A Different Challenge

A Different Challenge

The Amazonian rainforest isn’t a very nice place to be. Nowhere is. Not now. Not after ‘The Disaster’. The world has changed so much…

In the year 2011, 119 years before now, ‘The Disaster’ happened. It destroyed practically everything on God’s Earth. Only humans, plants and animals survived. Its completely unrecognisable when compared to the bustling cities and the beautiful serene hills and valleys that once stood here. The side effects are almost as bad - humans have a lifespan of 150 years and, worst of all, children hardly exist. Progressing from their birth until adulthood takes just 3 months. There are still stories, well myths, told of life before ‘The Disaster’ but I don’t believe them for a second. They’re too good to be true. You are probably wondering what ‘The Disaster’ was. Well don’t because I don’t want to talk about it. Not many people do.

I’m Piero, and I was only 6 when ‘The Disaster’ happened and I can hardly remember life before. I’m quite a legend around here in South America. People say I’m the greatest assassins ever to have lived. They’re wrong. I am the best. But now I’m 125 years old and I only have a few months until I start to decay. Decaying is another of the side affects. Around 20 years before you die your body, mind and soul literally start gradually falling away. As you’d probably expect I’m not exactly excited about it. But even after the horrors I’ve seen, you can still be confronted with some unexpected challenges…

I came back to Ziddenham to a hero’s welcome yet again. Ziddenham was my hometown, although I was hardly ever there. I just came back here in between assignments as a kind of haven away from the raging tribal war. Ziddenham was safe because it was too defenceless to take any sides in the war. It just hid in the corner trying not to get noticed. Also, it was unlike most places around here in that the people were kind and didn’t ask questions. I only had one friend in this entire world, my brother - he was the only one I could trust. He was even older than me, ugly, with no hair, eyebrows or fingers on his right hand (he had started decaying). Mind you I wasn’t anything to look at

Anyway I brushed aside my worshippers and sat opposite my brother Gulla in the local pub.
“Well done mate. You did well.”
“I know. I always do,” I replied. It was true, after all.
“There’s just one problem,” said Gulla.
“Which is?”
“The payment hasn’t arrived.”
I couldn’t believe it. Nobody could ever not pay me - I complete every job perfectly, including this one.
“Right,” I said, rising purposefully from my seat.
“No. Don’t do anything rash.” Gulla had always kept me focused on my job, thinking carefully about my actions, but this was different. I slipped the knife into my pocket. I would coat with poisons on the way. This was bigger than any job I’d done before. Betrayal was the worst anyone could do to an assassin, especially one as brilliant as me. I would get revenge. I strode directly towards the exit.
“I’m going.”
“Hey!”
THUD! SPLASH!
“Oh no! I’m sorry mate - I mean Sir - Your Highly Majestyness”
Anger coursed through my veins even more ominously than before. I was almost outside when this clumsy idiot walked into me, spilling his drink all over me.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I growled, my voice more menacing with every word.
“M-m-my humble ap-p-pologies my royal princeyness, oh so mighty lord, er, person. Please let me clean this filth off your lovely robes. Wow, aren’t they nice…”
“Ignore him Piero,” the landlord Viktar rescued me from the moron. “Broodle, shutup grovelling and start serving drinks, not gulping them. Shoo!”
“So, so sorry,” Broodly mumbled pathetically.
“Come around the back for a moment Piero, I need a favour.”
“I only kill for cash, never a favour,” I reminded him, keeping my voice down to a whisper.
I followed him through the dingy hole Viktar called a pub.

“Look,” he began. “You know Ziddenham has been overlooked before now, in the tribal war?”
“Yeah…”
“Well now we’ve been noticed. The generals of the two big tribes have realised that our home could be quite useful to them.”
“How do you mean?” I asked, still unsure what he was getting at.
“Its dawned on the tribes - don’t ask me how - that if they capture our village they could use it as an ideal platform for invading each other. Our hills are perfect for archers, there’s great resources for weapons and armour, like Gulla’s shop, its well protected by forest. See, when you think about it Ziddenham is a great vantage point from which to launch an invasion. Which is why we’ll have a chance,” he told me.
“A chance of what?” I wished he would just get to the point.
“Well,” he explained. “Bruckley and Devokin (the two tribes fighting in the war) both want Ziddenham. So they’re both in a race to get here to take over first because they know whoever holds this village will have a big advantage in the future.
“But that means we’re going to be attacked,” I realised.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“But,” it dawned on me. “We need to defend ourselves. We can’t just let them in,” I said.
“Exactly,” Viktar began. “We need someone to coordinate preparations, gather volunteers to fight and, finally, lead us into in to battle. And that someone needs to be experienced in fighting, clever and strong. Ultimately that person is the one that has to save our town and everyone in it.”
It silently struck me where this conversation might be going.
“Me?” I enquired.
“Yes,” was the answer. That word seemed to open the floodgates of fright to go gushing through my mind.
“But I haven’t fought a battle as a soldier since…never. I can’t take charge of something I don’t know the first thing about. Yeah, I’ve killed hundreds, but they were unarmed, off guard and asleep. Its not quite the same is it.” The anger that had earlier filled me was quickly replaced by fear. The last and only time I felt this scared was when I was a kid during ‘The Disaster’. I couldn’t do this. But I didn’t have a choice, I’d been chosen by my village to be their saviour. I had to protect myself, my home and my village. I had no choice, only a few days until they would be here.
“Thanks Piero,” he said, patting me casually on the back as if I’d just bought him a drink. “We really appreciate it. We know you can help us. We won’t ever beat them in straight full on battle but I know you will find a way to help us.” He shuffled off into the gloomy corridor to continue running his pub, but I didn’t know how long it would be left standing.
I was left alone with thoughts swarming uncontrollably around my head - the occasional ridiculously hopeful one in a sea of thoughts of horror, terror. Why had it been left to me? I now seriously doubted I was as untouchable as I had assumed just a few moments ago.


After a sleepless night after that conversation with Viktar, I knew only Gulla was really wise enough to give any valuable help in the days ahead. So I trudged, unusually worried, through the wilting rainforest, occasional shards of light penetrating the entangled growth surrounding me. When I arrived at Gulla’s shop I was greeted with a sight I had never expected to witness: hundreds of villagers queuing around the clearing chatting nervously, an air of bravery and optimism in their voices. They were all stocking up on Gulla’s craftsmanship - swords, axes, breastplates, chain mail, shields, crossbows, even the odd ‘brandy-bomb’ - a particularly vicious contraption; all ready to try to protect their homes and families. As much as the sight stirred me I couldn’t help knowing they were hopelessly blind to reality. I stormed inside in disbelief at the naivety of the wannabe warriors.
“Look at this!” Gulla announced with an ugly grin on his face. “More trade today than in the entire Great Sterthar War of 2021!!”
Gulla was the most ignorant of the lot. I snatched his latest customer’s new dagger and hurled it across the room and between the eyes of Gulla’s precious stuffed otter.
“What have you done?!” screamed Gulla, horrified. That otter was so special to him - more so than me. It was his last reminder of our family, who died in ‘The Disaster’. I don’t know why it so special to him. I didn’t need family, so why should he?
“You’re pathetic, the lot of you!” I ranted. A gasp rang out through the crowd. “You honestly think we can just be courageous and fight them off? Yeah, ‘The Last Stand of Ziddenham fights to the glorious end’,” I mocked them. “You really think we’ll defend Ziddenham and everything will be okay. Well you’re stupid. That’s impossible. Bruckley and Devokin have both got more cities than we have soldiers. In a few days all that will be left of Ziddenham will be it’s name.” I stormed out leaving them with their ridiculous ideas.

After yet more sleepless nights and worrying I came to one conclusion. It didn’t matter how brave we were or how passionate we were, we could never hope to defeat one of those armies, even with me on the side. We would have to be clever, sly and cunning. After a multitude of books about ‘How to win a tribal war with a population of 12’ and countless ideas, I had a breakthrough. I found out through Viktar’s extensive contacts that Devokin had already defeated Bruckley in the race to arrive and that they would be here any day. I also knew that the Drugbin, the person who had failed to pay me, was the general of the army advancing on us. Not only was it a motive to protect Ziddenham, but this multiplied my determination to get even. From dawn to sunset the next day I did nothing but think, think, think, my mind was in overdrive. And eventually the idea came to mind. We would evacuate, leaving behind everything but battle equipment. Drugbin was so ignorant he’d think we’d been too scared to fight and that we had run away in search of a new, safer home, leaving Ziddenham there for the taking. Devokin would be so full of themselves they would steal everything we owned - from chairs to beer - and that’s where my plan came in. I would use the poisons Gulla kept around the back of the shop and, on leaving, Viktar and I would poison all the food and drink in Ziddenham. Devokin would be celebrating their ‘victory’ when the effects will set in. The poison I would use is the most evil and potent of all - it works in an hour and causes all the effects of the decay, only faster. They should all be dead in a day.

The next day, at midday we set off with our weapons, all 104 of us, the population of Ziddenham. We trekked for an hour through the dense forest until we came to our home for the next few days. Myself and Viktar decided we should check Ziddenham for survivors before everyone returns, to prevent any attacks on the villagers. They should, however, be dead by that time anyway.

The atmosphere in our temporary home was nervy and tense, but everyone was quietly confident the plan would work, I think. Gulla was still sulking and refusing to sell anyone anything, just in case they were getting it for me. Still, I didn’t need him. The only person useful to me right then was Viktar.

The day that would decide our future was here. Viktar and me were chatting about what could lie ahead, things like ‘What if the poison hadn’t worked?’, ‘What if they hadn’t turned up yet?’, ‘What if they hadn’t eaten or drunk anything?’. We both tried to reassure each other and although we knew it should be alright, we both still had the worst scenario niggling at the back of our minds. But as we finally cleared the last tree and the clearing that was Ziddenham appeared, every last worry disappeared. People sometimes say a weight has been lifted from their shoulders, but words cannot describe the relief I felt when I saw the decayed bodies of the thousands of Devokin soldiers lying amongst the infested remains.
“We had better start clearing the bodies. We wouldn’t want the villagers getting infected with all these around,” said Viktar.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Would be a bit of a waste for them to die now.”
As I shifted another soldier into the pit, seven hours after we started, my eyes saw someone I really didn’t want or expect to see - Drugbin. And even more surprising, he was still alive. Then his fist flashed straight into the base of my jaw. I was sent sprawling into Viktar’s empty beer barrel. Then, as I was peering out a thought hit me. Surely the poison must have started taking effect. He should be dead by now, at least badly decaying. Which is when I realised he was - body parts were sliding off him as I watched. He staggered towards the ornamental axe on the pub wall. When he lifted it off the wall bracket the hand holding it literally fell to the floor with a dull thud. Drugbin picked it up with his stronger hand. He stumbled towards me, the axe rising further towards the ceiling. It was clear that I was the destination of the blade.
I thought for a minute what a waste it would be for me to die. I mean, it could have been someone not as important as me that had to die. I remembered Viktar. I hoped he could get away. The axe reached the top, ready for its return journey down into my forehead. A soft cackle came from Drugbin’s slimy mouth. The axe started to fall. CLANG! I was wondering what it would be like to be dead when I realised the blade didn’t actually strike me, it was still ready to fall. Then creaking and shuddering erupted all around, surprising me and Drugbin. Debris fell from the ceiling and before I knew it the whole building collapsed on us. We were trapped underneath it all. Then light poured into my eyes. Somebody had lifted it all off me. Viktar. He had destroyed the entire building.
I had never in my life thanked anyone before that day, but it seemed the only time I realised I needed help, the only time I had come close to dying, something inside me changed. I noticed for the first time that actually I’m not the only person in the would, and Viktar proved that to me. Afterwards we cleared the last of the bodies and even during that grim task I felt somehow happier.

When we first arrived at the villagers’ temporary base the first person I looked for was Gulla. I wanted to make up for being so selfish in the past. After all, you never know when one of you might be gone forever, as I realised that day.
“Did you clear the bodies?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I think Gulla noticed a happier tone in my voice already.
“Shame you didn’t get infected,” he remarked scathingly.
“Look,” I said.
I brought out from my bag an otter. It was stuffed, exactly the same as Gulla’s. After ‘The Disaster’ our parents gave us one each as a kind of souvenir of our past life. As I had never really cared much about family before I’d forgotten all about it. But now it meant something to me and I fished it out of the ruin that used to be my home. The look on Gulla’s face was great.
“You had one too?” He was totally overjoyed and he seemed to sense somehow that something inside me had changed. We sat there chatting merrily for hours while everyone else followed Viktar back to Ziddenham.

When I returned to Ziddenham with a Gulla to a similar hero’s welcome to those I’d received so many times before. But I actually enjoyed it this time. I liked the people I was with. Also there was something different but somehow familiar in the air. After a while it dawned on me that the people around me were as happy and care-free as 119 years ago - before ‘The Disaster’. This was by no means a happy ending but I thought maybe, just maybe, the world would be a little nicer in the future.