The Last Citadel

by Kevin Ashman

  ‘The Courtesans, of course,’ said Warden, ‘you are directly below the Pleasure tower, but surely you already know this.’

  ‘No,’ answered Pelosus, ‘the tunnels are somewhat confusing.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose they are at first, but you soon get used to them.’

  ‘You have been there?’

  ‘On a regular basis,’ said Warden. ‘In the beginning I felt my way only a few yards past the door, but over the years I explored further and further. At first, I kept my journeys secret, but my senses weren’t what they are now and little did I know that for years, the Governess had me followed. When her spies finally reported I had no intention of fleeing these rooms, she allowed me full access and we now often discuss my trips into the catacombs.’

  ‘And you know your way around them?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Then what are their purpose?’ asked Pelosus, ‘how many are there? Where do they go? I have so many questions; I do not know where to start.’

  Warden fell silent for a few moments before speaking again.

  ‘I will answer your questions,’ said Warden, ‘but before I do, I have questions of my own. Draw close.’

  Pelosus stepped closer and Wardens hands sought the neckline of his robe. Before Pelosus could react, he tore the lapels apart, ripping his robe from waist to navel.

  ‘What are you doing?’ shouted Pelosus, but fell silent as the old man pushed him back against the wall and placed his right hand firmly over Pelosus’s heart.

  ‘Silence,’ he whispered, ‘I will ask you some questions and you will answer. Do not try to lie for if you do, I will know and will tell you nothing. Tell the truth and I will share everything I know. Understood?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Pelosus.

  ‘Good,’ said the strange man. ‘Now, breathe deeply and answer truthfully, are you truly the Stargazer?’

  ‘I am,’ said Pelosus.

  ‘And you have come here through the catacombs?’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Are you alone?’

  ‘I am.’

  Pelosus could feel his heart beating through the tips of Warden’s hands.

  ‘Why have you come here?’ continued the old man.

  ‘To seek information,’ said Pelosus.

  ‘Do you intend me or any of the courtesans any harm?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What would you do with this information?’

  ‘Help the citizens of Bastion,’ answered Pelosus.

  ‘Final question,’ said Warden, ‘what are your feelings toward Petra, Governess of the Courtesans?’

  Pelosus swallowed hard. He knew his heart was now racing and had no doubt that Warden could feel the thumping beneath his clawed fingers. He considered hiding his feelings but knew this man would detect any falsehoods. Finally he took a deep sigh and admitted his feelings aloud, not just to Warden, but to himself.

  ‘I love her,’ he said and flinched as Warden released his grip and stood back.

  ‘I believe you,’ Pelosus he said, ‘your heart tells me you are an honest man. Ask your questions.’

  ----

  Pelosus sat at the table while Warden brought a bottle of wine from an anteroom, his feet finding the route easily as they had done a million times before.

  ‘It is a poor quality,’ he said when he returned, ‘but I seldom get visitors. So, Stargazer, how can I help you?’

  ‘First of all,’ said Pelosus, ‘are we safe here?'

  ‘Only the Governess comes here these days,’ said Warden, ‘but she is busy elsewhere and not due back for two days.’

  ‘Busy elsewhere?’ asked Pelosus.

  ‘Entertaining?’ said Warden.

  ‘Oh,’ said Pelosus, the disappointment obvious in his voice, ‘I see.’

  ‘Banish the thought, Pelosus,’ said Warden, ‘she affects all men thus.’

  ‘Well, I suppose I have to wonder what it is you actually know,’ said Pelosus. ‘By your own admission, you are unable to read these scrolls, so perhaps I can help you. Perhaps I could withdraw the scrolls and read them myself, sharing the information you have guarded for so long.’

  Warden laughed out loud.

  ‘And how long do you think that would take?’ asked Warden, ‘there are over ten thousand scrolls here and we have but weeks before everyone in this city starves to death. You won’t even have read the scrolls on one wall. I have been here over sixty years and I have not got through them all.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ interrupted Pelosus, ‘if I didn’t know otherwise, that sounds like you have read many of them.’

  ‘I have,’ said Warden

  ‘But how?’ asked Pelosus. ‘You have no eyes.’

  ‘For many years I was lost in a world of ignorance,’ said Warden. ‘The Courtesans made sure that the boys they sent down couldn’t read, so they were unable to pass on the secrets, but one day, one of the boys pressed too hard with the quill and I found I could make out some of the script with my fingers.’

  ‘What did it say?’

  ‘Nothing of interest, but the point is, I realised this was a way for me to explore the scrolls. For an age I considered different ways of recording their writing, all to no avail, but eventually I came up with this.’ He reached under the table and unclipped something attached on the underside.

  Seeing Warden struggling with the weight, Pelosus crouched and helped the old man retrieve an oblong frame made from bone. The whole thing was approximately the same size as a standard unfurled scroll and the inside was filled with a smooth white substance.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Pelosus.

  ‘This,’ said Warden, ‘is my copying tablet. With this I was able to copy anything that the boys wrote.

  ‘But how?’

  ‘The surface is a thin layer of wax, made from many melted candles. When the boys came to do the copying, I made sure that the blank parchment was sitting on the wax tablet. After that, all I had to do was ensure they pressed very hard with their scribe and when they had finished, lo and behold, I had an engraved copy in the wax.’

  ‘Ingenious,’ said Pelosus.

  ‘All I had to do then,’ said Warden, ‘was run my fingers gently over the wax and the whole picture revealed itself before my missing eyes.’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Pelosus, ‘that’s all very well, but surely you couldn’t do that with every scroll, where would you keep them all?’

  ‘You are right,’ said Warden. ‘That was impossible, but don’t forget, a lot of them were useless records. Nothing more than inventories, songs and prayers, that sort of thing, but in a world of darkness, these were beacons of burning light.’

  ‘And have you read them all?’

  ‘Alas no,’ said Warden, ‘don’t forget I am governed by the frequencies of the scribes. Sometimes weeks go by before my wax tablet gets used.’

  ‘That must be so frustrating,’ said Pelosus.’

  ‘It is, but even the few I have translated have made me gasp at the inaccuracies of our histories.’

  ‘So did you write the translations down?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you can’t remember them all, surely?’

  ‘Like I said, when you have been without eyes for as long as I, your other senses make up. I may not be able to repeat the scrolls content exactly, but I certainly can recall the important ones.’

  ----

  Chapter 25

  Kenzo ran around the perimeter of the courtyard, keeping against the wall in the darkest of the shadows. Even though he was quite sure there would be nobody out here, there was no point in taking risks. Within a minute, he reached the door leading down to the lower levels and eased it open onto the stairway. He hesitated for a moment before taking the stair downwards, to the strange room where they had first entered the Watcher’s Tower. A candle flickered in the darkness complimenting his ever-present Plankton orb and the contents of the room sprung into view before his eyes.

  The first thing he saw was the covered shaft
where he and Amber had been dragged clear of the seawater and he paused for a few seconds as the horror flowed back over him like a hot wind.

  Moving on, he walked around the room, taking in anything of interest. Several empty skin buckets sat neatly against the wall, each sitting neatly within each other and Kenzo recoiled sharply when he sniffed at one, containing a disgusting liquid in the bottom. In another corner, he found a pile of thin sheets, made of the similar type of cloth that made up his tunic. The sheets were stained badly and stuffed into baskets made of woven seaweed.

  Finding nothing else of interest, Kenzo lifted the wooden cover from the shaft walls and held the lamp down into the darkness. At first, the sheer stillness of the water a few feet below reflected the image of the lamp and his own face perfectly, but the sudden appearance of a sail fin breaking the surface made him flinch as he recalled the horror of a few weeks earlier.

  He turned to leave the room, but having an idea, he picked up the bucket containing the smelly liquid and poured it down the shaft. The result was instant and the water below thrashed into a cauldron of activity as the predators fought for the unexpected treat.

  ‘Fish food,’ he confirmed to himself and put the bucket back before replacing the cover over the shaft.

  Kenzo checked the rest of the room for any hidden exits and finding none, made his way back up the curving stairway, this time, checking the side rooms as he went. In the first, he found piles of stained sheets similar to those he had seen back in the lower room. In addition, there were Narwl skin vats containing water where more sheets were being soaked. On shelves around the room were neat folded piles of clean and dry sheets, obviously having already been through the washing process and ready for being used again.

  In the second room, the scene was more grisly and similar sized vats were full of Narwl entrails, obviously being stored ready for feeding the Ranah. Empty buckets were stacked in rows ready to transfer their grisly contents to the lower levels and the smell caused Kenzo to gag. He spotted another side room and walked in, holding his lit candle before him.

  Immediately he saw a table draped with a sheet and though he was nervous as to what lay beneath, he pulled the sheet away, recoiling in horror at the shocking scene before him.

  Under the sheet lay the naked body of a dead woman, the skin obviously a cold grey even in the limited light of the candle. Her eyes were staring sightlessly toward the ceiling and her lower jaw hung open in a silent scream. The sight of the dead woman was bad enough, but the state of the body filled him with revulsion. The whole of the upper body was gaping wide open from neck to navel and the innards had been completely removed. The cavity stared back at him like an enormous hungry mouth and for an age, Kenzo stared at the cadaver in horror. Finally, he came to his senses and turned away from the woman, his heart beating faster than it ever had before. As he did, he held up the candle and the revulsion deepened when he realised that there were at least five more tables in the room, all covered with the same sheets as the first. He felt no need to explore further and was quite certain that these sheets also covered similar atrocities.

  He left the room of corpses and walked back through the room with the vats of Narwl entrails but suddenly stopped and spun around to face them, the full horror suddenly dawning upon him. The containers weren’t full of fish innards, but human. The baby Ranah were fed on human entrails.

  Kenzo’s mind was spinning as the implications sank in. He knew the Watchers dealt with the dead, as the funeral pyres were constantly visible from the Citadel, but why disembowel them first? It made no sense and as for feeding the entrails to the fish, that was just wrong and he was sure that if the council found out they would put an immediate stop to it. He left the room, realising that the time must be getting on and he had to be back at the main tower before sunrise but as he climbed the stairs, he came across one more room.

  ‘A few more minutes won’t hurt,’ he thought and entered the last room to investigate. This one was completely different. The walls were plastered smooth and were painted in a pristine white finish. The floor was spotlessly clean and slabs of smooth stone were used as work surfaces all around its edge. A slightly familiar smell hung in the air, a welcome relief from the pervading smell of raw meat that permeated the lower levels and rows of various knives and saws hung from hooks on the walls. He walked in, looking nervously around, before making his way to a solitary woven basket at the end of the room. He peered in, not sure what he would find, but once again recoiled in horror as he saw piles of bones, some still with strips of flesh attached to their bloody sides.

  This was beyond comprehension. Why would the Watchers strip the flesh from the people’s bones? Surely, they wouldn’t feed the flesh to the Ranah as well, that would be unforgivable. The people of the Citadel thought when their family members died, the bodies were taken from the city, carried to the Watcher’s tower and prepared for the final journey to the kingdom of the Saint. A ceremony that involved the anointment of oils and the saying of prayers for the dead before they were cremated in the holy fires. If they found out that their loved one’s flesh was stripped from their bones before being cast to the predators of the deep, there would be riots in the streets.

  Kenzo looked around the room in confusion.

  ‘Why is this room so different?’ he asked himself. ‘Why is it so clean? Why did they go to so much trouble to keep it in such pristine condition if it was just used to butcher the cadavers, then?’

  Kenzo had seen enough and turned to leave the room when he saw one more item that he had not noticed before, something that stood out from the crisp whiteness of the surrounding cell. In the furthest corner of the room, on one of the polished stone worktops, a much smaller sheet no larger than a tunic was draped over something much smaller than a body. The sheet was stained from whatever it was beneath, and though Kenzo guessed it was probably something horrific; his imagination wouldn’t allow him to walk away without finding out for certain. He walked forward and without hesitation lifted the smaller sheet away, fully expecting to see a fleshless face staring up at him.

  But it was no skull that revealed itself from beneath the sheet, but something a lot less threatening. A pile of neatly prepared meat chunks, each the same size and carefully prepared to match its neighbour. Now the sheet was off, the sweet smell was stronger and certainly not unpleasant. Suddenly Kenzo realised where he had smelled the aroma before, it was back in the Sanctum at meal times. Kenzo’s mouth watered at the memory of the succulent meat and realised that not only were these cubes exactly the same size as those presented on the skewers, but were obviously smeared with the spices that gave them that wonderful taste.

  Suddenly Kenzo stopped and his face dropped as the full implications hit home. The never-ending supply of bodies from the Citadel, the rooms where they were dismembered and the convenient way they disposed of the entrails. It all fitted together, yet the realisation was too horrific even to imagine. This room, that was so clean, was obviously a place of preparation and these cubes of meat the result of skilled hands.

  ‘Oh no,’ groaned Kenzo stepping backward, ‘please no, not this.’

  The meat cubes, the spices, the never ending supply of flesh, it was all so simple and made clear, horrifying and gut churning sense. The flesh of the dead didn’t feed the Ranah of the sea, it fed the people of the Watcher’s-tower.

  Kenzo turned around and leaned his hands against the wall as he retched violently, spewing the remains of his supper over the spotless floor, mixing with the tears that fell freely from his horrified eyes.

  ----

  Amber pulled her cloak tighter against the cold night air and glanced up at the sky. It was definitely getting lighter and she looked down into the courtyard for the signal she knew was due. She had been up on the top of the tower for an hour, anticipating the dawn and at last, the agreed time had come. She narrowed her eyes, staring at the doorway and right on cue, the sudden flash of a plankton orb being revealed from beneath a cape fo
r the briefest of seconds. She answered the signal with one of her own before racing back down the stairs to her room.

  Down below, Kenzo sprinted silently across the courtyard to the central tower, once again keeping to the darker shadows away from any prying eyes. But this time he was not so successful and deep inside the darkness of a room high in the outer wall, a pair of eyes narrowed as they followed his progress across the courtyard. De-gill knew that time was running out and he had to make a decision. The Watchers never allowed outsiders to come to their tower, they would never understand their ways and though circumstance had dictated these two had entered his world through no fault of their own, he knew there was no way they could be allowed to share the Watcher’s secrets with the general population of Bastion. With a heavy heart, he picked up his black cape, and left his room to make the arrangements.

  ----

  Across the courtyard, Amber reached her room, and picking up the water jug, smashed it on the floor. She bent down to pick up one of the shards and dragged it across her palm, gasping in pain as the ragged edge cut into her flesh. A few seconds later, she ran down the corridor and into the Sanctum, calling out as she ran.

  ‘Elora,’ she cried, ‘I’ve cut myself.’

  The Watcher sprang up from her doze and walked quickly toward the girl.

  ‘Oh my God, Amber, what have you done?’

  ‘I dropped the pitcher,’ said Amber, ‘and as I went to pick up the pieces, I cut myself.’

  ‘You are having a bad night,’ said Elora, ‘here, let me see.’

  Amber unfolded her fist and winced as the wound opened and the blood oozed between her fingers to drip onto the floor.

  ‘Ooh, that’s look sore,’ said Elora, ‘come on, let’s get it sorted out,’ and led Amber toward the ante room where they kept the medical aides. Amber followed, knowing full well that it would leave the way clear for Kenzo to renter the tower. Ten minutes later, the woman once more led Amber to her room.

  ‘Thanks, Elora,’ she said, ‘I really appreciate it.’

  ‘You’ve had quite a night,’ said Elora, ‘now why don’t you try to get a few hours’ sleep. Don’t worry about breakfast, I’ll put some aside for you, you sleep in as long as you like.’