Just behind the hanging man was another man. An innocuous figure, dressed plainly, looking so average and normal he would not be out of place on any street…. the high torturer of the Court. By tradition a younger member of the Imperial Family was appointed to the position, more often than not against their will. All who served the Emperor had to be willing to do anything for him, the saying went, and that applied to the infliction of pain just as much it did to the killing of enemies.
And in the shadows at the far corner of the room was a small figure. Petite and not unattractive, she moved forward, lifting her long dress carefully to avoid the noxious mess of fluid and dirt on the floor.
"Londo, dear," she said. "A pleasure to see you again. We didn't really get much of a chance last time. I thought you might need a little…. time to think."
"I've had enough time to think these last few months, Elrisia," he said, feeling his hearts sink.
"Yes. We've been hearing all about your…. activities down south. Most impressive. Oh, by the way, thank you for murdering my husband for me. I'd been planning to do it myself, but I was just waiting for the right time."
He snorted, and bowed his head. "How was Refa's funeral anyway? I'm sorry to have missed it."
"Oh, the usual. Lying platitudes about what a great man he was, how we shall not see his like again, blah blah blah. A bunch of lying hypocrites who were glad to see him go. And I was one of them, I'll freely admit. I didn't speak, you know. I was just too…. grief-stricken to find the words. You'd have been very proud of me, Londo. I used those acting lessons very well."
"I didn't kill him, you know," he said, ignoring the reminder of their past. "Refa, I mean."
"I'm not surprised. You're far too…. honourable to have done anything like that. I don't really care who did, to be honest. The list of suspects, my dear Londo, is as long as your hair."
Londo shook his head. He knew who had killed Refa, but Elrisia evidently did not. He would not tell her. Not yet anyway. He knew that in this place anyone would reveal their deepest, darkest secrets with merely the right amount of persuasion.
"Have you brought me here to torture me, Elrisia?"
"In a manner of speaking. Actually, there are two things I want to do to you." She walked up close to him, very close. She released her hold on her dress and let the folds fall to the floor. Reaching out, she touched his face with surprising gentleness and bent down to him.
He knew better than to try to shy away from her, but he tried to respond to her kiss as little as possible. It was hard. She was an incredibly beautiful woman, and memories of certain events in their past kept returning to him. He tried to think of Timov.
Elrisia bit his lip savagely and pulled away. He swore, spitting blood. She backed away from him carefully, smoothing out her dress. "I know you too well, Londo," she said, a trifle breathlessly. "I am the only woman you are ever going to see down here, and before long I will be the only woman you'll remember even in your mind. With every thought, I want you to think of me, and the chance you could have had if only you'd been strong enough to take it."
"If I'd been strong enough to take it," he shouted, "I'd be dead in Refa's grave by now! I knew what you were then, Elrisia, and I still know what you are now."
She laughed, and made a casual gesture with her hand. One of the guards struck Londo in the small of the back, and he collapsed with a cry. At Elrisia's signal, they pulled him to his feet. "And I know you, Londo. Always the romantic, the idealist, the dreamer. Well…. dear Londo, let me show you what a dream has done to our world."
The guards pulled him forward towards the centre of the room, and held his head so that he was staring directly into the face of the suspended prisoner. The man's eyes were closed, and he looked unconscious.
"This man calls himself a Shadow Crier. The guards picked him up after he gave a speech in the Old Quarter several days ago. He was calling for the downthrow of the Court, but he was speaking with an intense madness. He's made a number of startling accusations, most of which he's recanted now. Isn't it amazing what can be done with a little effort? But there is one thing he cannot recant, which he will be willing to show you.
"This man, Londo, was your companion in your cell corridor. I'm sure you'll have heard him. He's quite, quite mad, and it wasn't our…. attentions that turned him that way. He's seen something, and now so will you.
"Wake him up."
The torturer gave a silent sign of acknowledgement, and raised a hideous-looking device. Moments later the Shadow Crier awoke with an anguished cry. "The Darkness is coming…." he breathed. "The…. Darkness…."
"Show him," Elrisia ordered.
The Shadow Crier's eyes seemed to dilate and twitch, changing colour and shape and form, drawing Londo into them. Londo's head was held tightly by the guards, but he would not have been able to tear his gaze away even had he been free. The sight was mesmerising.
And then he was inside them….
The Darkness is coming!
The Darkness!
He was standing staring up at the sky, a sky filled with smoke and fog and shimmering, moving Darkness. He could hear the sky screaming, a scream that cut to his soul, to old memories and older dreams.
Lights began to blaze in the heavens, moving against the Darkness. Another noise arose, harsh, invasive music, a chord that pierced his soul and left him in agony.
The Darkness was the scream, and the Light was the music. He knew that much. They were warring, fighting for this world, for these souls. The Darkness had arrived first, would come here soon, and the Light was trying to drive it away.
He was suddenly aflame, as the Light retreated and the Darkness claimed him. His mind opened to them, and he could hear their whispers. Fire was the tool, he knew that. Fire, and chaos.
Let the lords of chaos rule. Let the fire claim all it touched.
He laughed as he set himself alight, burning, and watching the heavens. It was not far off now, this battle for his planet and his soul, and the Darkness would be here soon. Very soon.
"The Darkness….
"…. is coming!" he screamed, realising that the vision had faded. He was breathing fast, too fast. He was shaking.
"You saw it, Londo," Elrisia said. "You saw his madness, and now you've taken a part of it into yourself. You'll be one of them before long, and if you aren't, I'll make sure you succumb. Won't that be nice, hmm? To sit alone in your cell, crying out to the Darkness, weeping constantly, thinking of me always. A fitting reward, Londo."
"Have you…. seen…. it?"
"No, but I know what it is, and I'll stop it. When the time is right, Londo. I'll claim this planet for my own, but only when I feel like doing so. I have the power to save this world, Londo, with something as simple as order and peace…. but I won't use it. Not yet. Not for a while. Let it burn first, and pick up the ashes."
"What do you mean? Elrisia, you can't…."
"Oh, I can. I can do anything I want. You taught me that. You, and Refa. Goodbye, Londo…. for the moment at least."
Hours later, when only the Shadow Crier remained in the room, trapped both by his chains and by his madness, the door opened again and a lone figure entered.
"Hello again," he said. "I understand you had visitors recently. Did you show them what you showed me?"
Blood filled the Shadow Crier's mouth and he let it dribble from between his lips, not saying anything. He had probably not enough sanity left to be able to utter anything but that one refrain, and the new arrival had heard that often enough in recent days.
"I suppose you did. It doesn't matter." He walked to the centre of the room, heedless of what he was stepping into, or over. Lesser worries were for lesser people.
"Show me. Again."
The prisoner continued to drool blood, but in his eyes, and in his mind, something stirred, again. Prince Cartagia felt his hearts quicken in anticipation, as he was once again projected into a world that not even his demented mind could have envisaged unaided. He stood there for many minutes, basking in the glory of the visions, whispering the words of the Shadow Crier's prophecy to himself.
Then, the vision over and the prisoner slumping back into unconsciousness, Cartagia left. There was no sign of his presence there, no trace of his parting….
* * *
John Sheridan broke into a run the instant he left the shuttle, racing for Babylon 4's Command and Control. Corwin followed at a brisk walk. They had been met in the docking bay by a group of Narn Rangers, many sporting fresh wounds or hasty bandages.
The first person Sheridan saw on the command deck was Delenn. Without slowing his pace he ran to her and hugged her, lifting her up into the air. She smiled and kissed him intensely, holding on to him even as he let her down.
"What's the status here?" he asked, not taking his eyes from hers.
"The men Captain Smith left on board are secure," she replied. "We have had no word from the planet. We were just on the point of sending another party down there to investigate."
"A good idea," he said, and she smiled. "Do you know anything about whether Bester was involved there or not?"
"No. Not for sure."
"Well, whether he was or not, I think we've pretty much cut all our ties to Sanctuary now." He broke his gaze away from her to look at Corwin, just arriving. He was talking with the leader of the group of Rangers, a Narn named G'Dok.
"You have a place at Kazomi Seven," she said. "All of you, and Mr. Bester can…." She paused, and blushed. "G'Dok, what word from the Babylon?"
"Captain Smith has surrendered and will be brought back on board as soon as possible. The shuttle to the surface is also being prepared."
She nodded. "We have to…." She started, and there were gasps and the gentle sound of drawn swords from the Rangers.
A holographic Michael Garibaldi appeared before them. "Uh…. hi," he said, somewhat awkwardly. "This thing ain't easy, you know."
"Where is the Ha'Cormar'ah?" snapped G'Dok.
"He's alive. Ta'Lon as well, although they're both in bad shape. A medical shuttle would be a nice idea, as soon as possible. Don't worry about me. I'm only a fill-in. He can have this thing back as soon as he wants it. But…. we've got a problem here. A big one."
"You don't say," Corwin replied.
* * *
Vorlon ships were hardly commonplace anywhere in the galaxy, at least not in the areas occupied by the younger races. Other than their unexpected and largely unexplained arrival at the Battle of the Second Line at Proxima 3 a year and a half ago, sightings had been extremely rare and often disputed.
What was not disputed was that, a little less than a year ago, one such Vorlon ship had arrived at Kazomi 7, at a time when the United Alliance had barely flown from its nest. Someone had disembarked, a human by all accounts, however absurd such accounts were. He had spent some time on the planet and had then left. No one on the planet had seen the Vorlon itself.
