The Mage

Roger' was a powerful mage, and an honorable man. His was flaw was his propensity to boast. One day a pretty young maid and her father came by the park where he was meditating. The young maid caught his eye, and he desired to catch hers.

"Hello there young miss, out for a stroll?" He asked her.

"Yes, my father and I wanted to try to find the oracle." Now the oracle was almost a myth, it was supposed to answer any question, albeit sometimes not in the way one would ask. It knew the future, the past, and the present.

"Ha, the oracle has nothing on me, I am a mage. I can part the curtain of time, see distant things, and know things man was not meant to know. Ask me your question, I shall answer you."

"Oh, it is nothing." she blushed prettily as she looked down.

"Than it shall be the easiest of tasks."

"Well, my father is planning for his old age, and I am not yet married, I need to make sure that he will be cared for until his end. I, I know that it is a ghoulish question, but can you check on Papa, and make sure he is all right."

At this Roger' paused, piercing the veil was difficult, and many a mage had come to a dark end for knowing the future. But he realized that he had promised this lass that he could, and would.

He took them to his house, not far away. A large structure, somewhat unkempt, because of the bachelor living within. She looked around, amazed, and he could almost see her hands moving to clean the mess. But she was wise enough not to meddle with the possessions of a mage. He led them up a winding tower stair, and when her father grimaced, he cast a quick healing spell on the father's leg. The man was suddenly spry again.

At the top was a room with four chairs, he always managed to have enough chairs up here for any visitors, plus one. He didn't know why he did this, but he did. He had the two sit next to him, then removed a thin cloth from a glowing orb. Swirls of red, gold, and green marked its surface, and other sights tugged at the mind. He confidently took their hands, relishing the warmth of hers, and began to chant. "Anno, Amno, Adono."

Their lived flashed before him. She was forced to prostitution to support him, and to get the medicine to keep her father alive. Then Roger' saw the walk of souls, as each person who died passed the great clock. Her father died but ten years later.

Rogers' vision returned to the land of the living, and he saw the pain on her face. he could not bear it. He finally saw the person in the forth chair, a being magnificent and terrible, sad and joyous. The being wore his face, and he know that he could rewrite this pain, right now, if he choose.

"No, it shall not be, she shall not see her father die, she shall live in luxury, this I swear." The young girl and her father started, but the fourth figure nodded, waving his hand, the being opened a new vision. Now the girl walked just before her father in the walk of souls, she had died but instants before her father. And the clock showed five years had passed.

"No, you tricked me, do you hear? Take it back, restore what was!" The figure merely shrugged.

He took them in, found her father a room, hired her to care for him, provide meals, and clean. He showed her what not to touch, and simple wards to allow her to touch many of the guarded items. She was clever, witty, and wonderful. The first night, after she cleaned and cooked, she tried to follow him to his bedchamber.

"What are you doing?" He demanded.

"You have secured my future, given me what I needed, you are rich and powerful, and have no reason for saving one such as me. I offer myself to you to buy my father's life."

Rage conquered Rogers' face, he stared at her until she fled, crying, and he kicked himself. How could she have known he was mad at himself, and at that dark figure. He chased her down, and put her in a bright and cheerful room, with a hearth and candles. He apologized, and she apologized, and each said the other's apologies were unnesciary.

For two years, he wondered at her, and she always blushed when she caught him looking at her. But all the while he was busy, building his powers. He would surpass the strengh of the being he saw, and would undo the prophecy. Finally he could take no more, he loved her, and asked her and her father for a marriage. All three of them grew older. Rogers' face became hollow, he did not eat enough, and he spent too much of his energy, but he had to surpass the power of that being. Emelda's face grew worry lines, she would always ask why he worked so hard, and would care for him as best she could. Her father was well though, every spell Roger' found was poured into his health, to buy himself time. Four years and seven months after their first meeting, she told her husband and father that she was with child. He father delighted, but Roger was striken.

"Oh, my love, what is the matter? Please tell me. Is it the child? I want this child, I want it so much, but for you I will lose it."

"No!" it was a bellow, Rogers' mouth was not used to this, but he insisted she keep the child.

He redoubled his work, not knowing how he could do it in time. At last he found it, a spell to send one back in time. Perhaps he could get some sort of message to himself. The spell was quite clear, he could not speak, but he thought he could drop a note.


Divinations tell him what he cannot say in the note... He finally finds a note that the spirits will let him send back...

Some of the things he did to power the spell were terrible, things not to be spoken of, but for his love, what was too much? The magistrate banged on the door the day before the spell would be cast. He would have to wait for the very last day. How he wished he had more time. The Magistrate looked scared.

"Mighty lord, some of your actions have come to the attention of the people. We would like you to please desist."

"I have no time for this." His spell was poorly timed, perhaps because of the stress, it hurled the magistrate across the way, where he landed with a dull smack. He needed no magic to know the magistrate was dead. Well, in a short time it would not matter, the past would be undone.

His wife bore the child that night, in agony, for no midwife would visit. He cursed them with every breath, while weaving spells of pain reduction and healing.

He feverishly scrawled a note to himself.
If you do not meddle in this woman's life, she shall live in
prostitution and sin, if you involve yourself, you shall marry
her, and will not like the result.
T
here, it was a warning of sorts, and about all he dared risk, the dangers of this magic were great. He was locked in his lab when the banging started. He cursed the interuption, and headed to the hallway. His wife opened the door. She was carrying the child, and he did not understand why she doubled over. Had he missed some spell? Some secret sign of sickness (oh he cursed those midwives). Then she fell back, with a pitchfork in her belly. His fury was raised, he prepared a spell of fire, meanwhile, her father dived to the ground next to her, as the peasants beat him. His spell destroyed the mob, and he hurried forward. He saw what it was that his father in law was protecting, his grandchild. He looked into that innocent face, as his daughter began to cry, and hurried back to the lab. It would mean his daughter would not be born, but it would save his wife's life. He rushed to the tower, his spell complete, and saw himself, his father in law, and his bride. He was going to undo this, he nodded to himself. The younger Roger' cast the spell and he tried desperately to wave him away from casting. He finished anyway, then the younger started shouting at the older self. "Take it back." He wanted to, that was why he was here, but his younger self could not know this. So he just shrugged. He carefully placed the slip of paper on the floor, away from his young love. Then the spell faded, he was back in the present.

Nothing had changed, he went to the entryway, and found it filled with dead bodies. Why had it not worked? The note was written to be allowed to pass, it should have fixed the problem. He searched his memory, had he seen the note? He should have found the note right after the meeting. He had never seen the note, he knew it.

A minor cantrip created an arrow pointing at the note, it pointed unerringly at his father-in-law. He found the note in the front pocket, five years old, though it had been penned moments before. The old man had sealed his daughter's death.