The Last Citadel

by Kevin Ashman

  ‘Fairy tales for lulling children to sleep,’ said Helzac.

  ‘Perhaps, but what if they are not? What if they are based in truth? Oh, I’m not saying that water can run freely or wood can grow uninhibited from the ground. Of course, that is preposterous, but what if the stories have a grain of truth in them? What if there are other places beyond the horizon that our ancestors once knew?’

  ‘You are talking about land,’ said Helzac, in a matter of fact tone.

  ‘Yes, land,’ said Pelosus, keen to explore his theories further now he had the ear of the most powerful man he knew.

  ‘No such place,’ said Helzac.

  ‘You don’t know that,’ said Pelosus, ‘after all, tear down this Citadel and cast the stones into the sea and would we not be standing on exactly that, a piece of land?’

  ‘But why would we need land without walls?’ asked Helzac. ‘They protect us from the rain and the wind. They keep the warmth of our fires inside in the winter and provide shade in the summer. Without the Citadel, we would not survive.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Pelosus, ‘but what is to say there are no other Citadels across the world, far from ours, yet sitting on larger pieces of land. It doesn’t mean that the histories are wrong, the Great Narwl may indeed have carried us here and Arial may indeed have made the Citadel. Heaven knows that it is beyond the skills and knowledge of our people so I have no argument there, but the appearance of these,’ he indicated the platters, ‘makes me question my own deepest and most emotional beliefs. These animals cannot have developed here. It is as simple as that. Either they were brought here by the divine or were carried here on some sort of craft from elsewhere.’

  ‘Craft? What do you mean, craft?’

  ‘Boats like the Hunter’s Narwl-boats only much, much bigger.’

  ‘You are really stretching my imagination now,’ said Helzac, ‘I have seen no such craft and besides, even if such a thing was possible to construct, it would sink from its own weight. Narwl bone is too heavy.’

  ‘Not if it was made of wood,’ said Pelosus.

  ‘Wood is too flimsy and absorbs water,’ answered Helzac.

  ‘Mahogany doesn’t.’

  Helzac stared at the Stargazer in contempt.

  ‘Let me get this clear,’ said Helzac, ‘you are suggesting that our ancestors made floating craft out of one of the most precious materials known to man and pushed them out onto the sea to sail them over the end of the world. Not only this, but they had to find a place where water runs freely, food animals are there for the taking and wood sprouts straight from the ground. However, when they have found this paradise, they didn’t stay there, they would capture various beasts and, after loading them onto these crafts and bringing them back to the Citadel, give them our crops and ultimately kill them for meat. Is that what you are saying?’

  Pelosus squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

  ‘Put like that, it does sound a bit far-fetched,’ he said, ‘but it’s the only way I can link these artefacts together. If I had more time, I could examine the city more but the waters are already creeping back. Next month they will be drier for longer, but time is running out. The further the sea levels fall, the harder to survive it will be, yet there is a lifetime of study waiting beneath the arched bridges.’

  Helzac stood up and wandered around the room once more. Pelosus watched him walk, wondering if he had said too much. Stories such as these had raised their heads on several occasions in the Citadel’s history and many a cult had been viciously exterminated for daring to blaspheme. There was even an occasion thousands of years ago, where the armies of the Citadel had wiped out the population of a whole tower when their leader claimed that Arial was a figment of the people’s imagination, and that they all descended from small people covered with hair from lands across the seas.

  The slaughter had been devastating and anyone with the remotest link to the tower of the scholars, as it had been known, was ruthlessly wiped out. Apparently, the flames from the bonfire of scrolls reached far into the sky for two days and nights and though Pelosus would never admit it, he often thought he would give one of his arms to have read that information.

  But that was in the past and the population now followed the one true faith, the gospel of Arial, the Six-fingered Saint. Finally, Helzac broke the silence.

  ‘Come here,’ he said and Pelosus joined him in front of a particularly beautiful picture hanging on the wall.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Helzac.

  Pelosus looked at the picture. It depicted a scenario often seen from the Citadel walls. In the foreground, the Hunter’s tower was silhouetted against the red setting sun and bodies could be seen diving gracefully into the water below on their daily search for Narwl. All around the Tower, dead Narwl could be seen being towed back to shore by their small boats and two huge beasts could be seen being hauled up the Tower walls.

  Though the scene was obviously the subject of artistic license, it evoked the whole essence of sustainable life in the Citadel. Without the Hunters and the bounty of the sea, they would all starve.

  ‘Beautiful,’ said Pelosus, ‘and obviously very old. Is it yours?’

  ‘Not personally,’ said Helzac, ‘it is a fixture of this room and has been handed down through the centuries by each Citadel Governor.’

  ‘It is very nice,’ said Pelosus, wondering where this was leading.

  ‘Nice?’ said Helzac. ‘Yes I suppose it is, in a way. Very comforting to know that even thousands of years ago, the way of life that we are all so familiar with existed in much the same way as it does now.’

  ‘Though I think Razor would raise an eyebrow as to the success of the hunt,’ laughed Pelosus, indicating the sheer quantity of Narwl in the picture.

  ‘Yes, quite,’ answered Helzac, ‘though another word to describe this picture is disturbing.’

  ‘Really?’ asked Pelosus, looking at the picture once again, ‘I don’t see how, it is very comforting, actually.’

  ‘Look again, Pelosus,’ said Helzac. ‘The activity draws your eye to the central scene, does it not? The beautiful sunset, the athleticism of the Hunters, the gracefulness of the Narwl and the success of the hunt, all designed to draw the viewer’s attention. Most people look at a picture for a few moments, taking in the subject before resuming whatever other activity they had been engaged in. Very few actually take time to study pictures any more, as very few have the time, I however, do have the time and I love art. Look elsewhere within the picture, Pelosus and don’t allow your mind to be lured by the central images. What else do you see?’

  Pelosus stared at the picture once more.

  ‘Not much, really,’ said the Stargazer, ‘the open waters of the sea, the curvature of the horizon, some passing clouds.’

  ‘And within the clouds?’

  Pelosus screwed up his eyes and moved closer to the picture.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, ‘unless you mean those tiny marks dotted everywhere.’

  Feeling a tap on his shoulder, he turned to see Helzac holding a magnifying glass.

  ‘Look again,’ said the Governor.

  Pelosus took the magnifying glass and focussed in on the marks on the clouds. Silence fell immediately and he moved from mark to mark, not believing his eyes.

  ‘By the Saints,’ he whispered, ‘I don’t understand. This cannot be, how on earth…?’

  ‘So, Stargazer,’ said Helzac eventually, ‘you have come in here with your strange tales, hoping to enthral me with weird beasts and far off lands, yet I too have knowledge unexplored. The creatures you have just seen are, I believe, called birds and live in the air.’

  ‘But that’s impossible,’ said Pelosus, ‘how can they stay up there?’

  ‘I don’t profess to know the detail,’ said Helzac, ‘yet I am sure this is not the product of some sick mind.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘Because I have three other such paintings in storage. I cannot display them for the birds are cl
earer to the eye and would be the cause of too many questions.’

  ‘How do you know the name of these creatures?’ asked Pelosus, resuming the examination of the picture through the lens.

  ‘One of the other pictures names them on the reverse,’ he said, ‘and gives a close up of the creature in flight.’

  ‘Can I see it?’

  ‘To what purpose?’ asked Helzac, ‘I have known of these phenomena for many years, yet have kept it to myself. I cannot allow this information to become public.’

  ‘But why not?’

  ‘Pelosus, I have a role with great responsibility. This Citadel balances on a knife-edge of peace and prosperity. On either side lie hunger, war, anarchy and fear. The slightest doubt in the scriptures of the Saint could tip our existence off that edge and chaos would ensue. If the population thought even one second there may be another place, they would be demanding expeditions and exploration. Many men would be sent to their deaths on fruitless searches for a place that may not even exist. I cannot do that for the people would become impatient and challenge the structure that has served us well for so many generations.’

  ‘But what if someone was successful?’ asked Pelosus. ‘What if even one person found this other place, surely it would make it all worthwhile?’

  ‘And then what?’ asked Helzac, ‘how could we transport thousands of people to somewhere else without the means of doing so. The knowledge of any sort of alternative city or civilisation would be enough to end life as we know it here in Bastion. No, in this case, ignorance is bliss and that is why the council have kept such things to themselves over all these generations.’

  ‘You know of other places?’

  ‘Not as such,’ said Helzac, ‘these pictures hint at things I don’t understand and I often wondered where these birds originated and where they land? Also, if they were as prevalent as they seem in the pictures, where are they now and why did they disappear?’

  ‘Perhaps they do not land,’ suggested Pelosus, ‘perhaps they spend their life in the air.’

  ‘I do not think so,’ said Helzac. ‘look at the actual tower in the picture and focus on the far left castellation.’

  Once again, Pelosus stared through the lens though this time directly at the tower. At first, he could see nothing but finally he could make out the tiny image of one of the birds, half hidden behind a stone and perched on the haft of a hunting spear.

  ‘It’s claws seem designed for grasping such things,’ mused Pelosus.

  ‘Yes, but where? Certainly not in the Citadel.’

  ‘Fascinating,’ agreed Pelosus.

  ‘Such musings used to keep me awake at night,’ continued Helzac, ‘but now my dreams are of more spiritual things and I look forward to spending eternity with the Saint. That is, until you presented us with a change that is creeping upon us.’

  ‘So all this time you knew there were possibilities, yet still you questioned me.’

  ‘I had to keep up the pretence,’ said Helzac, ‘even the other council members are not aware of the situation although I am not sure about the Watchers. They keep themselves to themselves.’

  ‘But why were these birds painted on this canvas?’ asked Pelosus, ‘why not just leave a note and instructions to keep the knowledge secret?’

  ‘I do not know the answer to this,’ said Helzac. ‘It seems that open knowledge was not possible and these hints, for hints are what they are, were hidden amongst artwork that is easily accessible, yet hidden amongst the detail.’

  ‘It doesn’t make any sense,’ said Pelosus, ‘it’s almost as if whoever painted the pictures were frightened of others knowing what they were doing.’

  ‘And hence my initial instruction, Pelosus. Times are changing at a pace we cannot comprehend and the implications are yet unknown. I have kept this knowledge to myself for a long time and though it may not be of any use, I think we have to put everything on the table to try to make sense of it all. If indeed this other place does exist, then we have to explore all options.’

  ‘Your Excellency, there is much to ponder here, so if you don’t mind, I would like to return to my rooms and deliberate. Perhaps I can knit all this together and make some sense.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Helzac, ‘though I have to reiterate that this conversation remains in this room for the moment. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, Sire,’ said Pelosus and with a deep bow, turned to leave the room.

  ----

  Chapter 23

  ‘I think the water’s stopped rising,’ gasped Amber breathlessly.

  ‘I think you’re right,’ answered, Kenzo, ‘try to find a handhold on the shaft wall to catch your breath.’

  Amber’s freezing fingers searched the slimy surface of the wall without success, her strength rapidly failing.

  ‘It’s no use,’ she said, ‘it’s too smooth.’

  ‘Same here,’ gasped Kenzo, ‘keep trying.’

  ‘Over here,’ said Flip unexpectedly, ‘I’ve found something.’ The two cousins swam over to Flip and found him clinging to a small horizontal bar set into the wall.

  ‘Thank the Saints,’ said Amber and for the first time in over ten minutes, she held on and relaxed her body.

  Flip was clinging on to the bar and though he had moved sideways to make room, he seemed to be a bit higher in the water than the other two.

  ‘How are you so high?’ asked Kenzo between chattering teeth.

  ‘There’s another bar,’ said Flip, ‘under the water.’

  Kenzo felt with his feet and banged his shin against a similar bar beneath the surface. He placed the sole of his foot on the submerged bar and stood upright, his extra height lifting him above Flip.

  ‘Well done, Flip,’ said Amber, ‘I couldn’t have lasted much longer.’

  ‘Me neither,’ said Flip, ‘do you think the water will go away now?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Kenzo, ‘if it is the tide, as I suspect it is, then the water will remain high for a few hours before dropping slightly, but it won’t go away completely until next Moon-day.’

  ‘We can’t stay here that long,’ said Flip, ‘we’re gonna die aren’t we?’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said Kenzo and reached upward with his free hand, searching for something in the dark. ‘Yes,’ he gasped, ‘I thought so, another bar in the wall. I think these bars actually form a ladder.’

  ‘A ladder?’ exclaimed Amber, ‘to where?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Kenzo ‘but I’m going to find out.’ With an effort, he pushed up and reached further up the wall. ‘Another one,’ he said, ‘I was right.’ Within seconds, he was climbing up the ladder but before he had gone ten rungs his hand hit against something solid across the top of the shaft.

  ‘There’s some kind of wooden cover,’ he shouted, ‘I’ll see if I can move it.’

  Back down in the water, Amber and Flip gazed up toward Kenzo, praying that he would find a way out.

  ‘Ow!’ shouted Flip suddenly, ‘what did you do that for?’

  ‘Do what?’ asked Amber.

  ‘You kicked me.’

  ‘No I didn’t,’ said Amber, ‘I didn’t touch you.’

  ‘Yes you did,’ said Flip and suddenly flinched again as something hit his leg.

  ‘Ow!’ he shouted even louder. ‘Stop it.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ shouted Amber, ‘I don’t know…Aaarrgh!’ She thrashed her legs violently. ‘Flip,’ she shouted, ‘there’s something in the water.’

  Flip grabbed her by the arm with his free hand and forced her upwards on the ladder.

  ‘Get out,’ he shouted, ‘quickly!’

  Amber pulled herself up the ladder, crying out in pain as something took tiny bites from her legs.

  Behind her, Flip was kicking violently and screaming in the dark, thrashing his legs as he tried to fight off the unseen horror.

  ‘Flip,’ shouted Amber as soon as she was clear of the water, ‘come on.’

  The boy reached up and grab
bed a rail, tears flowing from his eyes.

  ‘What’s happening?’ shouted Kenzo from above.

  ‘There’s something in the water,’ shouted Amber, ‘and its attacking Flip.’

  ‘Please, help me,’ screamed the boy hanging on to the rung with both hands.

  ‘Amber get out of the way,’ shouted Kenzo, climbing back down the ladder as quickly as he could, ‘Flip, give me your hand.’

  ‘Help me,’ screamed Flip as something grabbed the back of his thigh with razor sharp teeth. Suddenly he let go of the rung and fell backwards into the water, his arms and legs thrashing violently as he tried to fight off the unseen attacker.

  ‘Flip,’ screamed Amber in terror. ‘Oh my God, Kenzo, we have to help him.’

  Kenzo grabbed Amber and held her tightly with one arm, the other curled around one of the iron rungs.

  The surface was a boiling cauldron of thrashing water and bubbles and even in the failing light of the plankton lamp, the two cousins could see the froth was a deep, blood red.

  ‘It’s too late,’ shouted Kenzo, ‘there’s nothing we can do.’

  Flip was drawn under for the last time and as Amber and Kenzo stared in horror, the waters calmed until they were still once again, the red surface broken only occasionally by the sail fins of whatever creatures had torn Flip apart. Amber sobbed in Kenzo’s arms as the horror sank in.

  ‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ said Kenzo gently, trying to calm her down.