The Trail To Paradise

Flint And Steel

Night travel had become necessary for safety. Tad knew the Hunters would skimp on rest. When they caught the scent of a caravan, they could be tenacious. It was not wise to push so hard, but they would make the fort in a day and a half. He hoped they had not heard his name in the midst of whatever had been done to get them so hot on his trail?

That is one answer he would actively search for once he finished this run. When he found the culprit, he would be sure to mention that if they had brains made of leather, they wouldn’t not have enough to saddle a June bug. Loose lipped morons. It was enough to bring up thoughts of retirement.

Most never made it that far. The heads man's axe was a far less inviting future. They would make it in time, but what could they do then?

Those overpaid mercenaries had a lot more formal training than this troop filled with farmers. In war, you are taught that one soldier is worth five farmers in combat. The scales were balanced in a much different way when those soldiers got hungry. Most nobles looked down on the people who ran their agriculture. They were only able to stuff their useless faces because of people like these.

That's exactly why Tad had defected. The former Lord had sent his regiment to wipe out a settlement for not making their tax obligations. The dumb s**t did not realize that it was the same settlement that most of his own food was harvested from and by the time he figured it out it was too late. He would starve himself out through ignorance and had been executing the people who produced it all. Tad had been so angry that he took the remaining farmers and brought them all to the safe city. It went from a hamlet of deserters to a thriving outpost in a handful of months. Families had finally been able to care for their own kin. Detachment from reality is why the uprising had been so successful. Lord Basil had never dreamed that anyone would overthrow him. The damned fool.

"Ok everyone! Move carefully! We have a tail and I'd rather not entertain our guests on flat ground."

Greg rode up beside him. "I thought you soldiers had a code of combat?"

"You're right, Greg. Soldiers do. I'm not a soldier anymore. I'll use raider tactics if it keeps us alive. I'd bet every nickel in my pocket that these Hunters won't be abiding by any sense of fairness."

"Are they that bad?"

Tad could tell that his show of frustration was unnerving the man. "Greg, buddy, I've not met them face to face in fifteen years and I have no intention of damaging my flawless record. Let's keep everyone moving. "

As Greg rode forward, Leanna rode up to take his place. "Sorry to bring you the bad news, but we seem to have misplaced the young girl with the sanity issue."

"Sweet baby squirrel nuts! How did we lose her? Grant will not be pleased with that bit of news. How long has she been gone?"

"We have no idea. Most likely a few hours. She'd warmed up to Grant, but still hid from the rest of us. We hadn't seen her eat anything and decided to search the wagon. I'm gonna guess we ain't got time to go traipsing about to find the little... ummm... person?"

"You have a way with words for sure, but no we can't turn back. Let's just hope the Hunters don't find her again."

"That'd be a piece of mercy for sure." Without any more discussion, she turned and headed back to the medical wagon. Tad stared after her for a moment.

"These women must all be crazy! They aren't scared of anything."

Realizing he had spoken out loud, Tad headed back to the front of the procession. At that point, he couldn't tell if this journey was gonna make him grey early or it was turning out to be the most fun he had had in years.

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Flint, it turned out, believed he was less than a day behind the caravan. That surprised him to no end. He had ridden hard and he still had not managed to catch up. Who could possibly be leading this group?

He was ready to give them professional respect before he had them all killed. No one had ever kept ahead of him like this. The group of Hunters were following silently. They had no clue what mood Flint might be in and no one wanted to be the first to find out. Flint was more impressed than upset. There was only one way he could think of that they had stayed in the lead.

"They aren't sleeping. That's the only thing that makes sense," he addressed the men closest to him. "Well boys, due to me underestimating our quarry, it looks like they are gonna beat us to the fort. Tonight, when we stop, we'll rest the full night. They'll all be exhausted from pushing so hard and we'll be rested when we assault the fort. Keep us moving until we find a place to sleep for the night."

Plans often needed adjusted. Flint had not been successful by being foolish. If you run yourself ragged it becomes difficult to mount a decent defense. It would not be much longer now. He would catch up with this latest prey. They could run all they wanted. The end result would be the same.

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The caravan made it to the fort with minimal issues. They had lost a wheel on a wagon half a day back, but Tad had them abandon it. The Hunters would be cautious of it and check it for supplies. He had left some stuff behind so they would take the bait. That could gain them ten minutes or a couple hours. You took what you could get when being hunted.

Fort Oswald was a relic from the War of Shades. It was made of logs, reinforced with metal plating. That could have been the reason it had remained. The plains they were crossing had once been a thriving kingdom and travelers had started using it as a place to rest when the roads got rough. While there was not much shelter to be had, the first thing Tad noticed was that the encampment was beginning to look more like a town. There were plenty of market stalls available for them to resupply. Spices from different foods filled the air with a pleasant odor. It would be fine dining tonight.

Greg was sent to grab a few men to help secure water and food for the horses. Their own barrels would need refilled as well. He Tad would need to find the person in charge here and inquire at the cost of discretion. He would also enjoy a night off. It had been too long since he had had a strong drink or secured an hour with a lady of less strict morals. He was starting to feel like a monk. The lady may be out of the question, but that one drink couldn't hurt. With the wagons unhitched and the horses seen to, he made sure that everyone knew to meet in the stable yard that evening. There was just one more thing that needed taken care of before he could let his guard down.