A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 4. A Future, Born in Pain addm-4

by Gareth D. Williams

  "I have no time for threats, General," he said, slowly and purposefully, "if that is what this is about." He smiled. "Or have you decided to surrender?"

  "Neither," Carn replied. "What I am about to say may well have me tried for treason, but I don't care. Centauri Prime is under attack by the Shadows. I am going back to defend it. The whole fleet is coming with me. Maybe we can win, maybe we can't, but we at least have to try.

  "You can come with us if you like."

  There was a pause, and Na'Tok laughed. "You expect me to believe that?"

  "Why not? It was our two races who first joined forces against the Shadows. My uncle and your prophet G'Kar. I fought alongside Narn ships at the Battle of Proxima. They gave their lives that we might all triumph. I am tired of fighting this war, Na'Tok. If you choose to take advantage of our departure then the Republic is dead and gone anyway. So I give you this offer. Help us. Help us against the greater Enemy."

  "Everyone knows you are allied with the Shadows. This is a deception."

  "Then don't believe me. Do as you wish. Obey your Kha'Ri. Disobey them. Whatever you wish. But I am going home. General Mollari out."

  He sat back and sighed. Technically that was treason, but he had to try. What use victory against the Narns if you lost to the Shadows? Who was truly the greater enemy?

  He began to take the Centauri fleet home.

  * * *

  She was perfect. She was everything he could have imagined his Empress would be. Her eyes were filled with flame, the warrior nature of her bearing contrasting with the fragile beauty of her features. She would bear him strong sons and beautiful daughters and the line of House Kiro would sit on the Purple Throne in service to the Dark Masters for a thousand years to come.

  Yes, thought Lord Kiro, Lyndisty Marrago would be a fine Empress indeed.

  "Where is my father?" she demanded. Even her voice was that of an Empress. He had believed she was appropriate when she had brought him the seeds of his victory all these months ago, but now he was sure, convinced beyond all doubt. "Where is Emperor Mollari? It is treason for you to sit on the throne."

  "A treason according to the laws of mortals," Kiro said, admiring her spirit and fire. "I sit here by the laws of Gods. They have made me Emperor of this Republic, just as they will make you my Empress."

  She snorted, and turned away. "I came to find our Emperor," she said calmly. "Not a madman sitting in his place. I will visit your grave."

  Kiro smiled wryly. "Mariel," he said, and she looked up. She would never be his Empress. She never could be, and she had accepted that now. She was his in every way that counted. She had seen the glory of the Dark Masters, and of his son rising from the crimson womb. She would help him mould Lyndisty into what was necessary. After all, why else had he kept her around all this time?

  "Mariel. Fetch her back. My Empress will need to be taught so many things."

  Dutifully, Mariel moved to catch the departing Lyndisty. As she placed a hand on Lyndisty's shoulder, the future Empress turned and delivered a powerful punch to Mariel's face, sending her sprawling. Kiro smiled, feeling the power of the Dark Masters flow into Mariel as she rose to her feet.

  Slowly a red mist issued from Mariel's mouth, from her eyes and fingers. Lyndisty's eyes widened, but only for an instant, as she moved forward and threw another punch into Mariel's face, and then another and another. Finally Mariel slumped and fell. She did not rise, and only her racking sobs testified that she was even alive.

  "Magnificent," Kiro said. "Truly magnificent. You are more than worthy to be my Empress." He rose from the throne and began to walk towards her. She took a step back and a knife was suddenly in her hand, twirling competently. There was a glint of poison on its blade.

  "I am Lyndisty Marrago," she hissed. "For generations my family has protected and guarded that throne. If you believe I will be your puppet, then you are mistaken. My father is the Lord–General, and he has trained me in every form of combat there is. Take another step forward, and I will erase your treason myself."

  Kiro smiled, and his eyes flashed. The power of the Dark Masters shone in his mind, and he could hear the byakheeshaggai scream its worship. Lightning crackled all over his body, a crimson haze fell across his vision. He looked at her and saw her soul, a melange of conflicting colours, of split personalities, of fiery red and tranquil white. She was his, his to comprehend, to command, to serve.

  Trembling, she was actually resisting the song of the Dark Masters funnelled through his son. He stepped forward and touched her face gently. The knife fell from her fingers. He bent forward and kissed her, powerfully but tenderly. The first kiss of Emperor Kiro to his Empress.

  He stepped back. "There," he said. "Now do you doubt that you are mine, my one and true Empress?"

  She reached out to touch him, placing her hand on his shoulder. She then pushed her fingertips down and paralysed his nerve clusters. He screamed and fell back, sensation ebbing from his arm. Her eyes flashed and she moved forward, another knife appearing from nowhere in her hand.

  "I am Lyndisty, daughter of House Marrago," she said again, power and contempt in every word. Contempt. For him! "And I will never be yours." The knife sliced through the sleeve of his tunic, and then through a button. He stumbled back. What was happening? She would be his! The Dark Masters promised it! She would be his.

  "No," he whispered. "No, this is...."

  There was a flash of light and Lyndisty fell twitching to the floor. The guard lowered his weapon. A swift glance told Kiro that the wound was not fatal, but he no longer cared. The Dark Masters had promised him victory here. She would be his.

  "They are here," he said, desperately seeking some understanding. "They are here, so we must go to them. We must reaffirm my loyalty. Come, guards. Come, Mariel."

  "No," Mariel said softly.

  He turned to her, doubting for one second that he had heard that word. She was kneeling, blood splattering her face, new wounds over many, many old ones. Cradled in her arms was Lyndisty's discarded dagger.

  "No," she said again. "I am not yours any more." The words came out in a choke. She held up the blade. "Poisoned," she whispered. "I know all about poison. This will not hurt, not at all. I have had enough of being hurt."

  She drew the blade across her bare arm.

  Kiro screamed. "Why? Why have you abandoned me? Masters, what have I done?"

  "Ah," said an unusual voice. "I believe I can answer that."

  He turned to see someone standing in the doorway. A human, dressed smartly. He was smiling.

  Behind him, there hovered a ghost.

  * * *

  In a pocket of hyperspace, the Vorlon ships waited.

  * * *

  Londo watched his world burn in silence. He received reports in equal silence. Totals of the dead, the dying, the cities in flames. Sphodria was lost entirely, the victim of a repeat of the violence that had all but destroyed it last year.

  Even the palace was lost. The throne room had been taken and there was bloody fighting in the gardens. Some of the prisoners had either escaped or been released. And here he was, guarded and secure. He was safe, but no one else was.

  No, Timov was safe. That was something at least. However much she disliked being guarded, that was a necessity. He could not abandon her as he had everyone else.

  He turned just in time to see Marrago enter. There was a single moment when their eyes met, then Londo turned back to the sight of his burning city.

  "We've lost Selini," Marrago said simply. "The Parliament building there has been burned down. I don't think there were any survivors."

  Selini. A place he had made his home for months, the place where he had plotted his counterattack. The first place to recognise him on his road to the throne.

  "Leave," he said simply. "Secure the palace. Serve your Emperor."

  "Majesty, I.... I did what I thought was...."

  "Leave," he repeated. "Secure the palace. Serve your Emperor."

  "As
your Majesty commands," Marrago said again, his voice trembling.

  Londo waited until he was sure his friend was gone and then pulled himself away from the window. Looking into the shadows he sought Lennier, and was unpleasantly surprised to find he wasn't there. He had become so used to the silent Minbari always being around, always being here. Had he been driven insane, too? Was he to be alone forever, until he died?

  He sighed, then called for a guard. There was one last option, one last path for him to take. It would take him years to put right what he would now do, maybe generations, but he would never stop working to rectify it. But for now.... he had no choice.

  "Find Ambassador Morden," he said simply. "Bring him alive and well to my side. Let nothing stop you from this mission. Nothing."

  "As you command, Majesty."

  And that was that. All he had to do now.... was wait.

  * * *

  The pain had not stopped, but it had lessened. Lennier of the Third Fane of Chudomo could move, albeit awkwardly, and he could ignore the blandishments of the creature that spoke to him. For almost three years it had been speaking to him, and he had spent all that time trying to ignore it. The technomages had taught him meditative techniques, rituals, a stabilising of mind and body and soul that went far beyond anything he had learned in the temples of his people.

  Up until now, it had helped.

  But now the voice in his mind was not just one, but many. The Keeper spoke of the glory of the Dark Masters, and through its voice came that of the byakheeshaggai, last of its race, last of a once proud and ancient people of philosophers and theologians and artists. The last of these once gentle people, which was tearing Centauri Prime apart.

  Lennier was not sure where he was going, only that he had to go somewhere, anywhere that was away from here. He had to get away from Londo, for fear of losing control of himself, of becoming a threat to the only person he had been able to call a friend.

  His eyes opened, and he looked once more at the room in which he found himself. He saw with a clarity greater than ever before, and for the first time in three years his Keeper fell silent.

  Ambassador Morden and Lord Kiro were staring at each other, unmoving. The bodies of two women lay on the floor. Behind Lord Kiro was the crackling madness that funnelled from the byakheeshaggai, and behind Ambassador Morden....

  .... was the spirit of a Vorlon.

  * * *

  "There was something I said when I began my crusade against the Enemy. Something I said to the first person to ally himself to my cause.

  "'If we cannot live together, we shall surely die apart.'

  "I have said that over and over again, to everyone who will listen. I have spoken it in the mountains and in the temples and in the Parliaments and in the town squares. I have said that in this very building, and I will keep saying it until everyone in this galaxy has listened to me and has understood my words.

  "You all.... every one of you has heard those words, and you have all forgotten. So I will say them again.

  "'If we cannot live together, we shall surely die apart.'

  "This war with the Centauri furthers nothing. It spreads chaos and anarchy and death. We should be fighting together, Narn and Centauri, against a common enemy, as we did once, in the beginning. Instead we wage war against each other. Instead we cause parents to grieve and children to be made orphans. For long years of occupation we watched as that was done to us, and we swore 'never again'. But now it is happening again, and this time it is not the Centauri who are to blame. We are.

  "How often must I speak to you? How many times must I say the words before you listen?

  "'If we cannot live together we shall surely die apart.'"

  G'Kar stopped and looked around the room, looked at the circles extending upwards in which sat the Narn Government, the people in whom the Narn people placed their trust and their hopes for the future.

  One of them rose and looked directly at G'Kar himself. He did not shy away from the prophet's furious gaze. "Your words are welcome here, Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar, as always, but they are ill–advised. The Centauri are allied with the Enemy. This we all know."

  "Then you know nothing, H'Klo. Whatever alliance there is, exists not between the Centauri government and the Enemy. Maybe there is such an alliance, but the Emperor is not involved. The Shadows spread chaos. They set allies to fight one another. That is what they do, and that is what they are doing now! We should be helping the Centauri fight the agents on their worlds, not wage war on all the innocent because of a few who are guilty."

  "They are Centauri," barked one voice, high in the circles. "There are no innocents there."

  "And that is what they said to us!" G'Kar roared. "Do none of you see? We can wage a war against them from now until the time our grandchildren are mouldering bones in long–forgotten graves, and what will that have won us? In a hundred years, a Centauri government will sit as we do now, and argue that there are no Narn innocents. I suffered during the occupation, as did we all....

  "But the occupation is over! And so will this war be over!

  "I was told once there are three ways to deal with an enemy. Kill him, hate him, or make him your friend. We cannot kill the Centauri, and an enemy you hate can never become your friend."

  "Your words are.... powerful, Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar," H'Klo said again. "But need we remind you that you have no official standing here? You resigned your position in the Kha'Ri and turned down numerous offers to lead us. You have an official position within the United Alliance, yes.... but not here. Therefore your words are persuasive only, and you cannot set policy for the Kha'Ri."

  "I have no intention of setting policy," G'Kar snapped. "You are right. My words to you here cannot do that.

  "But my words to the Narn people can, and they will. I will return to the temples, to the cities, to the streets, and I will speak until I am listened to, or until I collapse dead. Once I was afraid of the power my words could have, the power to topple governments and change peoples. I am still afraid, but I will not stop until we are turned from this path we are on.

  "Councillors, this war will end now, today. If not at my urging, then at that of the people you rule.

  "The decision is yours."

  * * *

  The last hope of the Centauri Republic moved nearer and nearer to the homeworld. Heedless of the Narn fleet left unguarded at his back, General Carn Mollari brought the Valerius and the Centauri fleet to Centauri Prime. It was not far, the front line was much too close to the homeworld for comfort, but would be it just too far?

  What choice did they have? To save the homeworld, or to avenge it?

  Jump gates opened above Centauri Prime and Carn led the fleet into the heavens above his homeworld. A fleet of Shadow warships was there, waiting for him.

  Unhesitating, Carn gave the order to attack.

  * * *

  Ah, Lords of Light, what fools these mortals were.

  Morden took a step forward, and behind him the spirit of his Master flowed. The power it radiated was enough to blind these insects, these beings who believed they understood the cosmos when they knew only a tiny corner of it. Even after all he had seen and done, Morden knew he understood little.

  "They are here," Kiro whispered. The would–be Emperor looked weak. His clothes were in rags, his hair limp. There were scratches and weeping wounds on his face and hands, some new, some old. The only thing about him that marked him out was the fervour in his eyes, the crimson mist that seeped from his soul. Beyond that, he might have been nothing more than a beggar or a vagabond.

  "They are here," he said over and over again, repeating it like a mantra.

  "Yes," Morden said softly, in flawless and unaccented High Tongue. "Your Masters are here. Go out and herald their coming. Be witness to their return."

  Kiro's eyes flashed. "You mock me. You dare to mock me! The Dark Masters will...."

  "They will do nothing," Morden said. He could feel his Light Master observing him, shiel
ding him from the power of the byakheeshaggai. That was a taxing task, a draining one, but the Vorlons were more than powerful enough for what was necessary. It was just a shame there was no node of the network on Centauri Prime. Oh well, that would soon change.

  "You live on delusions," Morden said, his voice firm. "You huddle to the Shadow believing it will soothe and succour when it drains the life from you. It is not too late for you to seek forgiveness, but I am not the right person for that. When an Inquisitor arrives, maybe, but for now...." Morden smiled. "For now, you will have to be content with seeing the truth."

  Kiro looked directly at him, and for just an instant Morden saw himself reflected in the madman's eyes. Then the mirrors there became filled with light, a light so old and so powerful and so bright that all reflections, all insanity, all that was there.... was erased.

  Kiro fell back, resting against the throne. He remained there for a few minutes and then looked around the room, his eyes those of a child who is seeing the world for the first time. He looked at Mariel's dead body, at the woman he had thought would have been his Empress, at the shadows in an empty corner, at the throne he had recently sat on, and then at Morden and the angel behind him.

  Then, saying nothing, Kiro turned and limped away from the throne room.

  Morden turned to look at the two guards who had succumbed to Kiro's will, but they were motionless, drooling on the floor, their minds utterly broken at last by the same thing that had broken Kiro's - the sight of a Vorlon.

  A sound suddenly reached him, as if coming from a long way away. He blinked, feeling the banalities of the real world returning to him, and looked down. The woman there, Lyndisty Marrago, was moving, stirring slowly.

  Morden pursed his lips, knowing what must be done. He had thought her taken by Kiro's power, but evidently that was not so. It would have been easier for all had she not been able to resist. Morden never liked getting blood on his suit.