Chapter 1

"I REMEMBER standing before the Grey Council, saying the words that would bind me to their path and the path they set out for me. 'I am Grey. I stand between the Candle and the Star. We are Grey. We stand between the Darkness and the Light.'
"Foolishness. None of us is neutral. Not Delenn, not Kalain, not the Earthers and certainly not me.
"Neither of course, are the technomages, whatever their protestations. Through the Vindrizi remaining here I know more about the technomages than almost any alive. They are no more neutral than I. They simply recognise different sides.
"I stand here, where light was once brought to the Darkness, yet my heart and soul are elsewhere - on a pathetic, rainswept rock called Kazomi Seven. Delenn is there, dying.
"My feelings regarding Delenn are irrelevant. I respect her ambition, her intelligence and her convictions. I loathe her false superiority, her vulnerability and her religious caste sensibilities. In the conflict between us, I was simply the one willing to do whatever it took to win. The fact that my victory has brought me here is also irrelevant.
"Delenn is dying. I can practically hear her breath solidifying in her throat. She is no longer Minbari. Her transformation, no matter the reason, was a political gamble - one which failed. It is strangely fitting that her human half will be responsible for killing her.
"Perhaps the technomages will save her, perhaps they will not. I do not care. If Valen wills it, she shall be saved. If Valen wills it, I shall guide my people to their destiny, with or without Delenn's assistance.
"There, Sech Durhan. Have I suitably purged myself for you now?"
Sinoval of the Wind Swords clan, Holy One of the Minbari,
in a meditative ritual. Dated, by the human calendar, May 1st 2259.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Typical. We leave for a couple of weeks and they have to go and redecorate on us." Such cynical remarks were not unusual from the mouth of former Minister Londo Mollari these days, although in this case even he was guilty of colossal understatement.
When they had left Kazomi 7 in search of the Vindrizi as price for the aid of the technomages, the planet had been a Drazi-run colony - a trading station for virtually the entirety of the Non-Aligned Worlds. The place had been a little.... yes, a little rough, and just a little corrupt.
A great deal had changed in only a few weeks.
Almost all of the former Drazi administrators were currently hanging in various pieces from various prominent buildings around the colony. Their Bulloxian enforcers had run as fast as they could - which in most cases had turned out to be not nearly fast enough - and those who hadn't managed to escape were now either very unpleasantly dead or were hiding somewhere they hoped they would never be found. No trading ships came here. All communications from the Merchant Guilds were shut down. Nobody could afford to send ships in to investigate - not in trying times like this.
The takeover of Kazomi 7 had been accomplished with such brutality, speed and deadly efficiency that even now few knew who were responsible. Those who had survived prayed they would never find out.
Londo Mollari was not so lucky.
"Drakh," he muttered to himself, recalling millennia-old legends and horror stories - legends now proved true. "Drakh." They had raided a number of Centauri worlds centuries ago. Then the Centauri had been strong enough to drive them away, although not without cost. If they had returned....
He tried to shake such thoughts away. The Drakh, powerful and dangerous as they were, were not currently his primary concern.
"How is she?" he asked.
Vindrizi looked up. "Alive, for the moment."
Londo muttered silent thanks to all the Gods he did not believe in, and then cursed them for putting him in this situation to begin with. As he looked at his companions he realised just how awkward his position was.
Delenn was dying, there was no doubt about that. Of course she had been dying for a good while, but this time she was a lot more serious about it. She could not speak, she could not walk. It seemed that even breathing was an effort for her. Of necessity, they had remained on the planet where the Vindrizi were hiding. Their medical care had managed to stabilise her systems partially, but even they could only do so much. If she was to be saved, it would be the technomages or nothing. Perhaps the delay would end up killing her after all.
He was still very unsure how he felt about Delenn. He did not like Minbari - and never had; they were sanctimonious, insufferable and very, very boring. He could also never forget what they had done to Earth. He had actually been to Earth a number of times and had found he quite liked the place. It was one of his greatest personal shames that he had been unable to persuade the Centarum to become involved in the Earth / Minbari conflict until it was far too late, and then they had chosen the wrong side.
But still.... he remembered Delenn crying out in the grip of fever. He remembered her begging for forgiveness, and he began to wonder what demons could drive her this far - to change her entire biology. He hoped he would never have to find out.
And then there was Vindrizi. Now, Londo was at a bit of a loss about him. He was a Narn for one thing, and with their peoples currently at war, he would not have thought that this would make for a happy travelling arrangement. On the other hand, he did not seem to think of himself as a Narn, and the only name he would give was the name of the disgusting insect parasite thing currently wrapped around his spinal column. He knew a great deal - well, everything every Vindrizi did, through some means Londo did not want to think about. He also scared Londo half to death, but still.... they were almost there. Deliver him to the technomages, get Delenn revived, receive the gift and the warning that Elric had promised them all, and then he would never have to see any of them again.
Fourth, and last.... there was Shaal Lennier, keela poet, adventurer, agent of G'Kar's Circle of Light, magnificent card sharp and expert bar-room brawler. Lennier was also a Minbari but Londo found he actually liked him - the Great Maker alone knew why. Perhaps it was because he reminded him of himself in his youth.... or probably not.
Lennier was currently away on a scouting mission. Kazomi 7 was a dangerous place these days, and Londo knew only too well just how dangerous these Drakh were. He had surely been gone too long.
Their return to Kazomi 7 would have been a difficult affair at the best of times. Londo and Lennier were both wanted for involvement in a bar-room brawl and for subsequent escape from the cells here; they had stolen a ship to get away from the planet and to get back; and none of them wanted any sort of attention from the authorities at the best of times. They had planned to get Captain Jack - the insufferable human pilot of the ship they had stolen - to drop them off somewhere just outside the main colony and make their way in. That part would have gone according to plan, if they hadn't had to outrun two Drakh ships on their way in.
Somehow, Captain Jack had managed that and had dropped them off. He had then departed very quickly, muttering some nonsense about running the 'fastest ship this side of the Rim', leaving Londo, Lennier, Delenn and Vindrizi the unenviable task of finding the technomages again, in a city full of Drakh.
Londo had hoped that the technomages would find them, but they had been in the city for almost two days now and had heard nothing, and an unpleasant thought was arising in his mind.
Were the Drakh a match for the technomages? And if so, were there any technomages left to welcome them?

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Elric inclined his head in a gesture of respect. If the inclination was a little shallower than it should have been, he could be forgiven. These were dark times.
"We have lost two more," whispered the figure on the throne before him. Jamis, the One Above All, lord and master of the technomages, and the only living being before whom even Elric was in awe.
"Yes, Lord. They were killed earlier today. The Drakh are closing in on our place here. We have gathered all of our order that we can, and any who remain are surely lost to us."
"Such pessimism, Elric."
"Great Lord, the Darkness knows we are here. They have sent the Drakh to find us. You know how powerful they are - how aware they are of our secrets. We must begin preparations to leave this place."
"Why must we do so, Elric? Let the abominations come to us. We cannot leave yet. The three we sent out have returned, with that which we sent them to find."
"Great Lord, they are as doomed as we are."
"Perhaps not. They are opposed to the Darkness, remember. And they do not see what we see about the Light they claim to serve. That may be their greatest strength.
"Find them, Elric. Find the three, and that which they have found for us. Find them and bring them here. We will then repay them, and leave this place. Then, our work here will be done."
"And if the Drakh find them first, Lord?"
The One Above All moved on his throne, leaning forward so that a beam of light shone on his face. His eyes were gleaming with the full force of his age and power. Elric, who had faced down demons, First Ones, creatures far far older than anything any of the Younger Races could comprehend.... Elric found himself cowering before the power in that gaze. Jamis was a God, and more than a God.
"Then destroy them."
Elric knew how much of a threat the Drakh were; he knew of the long and bloody history between Drakh and technomage; he knew of the sheer danger they posed to his order, and of the difficulty of what the One Above All was asking.
He knew all these things, and yet he said in reply simply;
"Yes, Great Lord."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

He is trapped by chains he can neither see nor feel. His muscles are locked, paralysed; his nerves are deadened, so that he can neither feel the agonies he knows he is experiencing nor take any action to ease them.
He supposes he should have expected this, although that does not make his plight any easier. If anything, it makes it worse. He embarked on a simple scouting mission, laying out the land ahead, trying to make contact with the technomages. It had not been necessary, and he had known that even as he set out.
It was her - the Zha'valen. He could hardly bear to be around her, and so he had left. She had betrayed her people - his people - and it did not matter that she was innocent. What mattered was that she had been found guilty.
A technicality, to be sure, and one which he recognises, but that does not make his plight any easier, either.
Lennier of the Third Fane of Chudomo is still alive, technically - a living mind in a paralysed body, helpless, at the mercy of his captors. He can make no sound, or movement, or motion, but within his mind, Lennier of the Third Fane of Chudomo is screaming.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Drakh," Londo muttered to himself, running the same word over and over again in his mind, trying to remember the legends about them. They had become little more than bogeymen in the centuries since they had last been active, and solid information had been replaced by ghoulish rumour.
They eat the flesh of those they capture. They are the spirits of the unjustly dead, come to claim revenge upon the living. They can walk through walls. They can see in the darkness. They are telepathic. They are sorcerers.
Stories and fables, although, as he peered out into the silent, darkened streets of Kazomi 7, Londo found himself wondering just how many of those stories were true.
Delenn was moaning again, not loudly, but in the grim silence of the night any noise sounded like an earthquake. He turned to look at her, and his expression hardened at the sight of her almost epileptic twitching and thrashing. Vindrizi was beside her, but he could do little.
"She will be dead soon," Londo said grimly. It was true. It was a miracle she had survived this long. Her body had been tearing itself apart for the best part of four months, destroying its own vital organs, ripping apart its own muscles and nerves and cells; Minbari biology unable to cope with human.
"In all probability," replied Vindrizi, his voice far too soft and grieving for a Narn.
"There is nothing you can do for her?"
"Nothing I know will be of any use to her now. Only the technomages can save her."
"You have had dealings with the technomages before, yes?" Londo was constantly looking around as he whispered. The building they had taken refuge in was deserted and he had a view of the only street leading to it, but if even half of the rumours about the Drakh were true, then this would be no adequate defence.
"Yes, we have. We were created to be storehouses of knowledge, they to be reservoirs of power - two forces linked together always. We have been separated for too long. Before the technomages leave, we must be reunited."
"Yes, so I gather - assuming we ever get past these Drakh. Why are they here anyway? For the technomages, or for us?"
"Perhaps for neither reason, or perhaps for both. The Drakh are possibly the most dangerous foe you will ever encounter, Minister Mollari. More deadly by far than anything you have yet come across."
"You have.... encountered them before?" Londo was still finding it difficult to believe that the Narn in front of him had memories going back millennia. He was finding it even more difficult to believe that he had been in the company of this Narn for several weeks and both of them were still alive.
"We have, yes. Many Drakh were once former technomages."
"What?!" Londo abruptly fell silent and began looking around hastily. For over a minute there was complete silence, each second seeming to be twenty times its length. Finally he moved again, and repeated himself, quieter this time. "What?"
"The Drakh are an old race, not as old as the Minbari perhaps, but older than many of the races currently active. Over a thousand years ago they were intergalactic raiders, pirates, bringing chaos and death to countless worlds. They were - still are - efficient, brutal and very intelligent. They might be considered the ultimate warmongers. They also had a smattering of skills you might call magic.
"These skills drew them to the attention of another race, far older than the Drakh, a race just beginning to return to events in this galaxy. This race explained their goals to the Drakh, who eagerly made the alliance."
Softly, as if merely speaking the name cursed him for all time, Londo whispered the single word, "Shadows."
"Yes. The Drakh were used as minions of the Shadows in their last war. When that war was lost, they went into hiding along with their masters, and now they have returned."
"So what is the connection with the technomages?"
"Many Drakh once served in that order. Drakh possess similar skills and were happy to share knowledge and learning. Once the Drakh allied themselves with the Shadows, however, they were expelled from the ranks of the technomages, in a violent and bloody schism. Even today, the Drakh know more about the technomages than any other living beings.
"The technomages possess a rare and powerful gift. It is only understandable that.... forces should wish to misuse that gift, and if it cannot be used, then to destroy it."
"I see. This is not good."
"No. The technomages are not warriors, and this is not their war. Nor is it mine, and it is only yours by force of circumstance."
"Ah, you mean the fact that the Great Maker hates me."
"Well," Vindrizi smiled. "Perhaps there is that also."
Delenn began to cry out softly, whispering harsh words in the Minbari language. Londo was certain she was begging for forgiveness again.
"I think Mr. Lennier is lost to us," he said. "We will have to abandon him for the present." Just saying those words put a sour taste in his mouth. He honestly liked Lennier, and hated to leave him in the hands of those.... things. But....
He started, and shivered and looked around. But....
They were not alone.
Vindrizi had evidently noticed it as well. He rose to his feet, stepping forward quietly. And there, out of the darkness before them - coming from the opposite direction to the door - radiating all of its malevolent power and dark aura; complete in majesty and terror; moving ever so slowly, like the herald of death itself.... there came a Drakh.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

G'Kar had adapted to many changes in the last few years, but the one thing he doubted he would ever get used to was throwing his consciousness out over hundreds of light years in every direction. While his body remained locked in the Heart of the Great Machine, his soul could be sent out, in holographic form, to almost anywhere he liked. It smacked almost of blasphemy to him, but he had long ago accepted that it is impossible to win any struggle while keeping clean hands.
Still, he preferred debating the morals of his actions to doing what he was now forced to do - namely, accepting his own failure.
G'Kar had been very busy in recent months; observing the Streib assaults on a number of the Non-Aligned Worlds, studying the chaos on Minbar - finally dying down, although through no action of his - dealing with Bester, keeping track of the gathering of forces at Proxima 3.... Kazomi 7 had seemed beneath his notice. He had twice attempted to talk with the technomages there and he had twice been refused. He had been keeping track of Delenn, Londo and Lennier's quest there, but that was it.
He had completely missed the Drakh invasion, and would have been unable to make any difference even if he had noticed. Thousands had died because he had been too busy to notice them.
He swore that would not happen again.
His holographic form materialised in the room he had been in twice before. Even the first time, finding this place had not been difficult. The sheer power radiated by the technomages here had been almost magnetic, drawing him to this particular spot.
The room was simple and unadorned, with only a bed and a table. Elric was there, kneeling in what might have been prayer. G'Kar walked towards him, instinctively skirting around the table. Some things would take a while to get used to.
Elric slowly rose to his feet and turned round. He was angry. Very angry. In fact he appeared calm and collected, but G'Kar could see the hint of flame burning at the back of the technomage's eyes.
"Leave me, G'Kar," Elric rasped. "My answer is the same as it was last time."
"The Drakh are a powerful threat, mage," G'Kar said, choosing his words carefully. "Surely you can use some help...."
"Not from you."
"Three of my agents are on this planet and I cannot find them. I need your help, mage. I need...."
"I do not care what you need, G'Kar. You are nothing more than a puppet who cannot see his strings, a piece of the machine that thinks it is the whole of the machine. You are blind. We do not fight your wars."
"But others do. The Drakh do. You have great power, mage. Think of what you can do if you aid us. Think of those killed in this place."
"I have been. Thinking of those of this order killed in this place."
"Not just those. The others...."
"None of whom mattered to me in the slightest. We do not fight in this war, G'Kar. I will find your agents in this city, and I will obtain from them that which I sent them to find. I will then give them what they have asked for, and we will depart from this place and this galaxy, never to return.
"Our time here will be done."
"You cannot throw away that power, or someone else will simply pick it up...."
"Begone, G'Kar. I have other concerns."
"Not until I am finished...."
"I said BEGONE!" Elric's eyes blazed and he raised his hands, fire flickering from his fingertips. G'Kar instinctively backed off and raised his arms to cover his face, but to no avail....
Several exquisitely pain-racked minutes later, he opened his eyes to find his consciousness returned to the Heart of the Great Machine. He did not know how Elric had done what he had done, and he did not want to ask.
What he did know was that Delenn, Londo and Lennier were now even more alone than before - trapped in a city of death.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Londo swallowed harshly, trying to restrain an almost primaeval sense of terror. The Drakh seemed cloaked in shadows, barely noticeable to his eyes, but with his other senses....
It smelled of rot and decay. Londo had once visited a battlefield - the then Narn-held colony of Dros 4, after it had been retaken in the middle stages of the last war. He had looked around the devastation and the bodies and had made a speech about a magnificent step in the Centauri's return to greatness. The smell of death on the whole planet had been something he could never forget, and it was an uncomfortable reminder here.
"Who...?" asked the Drakh, in a voice that scraped at the inside of Londo's ears. The voice was dry, hoarse, devoid of any feelings of compassion or mercy or love. It was surely the voice of death.
"No.... no one," Londo said, thinking very quickly. There were a number of possibilities here, none of them very pleasant. If Vindrizi was right and the Drakh were after the technomages, then this one should know that no one present here fit that description. It would then either let them go or kill them horribly.
"Important...?"
Okay, so it wanted to know if they were important or not. There had been a Centauri Merchants' Guild on Kazomi 7 - it was currently little more than a collection of rubble and bodies - so the Drakh presumably knew who Centauri were. If he claimed to be someone important then he might be taken away for questioning (not nice) or he might be killed horribly here and now (equally not nice).
On the other hand, if he said he wasn't important, then the Drakh might leave them alone, (good) or it might kill them horribly just for the sheer hell of it (also not nice).
Who am I trying to kid? That thing will kill us because it doesn't like my hair, or something....
"No," Vindrizi said. "Not important at all."
Londo inwardly cringed. Trust Narns to come in and mess everything up.
The Drakh made a gesture that was presumably a smile. The idea of it smiling was the second worst thing Londo could currently think of. The only thing worse was the thought that it might be doing something other than smiling....
"Then.... die...."
The Drakh raised what was presumably an arm and Londo's instincts found themselves working faster than his brain. He threw himself in front of Delenn while Vindrizi leapt towards the Drakh. He had no idea what the crazy Narn was doing, and he did not care. He kept his head buried in Delenn's shoulder, hoping that at least he would die without seeing it.
When he realised that several seconds had passed without any noise, he turned and looked in the direction of the fight. Vindrizi was lying motionless, with the Drakh rising up over him, its back to Londo. He contemplated attacking the monster, or running away very quickly, or pretending to be dead....
He was contemplating a great many things, but none of them mattered. Just as well, as his muscles seemed to have stopped working.
Vindrizi finished pushing the dead Drakh away and staggered to his feet. He was covered in blood and was pressing his right arm up against the side of his chest.
"Everything has.... a weakness...." he rasped. "Even Drakh. Even.... this body. It.... broke a number of corollary organs. I estimate only.... an hour or so.... before they coalesce in the heart and.... this body.... dies."
Londo closed his eyes and whispered a silent prayer to Gods he did not believe in. "An hour?"
"Maybe."
"Long enough. We have to hurry." Londo scooped up Delenn, surprised by how light she was. She weighed almost nothing. She moaned at his touch and buried her head in his shoulder. He turned to Vindrizi. "Can you.... walk?"
"This body.... can.... for the moment."
"Good. We had better hurry."
As they abandoned their brief hideaway and ran out on to the streets of Kazomi 7, it took them a while before they realised that they had no idea where they were going. It took them a little while longer before they realised that the Drakh were following them.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Captain John Sheridan was maybe a little more relaxed now than he had been in recent months, but there were still occasions when everything he had been through weighed on him especially hard. Those times tended to be when he was alone, which was why he tried to be alone as little as possible.
Usually this was not a problem. There were always plenty of drills to be run on board the Parmenion, strategy sessions to go over with Ko'Dath and Major Krantz and Commander Corwin. There were patrol missions - such as the recent action against the raiding Streibs - and diplomacy missions to Tuchanq.
Alas, currently, there was little to do. The Parmenion was running at peak efficiency, Major Krantz was spending some time with his family on Sanctuary, Corwin was.... well, Sheridan wasn't certain where he was, but he had been hearing interesting rumours about him and Dr. Mary Kirkish. Ko'Dath was likewise busy, training up the new recruit to the Narn Bat Squad - G'Dan, whom Corwin had rescued from the Streibs. Ben Zayn and his Ozymandias were out on patrol, leaving the Parmenion doing guard duty at Sanctuary. Even Captain Carn Mollari and his Valerius were away - doing something very secret over at Epsilon 3.
As a result, Sheridan was alone. He hated being alone, but he had experienced a sort of epiphany recently, and he realised that it was time he did something other than brooding on the past. Attempting to cook might not have been the best choice, but there it was....
He was just in the middle of burning his pasta when his door chimed. He turned to face it, rubbing at his forehead. He seemed to be developing a headache. Typical.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"Cap....tain." Sheridan started. Lyta Alexander, the Parmenion's resident telepath. What was she doing here? She hated Sheridan, willing to work with him where necessary, but otherwise ignoring him. She blamed him for the death of her lover, Marcus Cole. What was she doing here?
He moved towards the door. "Open," he said cautiously.
The door swung open and Lyta literally fell inside. Sheridan rushed towards her and managed to scoop her up off the floor, carrying her inside the room and placing her on the couch.
"Sheridan to Medlab," he barked into his link.
"No...." Lyta whispered. "No.... Can't do.... anything. She needs you...."
"What? Who needs me?" He had a sinking feeling he knew who. He'd been thinking about Delenn quite a bit lately. Well, all right, he'd been thinking about her whenever he wasn't thinking about Anna.
"She's dying.... She's.... hurting. She needs you. She.... The voice.... told me to.... They won't leave me alone!" The last came out as a plaintive cry. Lyta tried to raise her head to look at Sheridan, and grabbed at the breast of his jacket. "She needs you!" He looked directly at her, into her eyes, and for one, impossible moment, Lyta's eyes seemed to become the infinite green that he knew so well from Delenn's.
Then her hand swung up and gently brushed his forehead. Sheridan swayed and was unconscious before he hit the floor.
She.... needs.... you!

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Londo had had enough of running. His legs were on the verge of giving way, and while Delenn still seemed almost weightless, her constant movement made it difficult for him to keep hold of her.
Finally he realised that his knees were about to collapse, and he managed to lower Delenn to the ground just before they did.
He had no idea where they were. Not even Vindrizi seemed to know, and as he staggered up just next to him, Londo could see that his companion would be dead within minutes.
After everything he had been through.... the Second Line, countless assassination attempts, Soul Hunters, Refa, Lady Elrisia, even his triple-damned wives.... this did not seem fair.
All around them the Drakh emerged, shimmering, from the shadows, bringing the darkness with them. Londo gagged, but had nothing in his stomach to bring up.
He wasn't sure if this feeling had been there before, but he suddenly looked up, sensing a strange.... aura. A coming.... of hope, of power, of ancients....
The Drakh began to hiss and Londo managed to find the strength to haul himself up to a sitting position. He smiled, and then actually began to laugh.
"Tell me, Minister Mollari," asked Elric, stepping forward at the head of the technomages. "How much faith do you have in us?"
"Oh.... quite enough, thank you," he laughed.
"Then let us see if it is justified."