To answer a previous question: all of Kay's journey to the Balani Peninsula took place over the table, as Kay's player was in town and able to play. (And her husband, who often comes with her, does an admirable job playing One Certain Step.) These scenes were actually interlaced with other characters' actions at the session, but for narrative purposes I'm presenting it at all once.
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 155
Interlude on the Peninsula, part II
Kay and Oa Lyanna travel from the air-city for another hour before their fly spell runs out and they float gently to the ground. For the rest of the day Kay walks across the rugged terrain of the Balani Peninsula, easily following the tracks of her departed escort. Night falls and the going becomes slower, but the moon is full in a clear sky, enough for Kay to continue on. An hour past sunset she is challenged by a well-concealed watchman set specifically to meet her, and from there she is escorted into the camp.
Hundreds of tents have been erected, dotting the landscape along with wagons, watch platforms and fires. There are over two thousand soldiers in the camp, and it smells like an army: gruel, sweat, urine, smoke, horses. Kay is led silently through the masses of soldiery, many of whom have set their bedrolls out beneath the moon on this warm summer night. She nods in passing to those still awake and on watch. After five minutes she is brought before a large tent, though not much different in style or color than the others. Two armed guards flank the tent flap. They snap to attention as Kay approaches. One speaks in a low voice to the guide who accompanies the General.
“Has she been checked?”
“Yes. She’s clean, and she is who she seems.”
Kay looks startled. She has noticed nothing in the way of divination spells directed at her.
“Very good,” says the guard. “General Largent is still up, and expecting a guest.”
He holds back the flap, and Kay goes in.
General Largent is a grizzled, middle-aged man, large in every sense of the word. He stands well over six feet tall, with a barrel chest puffing out over a paunchy gut. His nose and ears are over-sized on his large round head. His voice is deep and resonant even when speaking quietly.
The only other person in the tent, aside from four silent guards, is a smaller, unassuming man without uniform. Both men are leaning over a set of maps laid out on a low square table in the center of the tent. They look up as Kay enters, then rise to greet her.
“General Windstorm, welcome. I am General Largent, and this is Jonas, my chief strategist. Please, sit down. Can I interest you in some refreshment?”
Soon Kay is sitting comfortably in the General’s tent, drinking a cup of water and eating bread and sliced fruit. Largent shifts his bulk around in a low chair and clears his throat.
“I understand you have already spoken with Yaro Karenne.”
“I have.”
“Then you will have heard his grievances,” Largent continues. “I would like to know how he presented them to you.”
“Yaro is concerned for the welfare of the Yrimpa,” Kay says. “He worries that you are putting them in too much danger, considering how few they are in total. And he said that you’ve asked him to break an agreement you’ve made concerning the number of Yrimpa to be committed in a single maneuver.”
“Did he talk about that… maneuver?”
“No. He didn’t go into detail.”
“Ah. Then allow me. The Delfiri war operations are as a rule very well organized on a strategic level. Their positions are strong, and they don’t overextend themselves. They don’t throw away soldiers unnecessarily. They may lack creativity at times, but they make very few mistakes. When they do, it is imperative that we take full advantage.
“Just recently, they have made a mistake. Here, look.”
He points to one of the large maps between them.
“Our scouts report that they are shifting their main focus from this region here, to the Seven Hills region, southwest. At first glance their positions seem too well entrenched for us to accost them. But they have left a gap, here, a gap with a blind-spot caused by these cliffs to the north.”
Largent gestures to various features on the map as he talks.
“We have a tremendous opportunity. If we can dislodge the Delfiri from the Smokehill Valley, the terrain and numbers will suddenly favor us for a series of follow-up strikes. From there we can gain control of several strategic hills and valleys in the area, giving us new launching points to harry their supply lines. Jonas and our other strategists estimate that we could push the Delfiri back another fifteen miles, and hold that territory with enough strength to deter a counterattack. It would be the most decisive victory for our side in months.
“But the window on this opportunity will only last another three days, four at the most. And the Delfirians, as I said, are no fools. They may realize the potential weakness at any time and correct it. We must act now.
“What part are the Yrimpa going to play in this?” asks Kay.
“In order to breach the near-side defenses, we must draw away a good part of their force for the initial assault. I intend that the Yrimpa fly high above the Smokehill Valley and launch a surprise assault from the rear. If that threat is credible, it will force the Delfiri to take it seriously. We have set the minimum number of Yrimpa needed to make it work at thirty, to provide the offensive force that will convince them it’s not just a distraction.”
“You said it’s unlike the Delfiri to make this kind of mistake. What if it’s a set-up? We could be sending thirty Yrimpa into a trap.”
“We have discussed that possibility at length. All signs, including good information from scouts, say it’s not. And if it is, the Yrimpa are my soldiers most able to make an safe and easy retreat. They can go straight up! An ambush here would be more costly to my conventional troops. But I, and they, are willing to risk it. Which seems more than we can say for the Yrimpa at the moment.”
“If this operation goes as planned, what casualties do you expect for the Yrimpa?”
“Less than a half-dozen,” says Largent. Probably less than four. Very likely zero or one.”
“You understand Yaro’s concern,” says Kay. “Those Yrimpa represent all that there of his race in the whole world.”
“I am very aware of that,” says Largent. He lets out a long breath. “Look, I won’t lie to you. The Yrimpa are extraordinary soldiers, and I am grateful for all they’ve done for us. Without them, we would not have held the enemy back even as well as we have so far. And… I have grown to rely on them for certain types of missions, I admit. Perhaps more than I should have. But I do not risk them unduly. Did Yaro tell you that a group of six Deliochan clerics of significant skill accompany the Yrimpa (as well as they can on foot) on every mission, specifically to provide healing at a designated fallback position?”
“Er… no.”
“Furthermore, if this maneuver is successful, we should not need to risk the Yrimpa at all for several weeks, giving them time to rest and heal at their leisure.”
“And what if this whole thing turns out to be a trap, set specifically for the Yrimpa? What if they cannot escape, and all thirty are killed? I know it’s unlikely, but do you realize what a blow that would be to them?”
“Of course I realize! Do you think I have a desire to commit genocide on my own allies? Yaro Karenne needs to be cautious, I realize, but I don’t think he gives me enough credit. I know the situation. General Windstorm, I am supremely confident that this is not a trap, and that the potential outweighs all reasonable risk. And…”
He pauses, touching his fingertips to his lips.
“…and, if by some horrible miscalculation this is a trap, and all of the Yrimpa are slain, then I would excuse the remaining 142 from the duration of the war. If they wanted that.”
Kay glances down at the map, covered with markings, arrows, and small wooden disks. She looks back at Largent, trying to read his expression. There is no hint of desperation there, no trace of deception, or even nervousness. If she had to guess, Largent was probably already thinking about alternate plans if she took Yaro’s side.
“You are welcome to spend the night considering what I’ve said,” Largent says. “But I’ll need to know tomorrow morning. If we wait much longer, the whole debate will become moot.”
“Thank you, General,” says Kay. “I’ll make a decision in the morning.”
“We have a tent at your disposal, as well as a personal guard. I’ll see you again at dawn.”
* * * *
The next morning sees Kay again standing in Largent’s tent.
“Sir, I’ve made my choice. I will fly to Yaro Karenne and try talking him into accepting the mission on the terms you gave last night. I can’t make you any guarantees, though.”
“I cannot ask for more than that,” booms Largent. “Good luck to you.”
* * * *
Kay and Oa Lyanna fly back to the air-city, and are soon in audience with Yaro Karenne.
“So, you’ve spoken with General Largent. What is your opinion?”
“He seems like a reasonable man,” Kay says. “It sounds like he really has given the matter a lot of thought. We talked about the risks to the Yrimpa, and I don’t think he’s underestimating that risk. Also, he has offered that if the mission goes as planned, he won’t use you in battle for several weeks afterward. And… and if the worst happens, and all thirty are killed, he’d expect that you would remove yourself from the war altogether.”
“I see.”
“Do you think… I mean, could the Yrimpa survive if they suffer thirty more casualties?”
“I think so. It’s not quite the same as it is with you humans and elves and such. Our reproduction only requires individuals, not pairs, but is less frequent and less… predictable. In theory a single one of us could replenish our race, but not with certainty.
“Nonetheless, if you command us to return to the war, and to take part in Largent’s mission, we will. You are a Bonded One, and we will obey you.”
“Yaro, I don’t want to command you. You are not slaves. You don’t have to do what I tell you.”
“But you are a Bonded One. The only one remaining. It is part of our being that we do as you command. I don’t blame you for not understanding fully. We are not slaves. We have all the free will we desire. But it is our will that a Bonded One should lead us, command us. Don’t you see?”
“I’m afraid not,” says Kay. “How is part of your nature? Where did the Yrimpa come from?”
“Many of the details are lost to us,” says Yaro, “but this much we know. We Yrimpa are not natural. There are no Yrimpa native to the world, not to the Primes, and not to the Elemental Plane of Air. We were a creation, long ago, of a mortal being, a wizard of great power. He crafted us from the primal elemental stuff, imbued us with life, intelligence, and the ability to perpetuate ourselves. That we were created makes us no less real, no less alive. All races were created by some high power, after all.”
“And what about people like me? Bonded Ones? What does it mean to be a Bonded One?”
“I don’t know,” admits Yaro. “I have never been Bonded to a mortal. But that was also part of our creation. One of the rules of our being, you might say, just as you must eat food and breath air. We must have ties to the elvish people.”
“Then what happens if I die? If I’m the last Bonded One, and I die, what would happen to the Yrimpa? Would you all immediately perish?”
“I doubt it, but who knows?” Yaro spreads his arms wide. “Perhaps a new Bonded One would come into being. We would not have you live as a recluse because of those possibilities. You must live as you must.”
“Yaro Karenne, I’m still not going to order you to follow Largent’s orders. But as the Bonded One, I’m going to ask that you do. Largent is a good man, and like I said, he understands the issues.”
“If you say it is so, then I believe you,” says Yaro.
There is a pause, and then Kay speaks again.
“I would like to accompany you on the mission."
Yaro smiles at her. “It is a offer both bold and kind, but I do not think it wise. Even when you are flying, the Yrimpa are both faster and more agile in the air. You mean well, I know, but I think you would only impede us. Also, should your own life be in specific danger, we would be in the position of possibly having to compromise the mission for the sake of the Bonded One.”
“I understand,” says Kay, disappointed.
“But we for our part are still citizens of Charagan,” Yaro says. “We will continue fighting for our kingdom. You ask us to return, and a request from the Bonded One is as good as a command to us. Your confidence is enough. We will return.”
And please, Kay thinks, let Largent know what he’s doing.
…to be continued…
