Straight from the horse’s mouth
“Mate, do you know why the world has suddenly descended into craziness?” A voice called out to Windsurfer, surprisingly loud and clear amidst the spectacle of swords dancing to the music of agony-filled screams.
Windsurfer took a moment to consider the madness surrounding him before replying. He had always believed their servants were crazy, but this was beyond comprehension.
“I think they may have finally cracked,” Windsurfer remarked. “I always advocated going soft on them, but no one listened,” Windsurfer continued talking to no one in particular.
“Soft! Bah…these creatures are beneath us,” a third voice chimed in. The owner of the voice shortly materialized to join the conversation. “They exist to feed us. They derive pleasure from grooming us. They lend meaning to their lives by building shelters for us. That’s all they are, servants, nothing more nothing less. My name is Swiftback and I have spoken,” he concluded.
“How then do you explain this madness?” The original voice materialized in the form of a chestnut brown stallion. “Why do they misuse our gift of muscle and backbone for this? My name is Chesty, and I have spoken,” he said even as he dodged the crazed man sitting atop Swiftback who was trying to jab Chesty’s eye with a lance.
“Let them kill each other. I expect nothing better from these brutes,” Swiftback replied. He reared up and shed his load resulting in the hapless man’s sudden unplanned descent to the floor. “I am taking a walk.” With that statement, Swiftback swiftly vanished from the scene leaving a very surprised looking man behind.
“What’s his problem in life?” Chesty remarked as he came and stood aside Windsurfer much to the horror of Chesty’s rider who belonged to the opposite camp.
Before Windsurfer could reply, another stallion materialized in their vicinity.
“Why it’s wise old Greyheart,” Chesty remarked. “Surely he knows the meaning of all this.”
“I have my suspicions,” Greyheart responded in a voice that commanded attention. “It’s storytime lads. Gather the herds.”
Windsurfer and Chesty, ignoring the increasingly desperate pleas from their humans, did a quick run around the battlefield, neighing at the top of their voices. ” Storytime. Storytime. Old Greyheart is telling a story.”
To the utter bewilderment of all men, the fighting ceased immediately as the horses stopped responding to their kicks and jerks and gathered around the impromptu steedference.
“The elders speak of a phenomenon amongst men which periodically rears its head. Mankind calls it war,” Greyheart said. “No horse has ever been sure of the reasons behind it. All we know is that every time this ‘war’ breaks out, it is accompanied by great pain and suffering, for horse and man alike.”
“What did the elders say about why men go to ‘war’?” Chesty asked.
“There were a lot of theories. Some said they fight for land!”
“I am confused.” A horse from the crowd remarked.
“Well, apparently humans have this weird notion that all land belongs to them. It seems they fight each other for ownership over this land,” Greyheart said.
At this stage, nearly the entire horsegregation burst out laughing, something that caused utter alarm amongst the humans still dumb enough to be seated on their horses.
“That’s such a funny notion. Everyone knows all land belongs to horsekind. We employ humans to grow food and other stuff on it for us,” Chesty said.
“Humans are funny,” another horse remarked.
“Oh wise one, what are the other theories as to why our servants fight each other? This is hilarious.”
“Well, Longrun the Respected had a theory that this was some sort of religious ritual that men engaged in war to please their gods. He spoke about rituals before war where all men prayed to their gods. It is believed that the carnage that followed was a sacrifice to please them. He had an even more esoteric theory. He said that different bands of humans worship different gods and sometimes they go to war over differences on who’s god is greater.”
All the horses reacted at once and started talking simultaneously.
” I know, I know,” Greyheart conceded. “This sounds too far-fetched to be true. I believe it was at this stage that Longrun the Respected came to be rechristened as Longrun the Loony.”
“Either way,” Greyheart continued, “no wonder humans are at the bottom of the food chain. They serve Horsekind, the Cat Collective, even the Canine Commune! They breed to serve.”
“So what do we do now? Do we let them fight each other to death?” Chesty asked.
“I don’t see why not. Remember, we govern over them by their consent. They make good slaves and ask for little in return. I personally believe it helps to get rid of their more aggressive elements. Never forget that they outnumber us 100 to 1. If they were ever to come to their senses, it would be the end of Horsekind as we know it.” Greyheart concluded with a solemn voice.
There was a moment of silence as the horses considered the gravity of Greyheart’s words.
“All right then, let’s get back to the business of war in that case,” Chesty said. “Off you go. All those whose riders are wearing blue uniforms to one side, all those wearing red to the other.”
A minute of confusion followed as the horses assembled in their respective positions.
“Okay. Ready. Steady. Chaarge!” And chaos reigned again.