Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 3 : След на песке.

"He…. had…. reasons."

"Of course he did. But are they our reasons? Are they the reasons of the true warriors, or the motives of a power-hungry traitor?"

"I follow him because I swore I would. As you say, he is a warrior, and…. while I do not agree with all he has done…. he is a warrior, and my leader."

Sonovar smiled, and nodded. "Then help me make him the leader we all want him to be. Nothing would bring me greater pleasure than to see a true warrior leading us. I want only to ensure that happens."

"He is a true warrior."

"You think? Help me, Kozorr. Help me make me the leader we all want."

"I…." He bowed his head. "I concede the fight to you. Let me return to my cell."

A dry chuckle. "Of course. But first…. some refreshment?"

Exactly on cue Forell shuffled into view, bearing a tray containing two goblets. Sonovar was not sure how he had known the priestling was there. He simply…. had. He was somehow getting a feel for where he was.

"I bring you your elixir, my lord," Forell said humbly. "And…. something for your guest?"

Sonovar grabbed one of the goblets and held it to his mouth. The liquid inside was a thick, red elixir. It smelled of something he could not quite identify. He paused slightly and lowered it, acting on an impulse he could not quite understand.

"Where are my manners?" he asked. "A glass for you, my guest?"

"I am not thirsty."

"You should drink, my lord," Forell said. "It is a medicine of sorts."

"I…. Ah, very well." He pointed to the goblet in Sonovar's hand. "I will take that one," he said seriously.

"It is not poisoned, I assure you," Sonovar said, handing it over. "What would be the point of that? But yes, here you are." He took up the second drink and downed it. It tasted…. sweet. Very sweet. It was also slightly warm.

Kozorr sampled his delicately. Once he was sure that Sonovar had finished his, he drank it all and handed the goblet back to Forell. "What was that?" he asked.

"A refreshing and invigorating serum from my home, my lord. I was born in a small village on Owari Nine. A herb grows there in the mountains, and it was made into this drink to benefit our warriors."

"Well, Kozorr…. you wanted to return to your quarters."

"I think…. I think I am ready for another sparring match. Tell me more about your intentions for Sinoval."

* * *

Well. It was over. He had failed.

He was not angry. Well, not much. He had not been expecting a great deal, to be honest, and he had thought this a fool's errand from the start. Too much influence on Delenn from the other side. Without her…. the rest of the Alliance might be swayed, but as it was….

Oh well. Things were shaping up. Battle lines were being drawn across the galaxy. The Alliance on one hand. Humanity on the other. The Narns were still undecided, and negotiations were still going on amongst the Centauri. The…. other side had one of their representatives there, but then there was an eminently practical man fairly highly placed who was willing to make deals with Z'ha'dum.

And then there were the undecided. The tiny worlds. The small, little empires. The Sh'Lassan Triumvirate. The Gaim. The Vree. The Hyach. The Abbai. Either members of the Alliance but with very little tie, or completely neutral. All small, easily snapped up by whichever side chose to go for them.

But there was one thing none of them could count on. The cosmic wild card. Sinoval. Influencing him to join either side was a futile effort. Oh, not that they hadn't tried. The other side had attempted assassination, but…. there had been other ways, originating from Z'ha'dum. They had failed so far, but…. things were progressing well enough.

How long did he have left? An hour, Delenn had given him. Hmm…. no, they would not be likely to let him see John again. A shame. He wanted to see his son again. It might be for the last time. Delenn would not be at all interested in coming to get the cure now. Well, if she saw what the cure was doing to certain Minbari, she would not want it anyway.

He sighed. He missed John. He was all that was left of his family. A man should always have a reason for fighting, for striving. Oh, the betterment of the race, liberty, fraternity, equality, freedom…. all of these were good buzzwords and slogans, but he knew that none of them meant anything. A family. Blood. Love. They were things worth fighting for.

So why was he still fighting? Why hadn't he retired and gone back home to die in peace, and be free from all the errors of his past?

He had another reason for pursuing this war. Something else he had said when asked his fatal question.

"What do you want?"

Peace. My family safe. An end to the nightmares. My people safe.

And revenge on the ones who did this to us.

With a soft sigh, David Sheridan fixed the memory of his son and only surviving child in mind as he went to catch the shuttle that would take him away from John's deathbed.

* * *

Someone else was at John's deathbed, someone who had just begun a terrifying war that would no doubt create many more deathbeds, and ensure that there were too many people to fill them.

As she looked at him, Delenn gently touched his forehead. He was sleeping. At least she thought so. His skin was very hot, almost painful to the touch, but she kept contact with him. Before long she would lose the chance.

"Delenn?" he whispered at last. "Are you…?"

"I'm here," she said softly in reply. His eyes flickered open. They were bloodshot and haunted.

"Had…. dreams…. Dreaming now…. See…. things…."

"What things?" she asked. According to the reports she had received, Kalain had been delusional for many months as the virus coursed through his system. He might well have suffered hallucinations.

John chuckled softly; a hideous sound, entirely devoid of laughter. "My…. Dad…. I…. saw…. my Dad…. He was…. working for…. for…. them…." The sweat was standing out on his brow. "A…. stupid…. dream…. wasn't it?" The last two words were a plaintive cry.