Suddenly, Sinoval stopped. He still had his pike – one of Durhan’s nine blades – but that did not seem enough. He went to the small table, one of the few items of furniture in the room, and picked a small item up from it. It was a weapon, a human weapon. He had taken it from Sheridan over a year ago, the last time the human had been held prisoner on Minbar. He thought he knew how to use it.

He picked it up and stuffed it into a pocket in his robe.

“I will not fail you, Valen,” he whispered.

“Isil’zha veni.”

In Valen’s Name…

Warleader Na’Kal of the J’Tok looked up at the two ships soaring slowly towards him and the Centauri warship, and closed his eyes. He was not a particularly pious man – his mother had been a haphazard follower of G’Lan, his father had died before Na’Kal had emerged from his mother’s pouch. He did however believe in G’Kar, not as a prophet, or as a holy figure, but as a man, as one man with a vision. He did not necessarily believe in that vision, but he knew the chaos his home planet was in. He knew, like G’Kar, that the Narns were a dying people unless action could be taken. Their current war with the Centauri proved that. Na’Kal had fought in the previous war, and he knew just how closely the Narns had come to being annihilated and occupied again. But no, no one else believed that. And now they were making the same mistakes they had always made.

There was something G’Kar had said during his last speech before the Kha’Ri, something he had later repeated in private to Na’Kal. ’Freedom brings responsibility, which is why so many fear it.’

For those raised during the occupation, such as G’Kar and Na’Kal, freedom had come at a very high cost. For those who were younger, freedom was all they had ever known.

The Narns were a dying race, and they would stay that way unless G’Kar did something about it. No one else could.

But perhaps Na’Kal could make a difference.

“Captain Mollari,” he said over the commlink. “How is your telepath?”

“Only barely conscious,” came the reply. “Certainly not able to hold them off. What about yours?”

“One dead, one near to burn-out.” Narn telepaths had been created recently in a private deal between G’Kar and a human telepath. As of yet they were unstable and low-powered.

“Well,” Carn Mollari said. “How many of their ships have you taken out? Just for the bet?”

Na’Kal smiled. “Two of their big ships. Five of the smaller ones. You?”

Carn made a gesture of surprise. “The same. Uncle Londo will be disappointed. If we can’t best a Narn, who can we beat?”

“It is not over yet. Remember to toast our memory when you celebrate.”

“What? Na’Kal, don’t…”

Na’Kal deactivated the commlink. He looked up at the ships approaching him. Huge, black, vast against the night of space. Ancient, timeless, powerful. The symbol of past legends, past nightmares, past fears…

Na’Kal closed his eyes and ordered a full forward charge, activating a full-focussed, forward blast as he did so. The J’Tok could not maintain such firepower or such speed long, but it would not need to.

The first Shadow ship’s energy blast tore into the front of the J’Tok, destroying everything and everyone on the bridge in a blinding flash of light, but that did not matter.

The J’Tok smashed into the vessel, and exploded. The Shadow ship emitted a scream that tore through the minds of everyone on board the Valerius, as it died.

Na’Kal had won his bet after all.

“Valen said that we would reunite with the other half of our soul in a war against the common enemy. We all know who the Enemy is, and they have returned. As for the other half of our soul…”

Delenn drew a deep breath and hoped that her wince at the pain in her chest was not noticeable. She could see that many of those looking at her were doing so with hatred and suspicion. She was Zha’valen – outcast. By all rights they should not even be listening to her.

“The other half of our soul are the humans. They share our souls. They have Minbari souls. Minbari and humans are closely linked. My very presence here proves it. I am now partially human. I made this change to become a bridge between our peoples, a focus point to unite us against the Enemy.

“We have lost our way. We have all abandoned our covenant with Valen! This war… it is wrong. We are destroying our own souls, and we are forsaking Valen’s memory and wishes. If we have abandoned him, if we have abandoned everything that makes us who we are, then what do we have left?”

There was a moment’s silence. Delenn could see the bitter, angry gazes focussed on her. Beside her Lennann shuffled his feet nervously. She knew that this was dangerous. By Minbari law no one should speak to her, or even look at her. But she had to try. She had to make then listen. She had to make them understand.

“You tell us, Delenn,” said a voice she knew and recognised. Callenn, head of her clan. He had always been so convinced of Minbari purity. She remembered his reaction when Dukhat had been killed – a fury that rivalled that of any warrior.

“You tell us what our future holds. Looking like you – becoming like you. Letting the humans kill us all as they killed Dukhat, and Shakiri, letting them cripple us as they crippled Shakat and Branmer. I would have thought that you more than anyone would not be advocating this course. Remember that it was you whose casting vote began this war.”

Delenn remembered. How could she ever forget?

“I remember,” she said softly. “And I freely admit it as a mistake. I was wrong! We were wrong! How far must we go before we admit our mistake? How many must we kill before we realise we are fighting the wrong enemy? In how much blood must we all wade before we realise this is wrong?”

“You have been among humans too long, Delenn,” Callenn noted. “You have even begun to speak like them.”

“The humans have their own perspective on things. Who is to say that theirs is any less accurate than our own?”

“Certainly not a traitor. The Grey Council has named you Zha’valen, Delenn. The Grey Council calls you traitor, anathema. The Grey Council says that you helped Sheridan Starkiller escape from his imprisonment before. The Grey Council says that you work with the Enemy, of your own will. Now perhaps the Grey Council is wrong, but your very appearance before us, looking like that, speaking those words… that confirms that it is you who has lost your way, Delenn. It is you who has abandoned our covenant with Valen. It is you who has betrayed us all.

“I do not hate you, Delenn. You have been corrupted by humans, by the Starkiller. I simply pity you. You have lost your way. And so, in memory of what you once were, I do not wish to punish you any more than has already been done.

“In sorrow, and memory, Delenn.”

Callenn inclined his head gently, not making the full Minbari gesture of departure, and then he left. Slowly, the others began to file out after him. “No!” Delenn cried. “You must listen! Please, you must listen to me!”

But they did not listen, and they did not care. Only one other person stopped to look at her before leaving. Delenn recognised him. It was Ashan, a member of the Third Fane of Chudomo, and an acolyte in service to the Grey Council.

He said one word. “Zha’valen.”

And then he left.

Lennann touched Delenn’s shoulder gently. “I am sorry, Delenn,” he said. “We tried.”

“But we did not try hard enough,” she said, her eyes blazing. “We will try harder.”

“Delenn, if your own clan will not listen to you, then who…?”

“The Grey Council. They will listen, if I have to make them listen. This is wrong, Lennann! This is wrong and I must show them that it is so. I was the chosen of Dukhat, and I held him when he died. His spirit is in my eyes. If he could see what his people have become, then he would curse us from where he now rests with Valen! I must fulfill his last legacy, Lennann.