The Thorn-Blight was partially defeated when a new danger appeared. It was neither a scout nor an overwhelmingly powerful creature.
An army.
Morgans monitoring system, combined with the mountain wards detected activity at the eastern pass—the principal, though perilous path, to their position. A line of soldiers directed by a large entity. Not an Annihilator. Something intentional and authoritative.
"The Queen has finished her questioning " Morgan declared, his expression stern on the viewscreen, in the strategy room—a space Tania had demanded despite her husbands confusion. "That's a spearhead. They're advancing to extract you."
The Angel of Death examined the pictures. "They will shatter upon the mountain."
"And taint the soil for a hundred miles with their blood and essence as a result " Tania replied. "There are refugees there at the moment. We can't allow this to turn into a siege. It will attract everything from miles around."
"Then we encounter them before the pass tightens " Cassiathon stated. The phrase sounded strange coming from him. "We halt the column. Not you, Father." He glanced at the Angel. "If you set foot on that field it turns into a phenomenon. You mentioned it yourself. That attracts the attention of all. This remains, for the moment a mortal-level engagement. A retrieval operation."
The Angel examined him. "You are unprepared, for a fight."
"I must be." Cassiathons tone was resolute. "Morgan is capable of interfering with their communications causing disorder. I can dismantle their defenses. If I manage to cut the command chains to the psychic connections their unity collapses. An army in retreat is a symbol, than a defeated one."
It was a tactical blend of both their teachings: Morgan's chaos, his father's precision.
The Angel fixed his eyes on Tania. She returned his look then gave a hesitant nod. "He's correct. It must be him."
" well " the Angel replied, voice laden. "I shall watch. I will only step in if the balance is genuinely disrupted." This was the trust he could extend.
Sixty minutes afterward Cassiathon was positioned on a towering ledge gazing down at the entrance of the pass. Beneath him the infernal column moved forward with precision. Leading them was a demon, atop a six-legged reptilian creature. Clad in yet practical armor he held a lengthy jagged lance. His visage was defined by features and intense concentration his gaze sweeping the heights not with hostility but with the measured scrutiny of an expert warrior.
Cassiathon identified him from the teachings his father had shared. Raziel Graves. The Demon General. A creature of honor, in his manner and unyielding effectiveness.
Morgans voice buzzed through his earpiece, a scrap tech piece. "Communications are blocked. They can't. Hear their support, for the next five minutes. Their flanks are weak and shaky. Your move, kid."
Cassiathon inhaled deeply. He wasn't confronting a monster or a corrupted servant. He was confronting a leader. A fighter.
He fell from the ledge harnessing bursts of death-energy to reduce his fall speed touching down in a crouched position right in the way of the forward-moving column, fifty yards away, from General Raziel.
The front ranks skidded to a halt, weapons rising with a unified hiss.
Raziel raised a fist stopping his soldiers. He urged his creature ahead a paces his icy gaze fixed on Cassiathon.
"The Abysswalker " Raziel declared, his tone a rough baritone. "The Queens blood summons you. I sense it from here. Step aside. My directive is to capture you not to squander my troops on a sideshow."
Cassiathon stood up pulling out his plain steel sword. The grey power, lightly infused with a soft contained violet hue, shimmered along the edge. "I won't accompany you.. You won't get beyond here."
Raziels face tightened. "What a shame. I shall return your corpse to the alchemists for examination." He brought his lance down. "Make it difficult. My troops enjoy an experience."
The battle for the pass began not with a roar, but with the cold, ringing silence before the storm.