Chapter 4 - Clown Devil Boy

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Cade
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I walk, hands bound by chains that lead to the collar round my neck, my pace egged on by the occasional bladepoke to the back. One of the Armed fancies himself a bit of the Judge, I suppose, because the one guarding me and spurring me on to march forward carries a pike as his Arms. Certainly not a trident, but it is pretty damn sharp.

"Now-now, Gilbert," says the boy with a Rhivendish lilt in his speech, "dunnae taste his blood jes' yet. We 'ave teh save thot ale fer tae Joodge." I blink. No, not a Rhivendish accent at all. I think the mongrel is trying to make fun of a Dirvybik accent, and failing miserably. And his Arms shove me pointily between the shoulderblades anyway, so he can't even get the pike to listen. A sorry Trial this makes - my guard detachment isn't even led by someone on a par worthy of me. They lead me forward. I hear a great door slam shut from the direction that I entered. The poke between my shoulderblades recedes, and footsteps lead away from where I stand now. Perhaps the Armed detachment escorting me is taking up positions to guard and watch from.

I feel something scowling in its regard for me. I try to ignore it, and thus make it forget me, but its regard is something I can't ignore, no matter how hard I try to ignore it. My head tilts up, is forced to do so, as if something is grabbing my chin and yanking it to get my attention. I try not to focus my eyes on it. Damn it all, they do so anyway. Why can't I deny this force? Why can't I slither out of here like I've slithered out of so many places, out of so many situations and troubles?

Because it is your time that has come, a deep voice intones in my head, a steel edge whispering through it. I behold what my vision has focused on. I do not deny it. There is a Trident pointed at me from the far end of the room that I am standing in the middle of. The room is the High Courtroom of Crux Radia. The Emperor of that land beholds me from far above, on his throne. The Judge holds the Trident. A grin is beginning to cut across into his features. This is my Trial.

It almost relaxes me when I realize that there truly is no way out now. This is the end. A shameful, sorry end for one who has lived a life so grand. Well, I did my best.

Oh, don't think that this is the end for you. I don't make things that easy. The voice makes me jerk upright, looking around for its source. That wasn't only the Judge's Trident. There were three voices, layered on top of each other. No, four. One was the Trident's, which I'm attributing as the metallic voice. The second was the Judge. I recognized Camden's as well, and sure enough, there he is, standing beside the Judge's dais. In much the same place as I've been told the Advocate stands. What the-- he's no Advocate! He's the Peacekeeper, which is really, as far as I stand, the Warmonger. He doesn't belong in my Trial! And why the fuck is he holding a baby? Did the Judge produce yet another spawn? What the hell is a baby doing in a courtroom? That's... that's just irresponsible! My eyes skate over the baby, tracing her features. Something is wrong. Or something is familiar.

That voice I heard...

No one says anything. The baby nods its head to Camden. Camden tilts his head at the baby, smiling, then walks toward me. As he does so, the Judge draws up, taller and more protective. It is his progeny, isn't it? And he's just bringing it here to make a mockery of my Trial. It would go to show. Camden stops a few paces from me, propping the baby up to get a good look at me.

"Are ye showing the wee one its future, then?" I growl. Camden's expression is even. The baby, however... the baby just glares at me. Creepy.

I'm quiet. Something is wrong. Something about those eyes... a chill runs up my spine. Blue eyes, white-blue, glowing and gold at the pupils. Like ice-hot fire running down my throat and into my stomach. My bladder is whimpering again. No, not at my Trial, of all places. Please no. Then, I imagine comprehension dawns on my face, because Camden smirks.

That fourth voice. It was Katherine Cruxradia. She's the Advocate. She's also the baby.

What the hell.

The Advocate scrutinizes me with those creepy eyes. Just because she's a baby doesn't make it any less freaky of an experience. Hell, it's even freakier this way. Then I swear she raises an eyebrow at me. Camden looks down at her, as if to confirm something. His expression is either that of anger or of stifling laughter. I really can't tell which. Then he looks over his shoulder, at the Judge.

"It is the Advocate's decree that Cade--" His eyebrows draw together as he concentrates, takes a breath in pause, and then starts over. "--that Patrick Oghue'dvrinsidhe of the Dheaghnn'on Clan cannot claim full responsibility for his actions."

I don't even react to hearing that name, my real name. It's been too long. I can't react to things that I don't remember. Of course, reacting to anything is difficult right now. The Advocate's eyes have captured me. I can't even move. I can't protest, either. I want full responsibility for all my deeds. I want that pride, that ownership. Something's raging inside of me that I'm being denied this. I may have served him, but it was willing! I brought this all down upon myself! She can't take that from me!

She only stares at me with those white icefire eyes, golden pupils spearing into my soul. Funny. When she stared at me in my cell, weren't they golden with blue pupils? What does that mean? Why do I feel like I'm being sucked downwards? I can't see the Trident or the Judge. I can't see what's in front of me anymore. The air all around me is a thick sludge, pulling me down with it, drowning me where I stand. Do I fall to the floor, or do I fall straight through it? I don't know. I can't see anymore. I don't know anything anymore. Everything is black and nothing.

Then there is dawn, very far on the horizon. That's when I start to feel again. That's when the pain comes.

I try to scream, but that doesn't stop anything.