New Certainties

The information from the young captive trickled in over the course of several days. Moira relayed it to John with the bearing of a casualty notification officer — wary of the task, not afraid of him so much as afraid for him. That part, he could live with.

The way her eyes flicked to Vallya once, in a moment where Moira's discipline faltered, was harder to stomach. Not because John had expected Lord Brighton to carry the knowledge in secret. If anything, Moira knowing meant he'd successfully conveyed one of his few remaining secrets without the unpleasantness of another conversation.

But it was also another secret known. And that meant John bore the weight of not only Moira's glance, but of the particular way Vallya's tails hung low for nearly an hour after the conversation had finished. It was the accused droop of a woman who had been watched too closely. Not because the watcher thought she might be frightened by the nature of what was being done, but because they thought she might enjoy it too much.

But information rolled in regardless of who heard it.

On the first day, they learned of their foe's intent. The Northern Ashes were determined to continue south along the continent, minding Himiko's borders, until they either found the answers they sought or perished in pursuit of them. They were fully prepared to conquer the Great Plains Alliance, rampage through the unaffiliated lands surrounding Springfield, and then continue on to the territories of the technomancer guild that sponsored most of the southeast.

On the second day, they learned of their numbers. Not an exact count — the lad they had captured was no logistics officer — but a rough figure. Three hundred living necromancers. Now one less. It was a humbling number against the Great Plains Alliance's couple thousand mages spread across the front, with another two thousand in leadership, civilian, or logistics roles. Though John had learned, in his time among them, that there were not many in the Abyss who qualified as "civilian."

On the third day, Julianna joined the discussions.

The Legion had not made the same decision the GPA had. Julianna had known the moment Alex entered their custody, and what the Order had learned was relayed to her in full. She did not find either the rate or the quality of the information satisfactory. Heated words passed between her, Moira, and Lord Brighton. John stayed on the sidelines, out of range of casual mockery but close enough to catch the color of the conversation. It ended with an agreement to allow the Legion their own attempts at prying information loose.

What followed came later that afternoon, in pieces.

Adantia's claim to have wounded the dragon seemed to hold true; it had not been used or spoken of by the necromancers since the day she fled. The knowledge didn't change the state of affairs, but it reinforced that the state would not change soon, and when the alternative was the arrival of a great undead wyrm, John found that a stalemate was suddenly not so horrendous a fate.

The corpse supply was less inspiring. Thousands of human bodies. Animal bodies in numbers that could only be counted in mounds of viscera. This was not news Alex had gained at the front — it was information from his years of service, of the work Xanthia's necromancers had been doing long before anyone knew there was a war coming. They had torn apart mundane graveyards with Geomancy and concealing Barriers, exhuming whole fields of bodies and leaving the graves with no signs of disturbance. They had hunted wholesale across the remote stretches of Alaska, slaughtering wild animals or picking clean the carcasses of predator kills. Most of what they had thrown against the alliance so far were constructs from these mundane bones. The resurrected mages were the exception, not the rule.

On the matter of Abyssal corpses, Alex couldn't provide a precise number — and that part seemed more intentional. The Northern Ashes had begun their campaign in secret years ago, targeting isolated mages and small guilds taking refuge in the undeveloped northern regions of Canada. The disappearances had been noted. No one had risen against them. There was no **** to the north powerful enough to stand alone, and no unity among the smaller guilds. Much like Springfield prior to John's return, every significant guild had either fought to the end alone or fled the area entirely.

"A **** seeking to clear a blighted path across an entire continent, and the bastards that populate the world can't even come together long enough to stop them..."

Less forgiving words continued to echo in John's mind for the rest of that afternoon. The GPA themselves were just a microcosm of the greater issue with the Abyss, which was that there was no unity that extended past the reach of any single mage's grasp. Regions like Himiko's vast territories across the west coast were earned through power, their enemies deterred by power, and their peoples kept in order by the unfettered demonstration of that power.

On the fourth day, they learned that the Northern Ashes were on the move. They did not learn this from Alex.

They learned it because something had finally happened that was catastrophic enough to **** the GPA's hand on sharing information.

"Three Barriers down, and no sign of the infiltrator. That's all I've been told, I swear it to you. I am trying to learn more, but I can't do that while we're—"

"We understand. Just redirect your mages and protect the line. Give us the locations of the worst of it!" Moira, to her credit, was doing an excellent job of restraining the anger and keeping her tone to a cutting professionalism. Only the red tint of her face hinted at the simmering fury at yet another gross negligence on the GPA's behalf.

"Nothing in my sectors. The three I gave are being hit the worst. Risen mages and high-grade constructs, worst we've seen since before Adantia's injuries." Gerry's voice was clipped, his pace faster than usual. "Once Barriers went down, they started assaulting a twenty-mile stretch of the front. I'm working to reposition a few of our mages to reinforce the lines, but we're already stretched so thin... if I maneuver more than a handful, it'll only take a handful of them to break through our lines."

"Get your own affairs in order." Kim's hand tightened over the hilt of her blade with such **** that John could hear the woven cord grinding against the metal beneath. "Adantia will be at those sectors shortly. You waste time sending mages that will not arrive before the battle's end."

"I am doing what I can." Gerry's voice rivaled Moira's for the anger underneath. John could not tell how much was pointed at them and how much was reserved for the man's own superiors. "If I learn anything of use to your sectors, I will alert you. Until then, I'll try to relay what I can to Adantia. Contact me if you have anything further."

The line was cut at the last word. Moira stared at the home screen for a frustrated moment before tucking the device away in the pockets beneath her armor.

"They trying to break through where the lines are weaker? Where the whole Order isn't waiting for them?" Lerianna mused.

"Or it's a trap for Adantia." John grimaced, his eyes cast to the east. "They knew if she heard someone was slaughtering Fateweavers without being seen, she'd assume it was Wren at work, and run off to put her friend to rest."

The very moment that Gerry had mentioned Fateweavers being slain without a trace, Adantia's look had turned to steel. She'd only waited long enough to get a direction and coordinates before rushing off alone. She hadn't even left them the badge; they'd needed to call Gerry on Moira's phone to get more details.

"It is likely both," Lord Brighton agreed. "There have been no sightings of her former ally in days, perhaps weeks, and now Fateweavers begin dying en masse? They're deploying a massive **** at the same time, as well. If Adantia arrives alone and is too shaken by the effort of trying to locate this Wren, they may have a chance to attempt their ambush again."

"And if she plays it cautiously, the whole line might be breached and give them a better opportunity to catch us off-guard," Etriyya growled. "Bastards are relying on the fact that we're stuck in place. Can't rotate across a front bigger than the whole damn state when we've got John holding down five Barriers' worth of land."

"So what do we do?"

The question lingered unanswered for a moment. Eyes met across the open air of the campfire, and decisions were made that John was not privy to, but he was the one to find his voice first.

"Lord Brighton," John began, "you should go to aid her. Kwang, you should too. You're both strong enough to swing the battle in her favor if they attempt a repeat of their ambush. And Kwang, from the way Adantia talked about the necromancers you two took down, you're the most likely one to find Wren besides her. If we take Wren down, we avoid losing more Barriers, and we cut out a big part of their firepower."

"You would hold this line yourselves? Knowing they are mobilizing a greater **** than we faced before?" Lord Brighton scratched at his mustache, sounding neither fully opposed nor fully pleased with the idea.

"I will not abandon my daughter to hunt after this assassin so far from our camp." Kwang's rejection was firm, but it met a resistance sharper than any John could provide.

"You will not be abandoning your daughter. You will be leaving a Slayer to do her duty," Kim cut in sharply. Her voice retained the veil of familial respect, but there was no argument to be brooked with her tone. Kwang seemed intent on trying anyway, but John slid into the silence.

"We will hold the line. I will take a more active role, and I'll call up Maera, Mithra, and Aclysia to bolster our numbers." John hesitated only for a moment over the names, but left it at those three. Orria had her role to play, whether they were attacked or not. "I still haven't had to go all out. Besides, if things get truly bleak, we can call you — and failing that, we can break the Barrier ourselves and retreat. No one will be abandoned, no one will be sacrificed."

"John is right." Moira stepped to his side smoothly, taking up a position at his left-forward, putting her across from Sophia. "We are not mere children, and there are enough of us here to stand strong, even with the three of you gone. If the **** truly is so vast, Adantia may need all the hands she can get, regardless of whether Wren is still around or not. We will hold the line until you return. You have my word, Lord Protector."

Moira slammed her clenched fist over her heart. Lord Brighton nodded in return, his eyes flicking to watch Kwang. The Moon Clan patriarch gave no reaction save the swivel of his eyes, taking in his daughter, Moira, and John in turn, with noticeable shifts in his mood accompanying each.

"We will at least begin the journey east," Kwang agreed. Even his stiff speech couldn't fully level out the ****. "But we will maintain contact with Adantia. If it seems this Wren has fled behind enemy lines once more, we will return with haste. I will not risk my daughter or the Order's numbers for less than that."

"We'll hold until you return, one way or the other." John stood a little straighter.

"I will take to the skies to join Vallya, Father." Sophia clasped a hand on his shoulder, accompanied by a firm squeeze. "You will know the very moment an undead approaches."

Sophia launched without further announcement. The land around them shimmered for a moment as her wings formed across her shoulders. The campfire sputtered as she ascended with a powerful stroke.

"If they are foolish enough to think they can roll over us simply because our fathers attend to other duties, they will be disappointed." Kim strode to join John on the side opposite Moira. "If they attack, we will cull their numbers to match whatever damages you inflict at the site of the breach."

Kwang seemed ready to caution Kim further, but Lord Brighton stayed him with a raised hand. "We only waste time. If we are to leave, better to make it quickly, that we might end this sooner."

Kwang nodded once, then vanished — not even a breeze stirred from where he had been. Lord Brighton's exit was more conspicuous, a faint golden aura rising up over his armor before he began a sprint to the east that carried him fast enough to blur his form to John's eyes.

Kim must have caught the surprise on his face. She gave a half-smirk streaked with envy.

"Give me another year or two," Kim muttered, "and you'll be looking at me like that, John Newman."

"I wasn't—"

"Double the watch," Kim ordered with no direction to the loud command. She spun on her heel and strode away, off toward the northern border of the Barrier. "They may arrive in a minute or an hour. We will stand ready, whatever comes."

The first hour was quiet.

Not the silence of a passed danger. The silence of an army preparing the work of the next several hours, deciding which formation to hurl forward first and how much of it would need to die before the next one followed. There were no sightings, no reports from Sophia, Vallya, or any of the Legion and GPA scouts placed outside the Barrier. The tension lingered all the same, as surely as if the bleached-white bones of their foes were already staring at them across the divide of reality.

Maera, Mithra, and Aclysia arrived within minutes, sparing only enough time to sit the kittens down with Farrah and Aria and retrieve their battle gear. Maera and Mithra seemed oblivious to the tension of the soldiers milling about and set themselves to scenting every square foot of the vast encampment, though they half-minded John's warning about not straying too far.

"Have things grown dire, Master?" Aclysia's eyes were already scanning when she joined Lerianna and Shishun by his side.

"Technically, we're not even under attack yet. Perhaps we won't be. But I'm not going to count on it. Be ready — if an attack comes, it'll be a strong one."

Aclysia's rushed armor and blade were quickly discarded. John regretted not having the Order forge her a set the same way that Maera and Mithra had gotten them, but they'd spared him enough materials, and there were still plenty of remnants left over from the marathon dungeon session that had never been properly processed due to his brush with ****.

Craft, Salvage, and Refine worked together for the better part of the hour to convert all of it into something useful. It wasn't as graceful as the bespoke equipment that the Order had produced, but it was functional, and soon Aclysia stood before John in a set of armor that rivaled his own. With everyone properly outfitted, John set to work distributing the alchemical supplies that still lingered.

Two potions of healing and mana for each of them — he kept the lowest quality of those for himself, a form of penance he didn't let slip to the others. He gave Shishun and Sophia each a Greater Oil of Holy Fury (Average) with instructions not to use it lightly, then he took the third for himself. The oils had required rarer materials, and they only had the three that had come out at a reasonable quality. The Draughts of Undead Resistance were spread across a wide spectrum of quality too; John prioritized those that would be in close contact for the more potent draughts.

While he was equipping Aclysia and doling out the liquid buffs, Moira went to organize and ready the Order. The entire formation was placed at stand-to readiness, leaving only enough of a buffer between their vanguard and the Barrier's edge so that the enemy would not be directly upon them if and when they came through. Etriyya went with her, taking up a position not far from the front lines herself.

Kim remained nearby. With no troops to command and her father departed, she found herself becoming the messenger, relaying short texts and clipped phone calls each time her father or Lord Brighton sent word.

"Another Fateweaver down. They're on the hunt." Minutes passed. A short, tense phone conversation. "Two sectors were annihilated. Reinforcements are working to retake them." A much longer pause, almost fifteen minutes without a single text, then, "I believe they have reclaimed the territory that was lost. The line holds. Not without cost."

"Nyaa, Myaster, we gonna fight?" Maera and her sister had returned to the camp once they tired of their inspections, though not before earning the ire of a handful of GPA soldiers running around and nearly tripping over the lithe felines. "Was worried when you called us."

"I hope we don't have to fight. But if we do, it's going to take all of us. Sorry, Maera. Why don't you try to take a nap?" John gave the white-haired Neko a few scratches behind the ear. She mewled happily and – somehow – was out like a light in minutes, kneeling on the ground with her head resting easily in John's lap, her arms cushioning her from the armor beneath. When the tension got too much, he let himself gaze down at her calm expression with an envious mixture of admiration and disbelief. Mithra positioned herself on his right, still awake but leaning heavily into John's side while things remained calm.

"Master, how may I make myself of the most use to you?" Aclysia had taken up a position at the northern end of their gathering circle, her eyes constantly scanning the boundary. "I am unfamiliar with efficiency in such a situation."

"Just stay nearby. Without Lord Brighton and Kwang, we'll have to reinforce the Order's position when needed. And without Adantia, the GPA will be relying on us as well."

"Yeah? What about little miss priss?" Lerianna cocked her hip as she eyed the disciplined lines of the Legion.

"They're our allies. Bastards or not, if they start to fall, we'll help them, too." John didn't conceal the **** in his tone. The decision was sound, logical. He didn't need to pretend it was moral or empathetic for the sake of it.

By the time the second hour passed, some were starting to relax. He could see the GPA mages beginning to waver from their readied positions, and could read in the shifting of their joints that the Order troops were growing restless, too. John's certainty remained ironclad. He had stopped pretending the wait was anything other than the calm before a storm he hadn't yet seen the size of.

The first reports came in from Vallya at the start of the third hour — columns of undead massing along the northern edge of the Barrier at three points, none of them yet close enough to engage, but moving with the steady patience of a tide. They were different from the previous waves, more strengthened, reinforced with more mana, configured in ways John had not anticipated. Rolling balls of bone weaved together over cores of solid iron that desecrated the landscape as much as humanity. **** knights marching at the front. Risen mages numbering in the dozens. Vallya reported sightings of Barriers in the distance — fresh ones, newly constructed.

"They're wielding their full strength to break us now," Kim growled when John relayed Vallya's observations. "They've sent more forces than a handful of their number can maintain. Those Barriers in the distance are emplacements for units of necromancers to hide behind the lines as they send their shambling masses after us."

"Should we attempt to reach them? I am willing to infiltrate, Master, even if–"

"No. We don't have the strength to hold the line and chase after the necromancers together." John grimaced. "I'm worried even holding may take more than we are willing to give. Vallya, come down to join us. Sophia, stay in the air. We'll swap you out with Vallya as needed—stay safe out there."

Around him, the camp shifted. The GPA mages who had grown lax stiffened. The Order Knights who had been pacing went still. Without orders, without announcement, the wavering had ended. The enemy was coming, and there was a strange, terrible relief in that — the kind of relief that came only when the worst part of waiting was finally over.

Kim flicked the guard of her blade with her thumb, exposing the first inch of steel. The blue-tinted steel caught the firelight.

"Ready yourself, John Newman."

John drew his own. The Fang of the New World hummed in his grip, alive in a way it had not been for days. He could feel the Shard of Bishamonten pulsing in his chest, its rhythm as steady as his own breathing.