“Of course,” Janus said. He sounded unbearably smug. “They have been judged.”
The presence seemed to grow weaker, just for a moment, as Emily checked on Sienna as best as she could. Both of Sienna’s legs were broken, as far as she could tell; her left arm looked as though it was broken or twisted out of shape too. Sienna was fighting to remain aware, knowing – all too well – that falling asleep so close to Justice might prove fatal. Emily didn’t even dare give her a painkilling spell. It would have weakened her defenses at the worst possible time.
“Croce’s been knocked cold,” Frieda said. She sounded as though she was fighting to keep her voice under control. “His right arm is a mess.”
Emily nodded, wincing in sympathy as she walked over and knelt beside Croce. Judging from the state of his arm – it felt as though his bone had been smashed into powder – Croce was incredibly lucky his neck hadn’t snapped, killing him instantly. His right ribs felt broken too. Putting them back together would require a trained Healer and a great deal of luck. She tried to cast a freeze spell, intending to put Croce in stasis until they could get him somewhere safe, but the magic refused to form. Justice was steadily sucking all of the magic out of the chamber.
She looked up. Janus looked back at her, his eyes…composed. He wouldn’t help her, she was sure. He was so convinced Justice was real that he would believe Croce’s suffering was precisely what he deserved. There were no arguments that would get through such fanaticism. Everything that happened – that had ever happened – had happened because it was the will of god. A fanatic who believed so strongly could ignore all contradictions in his faith.
Of course God can change his mind, she thought, as she picked up her staff. She hadn’t even noticed when she’d dropped it. He’s God. He can do whatever he likes.
She forced herself to think clearly as she looked at Justice, leaning on her staff. The entity seemed more human – no, humanoid – now. A stern judge, a stern father…she was appalled to find herself drawn to him…to it. There was something about the implacable, yet just entity that appealed to her more than she cared to admit. A judge who would not be swayed, a judge who would not be bribed or intimidated, a judge whose only interest was judging and upholding the law…
It’s a trap, she told herself, firmly. And it’s trying to get into my wards.
Caleb stumbled as the presence pulled back. He turned, his eyes streaming with tears. Emily understood, all too well. He’d been unable to look away from Justice, forced to stare into the blinding light. He was lucky he hadn’t been blinded – or drained. Justice was warping the magic within the chamber, trying to drain all of them. Somehow, she found it a little reassuring. A god who needed human sacrifice – or even human prayers – was nothing more than an immensely powerful entity.
“I’m sorry,” Caleb managed. He took her hand. This time, she let him hold it. “I…”
“It’s all right,” Emily whispered. She fought to come up with a plan, but her brain refused to function. Were they going to die together? Or be converted into the next generation of Fists of Justice? “I…”
A thought struck her. It was a gamble, a desperate gamble, but they were desperate.
“Speaker,” she said, fighting to keep her voice stable. “I ask for judgement.”
Janus smiled. “You ask for judgement?”
“I ask for a judgement from Justice,” Emily said, carefully. Caleb’s hand suddenly tightened on hers. “I ask to put my plea to him in person.”
“That is your honor,” Janus said. He gestured towards the entity. “You may speak to your lord and master.”
Emily pulled her hand free, then forced herself to step towards Justice. The whispering grew louder until it deafened her. Caleb said something, but his words were so faint that she couldn’t make them out. She hoped he understood she was trying something desperate, something that might easily get all five of them killed. Hell, she hoped Frieda understood it too.
Up close, the presence was overwhelmingly powerful. The urge to go down on her knees was so strong she had to fight to remain standing. She knew she had to kneel, to offer proper respect, but she wanted – she needed – to do it on her own terms. Justice’s sheer power was pushing her defenses so hard that the slightest chink would be enough to allow the entity to rip her mind to shreds.
She knelt, carefully. Justice loomed over her, a presence thousands of miles tall…she knew it was an illusion, she knew it was a trick, yet it gnawed at her mind. She tightened her defenses, marshalling her arguments. Justice had been created to uphold an ideal. She just had to convince the entity there was a better way to fulfill its function…
“My Lord,” she said. It was hard to keep her voice stable. “I ask you for judgement.”
“YOU MAY SPEAK,” Justice boomed. The words seemed to come from all around her, a deafening chorus that tore at her mind. “SPEAK.”
“There is a man who has killed many children,” Emily said. The presence was growing stronger and stronger. “He has killed many who will never have the chance to face judgement. He has done this in the belief that he is right, that their deaths are just. But how can the death of a child, of those who have not been judged, be right?”
There was a chilling pause. “IT IS NOT. THIS MAN MUST BE JUDGED.”