And yet the Centauri were holding their own, even beginning to fight back. Carn had an inexplicable feeling that the Shadows just did not care any more.
And then jump points opened, and Narn ships came into view. Carn's hearts stopped in his chest, until he saw the Narns fire on the Shadows.
And then the Vorlons swept through, and the battle was over. Not one Shadow warship escaped.
Not one even tried.
For what he knew would be his last battle, the Lord–General of the great and glorious Centauri Republic employed all the precision, planning and discipline at his command. That this was on a smaller scale did not matter. That this was land instead of the more common space battles did not matter. That this was his last battle did not matter either.
The madmen had taken a fair proportion of the palace, including the throne room. The Emperor's private chambers were secured, as were some of the outlying annexes. It was from them that Marrago recruited such of his guards he knew to have sufficient will to remain sane, and then he began taking back the palace.
It was a long and slow process, but slowly, room by room, wing by wing, it was being won. There had been many victories. Minister Durano had retained his sanity, but had been injured by one of the Shadow Criers. For an instant Marrago had contemplated letting him die, but now there was little point, as his secret was out. Durano had been taken to a hospital wing.
He had also come across young Vir Cotto. Unknown to almost everyone, Marrago had been watching him in hopes of his being a worthy husband for Lyndisty. Cotto's bravery and quick thinking were proved when he managed to rescue a group of servants and courtiers and secure them in a hastily fortified guardroom.
There were numerous other such events in one of the messiest fights Marrago had been in since chasing down groups of Narn terrorists as a young man. If anyone knew the art of guerrilla warfare, it was the Narns.
And then he came to the throne room.
He had expected stiff opposition here. It was after all the natural centre of the palace, and an obvious rallying point. The leader of the Shadow Criers would inevitably want the throne.
Instead there was no one there alive, and only two bodies on the floor. One he thought he knew, but any recognition would have been of a lady before her face had been burned and mutilated, and her clothes reduced to rags.
And then he looked at the second body.
'Lyndisty!'
There was nothing to say, nothing else for him to say. He had seen countless dead bodies, and he knew how to tell a corpse from one merely injured. She was dead. The stab wounds could be nothing but fatal. That did not stop him trying to seal her wounds, to breathe life back into her lungs, to start her hearts beating again. When he finally realised there was nothing he could do, he knelt there, holding her in his arms, crying her name over and over again.
And in the back of his mind, the coldly rational part that continued thinking and reasoning throughout any ordeal, he realised that now there was truly nothing for him to live for, but yet nothing able to kill him.
The rational part of his mind realised that was the greatest tragedy of all.
Lord–General Marrago did not see the God fight the demon in the skies above the capital, but many others, including the Emperor, did.
They saw the God raise a sword crafted of pure light. They saw the demon cry out, calling hideous spider– ships from the heavens. These flew screaming over the city, countless monsters from myth and legend. The sun seemed so bright, and the Emperor had to shield his eyes as they passed overhead.
They saw the God strike down the demon with a blow that tore it apart. With a scream, the demon died and plummeted to the earth. They saw the God raise his sword and summon a burst of light that shattered the red mist, and as the mist fell there came other Gods. Ships also came from the heavens. There were Centauri and Narns and others, ships larger and more powerful, that hunted down the demons and cast them to the earth.
And there was one name on all lips. The name of the Gods that had saved them.
Vorlon.
One of those who saw was Kiro, once Lord, almost Emperor, once a Shadow Crier, almost sane.
He fled the palace. He fled in any direction he could, weeping tears of blood. He could see the ships of his Dark Masters, but he could not hear them. He saw his magnificent son fall in battle, but he could no longer hear him either. He saw the ships of his Masters die, one by one.
And finally he did not care. He watched the last ship avidly, even as the last fight was fought directly above him. And when the spine of the Shadow ship was shot away and fell to the ground, he closed his eyes as its shadow engulfed him.
His last thought was a prayer that in death he would at last find some answers.
He did not.
And thus it was over. Thence came the end, or at least its beginning.
It was strange, but for the Emperor of the Centauri Republic, Londo did not like the throne room. Not at all. It seemed every time he set foot in it, something bad happened. When he entered the room and saw the two bodies, his oldest friend holding the body of his daughter, crying her name over and over, a part of him was not surprised.
Marrago looked up as Londo entered, and in his eyes Londo saw not only the sheer grief, but the understanding.
But he said nothing. There was nothing to say. Londo moved to the throne and sat down on it. It had never been a comfortable chair, and it was even less so now. He would have given anything to be somewhere else. Anything at all.
There was no need for reports. They had won. The Shadows had been destroyed, their creature killed. The Shadow Criers had all been killed or returned to sanity. In any event the Vorlons and their 'Inquisitors' would find any that remained. The only reports coming in were death counts and property damage and economic losses, and all these could wait.
They arrived one by one, slowly. Durano was the first, despite carrying his arm in a sling. He walked with his usual dignified bearing, but even his fabled composure nearly broke at the sight of Lyndisty's body. Then there was Vir, numerous scratches and bruises on his face, but looking very inch a Minister. Virini came later, looking truly terrified. Carn was the last. He had to come from the
Two did not show up. Timov and Lennier. Londo knew Timov was still alive, which was enough. Better by far for her not to be here. Better by far for her to pretend he did not exist. As for Lennier, it was also better for him not to be here. In his case it would be better for him to be dead.
The bodies remained on the floor. Londo would not let the servants move them. Let everyone see the cost of this. All of them.
He looked around at those present and drew a deep breath. He did not know what to say. No, he did know what to say. Morden would not like it, not any of it, but he had some time. Their deal had not been finalised yet, so he had some time. He was still Emperor, for now at least. There was time to prepare, time to send people away.
'The homeworld is secure,' he said, telling those gathered what they all already knew. 'The threat was defeated with aid of the Vorlons and their liaison, Ambassador Morden here. The Vorlons have graciously offered us assistance in rebuilding, and for protection and so forth. To that end Ambassador Morden will receive a permanent post here, with the same status as any other Ambassador. A formal treaty will be worked out in due course.
'We will also recommence proceedings for joining the United Alliance. The war between ourselves and the
