The Last Citadel

by Kevin Ashman

  ‘If what you say is true, Petit, how come nobody in the city remembers, how come there is nothing in the histories.’

  ‘Oh there are, but humans are a very strange race, Helzac, people remember the things they want to remember and when there are things best forgotten, they get rid of the evidence. The first council arranged the removal of anything around the city that referred to the Sark. Scrolls were burned, pictures hidden, statues torn down and carvings defaced. Wherever there was any indication of the previous way of life, it was removed.’

  ‘But why?’ asked Petra, ‘why keep the truth from everyone?’

  ‘To keep the population’s expectations low,’ said Petit. ‘This is a very small city with a very large population. It was necessary to keep the peace in a very stressful environment.’

  ‘So here we are,’ said Razor, ‘right up to modern day. Even if what you say is true, surely all that is in the past and has nothing whatsoever to do with what is happening now?’

  ‘Not quite,’ said Petit, ‘for there is an on-going legacy, one that we live with every day of our lives, isn’t that right, De-gill?’

  All heads turned to face the Watcher who had remained silent throughout most of the meeting. For a few seconds, De-gill stared at a mark on the table as if expecting it to say something. Finally, he looked up and took a deep breath.

  ‘Everything he said is true,’ he said.

  The collective gasp around the table turned into murmurs of disbelief.

  ‘And you knew about this all this time?’ asked Helzac.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Who else knows?’

  ‘The elders of my trade and the midwives.’

  ‘The midwives?’ said Petra in confusion, ‘what have they got to do with this?’

  ‘Tell them, De-gill,’ sneered Petit, ‘tell them all about the murderous role your trades play in all this.’

  De-gill stared at the Clerk, with a clear warning in his eyes.

  ‘Don’t do this, Petit,’ he said, ‘it’s not too late to sort this out.’

  ‘Tell them,’ snapped Petit.

  Silence fell again before Razor spoke up once again.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘what are you waiting for De-gill? What could possibly be so horrific that even the Governor of the Watchers hesitates to share it?’

  ----

  Chapter 30

  Down in the courtyard of the keep, something was wrong. The music had stopped and everyone was milling around in confusion. One group made a circle around a young girl who lay in a bloody crumpled heap on the floor, her shattered body the centre of an ever-expanding pool of blood. The screaming had stopped, but in its place, people were sobbing after witnessing the poor girl plummet from her trapeze far above the celebrations. An artist ripped his facemask off and stood over the body in shock.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked in disbelief.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said a red haired woman alongside him, ‘she must have lost her grip.’

  ‘Never,’ said the artist. ‘She was the best performer we have ever had, been doing it since before she could walk.’ He took off his multi-coloured jacket and knelt down to cover the girls shattered head. As he did, he was suddenly shoved forward by the woman with red hair as she fell right across the body.

  ‘What the…?’ started the artist and pushed himself back up to his feet in surprise. No sooner had he stood up, when his legs collapsed beneath him and he fell to his knees again.

  ‘What’s happening?’ he asked, looking around in confusion.

  All around him, people were collapsing to the floor and even as his eyes started to blur, he saw four more girls fall to their deaths from their trapezes far above. The crowd started to panic and as people collapsed in their dozens, those not affected started to rush for the gates. Some at the front fell to the floor and were trampled underfoot by the stampede, but those who did manage to reach the giant gates found them locked and many were crushed to death by the throng behind them.

  Despite the unexplainable sight of hundreds of people collapsing all around them, some individuals remained unmoved, standing quietly to one side as the drama unfolded. Within ten minutes, the courtyard was in relative silence and the bodies covered the paving stones like a thick carpet of flesh. Finally, a soldier emerged from the shadows and approached one of the few remaining men standing.

  ‘No going back now,’ said Fatman.

  ‘Nope,’ said Marek, ‘I just hope that Petit is right and the sightings can be verified.’

  ‘Think you got enough men to shift all these?’ asked Marek, sweeping his arm over the mass of bodies.

  ‘Well, including those of us in the Guard,’ said Fatman, ‘there are about two hundred of us in here and another thousand or so out in the city, ready to round up those who spurned your poisoned ale.’

  ‘I wonder how Petit is getting on with the council?’ said Marek.

  ‘I don’t know and don’t really care,’ said Fatman. ‘We can do this without those interfering spongers. As far as I am concerned, they should be fed to the Ranah.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Marek, ‘come on then, let’s get started.’

  Groups of men and women banded together and stacked the bodies into piles, interspersed with bundles of dried weed soaked with Narwl oil. Any who were simply unconscious were despatched with skinning knives, before being added to the piles while those who had not drunk the ale at all, were rounded up at spear point and tied back to back against the wall, their fates yet to be decided. Within a couple of hours, over a dozen funeral pyres lit up the night sky, a clear statement of intent from the Brotherhood.

  ----

  Kenzo woke for the second time and stood up from the bed. He tried the door once again, but it was still locked. A moan from behind him alerted him to the fact that Amber was waking up and he sat by her side, his head pounding with pain.

  ‘Ohh,’ moaned Amber, her eyes still shut, ‘what happened?’

  ‘I think we were drugged,’ said Kenzo, ‘I don’t know why but somebody has moved us into a cell and locked the door. Here take this, it may help.’ He gave her a glass of water from the table and waited patiently as she gulped greedily to appease her dry mouth. Finally, she sat up alongside him and looked around the room.

  ‘Where are we?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know, somewhere in the keep, I guess,’ he said. ‘It looks like we were moved when we were unconscious.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ said Kenzo, ‘but this whole thing is getting weirder and weirder. Come on, we have to get out of here and let the council know what’s going on over at the Watcher’s Tower. Give me a hand.’

  They tried forcing the door together with little effect, and finally sat down once again, realising it was hopeless. They sat in silence, waiting for someone to come and finally heard a noise in the distance.

  ‘What was that?’ asked Amber sitting up.

  ‘I think it was a door slamming,’ said Kenzo, ‘perhaps someone is coming at last.’

  The noise level increased and Kenzo was about to call out when he heard a woman’s voice in the next cell.

  ‘‘Hello, who is there?’ said the unknown woman, ‘I need to see somebody, there seems to have been a mistake.’

  The sound of a door being unlocked gave Kenzo hope, and he was about to call out when the woman spoke again.

  ‘Oh, thank you,’ she said, her voice exhibiting the gratitude she obviously felt, ‘can you tell me what is happening, please? Why am I here?’

  Suddenly her tone changed as the sound of a scuffle broke out.

  ‘Stop it, what do you think you’re doing? Get your hands off me.’

  The sounds of a struggle got stronger, interspersed with the woman’s curses as she was overpowered. Kenzo estimated that there were at least three men involved, one of whom was obviously in charge.

  ‘Let me go,’ screamed the woman as she was dragged up the corridor, ‘what’s going on?
Please, what are you going to do to me?’

  Then a voice that Kenzo recognised came and his blood turned cold. It was Fatman.

  ‘Stop the whining, sweetheart,’ said Fatman, ‘me and the boys just want some entertainment. Play along and you won’t get hurt. Who knows? You may even enjoy yourself.’ The woman’s screams drowned out the laughter of the three men, until the sound of a door slamming, plunged the cell into silence once more. Kenzo turned to Amber and saw her face was grey with fear.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered, ‘that poor woman. Are they going to do what I think they are?’

  ‘I don’t know, Amber,’ said Kenzo, ‘this whole situation is crazy.’

  The sound of the viewing panel being slid across from the outside made them spin around, and they saw the face of Bennett peering back at them.

  ‘Bennett,’ shouted Kenzo, ‘what is going on? Why are we here?’

  ‘Oh, we’ve got something special lined up for you,’ sneered Bennett. ‘That pretty little thing there is going to be Crispin’s girlfriend, after he finishes with the last one of course but that shouldn’t take long, he seems to be getting through them at quite a pace it would seem.’

  ‘What are you on about?’ asked Kenzo.

  ‘Oh, don’t you know, Kenzo? After all these years of the Brotherhood keeping the true histories to themselves, at last the prophesies have come true. The true lords of Bastion will once more take their place in the seats of power above the Citadel.’

  ‘You’re not making any sense,’ said Kenzo.

  ‘No, perhaps not, but I can’t be bothered to explain. Let’s just say that in the very near future, your little cousin over there will be the proud parent of a very interesting baby. That is, if she survives the birth of course, apparently it tends to get a bit, shall we say, messy?’

  ‘Over my dead body,’ said Kenzo threateningly, ‘nobody will come anywhere near her while I’m alive.’

  ‘Totally understandable,’ said Bennett flippantly, ‘but, fortunately you won’t be. Very soon, Crispin will have finished with the latest batch of young girls we provided, and then he’ll probably come and get you himself.’

  ‘Me?’ said Kenzo, ‘what does he want with me?’

  ‘You still don’t get it do you, Kenzo? Crispin is like nothing you can ever imagine. His needs are completely different from ours and there is a clear distinction between the uses of human men and human women. The ladies are mates, as simple as that, whilst the men, or should I say some of the men, and you in particular, serve a very different purpose altogether.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Lunch,’ said Bennett, and stepped back from the door, laughing at his own joke.

  Kenzo was about to say something, but the man’s laugh was cut brutally short, replaced by the sound of a body hitting the door. A key rattled in the lock and the door eased open.

  Amber stepped back against the wall, and Kenzo stepped in front of her, picking up the water jug as a weapon. Finally, the door reached its limit and the huge figure of Braille stepped over the unconscious Bennett to join them in the cell.

  ‘Braille,’ squealed Amber and ran past Kenzo to throw her arms around the giant soldier, giving him a massive kiss on the cheek. Kenzo lowered his water jug and smiled at his friend.

  ‘Are we glad to see you?’ he said.

  ‘Been looking for you for a while,’ said Braille, ‘woke up with the mother of all hangovers and as I hadn’t drank anything, guessed somebody was up to no good. Looks like I was right too, there’s gangs of thugs running riot in the city.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Not sure, but it seems anyone who resists is being killed outright. There’s even a load of our mates amongst them, except from those who were killed as they slept. If I hadn’t fallen asleep in the latrine, I would be dead as well.’

  ‘Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here; now, let’s get out of this place.’

  Kenzo ducked passed Braille and out into the corridor. Amber went to join him, but was stopped by Braille, grabbing her arm.

  ‘Amber,’ he said.

  ‘Yes Braille.’

  ‘That kiss just now.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Does that mean we’re engaged?’

  ‘Braille,’ gasped Amber, ‘you are unbelievable, now come on, let’s go.’

  ‘Worth a try,’ mumbled Braille, as he followed the cousins into the corridor.

  ----

  ‘Well, De-gill,’ said Helzac, in the council chamber, ‘we’re waiting.’

  De-gill looked around at the expectant faces and realised it was time to share what he knew.

  ‘Petit is correct,’ he said eventually. ‘The Sark did indeed die out, but not before leaving an awful legacy. Though they did indeed mate with human women, only some of the children born developed the Sark form, however, the others were just as dangerous. Not consciously, because outwardly, they looked the same as you or I. No, the danger was within, unreachable yet just as deadly. You see, they had Sark blood, crawling around their veins like an incurable virus and as they grew older and had children themselves, the virus passed from father to child. Eventually, every person alive was a carrier, and still is. Ordinarily, this wasn’t a problem, but occasionally, the virus manifested itself in the birth of a different sort of child, one who, as a single cell in the mother’s womb, had succumbed to a Sark cell and developed certain features common with those monsters.’

  ‘I thought the young of a Sark tore through the womb of a human mother,’ said Petra.

  ‘When fathered by a true blood Sark, they did,’ said De-gill, ‘but these were weaker. Sometimes it would be just the skin colour, or the shape of the head, pointed claws instead of fingers, that sort of thing, but left alone they could develop into something more sinister and even the repopulation of the Sark was a possibility. Whatever council was sitting at the time, decided they would not allow that to happen and issued an edict that a midwife must attend every birth. My trade was tasked with supplying the midwives and since then, there has always been a guild based here in the city.’

  ‘What was it they did?’ asked Petra, already guessing at the horrible answer.

  ‘When any baby was born with any features of a Sark, they were terminated,’ said De-gill.

  ‘You killed them?’

  ‘We did, but you have to realise, if they had been allowed to live, God knows what they may have turned out to be.’

  ‘You murdered our babies?’ said Petra again, a disbelieving tone in her voice.

  ‘Only the tainted ones,’ answered De-gill.

  ‘Tainted, what gave you the right to decide who was tainted?’

  ‘The council gave us the right,’ said De-gill, ‘and the safety of our people gave us the right.’

  ‘Don’t patronise me, De-gill,’ snapped Petra, ‘you are condoning infanticide.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Petra, we are talking about the survival of the human race,’ snapped Helzac, ‘give the man a break. If it wasn’t for the actions of the Watchers, heaven knows what we would be facing now. But I still don’t know how what all this is to do with your presence here, Petit, and this so called Brotherhood of the Sark.’

  ‘Tell him,’ said Petit quietly, ‘tell him of your failure, De-gill.’ Once again, De gill paused, but finally he took a deep breath and finished the story.

  ‘Yes we killed the children,’ he said, ‘but always in the interests of the people, however, occasionally, we kept one and took them back to our tower.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘You have to understand,’ said De-gill, ‘it was important we understood how these creatures lived and if necessary, how to kill them. We had to study their physiology, to understand them and in essence, to know our enemy.’

  ‘You kept them alive?’

  ‘For a short time, yes, but as soon as they showed any sign of growing strong, they were terminated immediately, at least until the arrival of Crispin.’

 
; ‘And who is he, exactly?’

  ‘Crispin was born a few years ago and was brought to my attention by one of the midwives.’

  ‘Why, was he deformed?’

  ‘No, on the contrary, he was perfectly formed. The only thing different was the manner of his birth.’

  ‘What was so different?’

  ‘He was born in some sort of cocoon.’

  ‘A cocoon?’

  ‘Yes, some sort of mucous sac that was almost impenetrable. We had never seen anything like this before, so we moved it to our tower for scrutiny.’

  ‘And what happened?’

  ‘A few weeks later, he emerged as a normal human boy in every way we could see. We were fascinated and kept him locked safely away as he developed, and let me tell you, that was quicker than anything we had ever witnessed before. By the time he was five years old, he had the appearance of a boy twice his age and the strength of a full grown man.’

  ‘What happened to him?’ asked Petra.

  ‘He escaped a few weeks ago,’ said De-gill, ‘and I suspect with the help of that man there.’

  ‘He escaped?’ asked Helzac, ‘where is he now?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ said De-gill, ‘I suggest you ask the Clerk.’

  They all turned to Petit.

  ‘Oh, I know where he is’ said Petit with a smirk, ‘and may I say, you wouldn’t recognise him. In fact, you could say the boy is all grown up.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Helzac.

  ‘I mean, he is on the verge of emerging into the city to reclaim his rightful place as ruler of Bastion, Helzac. No longer is he a scared little boy tortured at the hands of the Watchers. Oh no, he has attained the full form denied to others of his kind over all these years, and may I say, a form that is as majestic as it is terrifying.’