End and Means

by Grey Bard
Email: fitzrose at email.msn.com

"All one hundred and thirteen captured. What am I going to do with you, hmmm, Ezekeiel?

"You didn't seriously think that you'd be mortal again, did you, Stone? Fifteen years in my realm and five working for me on Earth do not a mortal make. You are entirely too much my creature now to ever walk in His kingdom. You have done my bidding, however, so I can hardly send you back, now can I? I think I'll leave you right where you are. I need hands and eyes on Earth and you've always done quite nicely. You won't age and you won't die, but that's your problem.

"Ahh ah ah .... Is that any way to talk to your master? Make no mistake, you are mine, Stone, far more than you were the day you left my realm. Doing my will has a way of doing that to a person.

"I don't think you really understand yet what you've become.

"No, no, we can deal. I give you, how shall we say this; jobs? Nothing beyond your capabilities or the meager remains of your conscience, of course. In return, I let you stay in the world. In my service. You might even have a 'life', find a mortal woman to take the place of that Rosalynd of yours who is happily sleeping with that perfectly mortal librarian these days; it might be a decade or two before I call on you again.

"Sure, I know whose side you'll be on at the last battle, but it will be at least another ten thousand years or so until in the end you do Judas one better.

"But remember this. Before you return to the side of that over glorified lightbulb, a sacrafice, I might add, that you won't survive, you have much to do as my agent. Until you find your wings, and you won't until it is far too late for you, you are mine. My creature and you know you will come to my call. You hate yourself because somewhere within you, you know you're looking forward to it.

"Enjoy the next ten thousand years, Stone. I know I will."




Grey Bard