobs more seriously.

            After a suitable amount of mulling things over, I cast a spell, restoring a bit of sense of sobriety to my state. I hated giving up the money, but I couldn't kill this woman. Hell, she hardly looked old enough to be called a woman. The temple was dark, lit mostly by the many flickering lights, but it was evident to see that she not only had beauty, she had youth.  I would take away neither. It simply wasn't my right.

            I made my way back to the dump that was my quarters. I lay on the cot and waited for the rest of the liquor to burn off before I packed up and left. To hell with future seers, oracles and forecasters. As far as I was concerned, the future held whatever we fed into it. The past was the only place that time and events were fixed. Once it was done, there was no changing it.

            I closed my eyes and saw that face again. It was as if I had stared at the sun and had that afterimage burned into my retinas. I tried to drive the image out of my mind to no avail. It was locked in as tightly as any prisoner in the impregnable dungeons of Alger'on. After nearly a hour, during which I fell asleep at some point, that image was still floating in my brain. I sighed, stretched and opened my eyes, ready to leave.

            Even in my waking state that face was still hovering over me. That was when I reached for my dagger. The face I was staring at was all too real.

            The eyes held curiosity. They were, now that I could clearly see them, as blue as the oceans of Maherietta. Her skin was as white as that fabled coast's beaches. Of her hair I could not say, for it was concealed beneath the hood of her robes. My hand stopped questing for the knife.

            She said nothing at first. Her hand came out and caressed my face. Fire ran through me. She felt me shudder and smiled.

            “You are here to kill me, are you not?"

            I nodded.

            “But you left without doing so. Why?"

            I felt it was a fool's question. “I did not, because I could not."

            “An honest answer. Your coming was foretold. They said that you would kill me, and that I must not fight my death. But you did not kill me. Who are you that you defy the future?"

            She spoke so calmly of her own death. Few kings and princes could carry on with such courage as she had.

            “I do as I will. When I left for the temple, I saw fit that you should die without ever laying eyes on you. Now that I have seen you, I feel that I would deprive the world of a great treasure."

            “A treasure am I? Would you count me as you would gold, silver and jewels?

            “You are beyond tally. All of the hordes of bounty that belongs to the old eight kingdoms would still not compare to one fingernail of your left hand."

            She leaned back and watched me for a moment. “Few men speak the truth, especially the truth that governs their hearts. They would say whatever they felt needed to be said to acquire their goal. You speak as one besotted by feelings of love and compassion."

            I choked. “That would only be possible if I had such feelings. I came to do a job, and now I leave because doing so would be repugnant to me."

            “But do you find me repugnant?"

            “No milady."

            “No milady? I am not your lady, sir. What is your name?"

            “I have many names milady. You may call me Rastrel."

            “Well, Rastrel, I am at loose ends. I am expecting to die, and you have not killed me. So what am I supposed to do? I cannot live longer than my expected years, and the prediction was that I wouldn't live long enough to see this winter."

            I didn't know what she expected of me. All I could do was stare into that lovely face and come to grips with reality. I knew that no matter what I tried to do, killing her was no longer an option. My heart was beating like a coca eater's after a three day binge. I said a spell to slow it down, to no effect.

            She sat down on the edge of the cot. “Rastrel, you must kill me. I sense that you are no fool. To defy the fates is to bring down destruction on our heads."

            I jumped up, finding that such close proximity to her was making me nervous. “Milady, I care not a whim for the fates. They are cruel masters who have only their own agenda's to look to."

            “Mayhaps, my handsome killer, but I have been waiting for this day for several years now. Did you think I wouldn't recognize my death when I saw it?"

            “But I refuse to carry out your execution!"

            “Yes, I see that. I have no idea what the backlash will be. Something tells me that if you don't carry out what you have promised to do, the fates will wreck havoc on this world."

            “Then so be it!" I said defiantly. “Let them do their worst!"

            She put her hand on mine. “You are brave to speak such things. Since I am fated to not see the coming winter, I will obviously die regardless of it being your hand or some other's. So might I ask a favor?"

            I was feeling hot. It was weird, since I was shaking like I had a chill. My teeth were chattering enough to make my gums hurt. “Anything within my power!"

            “Promise?"

            “I promise!"

            She let go of my hand and removed her robe. She had on a silky, see-through silk dress underneath. The dress soon succumbed to gravity and hit the floor, carried by the golden clasp. She was standing there perfectly naked, but in my eyes, she was perfection in her nakedness. I have seen hundreds upon hundreds of bodies, and never did one fill the bill as the penultimate culmination of perfection like hers did. The only thing that could make it better was in making her mine.

            She was pale, as I have already remarked. She spent her life indoors, that much was certain. She had pink lips and pink nipples, the latter of which sat atop perfect mounds of firm flesh. Her skin was a maze of fine back lines, tattoos inked, stenciled on over her years as an acolyte. They made no sense and no pattern other than to accentuate her body's natural form. It was art on top of art. Despite her obvious intentions, I had to ask;

            “What is it you want?"

            She smiled again. That heat flared up inside me again, threatening to consume me. “Oh, don't be coy! I have every confidence that you know what I want. If I am to die, I should at least be expected to enjoy the slightest little taste of life before that happens. Why else would I have been given warning if not to have a chance at experiencing the pleasure of the flesh?"

            I was studiously examining her hair, trying for the moment to get the notion out of my head that she wanted to be bedded. He long braided tresses were nearly as white as she was, being platinum or silver, depending on how the light struck it. It was natural and not bleached, unless she went so far as to do the other patch, that which grew below her belly. It was possible, for I knew harlots that went far to please their customers. But she had no one to please. Until now.

            “You want me to be the cause of the breaking of your vows?"

            She laughed, a sweet, clear sound that lightened the atmosphere of the dingy room. “I am to die, murdered by someone's hand before the end of this year, and you worry about my vows? You are a strange man, Restrel."

            She had a point. The only thing worse for her than dying would be dying a virgin. I began stripping off my clothing. She nodded with determined approval. It was weird how I suddenly became shy in front of her, after all of the times I had paraded around like a prize stallion in a field full of mares. But one part of me remained proud and tall. She stared at it with great curiosity.

            “So that is the male organ? It makes sense I suppose. Is yours of normal size?"

            I found my words. “Milady will find it of the right size to please her in many ways."

            “I'll hold you to that Restrel!"

            And she did. I'll not dwell on the effects of our bodies merging. A lady's first time is oft times painful and messy. That men put so much pride in deflowering a maiden is beyond me. That we lit a fire of passion that dwarfed anything she had ever accomplished in the temple was obvious on the face of it, as well as on the breasts, buttocks and everything in between.

            In those moments, the memory of every other person that I had ever lain with melted into an unrecognizable puddle. Faces ran and smeared, experiences dissolved, and I knew that I had fallen terribly in love. And yet, in the back of my mind, I knew that she was doomed. I would give my own life to save hers, if I could, but between the predictions the oracles had made, as confirmed by her own statements, I knew that she would never live out the year. One way or another, she would be dead.

            Still, I was determined to do my best. I married her in a ceremony performed by a priest of the Cult of Nodalla. It meant nothing to me, but I did it to please her and to show the fates that I planned on shoving their will right back up their asses. Not only would I not kill her, I would protect her with all my might. That was no small thing.

            It soon became obvious that my strength was not going to be enough. Other assassins came. Fire erupted out of thin air. Rocks fell from the sky. Deadly snakes made their way into sealed rooms. They were determined that she would not live out the year. I was simply not going to be allowed to fail at my original mission. I had a feeling that even if I managed to keep her safe past the stroke of midnight on the last day of the year, the fates would destroy the whole world in retaliation for my defiance.

            We agreed that this was not acceptable. I devised a plan. I hated it, almost as much as she did. It was an imperfect plan, but what plan of any man could ever be more?

            We made love one last time. It was long and it was sweet and I wanted it to never end. But all things do. I prepared my spells, the combination of which had never before been attempted. I figured if we died, the world would go on like nothing had happened. If I succeeded, then again, the world would go on like nothing happened. The only thing was, if I was successful, then I would at least have saved the life of the only woman I ever truly loved.

            At this point in the book the ink trailed off into a smear. The man, perhaps too weak to continue, had let the quill fall to the wayside. But investigation showed that this was not true. After flipping past a few plank pages of vellum, the writing returned. Their best guess was that he had tired, and upon opening the book again, accidently skipped past his last scribbled passages.  From the shakiness of the penmanship, it was apparent that he was losing his strength.

            She had to die. Well, we all die eventually. The fates decreed that she wouldn't live out the year and they were right. But in my heart of hearts I knew that she deserved a long, fruitful life, even if that life was without me. So I did the only thing I could think of.

            You see, once time has flown, history is irrevocable. Not even the fates can change what has been written in the pages of their big horrible book. So you see, I did what I had to do. I sent her back in time. It nearly killed me to do it. I think the fates tried to stop me, but I caught them off guard. No mortal had ever dared cheat them so. That's why I am still alive I think, as punishment for defying the spirit of their law, if not the letter of it.

            Lobellia did not live past that winter. I made it nearly impossible for her to do so. She was smart, that one and knew better than to ever try to contact her younger self. I sent her back a good forty or fifty years I think. It's hard to tell. Like her, I knew better, once I did what I did, to look too hard into it. Thinking about only brought me pain and tears.

            She was with child when I sent her back. It was mine f course, and it was a boy. I guess I could have been worried about the consequences of my actions, but I figured the fates could deal with the results. But nothing happened. The world didn't collapse. The skies didn't darken. No; you see, my son grew up to be king of which I have spoken, the very king that was still ruling the day I was sent on my mission. I didn't know it then. It was only much later that the pieces fell into place.

            He called me into his chambers when I returned to my fair city. I had no evidence of my kill, and he knew full well why this was so. The treasury paid me my due, and compensated the soothsayer's gild.

            “Hello father" he said with a smile."

            I stood there stunned. “Son?"

            “Yes father. Mother told me so much about you. It's too bad we couldn't have been a family during the past decades. I so wanted to tell you!"

            “Yes, but your mother?"

            “Yes, mother died the day before she was to be born. She hated you for a long time when you sent her back. It was only just before she died that she forgave you. I think she was hoping you would come back with her."

             “But how could I? I was already here!"

            “Exactly. You did a marvelous thing. You did the only thing your heart would allow you to do and you did it so well not even the fates could stop you. And so, as the prediction fell, I became the best of two choices. Mother might have hated you for what you did, but she was wise enough to understand it. She raised me to me knowledgeable and kind, just like she was. I rule as best as I am able, and I do so thanks to you."

            There was much more to our conversations, but they are personal and of no consequence here. Know only this. If you love someone deep enough and strong enough, you can do miracles. Oh, I have had many lovers since that time, but not once; not ever again did I fall in love. That was a well from which I had no escape, except now, with death. I regret nothing except that it has taken so long before I can join her again, for death frees us all from our wordy pains.

          That was the end of the words, painstakingly penned out all those decades ago. In the man's hand was a lock of pare hair, wrapped around the bony fingers in a grip that lasted even onto death.

The book resides in the museum now, open to that last page. The spells in the front are not allowed to be read, not even by the wisest mages. The decree against it states this reason. “It takes more than a wise man to do good deeds; it takes unconditional love. As we have determined that no love will ever be greater than his, no one may by privy to his works under the penalty of death."

            The fact is, there are no spells in the front of that book, only stories and bits of wisdom. Whatever he did that day so long ago came straight from his heart. That alone should tell you of the power of love. So when someone tells you it has the power to move mountain, believe them.