The Last Citadel

by Kevin Ashman

  ‘You got someone else out there?’ asked Braille with interest.

  ‘Yes, Amber,’ said Kenzo, ‘open the gate.’

  ‘That’s your pretty cousin isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where are your clothes?’

  ‘We had to get rid of them in order to swim, now open the gate.’

  ‘Is Amber half naked too?’ asked Braille hopefully.

  ‘Braille,’ shouted Kenzo, but before he could finish he was pushed aside by Amber, stretching up on tiptoe to meet Braille’s eyes through the hole in the door.

  ‘Yes I’m half naked, you dumb oaf,’ she snarled, ‘and freezing my bloody arse off. Now, if you don’t open this gate, I swear I will tear it down with my bare hands and use your balls for earrings, now, open this damn gate.’

  ‘Whoa, girly,’ said Braille, ‘no need to be so rude to your uncle Braille now, is there?’

  ‘You’re not my bloody uncle,’ shouted Amber, but before she could say anymore, she was pulled aside by Kenzo.

  ‘Don’t argue with him, Amber, you’ll get nowhere.’

  Behind them, the creak of one of the giant gates being eased open told them that Braille had come to his senses and they turned to enter the safety of the city.

  ----

  Kenzo and Amber squeezed through the gap and stood shivering in their wet undergarments. Kenzo realised there was unexpected silence and looked up to see Braille and his comrade leering at Amber in ill-disguised lust. He turned to Amber and realised her own undergarments were clinging to her body and leaving nothing to the imagination.

  ‘Give me your cape, Braille,’ he said.

  ‘What?’ asked Braille.

  ‘Your cape, take it off and give it to Amber.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To cover her up, for Saint’s sake,’ said Kenzo, ‘can’t you see she is freezing?’

  ‘I can see she’s not a little girl anymore,’ said Braille. ‘Seems like your snotty nosed cousin turned into a fine young woman.’

  ‘Come anywhere near me,’ said Amber, ‘and I’ll show you how feisty this young woman can be.’

  ‘Ooh, touchy too,’ said Braille with a smirk, but despite this, he gave his cape to the girl, much to the disappointment of the gathering crowd.

  ‘Right,’ said Kenzo, ‘we need to get to the keep as quickly as we can.’

  ‘I’ll take you,’ said Braille.

  ‘I do know the way,’ said Kenzo, ‘we will be fine.’

  ‘Dressed like that?’ asked Braille. ‘You will probably be arrested for flashing and she will get raped by the first arsehole who takes a fancy. Mind you,’ he whispered, ‘I don’t suppose there’s a chance of me and her…you know, seeing as we are such good mates and all.’

  ‘Braille!’ shouted Kenzo. ‘For Saint’s sake, this is serious.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ said Braille, putting both his hands up in mock defence, ‘I was only asking.’

  Without further ado, they made their way through the city avoiding the crowds accumulating for the Moon-day celebrations wherever possible. Within fifteen minutes they were walking across the courtyard of the keep and approached the inner tower. Kenzo rapped on the door and an official looking man answered, looking down his nose at them in disdain.

  ‘We need to see Pelosus,’ said Kenzo.

  ‘He is not here,’ said the man.

  ‘Then where is he?’ asked Kenzo, ‘this is urgent.’

  ‘I don’t know where he is,’ sighed the man. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.’

  ‘Wait,’ shouted Kenzo, putting his foot in the door to stop it closing, ‘what about Petit the clerk, is he here?’

  ‘Do you have an appointment?’ asked the man.

  Before Kenzo could vent his frustration, a voice called out from within.

  ‘It’s okay, Bennett,’ said the voice, ‘I will speak to them.’

  The man called Bennett opened the door to reveal Petit standing behind him.

  ‘You have returned,’ he said.

  ‘Yes and I have news,’ said Kenzo, ‘but these are things we should not speak of in public.’

  ‘Then you had better come in,’ said Petit and stood aside to allow them into the Tower of the Saint.

  ‘Not you,’ said Petit, looking up at Braille.

  ‘I’m with them,’ said Braille. ‘We come as a package.’

  ‘Is this correct?’ asked Petit, looking at Kenzo.

  Kenzo looked at Braille and the comical look of pleading in his eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ he sighed, ‘I suppose so. I will take responsibility for him.’

  ‘Yes, you will,’ murmured Petit, ‘follow me.’

  Kenzo, Amber and Braille followed Petit up the stairs to his chambers and took seats at his table. Bennett brought warm brew and they waited patiently until everything had calmed down. Finally, Petit joined them at the table and looked around expectantly.

  ‘Right,’ he sighed, ‘what is all this about?’

  Kenzo glanced over toward Bennett, standing in the corner.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Petit, ‘Bennett holds my full trust, so you can speak freely.’

  ‘Well,’ said Kenzo, ‘since we last spoke, we managed to locate the missing boy.’

  ‘You returned to the Catacombs?’

  ‘We did.’

  ‘Is he alive?’

  With a deep breath, Kenzo told the clerk about everything that had happened over the course of the last month, including the perceived threat from Crispin and the revelations of the Watchers. The clerk let him talk without interruption, clinging on to every word until finally, Kenzo sat back and waited for Petit to speak.

  ‘That is some tale,’ said Petit eventually, ‘and you are sure about this Crispin thing?’

  All three nodded.

  ‘I saw it with my own eyes,’ Braille lied, ‘it were orrible.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Petit, ‘I have to think about this. Pelosus is away at the moment but he may have more knowledge about this phenomenon. I would like to take his counsel before we overreact.’

  ‘But the longer we wait, the more danger we may be in.’

  ‘Nevertheless, we will wait,’ said Petit. ‘The last thing we need is to start a panic in the streets before we actually know what this thing is, so, first things first, have you eaten?’

  Amber realised she had not eaten all day, and hid a smile when Braille shook his head so vigorously that she thought it was actually in danger of falling off.

  ‘Right,’ said Petit, ‘I will arrange for you to be fed and to get some rest. When Pelosus is back, you will tell your story to him and together we will deal with this situation to the satisfaction of everyone.’

  ‘Will there be steak?’ asked Braille, his mouth watering.

  ‘I’m sure cook can find some,’ sighed, Petit. ‘After all, if there are no steaks in the Tower of the Saint, then what is the world coming to? I will arrange someone to take you to the kitchens and prepare a place for you to rest. You have done well, Kenzo and I am sure Pelosus will look kindly on a promotion.’

  Kenzo gulped. A promotion already? Fatman would be livid.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said.

  ‘Good,’ said Petit, ‘you stay here while Bennett and I make the arrangements.’

  He turned and walked out of the room leaving the two cousins and the soldier behind him. Within half an hour, Amber, Kenzo and Braille were in the tower basement and sitting around another table. However, this time it was an enormous kitchen table made from planks of Narwl bone polished to a gleaming finish. All down the centre lay a row of dishes containing the sort of food the commoners of the city could normally only dream of.

  ‘I have never seen so much food,’ said Amber in awe, wondering where to start.

  ‘Me neither,’ mumbled Braille through the mouthful of crab meat he had already grabbed before sitting down, ‘I don’t know what you are involved in, but whatever it is, keep doing it.’

  ‘Judging
by the size of the cook, this is probably just her lunch,’ whispered Kenzo, glancing at the enormous woman busying herself at the far end of the kitchen.

  ‘Kenzo,’ hissed Amber, shoving an elbow into his ribs, ‘stop it, you are being unkind.’

  ‘But I have never seen such a fat woman,’ said Kenzo, ‘look at her, she is huge.’

  They all stared at the back of the woman who was now berating a kitchen servant about the standard of cleanliness in her area.

  ‘She is big,’ agreed Braille, ‘but I’d have a crack at it.’

  ‘Braille, shut up,’ hissed Amber, glaring at him, ‘she’s coming over.’

  ‘Everyone all right?’ she shouted as she approached, her breath wheezing from her overworked lungs.

  ‘Fine, thank you,’ said Amber. ‘It all looks so good, we don’t know where to start.’

  ‘Well,’ said the cook, ‘You take your time and help yourselves but don’t forget, leave room for afters. I have a lovely Apple and Sugar-shell pie in the oven and nobody makes Apple and Sugar-shell pie like Daisy.’

  ‘Daisy?’ queried Kenzo.

  ‘Yup, that’s my name, Daisy. My mother named me after the tiny flowers that grow out of the Citadel walls each spring.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Kenzo slowly, wondering how on earth someone as big as this woman could seriously be called Daisy.

  ‘What’s Sugar-shell pie?’ asked Braille suddenly.

  ‘You’ve never tasted pie?’ asked Daisy in mock horror and seeing the blank faces on the other two, burst out in laughter.

  ‘Well, my dears,’ she said, ‘you three are in for one of the best treats of your life. Get some meat and biscuits down you and I will bring you the best thing you have ever tasted. By the time I have finished with you, you will think you have died and gone to heaven.’ She turned away to return to the inner kitchen, laughing to herself as she went.

  ‘Never had pie,’ she laughed, ‘how absurd.’

  ----

  An hour later all three lay on soft couches in one of the Tower ante rooms. Braille was groaning and holding his stomach.

  ‘My guts hurt,’ he said, seeking sympathy from the other two.

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Kenzo, ‘you had four portions of that pie, let alone all the meat you ate.’

  ‘Three and a half,’ said Braille, ‘I left some.’

  ‘You have to admit,’ said Amber, ‘it was delicious.’

  ‘It was,’ said Kenzo, ‘but I think we all overdid it a bit.’

  ‘Does everyone in the Tower of the Saint eat that well?’ asked Amber.

  ‘Apparently so,’ answered Kenzo, ‘it pays to be somebody of importance in Bastion.’

  Slowly the chatter died down as the heat of the fire had an effect on the two tired cousins and eventually, all that could be heard was their heavy breathing as they slept the sleep of the exhausted.

  Though tempted to take an afternoon nap himself, Braille was painfully aware that he had a busy night ahead of him and if he raised the ire of Fatman, he could well end up on night duty, so with a hint of jealousy, he left them sleeping and made his way out of the keep and back to the gate.

  Back in the Tower of the Saint, a tapestry hanging on one of the walls moved slightly and two people stepped out of the hidden doorway to stare at the sleeping youths.

  ‘How long will they be asleep?’ asked Bennett.

  ‘Several hours,’ said Daisy, ‘I laced the pie with Socaine, the Sugar-shell masked the taste.’

  ‘Good,’ said Bennett. ‘Call the others and move them into more suitable accommodation.’

  As Daisy waddled away, Bennett approached Amber and leaned over to brush her hair gently.

  ‘Sleep well, pretty one,’ he said, ‘you are going to need all your strength, very, very soon.’

  ----

  Chapter 28

  Pelosus and Warden talked for hours until the older man tired.

  ‘Is there anything else?’ asked Pelosus.

  ‘Not much really?’ sighed Warden, ‘I have no doubt that the scrolls contain all the answers you require but alas, I have only scratched the surface. The knowledge in these alcoves is indeed huge but at best, I can translate no more than one or two a month. It deserves better attention, Pelosus, from someone who can devote their full attention to unveiling their secrets, someone like you.’

  ‘And I can imagine no better way to spend the rest of my days, Warden, but there are events afoot that I fear will snatch this privilege from me.’

  ‘The disappearing seas?’

  ‘Exactly and after listening to you, I fear it is a problem that is not going to go away. I suspect that once more the heavens conspire to alter the balance of this world and the seas are undertaking the process of relocating to the other side of the planet.’

  ‘I think you are right,’ said Warden, ‘and you should make the suitable arrangements for your people to leave the Citadel.’

  ‘I will, and you will come with us, along with all your scrolls. That way, your work can continue and you can be part of it.’

  ‘I fear not, Pelosus, my bones are tired and I feel myself failing inside. I am not long for this world but at least I can go to my maker knowing the little knowledge I have gleaned through my life has been passed on.’

  ‘There is one more question I need to ask, Warden,’ said Pelosus. ‘If all you say is true and the Sark ended up farming our ancestors, where are they now? How come there is no sign of them, or of their way of life?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t help you with that one, Pelosus,’ he said, ‘you will have to work that one out for yourself.’ He stood up and held out his hand. ‘Good luck.’

  ‘Thank you, Warden,’ said Pelosus, ‘I will never forget what you have done for us and when all this is over, I promise we will continue where you left off. Who knows? We may even name a library after you.’

  ‘That would be nice,’ said Warden. ‘Now, you should go, you have a lot to do.’

  Pelosus took the man’s hand and pulled him in to hug him tightly before leaving the chamber of scrolls and making his way back through the Catacombs.

  Fifteen minutes later, he entered his own room and closed the panel doorway behind him. On the table, he saw a bowl of fried seaweed with Narwl strips in a Sugar-shell sauce and half a bottle of wine. He smiled, Petit had obviously been in the night before and left him his favourite supper, and though it was almost dawn, the food was still edible and he sat at the table, surprised at how hungry he actually was.

  As he ate, Pelosus considered everything he had been told by Warden, his mind spinning at the astonishing revelations. As strange as it all seemed, it was all entirely feasible and somehow felt very true. The strange way the moon was affecting the sea, the origin of the Citadel, the artefacts from the lower city, it all made complete sense.

  Today was Moon-day, and if he were correct, the water would be lower than it had been for three months, ever since that first meeting in the council chamber. If it was, it would more or less prove the theories correct and they would have to make plans to leave the Citadel. Not immediately, as they could probably sustain the population for a few more weeks, but as the sea receded, their food sources would be harder to reach and the drinking water could dry up at any moment. He sat on the bed, knowing full well that he should go straight to the council, but desperate to sleep.

  ‘Just a few minutes,’ he thought, ‘an hour at the most.’ He lay down and within seconds, was fast asleep.

  ----

  Outside the Citadel, the waters were falling rapidly, far faster than they had ever done before. In the towers, the tradesmen fussed over their carts, making sure their wares were ready for the short journey across the causeways to the Moon-day market. Weavers packed clothes, capes and blankets, knowing full well that winter was coming and these were the items that would sell more readily, while the Bakers piled their mouth-watering treats into baskets, the source of the meat still a secret to all but those in the higher echelons of th
e order.

  All were ready. The Courtesans were preened to perfection, Hunters dressed in their finest parade gear, even the Farmers had made a special effort, their carts of fruit, and vegetables swathed in flowers that had just come into season.

  Finally, the bells tolled and the age old tradition of Moon-day started again as it had for thousands of years. The tradition had been handed down from generation to generation and though everyone in the Citadel looked forward to it with great excitement and expectation, there were some individuals who knew that today was the last Moon-day this Citadel would ever see.

  ----

  Kenzo opened his eyes and looked around the room in confusion. As his memory returned, he realised that this wasn’t the room in which he had fallen asleep. The room was sparsely furnished with two basic beds and a table with a jug of water and two bone cups. Amber was fast asleep on one of the beds and despite his repeated attempts, he could not wake her. He stood up and staggered to the door to try the handle, but found it locked.

  ‘Hello!’ he shouted, ‘anyone there?’

  When there was no answer, he returned to the bed and sat back down. Though he fought it, the feeling of exhaustion was overwhelming and he lay back down, the effects of the Socaine still strong in his system. Within seconds, he had fallen asleep again.

  ----

  Marek the Brewer was strangely silent. Gone was the brash character that so many people loved and just as many hated. He had no time for banter, for this was the day he had dreamt of for most of his adult life, the day he became unbelievably rich and powerful. All the Brewers were hung over, having partaken of too much of their own wares the night before. Ordinarily they would have been busy loading their carts but surprisingly, Marek and his family had offered to load all the carts on their behalf, a surprising yet welcome offer that they took full advantage of, not guessing the ulterior motive of their trusted colleague.

  ----

  In the streets of the city, the day-to-day worries were forgotten in the excitement of the market. The council had given the go ahead for the night celebrations and rumours were rife that Arial would return to deliver them from rationing and the threat of the disappearing seas. Not only that but it was also rumoured that in celebration of the Saint, there would be cheap alcohol available to encourage a celebration the like of which had never been seen before. The more optimistic of the men even talked about the Courtesans offering their skills free of charge, though that was probably wishful thinking. The more sceptical dismissed the rumours as nonsense but despite this, there were a hard core of religious zealots peddling out their prophesies to anyone who would listen.