The Choice is Yours: Conclusion

Suddenly, a strangely familiar voice from above roared, “Goodbye, Rezam!” as a piece of the ceiling fell on Rezam, crushing the tyrant on the spot.  Enaj recognized that voice — it was Tsruhelkcorb!  The assassin jumped down from the roof into the palace and bowed.  

“How did you know I was going to be here?”  Enaj asked.  

“I saw you messing with the roof and figured you might need help, so I climbed onto the roof after you," replied Tsruhelkcorb.  

“Thank you, my true friend!”  exclaimed Enaj.  “You saved my life.”  

“Well, you saved mine by dragging me to the healer,” laughed Tsruhelkcorb.  “Happily, I now feel stronger than ever!  By the time I arrived here, I had aged so much that they did not recognize me as an old exile,” explained Tsruhelkcorb.  “But enough talking, there is one more thing to take care of.”  Tsruhelkcorb lunged at the remaining guards, who were busy fighting the rebels, stunning them from the back with blows to the head.  Enaj was in great pain and he would soon become unconscious, yet he smiled.  They had won!  

Afterwards, Enaj’s wounds healed, albeit with significant scarring, and he helped set up a democratic system of elections for the leader of the city.  He reconciled with the masters, forgiving them after they came to him with their heads bowed, as he was recovering from his wounds on the former tyrant’s bed.  The masters explained to him that they were sorry, and that the real reason they hid him from the outside world and provided him with few resources was so that the tyrant would not discover his existence, since beings with any differences from the norm prescribed by the tyrant’s law, such as Enaj’s blue skin, were regularly exiled or, more commonly, brutally killed.  Enaj felt his rage cooling, cooling, cooling, his inner lava turning into hardened rock.  Enaj became the first democratically elected leader by a wide margin, and he ruled the city with wisdom and kindness for the rest of his ageless life, as he kept getting re-elected by unanimous vote year after year, after year.  He sent out search teams for all the exiles, and welcomed them back into the city with open arms.  This included his grandfather and his parents, who were reunited with him at last.  Every morning, Enaj looked at his fearsome scars and remembered the day when he had to make the choice as to whether or not to kill everyone at the orphanage.  He stood up and smiled.  For the rest of the day, as Tsruhelkcorb had taught him, Enaj would focus on the present.  There was lots to be done.  

The Choice is Yours: Part 7

Enaj and the rebels proceeded to the city gates.  Enaj went first, using his training to quickly punch the guards in the necks, causing them to fall unconscious.  He then motioned for the rebels to enter the city.  All the weapons were concealed to avoid provoking suspicion. They went straight towards the palace.  

When they reached it, Enaj said, “Good luck.  We will meet in the throne room.”  

With that, Enaj leaped onto the walls of the palace and started climbing them, while the rebel gang charged into the palace to take the guards by surprise and engage them in battle.  Enaj nimbly clambered onto the top of the palace and moved to the center of the roof, as he knew that the throne room was in the center of the palace.  He heard screams coming from below, yet Enaj remembered his training with Tsruhelkcorb and slowed his breathing, focusing on his task.  He took an extremely sharp sword out of his robes and started cutting a circle through the top of the ornate roof.  After what felt like seconds to him, he finally finished.  The circle crashed down to the floor, and Enaj jumped in afterwards.  He saw a group of heavily armed guards standing near the doorway, a bewildered look on their faces.  Just then, there was a scream of, charge! And some of the rebels rushed through the doors, stabbing the shocked guards in the backs.  The surviving guards proceeded to duel with the rebels.  The sound of clashing metal and the sickly smell of blood was overwhelming.  On the throne was the tyrant Rezam, sitting with a disturbing amused expression, holding a gleaming, gigantic golden sword in one hand, and a golden cup of steaming rose-flavored tea in the other.  

“It is just you and me now, Rezam,” said Enaj.  “Your reign of terror is over."  

“I am afraid you are very much mistaken,” laughed Rezam.  “You see, you cannot kill me.  But I can kill you.  And when I am done with it, I will use this occasion to further tighten my grip on this city.”  With that, Rezam threw the scalding tea from his cup into Enaj’s eyes.  

As Enaj shrieked with tortuous pain and covered his eyes with his hands, Rezam threw the golden sword right at Enaj.  Enaj had not expected this, and his throbbing eyes were closed.  He heard the swooshing sound of approaching steel and jumped immediately, yet failed to leap out of the way in time.  The sword hit him on his side, knocking him over and drawing blood.  When Enaj recovered from the shock and tried to get up, Rezam was already standing over him.  Rezam took the golden sword into his hands and kicked Enaj’s weapon into the corner.  Enaj’s sword clanged as it hit the wall, and lay silent.  

“Do you really think this is the first time my enemies tried to kill me?”  Rezam laughed.  “All that you have caused me is amusement.  I will have the roof repaired today and then I will forget about you.  And you… you will disappear, as if you have never existed in this world.”  Rezam stepped on Enaj, causing blood to spurt out of his wounds.  “Say goodbye,” yelled Rezam with joy.  With his strength leaving him, Enaj tried in vain to push Rezam off his torso, but he could not move Rezam’s bulk.  Rezam stepped off of Enaj and raised the golden sword above his head, chuckling.  Enaj knew that he could not stop it.  

The Choice is Yours: Part 6

That night, Enaj could not sleep.  He twisted and turned, thinking about what his grandfather told him, recalling his frail bearded figure dressed in ragged grey linens.  What if he was right, and Enaj was about to commit a terrible mistake, one he would regret for the rest of his life?  Were the actions of the masters and other orphans really enough to warrant murder?  The orphans had already suffered by not having parents.  On the other hand, they had all mistreated Enaj greatly.  Yet the tyrant was responsible for exiling beings who did not agree with him and for murdering many, so Rezam would definitely have to be eliminated.  Enaj wrestled with these questions for hours, and finally fell asleep, having made a decision and accepted it.

The next morning, the rebels were chattering excitedly.  This was the day when they would free the city from the tyranny of Rezam.  Enaj called a meeting of all the rebels.  

“There’s been a change of plans,” said Enaj nonchalantly.  “We are not - I repeat, not - going to murder anyone in the orphanage after all.  Instead, we will be storming the palace without a distraction.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”  Inquired Yelraf.  “The choice is yours — either change the plan and save the innocent beings yet make success more difficult or achieve what you always wanted and get delicious revenge in the original foolproof plan.”

“I am sure” stated Enaj.  

“We had a plan that was a great plan, the best plan, and it put fewer of us in danger!” Yelraf shouted, drops of spit flying everywhere.  “We cannot change the plan at the dawn of the day when it is to be executed!”

“I happen to recall that the only person that would be in any real danger in the original plan was me,” retorted Enaj coldly.  “Tell me, Yelraf - are you afraid of Rezam’s army, my friend?  I suppose you are.  Very well then, how about we put it to a vote.”  

As the beings started to cast their votes, it was becoming clear that Yelraf’s side would win.  

Suddenly, Enaj yelled, “Stop!  Weapons are beings, my friends.  Let them vote, too.”  With the weapons voting, the swords and their allies, including Enaj, had a narrow majority of 51-49 against the daggers and their allies, including Yelraf.  

“I win!” Yelraf exclaimed.  "It takes sixty votes to confirm a change of plans after an original plan has been set.”

“I thought you were my friend, Yelraf.  Tell your side to confirm my change of plans” warned Enaj.  

“No,” proclaimed Yelraf.  “I am afraid I cannot do that.”

Enaj went nuclear.  His eyes flashed red, and he stabbed Yelraf right in the center of his body, killing him on the spot.  

“Fifty votes is all it takes.  Any objections?”  Nobody raised their hand.  

The Choice is Yours: Part 5

Enaj and the rebels camped out in some tents during the night.  The next day, they developed a plan to execute a coup, using information about the city from an insurgent who was exiled recently.  The dissidents would murder everyone at the orphanage, which happened to be near the tyrant’s palace, while a parade of the city’s army was taking place on the other side of the city.  The plan was to force some of the palace guards to head towards the orphanage, at which point they would be framed in the killings by the rebels, who would dress like regular city dwellers and would claim to have seen the guards commit the murders.  This would be the spark for a riot.  In the meanwhile, Enaj was to infiltrate the palace himself and kill the tyrant during the afternoon partaking of the rose-flavored tea.  The hope was that the army, known to harbor resentment towards the tyrant, would support the coup rather than crack down on the riot.  Thus, both of Enaj’s targets for revenge would be annihilated — the orphanage community and the tyrant who established it.  Yet some rebels objected to the plan, and argued that killing the innocent beings at the orphanage was unnecessary and cruel.  Enaj shook his head, and his eyes glowed red.  It was getting late, and he told the objectors that the plan could be revised and discussed further the next day. Yet by morning, everyone who objected was dead.  

After a few weeks of training led by Enaj, the day before the planned coup had arrived, and Enaj was savoring the thought of finally getting his revenge.  He decided to take a walk alone to clear his head from the ramblings of the rebel gang.  Although he enjoyed sharing past experiences with Yelraf, who turned out to also have been an orphan, Enaj was not used to so much human interaction and felt an urge for solitude.  While Enaj was meandering through the woods and enjoying the sounds of birds singing and the warmth of the sun, he happened to spot a lonely hut in the middle of a clearing.  An old man sat next to it, gazing out into the distance.  His skin was blue.

His heart pounding, Enaj ran towards the mysterious figure.  

The old man looked up and exclaimed, “Enaj!  Is that really you?  Is it possible?”

“How do you know my name?,” exclaimed Enaj.  

“You inherited your beautiful blue skin from me,” the old man explained.  “It is the sign of the highest nobility.  Enaj — I am your grandfather, Anin.  Your other relatives are lost from me — the tyrant forced your family into exile due to their dissent against the autocracy when it was just gaining power, and they hid you in the orphanage.”  A moist tear ran down Anin’s face.  “I am so glad you are alive,” he whispered, showing his crooked yellow teeth.  

Enaj told him of his mistreatment at the orphanage by the masters, and elucidated the plan to obtain revenge.  “Is it not great, grandfather?” he asked.  “Now the tyrant that exiled you and so many others will pay for what they have done.”

At that, Anin smiled and shook his head, patting Enaj on the back.  “No matter what they did to you or others, Enaj, violence is never the answer.  Use peaceful methods instead.”  

Stunned, Enaj pushed his grandfather away and yelled, “You do not understand what I went through or how I feel!”  His head spinning, and feeling like he was going to explode, throw up, or both, Enaj ran to the rebel camp as quickly as he could, not looking back, as his grandfather tearfully pleaded with him to return.  

“Come back, my beloved grandson!  You do not understand!  You just do not understand!”  He kept sobbing softly until he fell asleep, exhausted with powerful emotions within his heaving chest.

The Choice is Yours: Part 4

Tsruhelkcorb collapsed suddenly.  It happened during one of their sword fight sessions, yet Enaj had not hit Tsruhelkcorb.  Tsruhelkcorb’s face was sweating, and he was shaking.  

“What is wrong with you?"  Enaj asked.  

“I am very sick,” wheezed Tsruhelkcorb, squirming on the floor.  “I am in great pain.  Do not let me die.  Do not let me die!”

Enaj had no idea what ill had felled Tsruhelkcorb, but he tried to nurse Tsruhelkcorb back to health over the following days with random herbs he found in the woods, yet Tsruhelkcorb just kept getting paler and weaker, until he could barely move.  In the end, Tsruhelkcorb told Enaj to come closer, and whispered in his ear, “I must go back to the city.”

“But they will kill you!” Enaj retorted.  

“If I do not get help from a competent healer in the city, then I will die anyway.  I despise the city as much as you do, but I see no other choice.  Take care of the hut while I am gone — I promise I will come back as soon as I can, even if I have to escape from prison to do it.”  Thus, the two bid each other farewell, and Enaj dragged Tsruhelkcorb to the city gates over the blanket of moist leaves and fir needles covering the forest floor. “You are the best assassin I have ever trained,” Tsruhelkcorb said as they parted.  “Use your skills wisely.”  Then he crawled into the city on his stomach, groaning with pain with each movement, leaving Enaj standing in stunned silence.  

As Enaj was sauntering back to the hut, he had the distinct feeling that he was being watched.  Must be a squirrel, thought Enaj.  

Suddenly, a group of armed ruffians emerged from the trees and the biggest one yelled, “You are surrounded and outnumbered, give us everything you own, you city scum.”  

Enaj drew a curved blade from his belt and threw it at the speaker, whose head, cleanly sliced off, rolled into a stream and floated away, the surprise still in the wide open eyes.  As the ruffians lunged at him, Enaj spun around, slicing and slashing until they were all disarmed, wounded, or dead.  The surviving ruffians were rolling on the damp forest leaves, clutching at their gaping wounds and protruding intestines.  

And yet contemptuous, they cried out, “Do your worst, you city tyrant!”

“I am not in league with the city,” explained Enaj.  “I have as much hatred towards it as you do.  Trust me, I harbor no ill will towards you.  If you let me, I will even heal you with my herbs.”  The ruffians explained with tears that they were in fact a band of exiles from the city, and that they had only attacked him because he was walking from the direction of the city and they assumed he was a spy of the tyrant.  

“We are actually planning to infiltrate the city and take over the government, one of them said, trying to reattach his arm.  My name is Yelraf, by the way.  We could really use someone with your skills — how about you lead our gang, seeing as you killed the previous leader?”

Enaj considered the offer for less than a second — he could live alone in the hut, or he could finally have revenge.  

“Sure,” Enaj said.  “That would be most desirable.”  He licked his lips, tasting the blood of the masters and of the tyrant.  How sweet it would be.  

The Choice is Yours: Part 3

  Enaj nodded apprehensively, feeling the sharpened chicken bone hidden behind his shirt.  He then told Tsruhelkcorb the sad story of his life at the orphanage.  Tsruhelkcorb wept as he listened, shocking Enaj, who certainly did not expect such feelings in a hardened brute.  Together, they trudged to Tsruhelkcorb’s hut through the thick layer of snow.  When they finally arrived, Enaj warmed up at the hearth and was offered a mouthwatering meal of roast horse chestnuts with honey and rabbit.   While Enaj was eating, Tsruhelkcorb, with surprising speed and agility, built a bunk out of some spare twigs from a pile behind his hut.  Afterwards, his stomach pleasantly full for the first time he could remember in his life, Enaj was so tired and blissful that he fell fast asleep.

In the morning, Enaj woke up to find Tsruhelkcorb staring at him from a distance, silently muttering something to himself, while sharpening a knife.  

“Good Morning,” said Enaj.  

Tsruhelkcorb silently nodded and pointed the knife at the table.  Enaj saw that a meal of boiled bear was waiting for him.  He lunged at the bear and devoured most of its chewy flesh, while Tsruhelkcorb watched, unmoved.  

“Wow, they must have really starved you at the orphanage,” he finally said.  After Enaj finished eating, Tsruhelkcorb went up to him, still casually gripping the knife, and asked, “what is it that you plan to do with your life now?”  

Enaj answered that he would be honored to be mentored by the assassin, and that what he desired most deeply was revenge against the orphanage masters and the tyrant who set it up.  Tsruhelkcorb smiled slightly out of the corner of his mouth and cracked his knuckles.  

“I think that would be useful for both of us,” he said.  "It gets lonely living here alone, eating alone, drinking alone, killing alone, and it would be great to have someone to practice with.”  And thus, Enaj’s transformation into an assassin began.

For more than four years, Enaj and Tsruhelkcorb trained daily in both the physical, mental, and spiritual techniques necessary for a successful assassination.  They practiced fighting with fists and powerful kicks.  They practiced using daggers and long elongated blades, of which Tsruhelkcorb had plenty, forged in the furnace he had built right in the hut, using metal ore he dug up in the wilderness and the roaring fire.  They practiced meditating and staying calm and alert in the face of danger, and drank a special mind-focusing tea, made from a secret root, each day.  They practiced coming up with unique strategies based on schematics of buildings, rooms, and guard patrol paths.  They practiced camouflaging themselves to get into places undetected.  They practiced quick thinking to get out of challenging situations.  Yet rather than getting tired of all this practice, Enaj was invigorated, channeling his rage at the masters into every kick he made.  Yet one summer, it all ended.

The Choice is Yours: Part 2

It was the winter solstice, the longest night of the year, and there had been a seasonal feast in the evening, of which Enaj was not allowed to partake to avoid scaring some important visitors to the orphanage.  He had received a pitiful morsel of half-burnt kasha and was sent to his bunk (the most uncomfortable one that nobody wanted) early.  Steaming with rage, Enaj was like a nuclear reactor on the brink of a meltdown.  That night, once everyone else went to bed with stomachs full of roast geese and strawberry pies, Enaj could not sleep.  After a while, he noticed that the master tasked with looking over the students that night was snoring, a half-eaten slice of pie still clutched in his fist.  Enaj silently crept out of his bunk and looked around.  All the other orphans were fast asleep, saliva dribbling from gaping mouths, full stomachs gurgling.  Enaj sprinted outside the front doors of the orphanage into the crisp winter night air as quickly as he could, past the lumbering master guarding the front gates, who weakly grasped at Enaj with a meaty hand, before resuming his snoring, still deep in his dreams.  Enaj dashed past bewildered passerby on the narrow city streets, slippery with black ice.  He darted past the heavily armed guards at the city gates, ignoring the shrieks urging him to stop.  A few arrows whistled past his ear, but he did not stop.  He ran far into the dark evergreen forest, hurrying forward until he could no longer hear the sounds of footsteps after him.  

Shivering, Enaj realized that he had no plan for surviving in the harsh wilderness.  Still, he reasoned, it was better to die in the soft snow than to suffer sharp stings at the orphanage.  Enaj lay down in the snow and closed his eyes.  He felt at peace and surprisingly warm, content to fall asleep finally free.  He did not know whether a few minutes or many years passed.  Suddenly, he was shaken awake by a rough hand.  Enaj lashed out, thinking it was a city guard, but his arms were numb.

“Relax, I only wish to help you,” said the mysterious person through a slit in his black mask.  “I am an assassin, Tsruhelkcorb, exiled from this cursed city twenty six years ago by its tyrant, Rezam.  I have a large hut out in the wilderness that I built with my own hands from sticks and stones and a few kind words (at this he waved his muscular arms at Enaj).  I can see that you are no friend of the city, either.  I know how they treat those who are different — I myself was always ridiculed for learning how to kill much faster than others, and I presume something similar happened to you, due to your blue skin.  But I myself have no prejudice.  Blue or red, all beings are equally mortal.”

The Choice is Yours: Part 1

Enaj always remembered being different.  He was born blue, the result of a genetic anomaly.  He lived in an orphanage ever since he could remember, but was always excluded from the games and activities of the other youngsters.  Even the old masters of the orphanage, professing themselves to be wise and kind to all, distrusted Enaj and tried to never let him out of their sight.  He was often given the most spoiled low-quality food, fewer personal possessions, and less personal attention and teaching from the masters than the other, normal, red-hued beings.  Over the years, blood-red rage filled Enaj up to the brim, yet he could not do anything about it.  Every time he was rebuffed by the other students, he stood by himself in the corner of the main room, shaking.  He saw the masters stand by and laugh at the futility of his attempts.  Enaj especially disliked master Gnas, who urged the other masters to be ever more strict with Enaj and to use even fewer resources on Enaj than some wanted.  Thus, from childhood, Enaj experienced coldness and repulsion rather than kindness and respect.  

One day, Enaj decided that he could not take it any longer.  The very thought of the orphanage and everyone in it physically sickened him, making vomit rise up to his windpipe and burn it with acidity.  He knew that he would never be allowed to leave until he was given an apprenticeship at some respectable place and would be a useful member of society once outside.  Yet despite the masters’ dislike of Enaj, they seemed to abhor the idea of his being successful outside the orphanage with the normals, even more than the idea of him staying forever.  They never allowed him to take any apprenticeship he would be offered, and even told the potential mentors that Enaj was a liar and lazy.  No matter how much Enaj pleaded with them to let him leave, the master’s response was always that he was not ready.  So Enaj escaped.