The Last Citadel

by Kevin Ashman

  Musicians started up a gloriously engaging tune as the throng poured into the arena and as Kenzo wandered through the crowd, careful not to knock down a stilt walker or spoil the skills of the occasional painted juggler. As he walked, he wondered which of the painted faces hid the beautiful features of his girlfriend.

  As the space filled, the music picked up and the masked young men and women of the Artists danced amongst the crowd pouring free ale into eagerly offered bone cups. Herb cigarettes were passed out and many a misguided individual genuinely believed that the flirtatious behaviour of the Artists was genuine, and surely tonight, they would get lucky. Gradually, as the atmosphere intensified and with the aid of drink and drugs, everyone present was lured in to the intoxicating embrace of the carnival.

  Suddenly everything came to a dead stop. All music, dancing and acrobatics came to a halt, and the arena fell silent. A robed figure ascended the stairs to the central stand and addressed the crowd.

  ‘Friends’ he roared out, ‘welcome to the Tower of the Saint. You have tasted the delights of what awaits you this night, but as we are all aware, you get nothing for nothing. The sellers are amongst you, and you have until the bell tolls at midnight to pay your way. Anyone unadorned by then will be ejected, and as we all know, after midnight is when the fun really starts, so, dig deep, pay the price and enjoy!’

  Immediately the musicians struck up again and the celebrations restarted. Kenzo continued through the crowd looking for Leona, stopping to stare at the occasional dancer or seller trying to recognize her features. A seller approached, her beautiful face smiling warmly at him.

  ‘Hello, Sir,’ she said provocatively, ‘I would hate for someone as strong and handsome as you to have to leave early. Surely you wish to stay, for I finish work at midnight and will need company.’ She placed her hand on his chest and stared deep into his eyes.

  Kenzo smiled condescendingly at the well-rehearsed speech. She would repeat this a hundred times this night, as would all her friends. Still, he would need to stay to find Leona, so he dug in his pocket to find a coin. The pretty girl smiled and produced a small pot of gold paint and a tiny brush, painting an intricate design on his cheek to indicate he had paid the price.

  ‘Thank you, kind Sir,’ she said, ‘see you later,’ and after flashing him a glowing smile, disappeared into the crowd to find her next customer.

  The beat was growing stronger and the whole crowd seemed to pulse with the rhythm as the atmosphere intensified. The ale flowed freely as the night progressed and Kenzo took his fair share, knowing very well that as soon as the gates were locked, there would be a charge for everything.

  He estimated he had an hour before the bell tolled and made his way to the outer gates to escape the madness for a while. He walked out onto the drawbridge with the laughter and music still ringing in his ears and sat on a carved stone bench overlooking the city to enjoy the relative peace and quiet. Unexpectedly, he heard a voice from the shadows, trying to get his attention.

  ‘Soldier!’

  He peered into the darkness.

  ‘Who’s there?’ he asked.

  ‘Come close,’ the deep male voice said again, ‘I have an offer you can’t refuse.’

  In a city of intrigue and assassins, Kenzo was hardly likely to step into the shadows at the behest of a strange voice.

  ‘State your business,’ said Kenzo carefully reaching for his dagger located in a scabbard hanging from his belt.

  ‘You have need of money and I have need of your services,’ said the voice, ‘I wish to make an arrangement.’

  ‘What sort of arrangement?' asked Kenzo, his eyes straining to make out the face beneath the hooded cape.

  ‘Come close, I cannot allow myself to be seen.’

  ‘Ok, but you must know I will defend myself if attacked.’

  ‘Understood, though you have my word this will not happen.’

  Kenzo walked slowly into the dark recesses of the alcove.

  ‘What do you want?’ he asked.

  ‘This is half of what you need, I believe,’ said the voice.

  The hooded figure held out his hand, a full crown clutched between his scrawny fingers.

  ‘Who are you?’ asked Kenzo taking the crown slowly.

  ‘My name is De-gill,’ came the reply, ‘and I am from Watcher-tower.’

  ‘Why do you give me money, De-gill?’ he asked. ‘What do you expect of me?’

  ‘Information.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘We seek a child, one of our own who has gone missing.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Somewhere in your city.’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘We cannot walk this city as you do,’ he said. ‘You have many contacts and can access doors that are denied to others. If you find this child, the rewards will be great.’

  ‘How great?’

  ‘The first crown is yours to keep as a sign of goodwill. If you let me know where the child is, there will be another.’

  Kenzo swallowed hard, it was exactly the amount he needed to marry Leona.

  ‘Two crowns for just some information?’

  ‘Yes, but there can be more.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Bring me the child and you will be a rich man.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Bring me his corpse and you get a further five crowns. Alive earns you ten. It is as simple as that.’

  ‘Ten crowns,’ gasped Kenzo, ‘just to bring you a child.’

  ‘Yes, but he is not just any child and may not come quietly.’

  ‘And you are happy for me to kill him?’

  ‘If necessary,’ said the Watcher.

  ‘What sort of people are you?’ asked Kenzo, ‘who would happily pay so much to kill one of your own children?’

  ‘Are we so different to one who seeks to sell his own daughter as a whore?’ asked De-gill

  Kenzo recalled his conversation with Leona’s father earlier that day.

  ‘You overheard our conversation,’ he said.

  ‘We overhear many conversations.’

  ‘Where can I find this child?’ asked Kenzo.

  ‘All we know is that he is in the city somewhere.’

  ‘Wonderful!’ said Kenzo sarcastically. ‘And how exactly am I supposed to recognise this child?’

  ‘That crown says you will find a way,’ said De-gill. ‘Ask discreet questions and search the dark places. He will not be easily missed for his body is misshapen.’ De-gill paused. ‘One more thing, soldier, we have to have him before the moon is next full.’

  ‘And if I find him before then?’

  ‘Keep him under lock and key at all times. I will look from the Watcher’s-tower every night at midnight. If you have him, signal by waving a red light. I will arrange collection.’

  ‘How will you manage that?’ asked Kenzo, a confused look on his face. ‘You will be half a mile away across the water?’

  ‘That is not of your concern.’

  ‘And if I can’t find him?’

  ‘That is not an option.’

  ‘But even so, it’s a big city, so if I cannot find him, do I keep the crown?’

  The Watcher flashed the briefest of grim smiles.

  ‘Trust me, soldier,’ he said,’ if we do not find this child by the next Moon-day, money will be the least of your problems. Do we have a deal?’

  ‘We do,’ said Kenzo finally and held out his hand to seal the agreement.

  De-gill ignored the gesture and slunk back into the shadows.

  ‘Do not fail me, soldier,’ he said as he disappeared, ‘your life may well depend on it.’

  Kenzo shuddered involuntarily. He had never liked the Watchers for they were too close to the afterworld for his liking, and after looking around to see if anyone had witnessed the strange meeting, made his way back into the keep.

  ----

  Chapter 4

  Crispin sat hunched in a dark corner with his cape wrap
ped tightly around him against the cold. His long black hair was tucked into his cape and his arthritic hands clenched a knife in anticipation of an attack at any minute. He had seen a Watcher pass this alleyway only a few minutes earlier and he knew it was only a matter of time until they found him.

  Crispin contemplated his situation as he waited to die, for that was what was going to happen, he was sure of it. Oh yes, he would fight the best he could, but ultimately they would overpower him, they always did.

  ‘Why?’ he asked himself, what had he done so badly in his previous life that made him pay so dearly in this one? He knew he looked different to everyone else, he had a hunched back, arthritic hands and a gaunt face that hinted at malnutrition. Perhaps that was why they made him sleep in a cold stone cell?

  The problem wasn’t even due to the fact that he was only allowed out for an hour each night under armed guard, when the sky was at its darkest. No, that he could deal with, it was all worth it, for the one day a month when he was not allowed out of his cell, when there were extra guards outside the doors and the shutters were closed tightly over his window to block out the moonlight. Those twelve glorious, sleepless hours, where if he dragged his bed under the window and stretched upward on the tips of his arthritic feet, he could just about see out of a gap in the shutters. For it was that one glorious, soul cleansing night that he longed for with all his heart. That sweet starlit night when the refreshing moonlight washed over him like a flood, nourishing him in a way that the gruel he was fed never could.

  ----

  Crispin had no idea why they were so afraid of him. He knew he was different, but that wasn’t his fault. He had never met his parents and had been told they were dead. He accepted his lot and was happy to plod along between moons but recently something was changing. His body was aching, the guards seemed to have increased and the medicals were happening more often.

  Ah yes, the medicals, where he was tied to a table and drugged with a bitter liquid before they probed, prodded, cut and sewed his scarred body before he passed out, only to wake again the following morning, bandaged and groggy.

  However, all that was in the past. A few nights ago, everything changed when his door opened and a man he had never met entered his cell to give him a brief, but clear set of instructions.

  ‘Listen to me and don’t interrupt,’ the visitor had said. ‘You have to get out of this cell and go to the Citadel. I am here to help.’

  Crispin was astonished. Escape his cell, the only place he had ever lived?

  ‘But why?’ he asked, ‘how?’

  ‘An hour before dawn on Moon-day, your door will be left unlocked. Make your way out to the courtyard and hide yourself beneath the shrouds on the last cart. Use only this cart, for it will be pulled by a friend and will take you to Bastion. When you reach the place, seek me out.’

  ‘But what about the guards?’

  ‘There will be no guards.’

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ asked Crispin.

  ‘Because you are growing stronger and they cannot allow you to live. If you stay here, you will die.’

  ‘Wait, where shall I find you? What is your name?’

  ‘I cannot share my name in case you are caught,’ came the quiet reply, ‘but find the brotherhood and you will find me.’ He paused before adding, ‘stay alive, Crispin, your time has come, there will never be another chance like this.’ He turned suddenly and left the cell, locking the door behind him.

  Crispin stayed at the door listening to the receding footsteps. Minutes later, as he heard fresh guards come on duty, the deformed boy hurried back to his cot, breathless as the implications of the conversation sank in.

  ----

  Crispin pulled his cloak tighter around him. That was two nights ago and this morning he carried out his instructions. As promised, his door had been unlocked and he had stepped over the sleeping bodies of the guards and empty wine skins, hinting at the drugged contents within. He had found the row of carts in the pre-dawn darkness and hid under a shroud on the rear cart. Soon after dawn, he heard the murmur of voices and then the creaking of the giant gates as the procession of undertakers made their way to join the celebrations in Bastion. Crispin lay terrified under the shroud, hardly daring to breathe.

  The cart-master entered the city with the rest of his colleagues and soon branched off in a different direction to make his way to the pre-designated area he had occupied for many years. He wandered through the city, bypassing the market place until finally he reached his destination, stopping the cart before throwing back the shroud hiding Crispin.

  ‘Go!’ said the cart-master abruptly.

  Crispin had a million questions to ask, but the scowl on the man’s face warned otherwise.

  ‘Where?’ he asked.

  The man shrugged his shoulders, replaced the tarpaulin and picked up the handles of the cart once more.

  ‘Not my problem,’ he said, ‘my work is finished, now go!’

  As the scowl-faced man pulled his cart away, Crispin scuttled into the welcoming shadows of Bastion. It had all been so easy, too easy!

  ----

  Chapter 5

  Pelosus gazed through his telescope before returning to his calculations yet again. Since he was a boy, he had studied the ways of the universe and apart from the breath-taking effects of Moon-day, they seldom changed. He knew the names of thousands of the brightest stars in the sky, could tell you what time the sun would rise and set every day of the next hundred years, and even predict the weather to a certain extent, depending on the brightness of the giant moon through the haze.

  His predecessors had charted the cosmos many lifetimes ago and his room was filled with hundreds of detailed scrolls, ranging from star charts to the history of the people.

  ‘Hmm, interesting,’ he said to himself, crouching over his desk in his workroom, moving the plankton-orb closer to get better light. Below, the noise of the celebrations were certainly something he could do without but nonetheless, he worked on at his calculations, driven along by the tide of formulae that were now all beginning to make sense.

  ‘What’s so interesting, Pelosus?’ interrupted an unexpected voice, causing him to jump.

  The scientist spun around and was shocked to see the woman of his dreams standing before him.

  ‘Your Excellency,’ he stammered, ‘I wasn’t expecting you!’

  ‘I thought it would be a nice surprise,’ said Petra, Governess of the Courtesans.

  Pelosus stared at her in awe. Her voice was as soft as a feather and smooth as honey; he wallowed in her gentle tones.

  Slowly she walked toward him with a beautiful smile and lifted her hand to his face. Before he could realize what her intention was, she extended a finger and gently pushed up his lower jaw. The Stargazer gathered his wits and dragged himself back to reality.

  ‘Right, yes of course,’ he said, ‘how may I help you?’

  ‘Well, to start with,’ she said, ‘I require a seat and a glass of wine.’

  ‘Um, I have ale,’ he said before adding quickly, ‘but it is a very good quality, I had it bought for me this very morning in the market.’

  ‘Ale will be fine,’ she said, her beguiling smile bathing him in its gentle warmth.

  Pelosus pulled up two chairs and swept some scrolls to one side with his forearm. After pouring two glasses of ale, they sat down together by his worktable.

  ‘Well, this is an honour, your Excellency,’ he started.

  The Governess of the Courtesans interrupted him.

  ‘Are we alone, Pelosus?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, though the clerk will be here soon with the evening meal.’

  ‘Good, then we can talk freely. First of all, when we are alone you may call me Petra. Is that okay with you?’

  Pelosus took a swig of ale, his eyes never leaving hers, lost in the deep gaze that pierced his very heart.

  ‘Yes your Exc…I mean, Petra,’ he replied, ‘if that is what you desire.’

  ‘It
is,’ she said, ‘I want to become your friend, Pelosus, I want to be able to trust you and for you to trust me. From now on, what passes between us must remain our secret, do you think we can achieve that?’

  ‘Of course!’ said Pelosus vigorously nodding his head.

  ‘Good, then let’s get down to business.’ She paused for a few moments, gathering her thoughts before looking up at him with a worried look in her eyes. ‘The news you shared last night in the council,’ she said, ‘how certain are you that this will come to pass?’

  ‘As certain as I can be,’ he replied. ‘In fact, if anything, my estimations are a bit on the conservative side. I checked the water level this morning and it is already lower than I expected.’

  ‘Yes, I noticed this as well,’ she said. ‘Assuming everything you say is correct and the sea level drops; it will have devastating effects on everyone in Bastion, do you agree?’

  ‘Yes, as I said at the council; thirst and hunger are inevitable, it is just the timescales that are an unknown quantity.’

  ‘Is there anything we can do to stop this?’

  ‘Your Exc… Petra,’ he said with a hint of frustration in his voice, ‘I answered these questions last night at the council. We cannot alter the orbit of the moon or its effects. There is nothing we can do.’

  ‘Well, we’ll come to that in a moment,’ she said, ‘but I just wanted to make sure we had no other option.’

  ‘Than what?’ asked the Stargazer.

  ‘All in good time,’ answered Petra, ‘first we need to discuss anarchy.’

  ‘Anarchy?’

  ‘Yes, anarchy, you know what that means don’t you?’

  ‘Of course, but…’

  ‘Pelosus, you may be right with your calculations but I believe many in this city will die long before the water runs out. When the danger becomes apparent, the wealthy will buy up all the food and water possible. Even though they will be only delaying the inevitable. As the poor start to die, they will turn on the wealthy and take what they need, killing if necessary in desperation to survive, it is human nature.’

  Pelosus nodded, slowly following her logic.