Summoning Light (40 page)

On the flight deck, the probe's image shifted from the panicked, screaming crew to Carvin's face. She was crying. She too had seen what had happened in the hold. She was whispering to herself, or perhaps, to them all. "No, my God, no, no."

The booming chain reaction of explosions reached the flight deck, and as the ferocious fire blasted out from the wall in a churning, orange corona about Carvin's head, the probe's image went black.

Through the window beside him came a quickfire series of brilliant flashes, and the fragile ship flew apart.

In Command and Control, the same light flashed through the observation port, and John jerked his head toward it. "What?" He took a few steps forward, the sound of his breath hard. But when he spoke again, his voice was only a whisper. "They knew this would happen. They knew it."

In the customs area, Londo's mouth hung open in horror. He too had known what was going to happen, yet he had refused to fully believe it. He would not accept who he was, and what he was, though the answer was right before him.

Vir turned to him. "Londo, what happened?" He shook Londo's arm. "What happened!"

Londo could not look away from the monitor. He seemed stunned.

"Londo, answer me!"

Londo at last looked at Vir, and Elric saw his mental defenses begin to return, protections against discovery both by others and by himself. His voice was weak, at first, but quickly gained certainty. "I don't know. A malfunction of some kind, perhaps. I was told the ship was in perfect running order."

Londo was not ready for the truth – not today, perhaps not ever. At the least, many more would have to die before he would face it.

Around Elric, several of the mages had fallen to their knees. Other passengers crowded around the window to see the remnants of the explosion.

Of the Ondavi, only twisted, charred fragments survived, floating silently out into blackness.

He had sent twenty-five mages to their deaths. He had planned to go with them. Yet now it was left to him to bear the burden of those deaths, and to honor those who had died for their order. One by one he thought of them, who they had been, what good they had done, what had been lost in their passing.

Elric hoped their great sacrifice had accomplished its purpose, that the Shadows had been deceived, that they would believe the mages destroyed and would pursue them no more.

The Crystal Cabin moved around the wreckage, and Babylon 5 came into view. When he had arrived at the station, he had been a man without dreams. John had given him one, and perhaps now the mages had given him another. Though they had been asked to give up their lives, none had betrayed their plan; none had broken away to save himself. They had upheld solidarity, and in their unity they had, in their own small way, defeated the forces of chaos.

For the way the mages had performed, Elric felt proud. They had shown great courage and conviction, and though none here knew it, their deeds had proven that they were much more than their creators had ever intended them to be. A thousand years ago, Wierden had helped them dream a dream of what they might be, and they had fulfilled that dream.

Perhaps it was not their destiny to fight the Shadows. But they could at least remain true to themselves, to who they were as techno-mages.

And so it fell to him, Herazade, and perhaps Blaylock, to see the survivors safely into hiding. He would watch over them, for as long as he could, as they wrote the closing chapter in the history of their order. Perhaps it still could contain good, and beauty, and wonder, though it would be their last.

They had lost much over the last months, and he had lost much. The emptiness of that loss still pushed him toward despair. Yet it would not overwhelm him, so long as he had the one thing that meant most to him.

And that was his final dream: that he would land at the gathering place, and emerge from his ship, and he would see Galen, and Galen would be all right.

C
HAPTER 17

The cold wind whipped through Galen's coat and raked over his hands, still raw after four days. He stood on the high plateau of the gathering place, watching the mage ships drop out of the grey sky. Elric and Ing-Radi's group was finally arriving, only hours before all the mages were scheduled to leave for the hiding place.

Gowen's ship came down for a landing, followed by Ak-Shana's.

Many of the other mages were loading their ships using flying platforms, and they paused now, looking skyward, checking the sign on each ship to see who had survived. More came out of the hidden bunker, anxious for news of what had happened on Babylon 5. Since communications had been prohibited, they'd heard nothing from the group since they'd separated.

Three days ago, ISN had reported the explosion of a Centauri freighter leaving Babylon 5, a ship on which the mages were recorded as passengers, and many had feared the entire group destroyed. Since arriving yesterday, Galen had simply waited, and watched.

Fed's ship landed.

The mages clustered near the new arrivals, leaving him alone with the wind.

The plateau's high elevation and thin atmosphere allowed no strenuous activity, at least not until one became acclimated to it. Coarse, stubby brown grass covered the area. It was a vast, desolate place.

The mages had been staying in a bunker built into the plateau. Though the bunker was small compared to the facility on Selic 4, somehow the mages had managed to complete the preparations for their exodus. Herazade had returned from the hiding place, which had been made secure. She would lead them there.

Emond's ship landed, Chiatto's.

Blaylock came to stand beside Galen. He had returned to his black robe and skullcap, his eyebrows again scoured away. His face appeared more gaunt than ever, the waxy sheen of his skin more pronounced. He had not recovered from his ordeal on Thenothk. His hands, rather than curling naturally inward, remained stiffly open, as if they pained him. His mangled palms had covered themselves over with skin, but the skin was yellowish and stiff, its topography uneven. On the journey back, Blaylock had helped Alwyn to heal G'Leel, and so temporarily decreased the number of healing organelles in his own body. Galen didn't think they were replenishing themselves well. Perhaps Ing-Radi could help him.

Galen wished Blaylock would gather with the others. Blaylock had already questioned him about what had passed between him and Elizar. Galen had nothing more to say. He simply wanted to remain still and silent.

"There is Elric's ship," Blaylock said.

Galen looked skyward. A sleek black triangular shape marked with Elric's rune descended toward the landing area. Galen was shocked by the intensity of his relief.

Since waking from his long sleep on Alwyn's ship, he had felt little emotion. He had gone through the motions of retrieving his ship and flying it here like an automaton. He had forced himself to remain vigilant, so the power would not slip out of him, but except for that small piece he kept as watchman, he'd buried as much of himself as he could. And that was how he must remain.

While keeping his vigil for Elric, he'd thought the one emotion he would have to guard against would be anger. But as Elric's ship lowered itself toward the ground, anger remained a distant echo. For now he just wanted to see Elric. Elric was his only family, his only tie to the universe. Elric was his wall of strength, the one always standing beside him, the one who had brought order and meaning to his life. Whatever lies Elric had told, Galen didn't want to lose him.

And yet, as Elric's ship set down, its side marked with the rune for integrity, Galen realized he had lost Elric. The person he had thought Elric was, the man who never lied to him, no longer existed. The Elric who remained was a stranger. A liar. One who took from the Shadows. One who had helped him gain what he most wanted, without telling him what it truly was.

And so he had become a monster.

His anger was like a message from a distant galaxy, barely perceptible, its passion lost in the transmission. He didn't want to hear it. He would keep still, and it would pass.

Gowen and Fed came out from among the ships. Gowen quickly scanned the plateau, and his gaze stopped on Blaylock. He hurried toward them.

Blaylock spoke. "Regardless of its source, the tech can do good. Elric has done much good on his home, as others have done on theirs. The temptations and the difficulties for us are many, which is why I have always advocated cloistering ourselves away. Only by foreswearing worldly temptations and pleasures can we free ourselves from the directives of the Shadows and focus on the tech itself. Only that way can we gain complete control of it and perfect unity with it. I truly believe it is a blessing that links us to the basic powers of the universe, and that through it, we can forge a connection to the universe, and attain enlightenment. The tech may have been designed for one purpose, but that does not preclude it being used for another."

They had made him a weapon. What purpose could a weapon have, except to kill? Perhaps for some of the other mages it was different. Perhaps some of them felt the urge to destruction less strongly, or had better control. But when given the choice, he had chosen destruction. He seemed to have a natural affinity for it.

He watched Elric's ship, waiting for it to open.

Blaylock continued. "When I learned from you that the Shadows use living beings in those ships, which have killed so many without mercy, I feared that the transcendence I had sought was not the path. I feared it might end in bloodshed, with us as executioners for the Shadows. I had to return to that place to learn whether those fears had merit.

"But what I saw revealed that we are not like those poor beings. They are subjugated to the Shadows' technology. We are masters of our tech. And when we master it perfectly, we will escape the Shadows' designs.

"You have grown closer to the tech than most. You manipulate it nearly effortlessly. But you must control your emotions. Instead of controlling them, you bury them. You do not speak of your parents. You say little of Isabelle. You hold these things inside, thinking that you control them. But inside, they gain power over you. Only in facing and mastering them can you attain control of yourself."

He hid from himself. That was what Kell had told him. And Galen knew it was true. A part of him had been cloistered away for a long time. He hoped now that he had locked away most of the rest. He had caught a glimpse of his true self with Isabelle's death, and another glimpse with Elizar's revelation. Light had illuminated the dark, secret center of himself; truths had been revealed. Each one showed him something he didn't want to see.

She had told him that he must open himself to himself. Perhaps the job was incomplete. But he had faced, now, what he was. He could stand no more.

Elric came from his ship, and before Galen could see him clearly, the mages crowded around him. No further ships arrived. Fifty had set off with Elric and Ing-Radi. Only half that number had returned.

"Galen." Blaylock's voice was harsh. He waited until Galen turned to him. "You must not speak of what you have learned, to any but those in the Circle, and Alwyn."

And what would they do if he did? Flay him? He would like to see them try.

Again he said nothing. He would not be drawn into an argument. If the anger returned, if the energy reached the great burning rage he had felt on Thenothk, he could well destroy them all.

Flaying would be insufficient punishment for what he'd done. He had condemned Elizar for killing only one. Yet in his destruction of the city, he had killed thousands. Many of them could have been there simply to do a job, like G'Leel and her crew – perhaps he'd even killed Captain Ko'Vin and the other Narns.

In all those thousands, Isabelle might have seen the possibility for good. All Galen saw were targets for his anger. Even now he regretted he had not destroyed the entire city. And Elizar. Always Elizar.

Gowen stopped beside them, breathless. "Blaylock," he said, and in his wide eyes and clasped hands, Galen could see his relief and concern. He bowed. "The blessing of Wierden upon you."

"And upon you," Blaylock said.

Gowen turned to Galen with a grateful smile, gave a short bow.

"I must speak with Elric," Blaylock said. He looked at Galen as if he wanted to say more, but instead he set off across the plateau, the wind pressing at his back, revealing the stick-thin figure hidden within his robe.

"Won't you come?" Gowen asked Galen.

As Gowen had rushed to Blaylock, so Galen should rush to Elric, should meet him with relief and concern. But he could not. "Go ahead," he said, and after a brief hesitation, Gowen hurried after Blaylock.

Galen looked to the crowd that hid Elric at its center. Fed stood on the periphery, arms at his sides, oddly quiescent. Alwyn pushed his way out, getting into a shoving match with Tzakizak. Galen used his sensors to gain a magnified view in his mind's eye. Alwyn's jaw was tight with anger, and the shoving intensified. Alwyn conjured a fireball. Tzakizak stumbled a few steps back, conjured one as well.

The memory flashed through his mind. The day Burell's illness had grown serious. He and Isabelle had fought. In her anger she had turned on him in a moment, conjuring a fireball. She had been ready to attack him, and he had been ready to counterattack with the spell of destruction. The incident was remarkable only in its familiarity. He had seen such fights at almost every convocation. Mages were quick to anger; the Shadows had made them that way.

Alwyn and Tzakizak faced each other, each waiting for any movement from the other. Then Alwyn turned aside, hurling his fireball to the ground, where it splashed in a fiery puddle, consuming the wiry grass. He walked away.

Tzakizak stared after him for a moment, then, finally, extinguished his own fireball.

After a few steps, Alwyn began to stumble. After a few more, he collapsed to his knees. He shook his head, his cry barely audible on the wind. "No, no, no!"

Carvin's ship had not been among those that had returned. Galen remembered the rustle of her colorful Centauri silks, the graceful movements of her conjuries. She'd been excited to help in Elric's deception. She'd always been excited about anything she undertook. To Galen she had seemed strangely fearless – passionate, friendly, open. She had not hidden from life, but lived it. And now she was gone.