Manager of Misfits - 4: Causing Chaos

“Tell me what you found.”

Five days ago, the former company had split into three groups. Tullund had the ten Hatharen with him. Rella’s group consisted of her and ten mercenaries, while Frederick and Lily had the last of the mercenaries. Today, messengers from the other two groups arrived to report in.

“Three spots near the route you suggested.” The messenger from Rella’s group said, pointing at the small section of the map Tullund placed on the ground between them. He had used funds from Taradira to hire a scribe to make several copies of a map of the area behind Celngi’s front lines. “A farmstead - just a barn and a house - that the owner ran away from recently due to the war. Better than our camp back in Ettsgras.” He placed a pebble on the spot on the map. No additional marks were to be added to the maps.

“Second, a cliff, here. Commander thinks we could easily make our own shelter there. Don’t look forward to it. Last place, partially built village. Four finished buildings, a well, and the start of several others. Looks long abandoned, no idea what caused the people to run off. Seems cozy.”

Tullund looked at the three pebbles, and their proximity to the road. “Split it. Have a few people set up what you need at the cliffs, but use the farm as your first base. You’re going to be moving. After two strikes, pack up and move. Use the town last. I don’t like the thought of it.” The messenger nodded, and Tullund waved him away, grabbing the three pebbles off the map before calling the next man forward.

“Old farm. House is half burned, barn is falling apart.” The man placed his first pebble. “Town here, Lily says they hate the empire. Would hide us.” He placed a pebble on the town that was already marked on the map. Tullund frowned, but stayed silent. “Ruins of some kind of watchtower. Ancient, overgrown, smells bad, holes in the walls, but a good roof.” Tullund nodded at this.

“Take the tower. Keep the town for last. Have to be careful with that, but it’s a good find.”

“Want me to tell her you said that?” The messenger grinned. Tullund waved him away. After the man left, Tullund placed the first three pebbles back on the map, then dropped three of his own. A forest that the Hatharen assured him was a great place to camp, a cave that most of them had to crouch to fit inside, and an abandoned roadside tavern that went out of business years ago when the empire made a new road. His three spots were central, giving him access to two likely supply routes. Rella’s group to the north was near a third, and Fredrick’s to the south had a fifth likely place. They would watch for supplies and strike, stealing what they could and destroying the rest.

“Nenhal.” He called his new second in command over. Since his group consisted of only Hatharen, aside from him, he had promoted her. Whatever a non-official promotion was worth to someone who was never part of the military to begin with. “What do you think?”

The tall woman loomed over him, before she sat down, cross-legged, on the other side of the map. “I wanted to help Taradira.”

“This will, if we do it right.”

She frowned, but looked at the map. “We’re trapped.” She said after a moment.

Keeping his smile to himself, Tullund nodded. “There will be an army between us and Taradira, yes. But we are pretending we aren’t friends with Taradira. We can’t go that way regardless. We retreat away from the enemy.”

“Closer to their heart.”

“Closer to their people, further from their armies. There will be more forces further in, closer to their capital, but that’s a big gap between.”

Nenhal tilted her head, looking at the map again. The section did not show the entire territory of the Celngi empire, only the areas neighboring Ettsgras. “We get further and further from help, closer and closer to more danger.”

“So we want to avoid retreating. If we have to run away, we go north or south and take a long route back.”

“And that’s why you have them move between multiple bases. Why you have us split up. It is easier to run and hide. There is something I don’t understand.”

“What?”

“You don’t let them know where we are. We cannot regroup.”

Tullund nodded, picking up the rocks and holding them in his hand. “If someone gets captured, they can’t tell the others where we are. This was Lily’s idea, not mine. Each team will be working independently. We don’t regroup. There is no group. I would have done it differently, but this is the best way to survive.”

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“But you know, and I know.” She said, tapping several of the spots on the map where the potential campsites were.

He smiled. “There is a danger there, yes. If either of us get captured, it will be bad. So I have to trust you, then.”

“What if they need help?”

That was his fear. The three groups could not support each other. “That is the risk of running an operation like this.” He said, looking at Nenhal. The woman stared back, then smiled. “What?” Tullund asked.

“I am learning a lot about how humans fight.”

Days later, he found the two of them sitting down again, the map in between them. This time, though, a cave was a bit too close for comfort over their heads, and the rest of the Hatharen sat nearby, or stood outside.

Nenhal traced a road with her finger. “Here, tomorrow.”

“You’re sure?” Tullund asked. His second in command spent the last few days scouting, just now returning. She claimed that their first target was on the way.

“Has the colors like you said. Coming down this road. Six wagons, ten guards. That’s the only road that leads to where you say they are going.” She smiled. “This is good, right?”

Tullund nodded. “Six wagons is a pretty small amount for the number of soldiers they should have. As suspected, they’ll be bringing in supplies from multiple places, and possibly supplementing it with whatever can be produced in the border towns.” He looked around, taking in the other Hatharen. “So, ten guards. How many of you will be needed to take them out? No casualties. I’ll be there as well.”

“Ambush. Six of us can do it.”

“Pick six of them, then. Have them ready to follow me tomorrow. You stay here with the rest.”

Nenhal’s eyes went wide. Tullund thought this might be the first time he saw her truly surprised and not just awed at something new. “I can help.”

“We never both go to the same place. If something happens to me, you are in charge. If there aren’t enough of you to keep going, get out. This is how humans fight.”

The Hatharen looked at him, her eyebrows coming together as she focused intently on his face, but she eventually nodded.

There was an odd sense of nostalgia as Tullund crouched low, holding his bow in one hand, staring at the road through a gap in the bushes. The six Hatharen should be nearby, but he couldn’t see them. They dissolved into the lightly forested area near the road as soon as he gave the order to spread out. They were amazingly stealthy despite their size.

Loud and large, the imperial army’s wagons took up the whole width of the road, pulled by two massive horses each. The guards walked alongside at a leisurely pace, some of them laughing and joking. Relaxed. After seeing the soldiers and mercenaries in Ettsgras, Tullund knew they were not expecting any sort of attack. Their presence was a formality, a show of force to discourage common bandits, as if risking the empire’s wrath wasn’t enough of that.

Larren wouldn’t have pulled off an attack like this. Getting the attention of an army? Tullund could only smile. If there was anything about this plan that could fail, it was that no intelligent bandits would raid this kind of target. He raised his bow, nocking an arrow and drawing back, holding his breath, taking aim at the very first guard. As soon as he loosed, the Hatharen would strike. Three with bows and three with spears, hiding nearby.

His arrow struck the guard in the neck, the man’s laughter ending and sending everything into motion. Three other guards fell to expertly placed arrows, and the other three Hatharen appeared, almost causing Tullund to fumble his second shot. One seemed to appear right beside one of the rear guards, swiping the man’s feet out from under him and dropping him to the dirt. Another fell downward, somehow having climbed the thin trees and hid their despite his bulk, hamming into the targetting soldier from above. The last simply dashed in from the side, taking out a guard that was still trying to figure out what was happening.

Tullund and the other archers took out the remaining guards, and the three with shortspears were now making work of the drivers as they drew their weapons. . Two massive horses pulled each wagon, but the beasts stayed put, throwing their heads and making noises but not bolting. Tullund emerged, moving to the first wagon and looking inside. Bags of flour. He checked the next one, finding sacks of preserved fruit. He pushed the dead woman out of the driver’s seat and climbed on.

“Get all the horses off the other wagons.” He pulled the reins to the side and flicked, getting the horses moving. They didn’t hesitate to move off the road and pull the wagon through the heavy grass and through a gap in the sparse treeline big enough to fit the vehicle. Once far enough into the forest, Tullund pulled them to a stop and dismounted, looking at the Hatharen behind him, leading the other draft horses by hand. “Get as much as you can out of the wagon and get ready to ride back. Leave the rest here. I’ll be there after I take care of the road.” His team nodded at him and got to work.

Going back to the first wagon, Tullund grabbed one bag of flour, hauling it out and moving to the last wagon in the line. Using his knife, he slit it open before slamming the bag down on top of the other supplies, causing dust to float into the air. Stepping back, he took one of the small torches he had brought, lit it, and tossed it into the wagon bed.

He did this for the other wagons in the line, before finally slitting open several of the remaining bags in the first wagon, tossing them around, and then setting fire to that one as well.

“You aren’t worried about burning down the whole forest?” A voice from behind him asked. He turned, seeing one of his Hatharen there - Farathal - looking concerned.

“Chaos is chaos.” Tullund said. “We’d better get moving in case that does happen.”

Farathal shook his head, but followed orders. Two of the others were mounted, the rest of the stolen horses lined up behind them, bags tied together with rope thrown over their backs. “Good job everyone,” Tullund told them, smiling. “Let’s go home.”