The Last Citadel

by Kevin Ashman

  In the barracks, even Fatman seemed to have chilled out and he stood most of the men down for the evening celebrations with only an unlucky few chosen to man the gates. The rest changed into their casual clothes and started on the extra alcohol rations, issued to all those not on duty. In the barrack room, Ufox was perplexed at the absence of Braille so close to the celebrations, but despite asking around, nobody knew where he was.

  ----

  Chapter 29

  Pelosus finally woke up and after peering through the window, realised that he had slept most of the day. He washed the sweat from his body and donned a new tunic. There was a council meeting due in a few minutes and he had to provide an update, summarising what he had learned so far. Grabbing some Narwl biscuits to eat on the way he made his way to the council chambers, knowing that the last time he had gone he had little to report, but this time was different and he would blow them away with his news.

  Inside the council chamber, all the heads of the various trades were present and already sitting in their seats as they awaited the arrival of Helzac. When he finally took his seat, all eyes turned to the Clerk.

  ‘Well,’ said Helzac, ‘shall we begin?’

  ‘Yes, Sire,’ said Petit, and left the room for a moment before returning with Pelosus.

  The Stargazer stood at the end of the table and looked around at the great and the good before him, nervous about how they were going to react about the truth of their ancestry and the fate that awaited them.

  ‘Hello, Pelosus,’ said Petra with a smile, ‘welcome back, I trust you have some welcome news for us?’

  ‘I have news, your Excellency, whether it is welcome or otherwise, is your judgement.’

  ‘Sounds intriguing,’ said Petra. ‘Please, sit down and begin.’

  ‘If it is all right with you, Excellency, I would rather stand.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Petra, ‘whatever makes you comfortable.’

  ‘Oh for Saint’s sake, cut the pleasantries and get on with it,’ snapped Razor.

  With a deep breath, Pelosus started his story, telling the council everything he had learned both from the exploration of the second city and his night spent in the chamber of the scrolls. Throughout the tale each of the councillors, all fascinated by the story, questioned him yet needing clarification of some of the more astonishing claims. Finally, he stopped talking and the run of questions dried up. Razor broke the silence with his typical direct opinion.

  ‘I have never heard such a complete load of Narwl shit in my entire life,’ he said.

  ‘I am sorry you think that, Sire, but it is true, nevertheless.’

  ‘Prove it,’ said Helzac.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Simple,’ said Helzac, ‘where is your proof? We have nothing but your words and a few wooden plates with dreamt up beasts carved upon them. I see nothing and have heard nothing that proves this story has one scrap of truth about it.’

  ‘There is other evidence available,’ said, Pelosus, ‘evidence in the possession of people within this very room that will add credence to my story.’

  ‘What evidence?’

  Pelosus stayed tight-lipped, hoping that Helzac would reveal the story about his paintings, or Petra would reveal the story of the lace handkerchief, but nothing was forthcoming.

  ‘Pelosus,’ said Razor, ‘what other evidence do you speak of?’

  ‘I cannot say, Sire,’ said Pelosus, ‘I have said too much already.’

  Razor turned to the rest of the council.

  ‘Does anyone here know what this fool is talking about?’

  Silence ensued and Razor turned to Pelosus, his tone even more scathing.

  ‘Stargazer,’ he said, ‘you have just placed yourself in an incredibly dangerous position. First, you come in here preaching blasphemy, then you implicate unknown councillors in your lies and refuse to name them. Do you realise what this means? A life in the prison tower at the very least.’

  ‘You can speak to the Warden yourself,’ said Pelosus, ‘the room of scrolls exists in the Catacombs. I can take you there.’

  ‘I have no doubt you can,’ said Razor, ‘for we all know of this room, and indeed the role of the Warden. There is nothing new in that but the scrolls we are familiar with tell the story of the Six-fingered Saint and his divine role in the formation of our city.’

  ‘But the other scrolls,’ said Pelosus, ‘the ones written in the tongue of our ancestors, they are all there for you to see.’

  ‘Admittedly there are scrolls there that we cannot understand, but therein lays the flaw in your story. Nobody can understand them.’

  ‘I know but the Warden can back up what I have told you.’

  ‘An old man whom you have confirmed is starting to lose his mind,’ said Razor. ‘His ramblings are the product of a lifetime of incarceration by the beautiful Governess.’

  Petra threw him a sarcastic smile before speaking up.

  ‘Pelosus,’ she said, ‘Warden has been down there for almost eighty years and his mind is not what it used to be. How can you be sure what he says is true?’

  ‘I can’t,’ said Pelosus, ‘but he was so…convincing.’

  ‘Then you have fallen for the words of a liar,’ said Razor, ‘I accept that there are things happening to the sea that we don’t understand, but I cannot accept that it is in the process of being carted across the world. As for our ancestors being food for some unknown type of monster, answer me this, where are they know, Pelosus? Where are these super beings you speak of?’

  Before Pelosus could answer, the door burst open and eight armed men ran into the room, each taking up position behind a councillor. Pelosus turned around and saw the clerk calmly locking the door from the inside before turning around to face the confused faces of the council.

  ‘I think I can answer that question,’ said Petit quietly, ‘they are here, in this very room!’

  ----

  ‘Petit, what are you doing?’ asked Pelosus

  ‘Be quiet, Stargazer,’ said the clerk, ‘and sit down. You have been unlucky enough to have become embroiled in something above your station.’

  ‘What on Earth are you on about?’ shouted Razor. ‘Who do you think you are?’

  ‘Shut up, Fisherman,’ said Petit, ‘before you say something you may regret.’

  ‘I’m not putting up with this shit,’ started Razor, and stood up to confront the small man. Before he could take a single step, he felt the sharp edge of a knife being held against his throat from behind and he was forced back into his chair.

  ‘Do as he says, Fisherman,’ said the man holding the knife, ‘or this blade will sever your jugular quicker than you have ever despatched a Narwl.’

  ‘I don’t know what this is all about Petit,’ said Helzac from the head of the table, ‘but there had better be a bloody good explanation.’

  ‘Oh, there is,’ said Petit, ‘now, I suggest you all listen very carefully to what I have to say, for depending on the outcome of these next few minutes, some of you may have seen your last Moon-day.’

  ‘Okay, Petit,’ said Helzac, ‘you have our attention. What is this all about?’

  ‘First of all,’ said Petit, ‘let me introduce myself properly, my name is Petit and I am the Grand Master of the Brotherhood of the Sark.’

  ‘And what exactly is that supposed to be?’ asked Razor.

  ‘All in good time, Fisherman,’ said Petit.

  ‘I am a Hunter,’ snarled Razor, ‘and if you refer to me as Fisherman one more time…’

  ‘You will what?’ asked Petit, ‘attack me? I don’t think so, Fisherman, you will be dead before you get out of the chair, now listen, all of you. The balance of power has changed in Bastion and you are no longer in charge here.’

  ‘Then who is?’ asked Helzac.

  ‘The Brotherhood,’ said Petit, ‘so until you are told different, that means me.’

  ‘That’s absurd,’ snapped Razor, ‘as soon as the word gets out about this pathetic little
coup, the guard will throw your bodies from the city walls.’

  ‘Razor, shut up,’ said a quiet voice, ‘there are things going on here that you don’t understand, so let’s hear what the man has to say.’

  Razor glared at De-gill but shut his mouth. It wasn’t often the Watcher spoke, but when he did, others listened.

  ‘Very sensible,’ said Petit and started to pace around the room. ‘What I have to say to you will be disturbing, frightening and go against everything you ever believed. However, saying that, my good friend Pelosus here has made my task much easier by preparing the ground for me. And, may I add, quite succinctly.’

  ‘You believe me?’ ventured Pelosus.

  ‘Believe you?’ laughed Petit, ‘considering that a few weeks ago you were nothing more than a humble Stargazer at the beck and call of these so called leaders of men, I think you have worked wonders. Not only have you managed the city in a time of extreme crisis but while you were at it, uncovered most of the true history of Bastion. During this time, as our city stumbled blindly toward the worst crisis it has ever seen, these people around you drank and fornicated their nights away, ignoring what has been staring them in the face all this time, the return of the Sark.’

  ----

  ‘Wait a minute?’ said Helzac, ‘that makes no sense; you said the Sark are already here, in this room, yet Pelosus has regaled us with some absurd story about fantastical creatures who fed on the flesh of men. Which is it to be, Petit, make up your mind?’

  ‘You are right,’ said Petit, ‘there are two completely different claims here, yet both are correct. You see, Pelosus did indeed tell you the truth. Everything he explained happened more or less, as he said. Yes, there are some inaccuracies but in essence, the history of Bastion according to Pelosus is correct, but what happened next is just as important and it is essential you take it on board to understand the magnitude of what is about to unfold before your very eyes.’

  ‘As Pelosus has already stated, the Sark pursued their own branch along the evolutionary tree and became the most feared predator this planet has ever seen. But even feared Hunters can be brought down by sheer numbers and that is why they built these Citadels, for security. Everything was fine, and the world was in balance, the humans holding their place in the lowlands, while the Sark dominated the high places, descending only to feed. However, when the world flooded, everything changed and faced with extinction, the humans struck their deadly deal with the Sark. What was left of the human race moved into the Sark cities and a life of servitude. First, they bartered the dead and the dying in return for food from the sea, but eventually, as the waters finally took over completely, the Sark had them exactly where they wanted, totally reliant on their charity. The Sark took full advantage of the situation and their tastes soon demanded the fresh and healthy meat of the human young. At first, our ancestors resisted, but a few realised there was no choice and colluded with the Sark, making agreements that they would provide the flesh they craved, in return for immunity from the cull. The Sark realised the benefit of a hierarchy between them and their prey, so agreed to give these people dominance over their fellows in return for complete devotion. Thus, was born the Brotherhood of the Sark.’

  ‘The agreement was sealed and the city developed into four areas. The outer towers were tasked with growing food for the human population, the forerunners of the trades we see today. The lower city, the one that has been uncovered by the water, was used to hold the majority of the people, while the Brotherhood lived in the Citadel itself. The Sark dwelt within this very keep, able to look out from on high at everything around them.’

  ‘Our own ancestors sold each other as food?’ gasped Pelosus, ‘that’s unbelievable.’

  ‘An unfortunate state of affairs, but entirely necessary,’ said Petit, ‘survival of the fittest. At least this way, the human race would survive.’

  ‘But surely they didn’t go to their deaths voluntarily,’ said Helzac, ‘didn’t they fight back?’

  ‘On the contrary,’ said Petit, ‘after a while and with some very careful indoctrination by the Brotherhood, the population came to welcome the chance to be selected. Every Moon-day, the favoured few would attend a great religious ceremony down in the second city and the whole population would gather to sing their praises as they ascended to the Citadel above.’

  ‘The temple,’ said Pelosus, ‘of course.’

  ‘You know of this place?’ asked Petra.

  ‘Yes, while I was in the lower city, I found a temple carved into the very bedrock beneath Bastion. At its centre, a wide shaft disappeared into the rock above and when I was in the Catacombs, I came upon it again as it ascended to the upper city. I assumed it would have come up somewhere in the keep.’

  ‘It does; in fact, it ends in this very room. Strip out the table around which you all sit and the shaft descends straight down from here to the temple, a direct route via which the Sark could descend to attend the rituals.’

  ‘But this table is built of stone,’ said Helzac, ‘and has been here for thousands of years.’

  ‘Built for a purpose,’ said Petit, ‘to hide the truth. Anyway, over generations it became a ritual embedded in the very psyche of the population and although they did not know their ultimate fate, the role of chosen one was a position coveted by everyone in the lower city.’

  ‘Yet all this time the Brotherhood would have known the truth?’ asked Helzac.

  ‘Yes, my predecessors knew but again, human memory is very short and after a while, they saw no shame in farming the people of the lower city. To them, they were an inferior race, fit for nothing else except feeding their masters.’

  ‘So where are the Sark now?’ asked Petra.

  ‘Well, despite their dominance, there was a problem. They were relatively few in number, probably no more than a few dozen or so and relied on fresh Sark bloodline from other groups across the world. As the waters kept rising, they became more isolated and started to breed amongst themselves.’

  ‘There were other groups?’ gasped Pelosus

  ‘Undoubtedly, though they were probably wiped out as their own Citadels were swamped by the seas. Anyway, without other groups of Sark to breed with, they started to inbreed and as we know, inbreeding leads to extinction.’

  ‘They died out?’ asked Helzac.

  ‘No, on the contrary, they simply adapted and brought in a new blood line to carry their seed.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Pelosus, ‘you said there were no other groups.’

  ‘The women,’ said Petra quietly, realising the only possible option, ‘they used the human women.’

  ‘Surely not,’ said Helzac, ‘how would that work?’

  ‘Perfectly well, actually,’ said Petit, ‘don’t forget that we shared a common ancestor, so our basic cells and bloodlines were entirely compatible. The male Sark used the human women as carriers of their spawn to continue the species.’

  ‘But surely the cells of the Sark would not necessarily dominate the human cells,’ said Pelosus, ‘I would have thought that as the older of the two bloodlines, the human cells would be stronger.’

  ‘And often they were,’ said Petit, ‘usually, a union between Sark and human resulted in a human child, but occasionally, it resulted with the offspring they desired. A lethal occurrence for the mother, it has to be said, for Sark offspring have the habit of tearing through the mother’s womb with tooth and claw.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Petra.

  ‘Yes, an unfortunate state of affairs, but nature has a way of balancing these things. Anyway, once again, generations passed and eventually the bloodlines became entirely mixed and every one of the humans within the Citadel could boast an ancestor of pure blood Sark. A claim that was something to be proud of, may I add.’

  ‘Your ancestors were Sark?’ asked Razor in disgust.

  ‘Indeed they were,’ said Petit, ‘as were yours.’

  ‘That’s impossible,’ said Helzac. ‘We all have human ancestors
and can trace them back hundreds of years.’

  ‘A mere speck of time in the greater scheme of things,’ said Petit, ‘I can assure you, that inside your veins, Sark blood flows alongside human blood.’

  ‘Even if what you say is true,’ said Helzac, ‘you still haven’t answered my question. What happened to the true-blood Sark?’

  ‘Simple,’ said Petit, ‘they simply died out. We are not sure why, but the stories passed down in the Brotherhood, tell of a day when they were all found dead. We believe it was something to do with the effects of the moon as it changed trajectory, but we can’t be sure. Now you can imagine the problem this gave the Brotherhood, their masters were gone and they had no source of food, so they did the unthinkable, they continued the pretence.’

  ‘They kept taking the sacrifices?’

  ‘They did at first, though they knew it couldn’t last. By now they were used to the taste of human flesh, but it was not enough, so once again they adapted, focussing on other sources of food. They started to harvest the sea plants around the base of the outer walls, experimented with catching Narwl and even devoted areas to nurturing the few plants that managed to survive amongst the nooks and crannies of the city. That went on for a few years, but then came the final blow, after a period of stability the waters rose for the last time, breaching the outer walls and flooding the lower city.’

  ‘But what about the people down there?’ asked Pelosus.

  ‘There was nothing they could do,’ said Petit, ‘it happened overnight. Several hundred were pulled from the water, but thousands died. The survivors were absorbed into the Citadel and though at first there was a certain level of conflict, the Brotherhood managed to keep their sordid secrets hidden. Once again, time was a great healer and though there were undoubtedly many more trials to overcome, they eventually achieved a sustainable level of existence. The Brotherhood became a hidden society and the council of the trades emerged to manage the day to day life of the Citadel. That is where your histories begin, Helzac, when the Sark died out. Then and only then did Bastion settle down into the metropolis it is now.’