Chapter 4: The Promise of Ash and Crystals
Lyanna lay still in the crevice, clutching her blades tightly, every sense tuned to the sounds of battle around her. The first Skybreaker blast had been deafening, its impact like the roar of thunder, leaving her ears ringing and her heart hammering in her chest. Two more explosions followed, each one shattering the air, shaking the earth until her very bones vibrated. Each time the cannon fired, the air seemed to grow heavier, thick with a strange, oppressive stillness that filled the aftermath. And then… silence.
Slowly, Lyanna released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. As the ringing in her ears faded, she dragged herself from the crevice and rose to stand on the edge of what had once been a battlefield. She blinked, adjusting to the dim, smoky light as she took in the carnage the Skybreaker cannon had left in its wake.
The once-open ground was nearly unrecognizable, transformed into a solid, glassy black—the ash of the Burnt Sea melted and fused by the cannon’s fire. The blackened battlefield glistened, as though the blood-soaked ash had been frozen into a dark, solid mirror. Lyanna felt a chill creep down her spine. This was destruction beyond anything she’d ever seen, beyond anything she’d even imagined.
Around her, there was little left of the camp. In its place was a massive crater, its edges just visible above the dunes, like the gaping maw of some forgotten beast. Bodies that had once littered the field were now mere shadows, burned away to nothing.
She scanned the battlefield, and her gaze snagged on one of the three cannons—toppled, twisted beyond recognition, its gears and metal mangled beyond repair. The others, she noted grimly, were gone—either concealed by orcish magic or dragged away by the retreating forces.
But it was the central platform that truly caught her attention. Stripped of its destructive power, its gears and wheels shattered or missing, it remained perched atop the dune. And erupting from its heart, a massive crystal pulsed with an inner light, its jagged edges glinting in the smoky haze. Lyanna recognized the destructive beauty of its structure instantly—Karina’s handiwork.
She took a deep breath and then raised her voice. “Soldiers of Mirrorguard! Resurface! By my command!”
Figures began to emerge from the darkness, climbing out from crevices, craters, and makeshift shelters. Lyanna watched them carefully, noting how each carried visible or hidden wounds—scrapes, bruises, or perhaps worse scars they wore on their souls. Over half of her army had survived. “Enough,” she told herself, biting back the ache that threatened to overtake her.
“A Skybreaker for half my army…” she murmured, her voice laced with grim satisfaction. “A fair trade.” Men and women could be replaced, after all. But the cannons—they were irreplaceable. The secrets to their construction had died centuries ago with Lord Hammerfall, a relic of the wars against the Fallen One. Losing even one was a blow no army could afford, not even the orcs.
Her eyes scanned the smoky horizon, searching. Karina… where are you? She felt the familiar mix of anger and worry tug at her. Her sister had flown off just as the cannons fired, too stubborn, too reckless to stay grounded. For a moment, Lyanna saw only dark clouds, but then a shadow darted through the sky—Pyrope, her sister’s dragon, locked in fierce pursuit of a massive black dragon. Their silhouettes danced, stark and violent against the bruised sky.
“Karina, the great hero,” Lyanna said to herself, her lips twisted in a sour grin. “While you soar, I’m left to gather what’s left of our forces. The glory of heroics for you, the blood and dust for me.”
Next to her, the soldiers were beginning to rally under the guidance of Karina’s aides, faces still pale, eyes wide from the near-annihilation they’d barely escaped. Edda, one of Karina’s most trusted aides, hurried over to her. Gaunt and severe, Edda’s hair was pulled back so tightly it seemed to stretch her expression into perpetual disapproval.
“My lady,” Edda said, bowing, though there was tension in her movement. “Your sister commanded us to remain hidden until further orders.”
Lyanna’s gaze remained on the sky, where her sister and the dragon had disappeared into the gathering storm clouds. Continue soaring Karina. I will gain the recognition I need without the help you and Pyrope promised me. Only when they were truly out of sight did she look down at Edda.
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“Then, Edda, while my sister’s occupied, I am the acting commander. Her orders no longer stand.”
“But… Lady Lyanna, surely—”
“You heard me,” Lyanna said, a note of finality in her tone. She’d been humiliated enough for one day. “Send a scout to locate House Blackthorn’s forces. I need numbers. I need to know what remains of their forces.”
Edda hesitated, glancing back at the nervous ranks of soldiers. “My Lady, the soldiers … they’re wary. They fear a trap. For the orcs to use the cannons, to show they can move them at will—no other nation can. They wouldn’t risk it unless they were confident of total victory. The army… they won’t obe-”
“Simply follow my orders, Edda,” Lyanna cut her off sharply, her voice leaving no room for dissent. “I’ll handle the rest. Unless, of course, you wish to challenge my authority?”
For a moment, the aide froze, her face caught between loyalty and fear. But fear won out, and she nodded, hurrying away to do as she was told. Lyanna felt a surge of satisfaction; she’d given them a glimpse of her authority, her power. But it wouldn’t be enough. They needed a reminder—something stronger, something to shake them from the paralysis of fear. They need to remember who I am—what I’m capable of.
Lyanna turned her focus inward. She pressed her thumb against Ember’s hilt, feeling the flickering remnants of its power beneath her hand. It was barely half full. Not enough, but it would have to do. With a steadying breath, she pressed her hands to the crystalline ash beneath her feet, channeling Ember’s energy to launch herself into the air.
For a fleeting, exhilarating moment, she soared. The wind lashed against her face, and she felt a wild rush of power. They will see, she thought, heart racing, even as she felt the searing pain tear through her legs upon landing, the bones shattering with the impact. She gritted her teeth, forcing back a scream as she reached for Scarlet’s essence, draining the last reserves to force her bones to knit together. She could almost feel Ember’s quiet disapproval, as if chiding her for her recklessness, while Scarlet pulsed with fierce approval, urging her onward.
As she rose, her legs trembling, Lyanna surveyed the soldiers, now watching her with wide, uncertain eyes. Yes, she thought. Now you understand. Lady Lyanna Mirrorguard is simply not just a stand-in. I am your commander. And far from cowed by orcish firepower.
Taking another deep breath, Lyanna walked with slow, deliberate steps to the edge of the dune, her hands raised, trusting Edda to amplify her voice. The camp fell silent, and the weight of her presence demanded their attention.
“I see fear in your eyes. You’ve seen what we’re up against. You’ve felt the wrath of the Skybreaker, seen the crater it left in our ranks.”
She let her gaze sweep over them, meeting the eyes of each soldier who dared look back at her. “I’m scared too. But we have a duty. To the crown, to the people we swore to protect. And fear cannot take that from us.”
“The orc bastards have shown their desperation by using a weapon meant to annihilate us. But we survived. And they used those cannons for a reason. They are protecting something—a secret worth slaughtering our brothers and sisters in arms. And it is our duty to uncover it.”
She saw the soldiers shifting, their fear beginning to mingle with something else. A spark of determination. Good, she thought. Let them hold onto that.
“And duty does not go unrewarded,” Lyanna continued, letting a slight smile touch her lips. “In the ruins of that Skybreaker cannon lie essence crystals, enough to enrich even the most impoverished among you. I vow to divide them. Three parts will go to the soldiers who follow me into battle. Half a part for those of you who serve as our support, and half a part for the priests, that they may continue to protect our spirits. One part will go to the gods and goddesses who favor us, and three to our queen.”
She watched as the realization dawned in their eyes, their initial fear giving way to shouts of excitement and pride. She could feel it—this was what they needed. The promise of reward, of something to gain from all this suffering, was powerful. Their cheers rose, swelling with newfound purpose.
Lyanna smiled; in one fell stroke, she had secured their devotion, pleased the queen and her dragon with her promise of tribute, and secured her family fortunes. For the two shares of the crystals that would go to her family would be more than enough to cover any losses—and to profit from whatever reward the queen might choose to bestow.
And as the cheering ebbed, Lyanna raised her hand again. “Priests of Arthor,” she commanded. “Ask the Father to bless us as we fulfill our duty.”
The priests, robed in dark blue and adorned with silver pendants, began to move among the ranks, offering blessings, each one a prayer for protection. A few soldiers clutched small tokens, tiny reminders of their loved ones, as they whispered quick prayers to Amoria, the Goddess of Love, invoking her protection so that they could survive the upcoming trials and make it back home to their loved ones.
Lyanna’s lips curled into a cold, satisfied smile. Today, she had won their loyalty, fortified their purpose, and pleased the queen. Her essence reserves were nearly drained, but it didn’t matter. I’ve staked my claim on this battle, she thought. Soon, that dragon egg—and the orc’s secret—will be ours.