War by Numbers
“Ten of Mending Winds,” the First said with a smile of his own, gently placing the smooth card face up on the pile. Its blue-toned surface was a far cry from the red and black Apocalypse card, and once played it always signaled the end of a game.
“Good show.” That was the Fourth – he said little during their matches, understanding his place at the hierarchy's bottom end.
“Indeed,” the Third said clearly. She was more vocal, but the First had been experimenting with personality when she was created and was perhaps a touch aggressive – her people alternately prospered and suffered as a result.
“I call a cheat,” the Second said flatly, pulling his Apocalypse card out from the pile. “I have the same Winds card in my hand, and we all know there can't be two in a deck.” The First's eyes narrowed, though no anger flared. He was always so obvious when he tried to play fast and loose with the rules – the frustration came when he tried to deny it.
“My son,” he said, “you must calm yourself.” The Second felt his own anger rise. True, he had been made by the hand of the First, but that didn't make him a lackey like the Fourth or a firebrand like the Third – he was a far superior creature to any of them, including his maker, but had been relegated to a corner of the world he was quite certain contained less than one-quarter of the population. It wasn’t by much, but those who believed themselves his equal were trying to cheat him. The card game was merely another example.
“Calm myself?” His tone was thick with irritation. “Why? I played fairly and you did not – you simply wished to see the match end because of my choice. What gives you the right to demand my peace when you have broken it?”
“If you'll excuse me,” the Fourth murmured as he stood. He had never been able to stomach arguments or violence and while his people were the most peaceable of any on the surface, they were also the weakest – small sections of his territory were forever being bit off by the Third and then returned at the behest of the First.
“Me too,” the Third let out a quick belch and stood as well. Fight and fire were in her nature, and made her the most interesting of those the Second had the misfortune to call a portion of his own being. If nothing else, she was amusing.
“Of course, children,” the First said, also rising. “Depart in peace.”
Both made smalls bows and then winked out, back to their own kingdoms or wherever whim took them – not even the First knew where another traveled unless they chose to speak the words aloud.
“Now, my son,” he went on, “join me on the balcony.”
The Second didn't respond but rose and moved for the door. Being close to the arrogant father of the world for too long disturbed his calm, and at least in the glowing evening light of Stars' Rest he could enjoy a moment at the thought of dressing-down a being who believed himself so righteous.
For a moment the view of the world below captivated his attention, the city-scapes and mountain lines that made up existence of the mortals they had created. Each of the four had contributed a part of themselves to bring humanity out of dust, and each lost something when one died. The Second had spent nights sobbing with the agony of life lost to wars and their weapons, or glorying in the agonizing miracle that was human birth.
“What vexes you, my son?” The First asked softly.
The Second spun, hands coming to his hips and chest puffing out in a pure gesture of defiance. “You know damn well – you cheated because you didn't want to see those marked by the cards die. Creating another Mending Winds saved them but went against the spirit of the game, against the rules we have created!”
“Son,” the First moved forward and the Second slipped out of the way. Touching was not a requirement of talking. “Our gatherings and our game are merely to bring us together, not punish those below. Having them as an unknowing portion of our evening is pleasant as a diversion but I do not wish them to die on a play of the cards.”
Barking a laugh, the Second spread his arms wide. “And yet you don't mind their suffering! You played the Harvest card – you ensured they would spend a winter scavenging in fear. Don't pretend to be so noble!”
“Suffering is required by their kind,” the First said sternly, “you know this. Joy alone makes them weak and worrisome, and they must suffer in some measure for balance.”
“Of course,” sarcasm dripped from his tone as he leapt onto the balcony's edge. “You always have a reason for your actions – you always find a way to place yourself in the best light. No longer!” He was screaming now but didn't care – what of his suffering under at the hands of such a fool creator?
“Second, I am warning you -” A hint of malice came through, a tiny speck of hate, and the Second smiled as he spoke again over the words of his maker.
“And I am serving notice. Your time has come. Just as you replaced the Nil before you, you must be replaced. War by Numbers is declared for your time-again treachery – suffering will come to you and yours.”
“Do not do this!” The First's voice was hoarse. “Please!”
“It is done!” He said, pulling in the needed strength to travel. “The game is real now, maker – play well!”
- D
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