Kerric the Mercenary: Episode 12, Another Mad Dash

Once more Kerric and his warcat rider have to race thought the night to be where they need to be.

Jun 09, 2025

To Kerric surprise, puzzlement crossed Locklear’s face. “What would be the point of making a night run there? A chain of slaves would take three days to get there across that kind of trail.”

It amazed Kerric that he had to explain it, though he kept it out of his voice and off his face. “The point is, you didn’t confirm it. If they scented Tantos, and broke camp last night instead of this morning and were pushing the slaves hard enough that the weakest died, Corman can be in Den by morning. Such a move, and us not seeing it, would be the only possible winning move if he found out Warcats are after him last night.”

The surprise that appeared on Locklear’s face wasn’t alone. Kerric eyes darted to each, making note of which that possibility surprised. His men were so used to going against incompetents they didn’t consider the possibility that there were people that could out guess them. Locklear was likely right, yet he hadn’t even considered that there was another possibility, much less taken steps to confirm his deduction.

They headed into the forest for another cross-county ride with the sun only two hands above the horizon. As they were going at a full run, once more Kerric took the lead himself. His men were good. There were none better in the North or South. But no one but he could react to changes at his speed or be as aware of what was ahead. Kerric leaned down and Akrus picked up speed. It was time Kerric stopped babying his men and made them work to keep up.

His ears detected the change in the stride of the two nearest, letting him know that at least those Warcats and riders were now devoting their attention to keeping up. Then he heard those further back change their stride. To stay up with him all would have to work harder and stay more alert.

Though Den was northeast of their current location, Kerric headed them straight east for better than half the night. Only when there was little chance of the wind carrying the scent of passing Warcats to the trail Corman used, did he turn north to cut the road near when that track met the main road. Not once did he let the warcat slow down.

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Warcats, when pushed, are impossibly fast through the trees so it was no surprise to come upon the road and only be a few manhights away from the woodcutter’s track before even false dawn, though it had taken them a lot of work. Unlike people of the south, he and his men always knew where they were in relationships to where they had been, so there was little doubt of hitting the target.

That darkness not hampering his own vision, he looked at his men. It was good seeing his men taking things more seriously; not one dismounted or relaxed. He motioned Aon to make the inspection of that trail.

Slipping from his saddle, the shortest of them walked to the edge of the road to the intersection, taking care not to disturb a thing. After only moments of looking, he called back, “No one’s been on that trail for days, and no large groups for much, much longer.”

“Tantos, join Aon and scout the track. I want confirmation of their location. We will be at that small inn at Den.”

If Corman had rushed, then they would be back soon. If not, he would not see the two men again until nightfall. Both gave looks to Locklear and Ostar at having that extra task to perform. Then Aon mounted up, and they rode well downwind of that trail, down the road, around a bend and out of sight.