Chapter 5: Ashes Of Strategy

Lyanna stumbled, her vision blurring as she climbed down the dune. Each step sent fresh waves of pain through her legs, barely held together by the last dregs of essence she’d managed to salvage.

Fool, she berated herself, bitterly savoring the anger. All that power, wasted for a show of authority. Now I’m useless, my bones feel like shattered glass, and I’ve barely enough essence left to move a grain of ash.

When she reached the bottom of the dune, she sagged against the ground, too exhausted to care her image. Calm, control, she thought, attempting to steady her erratic breathing. She closed her eyes, reaching inward to scrape together any remaining fragments of energy. She needed to regain strength, if only to stave off the aching exhaustion.

The attempt at meditation was pitiful, her focus slipping with every heartbeat. Just as she was on the edge of settling into the rhythm, a scout’s footsteps broke her concentration. She looked up, irritated, but she quickly schooled her features into a mask of authority.

“My lady,” he panted, stopping short and bowing. “The first Blackthorn army has suffered catastrophic losses. Alec Blackthorn alone survives, along with a fraction of his forces. He wishes to join with us.” He paused, his voice trembling. “The Duke… his father… has fallen, along with the main Blackthorn army.”

The words sank heavily into Lyanna’s mind, her fists clenching at the implication. Protocol, she thought, fury rising within her. It demands that our forces now merge. Alec will be hungry for any remaining spoils, and he’s entitled to a share.

She needed a reason, a real, ironclad excuse to delay meeting him—at least until she’d secured her claims. But what could possibly work?

Perhaps she could claim her forces needed rest to recover, or that Alec should secure the supply lines before joining them. No, that won’t work. They’ll call it cowardice. She clenched her teeth, running through one excuse after another. She needed something undeniable. Something that no one would question.

As she scanned the landscape for inspiration, her gaze settled on the twisted, ruined frame of a Skybreaker cannon platform perched on the opposite dune. Its platform remained intact, sturdy even with its wheels and gears stripped away, and a massive crystal jutted from the center like a broken blade. The weapon itself might be dead, but the platform… Now there’s an idea.

“Scout,” she said calmly, “tell Alec to meet us at the Skybreaker platform on the eastern dune. Say it provides both protection and vantage, given the terrain and the risk of ambush.”

“As you command, Lady Lyanna.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” she added as he turned to leave. “Send word to the supply corps to bring essentials to the platform. And tell Edda to meet me before we march. Quickly, now.”

Once he left, Lyanna sank down on the cool side of the dune, letting herself breathe. For a few moments, she allowed the sounds to fade into silence, her mind and body still. Just a moment’s reprieve. Her eyelids grew heavy, and exhaustion settled over her like a shroud. But it lasted only a few minutes before a voice roused her from the haze of near-sleep.

“My lady, we’re ready to march.” Edda’s voice, calm but weary, roused her. Lyanna opened her eyes. The aide looked as haggard as Lyanna felt, her usual severe expression tight but steady.

“Edda,” Lyanna began, “we’ll march to the Skybreaker platform. I want the camp established there and basic supplies delivered within the hour. And post a guard—our most loyal and trustworthy soldiers only.”

“A guard, my lady?” Edda frowned, calculating. “The platform can hold perhaps a hundred soldiers at most. The full army…”

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“Will pursue the orcs,” Lyanna finished. “The platform is only to secure the supplies and crystals. I’ll need you to organize the aides. We’ll plan as we move.”

Edda nodded, her frown deepening. “Understood, Lady Lyanna.”

As they marched, Lyanna surveyed what little remained of their forces. They’d once commanded nearly nine thousand soldiers across three corps, but now, they were down to a single, battered corps, less than half its strength. Worse, they’d lost their griffin riders.

Without the griffins, the orcs had a lead, a lead they could only close with forced marches that would wear down her soldiers to the bone.

And if they flee too deep into the Burnt Sea, I’ll have no choice but to turn back, she thought bitterly. The scorched wasteland was full of monsters, who would claim them just as mercilessly as any orc ambush.

She shoved the thought aside, focusing on the distant horizon. Soon, Alec’s battered forces would be in view. Rumors had already begun rippling through her ranks—whispers of unification and reinforcement that lifted her soldiers’ spirits as much as they darkened her own.

At the crest of a dune in the haze of ash and smoke, she saw them—Alec’s ragged survivors, no more than a few hundred, their banners drooping, their armor dulled. Her soldiers murmured, their eyes wide with curiosity and relief at the sight of reinforcement. She ignored them, forcing herself to project a calm authority she didn’t feel.

As they passed the scorched carcass of a wyvern, Lyanna’s jaw tightened. The dragon riders would have cut down those orcs within a day.

But all four dragon riders that the Queen has assigned them had been lost in the first battle, barely trained, sent to bolster her sister’s heroics, all of them slain before they’d even reached their third year at the Queen’s University for dragon riders. She couldn’t even count on Alec for such resources—House Blackthorn no longer has a member among the Queen´s champions. Not that she would ever stoop to relying on Alec’s aid, dragon or not.

It was only because of Karina’s rank among the five Queen’s champions that they’d even had dragon support at all. While House Blackthorn had a champion, like all major noble houses. Their position among the champions had be claimed by Karina and Pyrope when she’d bested Duke Gideon and his dragon three times in the dueling pits, sparking the fierce rivalry between their houses.

But rivalry or not, protocol was protocol. Alec’s battered forces would join hers, and together they would chase down the orcs. As much as she despised the thought, she knew that this was the only way to retain even a semblance of control. And if fortune favored them, perhaps she could seize what they both desired—the queen’s favor, the crystals, and the honor of victory—before Alec could lay claim to any of it.

As they continued, Lyanna scanned the sky, narrowing her eyes against the ash-laden haze. Where are you, Karina? She combed the clouds for any sign of her sister and Pyrope.

Every passing moment heightened her unease. Dragon battles were either quick, vicious affairs lasting minutes, or long, drawn-out struggles that went on for hours. But by now, there should have been some signal—smoke, a dragon’s roar, something.

Beside her, Edda fell into step, her face carefully composed despite her own exhaustion. “My lady,” she said gently, “try not to worry. Karina and Pyrope are stronger than any opponent they could face. She’ll return.”

Lyanna’s mouth tightened, her usual stoicism cracking. “You don’t understand, Edda. Karina and Pyrope… they’re family.” Her voice faltered, softer. “I can’t—well, I simply can’t lose her. You… you wouldn’t understand.”

At that, a flicker of surprise crossed Edda’s face. “Hasn’t Karina ever told you about us?”

“Of course,” Lyanna snapped. “She told me you’re close. And that you’re… trusted.” She trailed off, a little uncertainly. Karina’s mention of Edda had always been ambiguous, leaving her puzzled more than reassured.

A small, amused chuckle escaped Edda’s lips, catching Lyanna off guard. “Close?” she repeated, a hint of mischief in her tone. “We’re not just close, Lady Lyanna. Karina and I have been… intimate for years now.” She tilted her head, her eyes twinkling with laughter. “Trusted aide, yes, but also her lover.”

Lyanna’s cheeks flushed, the realization hitting her like a slap. “I—I didn’t realize,” she stammered. “When Karina mentioned it, I was only twelve…”

“Surely, it was a little clearer to you later,” Edda teased, raising an eyebrow. “All those dinners, all those late-night conversations, all those looks we shared? Or the gifts she sent with me for your birthdays?”

Lyanna opened her mouth to respond, but a flurry of hoofbeats drew her attention. A scout approached, pale-faced and wide-eyed, her horse snorting with effort as she reined it to a halt. The scout dismounted quickly, dipping into a hurried bow before speaking.

“My lady, we’ve received alarming reports from the front scouts. A… a beast tide is heading this way.”