Chapter One A Suckers Bet

The road was in front of her, an empty reminder of the things that had happened there, and the things to come. Many of her best men had been lost today, and many more were sure to follow, until eventually the numbers died and the army failed. The question rang clear and deadly: who would be the first to fall? A question that would forever be engraved in her mind, giving her the burden of pushing, of continuing to try to prove the question wrong, like a gambler with a heavy stash of saved coins. Would she spend her money and throw the suckers bet? For a sucker she was, and a sucker she would stay, until the last arrow was shot and the last sword thrust, but even a sucker could win, right?

The surviving men limped to her for the order to continue the fight, but she drew them back as the enemy lined up for a final blow, a deadly one. The men gratefully and reluctantly followed orders as the swayed on their unstable feet and dragged their broken bones across the rotting carcasses of their fellow comrades, knowing that that was the fate most of them would face tomorrow.

Tomorrow, she thought, tomorrow is the final battle. A new question was in order for such a war as this, but what would it be? Maybe that a woman really couldn’t be a leader, that hope was for the weak, but that wasn’t a question. That was a statement her father had made, and it was coming shook her head fiercely, no thoughts of that man were allowed to enter her mind.

“Milady,” spoke one of the still intake warriors, “Milady, what shall we do with the wounded?”

She sighed, “Regular treatment, food, water, and rest.”

“But Milady, some of the men have broken more then a few limbs, they need professional help. Some may not make it as it is.” The warrior was fidgeting, a good fighter, but it was hard for him to get to the point.

“You have something more to say?”

He rolled up his left sleeve, then the right. He twisted his shirt collar up, then down. Both his feet shifted back and forth. “Um…Milady…” he finally said, “we’re not…ready.”

“Not ready!” She cried. “We’re more then ready!”

He clasped his hands together, the knuckles white and shining with perspiration. “Can’t we… fall back?”

“You mean run away.” She hissed, her voice was low now, never good. Her bright blue eyes sparked an unfamiliar flame of anger.

“No Milady, just I-I…” The man stuttered as he tried to search for the words to prove his point. They weren’t prepared, their water supply was low, most of the food was ether rotting or molding, the best they could do for the wounded was sleep and pep talks. Nothing would convince Lady Fern when she was like this.

Fern twisted his arm and pulled him closer as he squirmed in the sudden pain. “Are you afraid to die, warrior? Are you so frightened you’d throw it all away and run, pushing as aside as if we were weights tied to your ankles?” She tossed him to the ground, breathing heavily. “If that is what you think then go, leave and let your running away make them all think that their must be no hope, but let me tell you something hope is not for the weak.” Fern turned to face the rest of the eavesdropping soldiers. “That goes for all of you! You want to leave, now’s your chance.” The warriors hesitated, but a few held up their swords and shouted their sayings of loyalty, and soon all the men were busy working on their injures. Fern turned back to the man, spat at him, and walked away. The man looked around at his battle pals and friends, he didn’t want to die, that was true. With a great shaky sign he stood and walked away from the crowd of the weakened. He did not realize it, but Fern was watching him as he left, and realized she had just thrown the first piece of silver, and lost the first hand.