Chapter 3 – first opposition
Emmett observed the landscape quickly rolling beneath the deeply humming, vibrating form of the Tetrarch. His face not revealing an ounce of the twisting feelings inside, because it could not. In front of the craft the Valkyries started forming up in some kind of attack formation he did not know the name of, because that was not his responsibility. He looked down on the rows of cogitator banks, taking in the controlled movements of the pilots, the crewmen finetuning their parameters and the gun control servitors staring blindly at things only they could see through the Tetrarchs sensors. They all wore the dark blues and reds of the Lerderian Household Guard and showed with their professionalism that they were worthy. For now. Emmett stood apart in his heavy coat, as it should be. And he knew that they all felt his hard eyes upon them, weighting them, searching for the cracks in their character.
Suddenly, an air pocket rocked the heavy craft and Emmett had to steady himself on the command throne beside him. The chiselled form of the Arch-Militant gave him a hard glance before dismissing him and instead focusing on the mountain range, which was taking up more and more of the viewport as they closed in.
Emmett immediately steadied himself, releasing the command throne. Once again his thoughts wandered to his executed forbearer. No one had told him what she had done and he hadn't dared pressing the point. He did not even know if they had that authority. But that was included when working for a rogue trader family. They were the authority, answering only to the God Emperor himself. Emmett stopped his mind wandering, scolding himself for his lack of thought discipline. He could not decide when his path would end. He could only strive for a soul worthy of the Emperor's protection when the time came.
Dark clouds and lightning started dominating the skies before them and the last rays of sun shone on the black wall blocking the pass into the valley beyond. The vanguard crossed the wall unmolested. He could see the crew tensing before the ominous sight before them, just like he did. According to the Mago's data analysis, the weather pattern was clearly unnatural and centred at the strange tower beyond the mountains. And the Arch-Militant seemed to trust this statement fully. Emmett looked down on the only calm man on the bridge, who was slowly sipping his recaf. A simple but very effective man that did not question the world or his orders. Emmett could see why the Captain kept him around.
"The Chiropter has been hit by lightning!" one of the crewmen suddenly shouted over the din and a red marker circled something far away on the viewport.
Emmett strained but could not identify the scout craft several kilometres ahead, but he could see lighting. Spears of bright light forked down with just seconds in between them. The Arch-Militant had already left the throne and was making his way to the small man sitting on a stool in the corner.
"Valkyrie Duodecimus has been hit by lighting and is going down!" another crewman shouted.
Emmett laid a hand on his gun, focusing on the bridge crew, they were part of his responsibility. Not the scene beyond. In the corner of his eye, he saw the towering form of the Arch-Militant over the small man who stared out of the viewports. Eyes wide with fear.
The seconds dragged out and more casualties were shouted out and marked in the viewports, the first indicator circles slowly sinking towards the ground. In the corner the lesser of the two men quickly glanced up and nodded towards the Arch-Militant who immediately straightened. Emmett felt his blood run cold.
"Full to port!" the Arch-Militants deep commanding voice easily filling the bridge. "Pulverize that wall in the name of the Captain and the Emperor! And call back the vanguard."
Emmett had to grab the command throne again as the floor tilted sharply to the left. The Tetrarch vibrated heavy as its substantial engines slowly shifted the momentum away from the attack vector. Then the keel guns opened up and the whole craft shock as it was trying to shake itself apart.
"No incoming return fire identified, no target locks, no identified munition signatures…" a frustrated crewman notified, almost screaming to be heard over the cacophony.
"The enemy garrison is identified as some form of mutant, stable mutation, probably a weaponised one, possibly subhuman" another one informed.
"The walls are not falling, they seem impregnable" a third shouted from the gun-servitor banks.
"Nothing but the Emperors Imperium is impregnable" the Arch-Militant assured them while keeping his voice comfortably above the clamourwhile he made his way over to the vox crew. "Give me the Captain"
The Tetrarch had now turned away from the walls and slowly corrected itself, but the guns continued firing on the walls behind.
"The area is protected by defences psychic in nature, corruption likely." The Arch-Militant said into the vox unit one of the crew held up in his direction. "Requesting a cleansing orbital bombardment. Preferably pyroplasm gas."
The bridge tensed as they all heard the requisition and awaited the answer. Only the thrum of the cannons seemed unperturbed by the sudden paus. The retreating valkyries came into view as they overtook the Tetrarch and reformed around it.
Suddenly all the voxcasters around the bridge came to life with distortions and the heavy breathing of someone too close to their vox.
"Denied, Arch-Militant" the Captain said with finality and then cut the link.
Emmett studied the large man's stone face, searching for weakness, but was found wanting. The Arch-Militant only needed a second of digestion before he turned to Emmett and started towards his command throne.
"There was a flat hill in the southwestern quadrant from the gates." The man said for all to hear as he crossed the bridge and sat down. "Bring the Tetrarch down and unload the First Company of our beloved Guard." His hard features looked straight ahead through the armour glass. Probably planning the solution to this growing problem Emmett inferred. As an afterthought the man then added to his lieutenant "and bring down my Colossus from high orbit, that wall is a blasphemy to the Emperor and will be treated as such."
To try to exploit instead of destroying the possible corrupted area went against all Emmett's instincts and the conventional war doctrine. But then again, this was not a conventional war. His forebearer came into mind again. He scolded himself again. There had to be a limit. He was of no use to the Emperor if he was controlled by fear. When the guns went silent, he released the throne and unsteadily walked over to the vox crew as the Tetrarch once again shifted as it found the new bearing.
The man and the woman looked up from their equipment when they heard his heavy boots behind them, and their eyes widened. His dark coat, his boltgun, his regalia, the winged scull on the cap, his emotionless face, his rank. They all instilled the same instinct of fear in the common soldiery. As it should be, he thought while he looked down on them at their station. He stretched between them and adjusted a dial to the correct channel and then took the vox headset from the woman's head.
"To all craft leaving the engagement area." He spoke slowly into the headset in his hand. Habitually he fell into his schola trained voice, modulated for unquestioning authority. "Land immediately on the flat hilltop to your southwest. End of message."
He handed the headset back to the crewman and straightened, scanning the bridge without seeing anything. He focused instead on controlling his adrenaline spiked breathing and thanking the Emperor for the face that gave no hint of the emotions inside. He spoke a silent prayer as he, after a few seconds, turned around towards the throne and met the gaze of the Arch-Militant. Emmett met the stare but knew he could never hold it. Instead, he started towards the bridge doors.
"I'll be joining the First, guarding their hearts and spirit." Emmett said as he passed the throne. "And as for the pilots that already entered the corrupted area… I'll handle them" he added.
The Arch-Militant did not answer but Emmett felt the man's eyes upon him as he passed.
Emmett descended the claustrophobic stairs down into the cargo hold where the First Company of the Lerderian Household Guard waited in the dim red light. Row upon row of soldiers sat tightly packed together in their groups with their weapons, equipment bags and support weapon safely tied down beneath them. Most of them looked ahead or down, some muttering prayers or whispered to their closest comrades.
One of the regimental priests walked along the only open space in the hold, the central aisle between the hundreds of soldiers. She had an incense burner dangling in a chain from one open palm and the field version of the Lectitio Divinitatus in the other.
"His light shines upon you. His power acts through you. His hands are on your weapons, on your lives, on your very souls. The Emperor is watching, judging and will protect His worthy." she intoned as she walked on. Some of the closest soldiers reached out and with deference let their finger brush her robes. Many did the sign of the Aquila.
Emmett made his way through the hold and checked his attire and pistol with trained motions as he muttered along with the priest words in the regimental litany. The security of faith would hopefully be enough to protect the soldiers from the proximity of the wall.
The craft shock as the landing gear was extruded and the engines fought to keep the deacceleration within parameters. The light shifted to green in the hold and the soldiers stood as one, muttered the last prayers of protection and strength while readying their guns.
The major of the First, a survivor of House Lerderians many campaigns, chosen for his loyalty and faith, shouted over the din of the hold. His voiced reinforced by his helmet vox caster. "We will land on a plateau, secure the edges according to standard defensive pattern 'lake'. Heavies towards the wall, you'll know it when you see it. Incoming artillery fire expected. Reinforcements indeterminate."
The major closed to Emmett's position at the aft ramp while shouting and finished by turning around to the men as the Tetrarch heavily landed.
"ARE YOU WITH ME, GUARD?" he shouted as the ramp fell.
"AS ONE FOR THE CAPTAIN" the soldiers answered and ran out on both sides of the commissar and major.
Emmett strode out among the tumult of the soldiers that fell into platoons and groups, spreading out over the gravel hill. The Tetrarch had created a small dust storm which made the scene even more chaotic, and he did not even see where the wall was. But that was not his problem. He saw the contours of the landed valkyries ahead and steeled himself. He had never executed anyone for chaos taint. Would he even recognise it? It was a fine line for a commissar to thread, to balance the killing of suspects to safeguard the morale without breaking it in the process.
The pilots stood at attention in front of their crafts, a bit confused until they saw him emerge from the dust. Skullcap and heavy coat unmistakeable. Emmett went to the first of the line, the two pilots in front of the small scout craft that had led the advance over the wall and still made it out alive. He stopped in front of them, looking them in the eyes, reading their nametags. 'First Pilot Amelia' and 'Head Operator Storandor'. He saw the dusted sweat on their brow, their tense muscles, their too open eyes. He smelled their fear. But fear was not proof of guilt or taint. How was he to know, even after all his schooling. But Emmett's face was locked tight in its usual emotionlessness and couldn't betray his thoughts the way Storandor's and Amelia's was plain to read.
"Kneel" he almost whispered to them. They glanced uncertainly at each other.
"IN THE EMPERORS NAME, KNEEL!" he then shouted while unholstering his heavy bolt pistol. They both fell to their knees, hand up in instinctive supplication and protection.
"KNEEL" he turned and shouted along the lines of the pilots who already looked straight at him. No one went for their guns, no one tried to run. In moments every single pilot was kneeling in front of their craft, many looked down as they couldn't meet his gaze. How would one recognise the corrupt ones? He wondered if he even had the right to spare any of these pilots.
Emmett looked down into the eyes of First Pilot Amelia, trying to pierce her soul with his gaze alone. Softly, almost to himself he started humming a common children's hymn while aiming the bolt pistol at her, never letting her gaze go. With the gun he gestured for her to join and soon the line of pilots all unsteadily sang for their souls.
Outwards Emmett silently hummed the hymn and stared into the faces of the pilots. But under his cold mask, his thoughts raced. He couldn't see anything except confusion and fear in their eyes. He weighted their souls but didn't know what they should weigh. When he'd slowly walked the line of pilots he stopped the humming with a gesture with the pistol, not having killed any of them. He felt relived and a failure.
"The Emperor find you worthy. Return to your duties" Emmett said to them dismissively and left them while holstering his unfired weapon.
The First was already working all over the hill and the trenches had started taking form. They filled sandbags with the light gravel they dug up to line the dugouts and to create nests for the stubbers and mortars.
A lookout called out and Emmett's gaze was drawn to the silent wall beyond the open ground. There was no shooting from the wall, no artillery, no answer at all from the ones protecting the dark lands beyond. But the lookout had noted part of the wall opening on oversized, hidden hinges. The soldiers redoubled their efforts to create their protections.
Emmett took out his pocket magnocular, activated it with a twist and looked through it. The wall opened just a sliver and let out a tall lone black rider. The rider had a bearing of far too much confidence for one riding alone towards their soon to be fortified hill from a wall just burned by the Tetrarchs wrath. Emmett would have scowled if he had been able.
The sun set beyond the horizon and the Tetrarch lifted off heavily with its escort craft following. Leaving Emmett and the First on the hilltop in the encroaching darkness.
§§§
The quartet left the citadel with Vivian leading the way back to Little Bird. She practically walked on air with her new diplomatic peace mission in mind and having left the unfruitful discussions with the leader of this mini-hive. He apparently controlled quite a bit of the continent and peace on his eastern front would surely win him over. Her Aunt Captain would be so proud.
"My Lady" the bald girl unsurely said from behind Vivian, disturbing her musings.
Vivian strode on but asked over her shoulder "Yes? Did you sense something or what?". She said it a bit harder than she intended and added softer "What's your name by the way, girl? Do you have a designation or something?"
"Pim…" the girl said from too far behind. She had stopped. They all turned on their heels. The girl stood and looked up into the ceiling of the corridor. Some muscles jerked in her fingers and her breath could be seen as if it were winter. "…they call me Pim in the Choir."
Tartor already had his gun aimed squarely in the girls face while Krishan backed away from her. The guards escorting them had not lowered their spears but also backed away from the strange girl.
'No no no no' Vivian swore inwardly. Denethor had forbidden the girl from using powers not 5 minutes ago. And to shoot one of their own diplomatic party would be a severe sign of weakness. Without thinking Vivian passed Tartor and closed the distance to the girl. She could feel her skin crawl and stopped just out of reach of the girl.
"Girl" Vivian said silently, glancing at the guards. "Stop this at once."
"I can see a blackness, a pearl of blackness clothed in silk." The girl whispered while looking unseeing upwards. "It searches for the heir at the bridge" she continued.
"Girl" Vivian repeated, with a commanding voice. "Pim," she added "we are going now."
The girl at last looked down at Vivan with her unfocused eyes, "I think he has used it too much, it's eating him" she mumbled.
"I'm sure, come on now" Vivian tried and at last the strangeness left Pim and she nodded tiredly and followed.
They exited the citadel. They had all collected themselves somewhat even if no one walked close to Pim.
"I'm sure your ravings have some sort of value" Vivian tried, without looking at Pim. "But try making some sense of them before passing them on. We'll revisit them at the Righteous Flame."
She then looked hard at the girl that couldn't look back. "And know that if you risk my diplomatic mission again I'll leave you here with the heathens."
Pim didn't answer.
When they got to Little Bird Krishan pointed eastward and, as Vivan had deducted, they could easily see the Beacon of Osgiliath far away over the farmland. But it wasn't the only flame that dominated the dark night. It seemed that the whole village was aflame around it.
"How in the Emperors name are you going to stop that?" Krishan demanded. "With your diplomatic 'charm'?" He added, sarcasm dripping.
"I'm sure it'll come to me when we're there" she answered with expertly feigned light humour, not letting her growing stress show through. It looked like a large village, maybe several thousand of people lived there. How large would that kind of battle be? Superior technology only got you so far after all. She looked over at her cliff, Tartor, and felt safer already. She would handle it, she always did.
§§§
"That testing area to the northeast from us is supposedly guarded by some kind of genetically constructed mutant species" Krishan said to the team while they cruised eastwards in Little Bird. He sat, dataslate in hand, reviewing the reports that had came in over the dinner. "The Guard is supposedly content with holding the line, containing the area for now. There haven't been any fighting since the initial skirmish just some hours ago."
"Why?" Pim asked carefully.
"If I know my aunt, she's just avoiding shooting some monster that could be working for her tomorrow" Vivian answered from the cockpit. Not sure if that was the answer the strange girl had asked for.
"Or maybe she's just waiting for you to pacify the planet diplomatically?" Krishan retorted while continuing his scrolling.
Vivian almost smiled to herself. That little man's dry sarcasm was growing on her.
Krishan continued, "In other news the Mechanichum has started on the foundation of the hive but has apparently met some resistance from a local variant of subhuman, some short and weak variant that thrived in the area for some reason."
Vivian made sure she'd deactivated all external lights of Little Bird and did a flyby at altitude over Osgiliath. It was divided by a large river and had habitation on both sides. The western part barely lit at all. The eastern part in flames. Only a single dark bridge connected the two.
She couldn't see any details from the fighting which she guessed was standard in medieval warfare with its lack of flashes and vehicles. Her gunservitor mumbled on and marked hundreds of signatures as possible targets but without differentiating between the sides.
She cursed the short minutes it had taken to fly over here. She still had no idea of how to make two factions in open conflict stop hitting each other long enough to listen to her. Maybe Tartor had some kind of flash grenade? She would have to trust her excellent improv skills and wing it.
"Setting down now" Vivian said to the team. She did a quick sonar sweep and found some kind of open space between the buildings at the dark side of the river.
When they were at roof height, she activated the flood lights beneath Little Bird and she saw soldiers scurrying everywhere in panic. She put the craft down and turned off the engines.
"Wait a minute!" Krishan said with a raised voice. "Are you seriously bringing a state of the art gunship into an active battlezone and then walking to the frontline?"
Vivian climbed back to the passenger compartment and stared at him. "This is a diplomatic mission, seneschal" she explained slowly. "I won't blow the Emperor's subjects up without even talking to them." She stopped his indignant answer with a perfectly manicured finger in his face. "Remember when my aunt, your boss, didn't even shoot militant mutants because they had more value alive than dead? I would dare say the same rule applies to humans too."
"Maybe so," Krishan answered at last, "but I'll observe your diplomatic prowess from here in the armoured gunship."
"Suit yourself" Vivian dismissed, not having energy except for the mission at hand and instead turning to Tartor who was providing himself with one of the ship's las carbines, it looked minute in his large hands. He looked as much as a cliff as always but she'd known him long enough to know when he was tense.
"Ready?" Vivian asked him.
"Always" he answered simply, meeting her gaze.
"I'm joining too, if proper." Pim said with her usual small voice. "I've never been to a battlezone before" she added with a small smile.
"…sure" Vivian answered taken off guard. It was probably best to have the girl within sight if she started doing something strange again.
She nodded to Tartor who then dragged the side door open and then jumped out first, as was his right. She followed directly out into the darkness left after she shut down Little Bird. There were soldiers around them in the darkness, holding torches and weapons, shouting orders at them and each other.
"Enough!" she screamed commandingly at the tumult around her in her best try at the local dialect, her high female voice cutting through and silencing the men around her. "The steward of Gondor has sent us to stop this madness."
She then started walking in the direction of the bridge, her shining white mantle billowing with her determined strides. The gondorian soldiery parted before her visage, eyes wide in confusion and wonder. She heard her two companions following a few steps behind her.
They followed cobblestone roads between deserted broken stone buildings. The fighting was probably over the strategic bridge, Vivian thought to herself. Her mind planning and preparing. This village of Osgiliath seemed empty and worthless compared to the mini-hive. 'Minas Tirith' she corrected herself. It did not do to insult the locals.
A tumult greeted them when they come upon the western bridgehead. Soldiers worked, ran and shouted all around. Some screamed for help in agony. The bridge was long and the other side was lost in the dark distance even though some flames and battle could be seen. Wounded came over it in a steady stream. Some were carried, some were dragged and some limped themselves. Others were dead and left by the wayside as the wounded far outnumbered the healers trying to help as many as they could.
The sudden scene overwhelmed Vivian who stopped and stared on the mandatory backside of war. She didn't know where to look. Tartor came up on her left, pointing at some soldiers working at the bridge.
"They have prepared the bridge for collapse for just this kind of event" he stated calmly. The desperate wounded being just background noise to him. "You can see their engineers making the final preparations now. Gondor will soon sacrifice eastern Osgiliath."
Pim came up on Vivians right. "I feel old malice converging on the other side" she noted puzzled. "I wonder what could create such focused emotions." Her unseeing eyes strained as they tried to see something unseen on the other side.
"It sounds like we came just in time then" Vivian declared with a certainty she didn't feel and started crossing the stretch of wounded. 'When in doubt, go forwards' as her father had drummed into her. She couldn't start a peace process at the losing side, she had to talk to the attackers first, make them pause for diplomacy to have its place.
The gondorian soldiers shouted things to her, urging her to explain herself and to turn back. But no one tried blocking her path. Her gold trimmed white uniform making her look like a shining avatar among the blood, dirt and darkness. Well upon the bridge the wounded and fleeing parted before her, making religious gestures at the sight of her or just swore.
As they closed the distance to the other side of the river, the scene of the battle started to unfurl. The clamour of fighting, the burning buildings reflecting in polished steel, formations forming and wavering around the gardens that made up the eastern bridgehead. It seemed that last of the gondorians tried to hold the enemy back until the bridge was collapsed.
The other faction was still hidden behind the fighting but when Vivian scanned the scene she easily spotted the leader of these men. She could not mistake a hero in bearing and a leader by birth. He was a whirlwind of action when he waved the gondorian banner to rally the soldiers, when he blowed an old intricate horn that resonated in the soul, when he led his elite into the heaviest fighting.
Vivian gave herself a comparing look. No armour, no flag, no heroics. Just a creamy uniform that was already muddy from the walk here. She cursed the designer in the Emperor's name and started off towards the gondorian leader.
"My lady" Tartor disrupted in a tense voice that stopped her in her tracks. "Those aren't humans."
He directed her attention to the gondorians leftmost flank which had just started collapsing. Mutated creatures in dark, aggressive armour hunted the soldiers and attacked other battlelines from inside the gardens. Vivians thoughts was drawn to the seneschal's report about the genetically created mutants the household guard had met earlier. This complicated the diplomatic mission. How should she do to find the one controlling these freaks?
Tartor took up a defensive position between her and the creatures to the left, carbine aimed. "Permission to engage?"
Vivian guessed that would be prudent but was still milling over the quickly developing situation.
"You have to leave now!" a man shouted to them in the local dialect. Vivian had heard that phrase many times during their passage here but this man had the voice of a noble, demanding attention. It was one of the leaders of the gondorians. He was hurt and his light armour and dark cloak was in tatters, but Vivian could see the noble blood in his mannerism.
"I'm here on a diplomatic…" Vivian began explaining but the rude man didn't seem to listen.
"Now miss! They are collapsing the bridge!" he pleaded while stressing on wounded and fleeing soldiers that ran past them towards the bridge.
"Permission to engage" Tartor interjected a bit more tense.
"Prince Faramir, the Captain-General has ordered you to take control the western bank!" a soldier shouted from beyond the rude man.
"The malice are closing" Pim said to herself just behind Vivian.
"Shut up all of you!" Vivan screamed to them all, quite unladylike. "I need to think."
Then the real screaming started. Screeches that froze the mind came from several roads leading to the gardens and drowned out all other sounds. All the last lines of gondorian soldiers collapsed and a panicked flight erupted. Tartor began shooting automatic laser fire over the heads of the fleeing soldiers. Screaming something and throwing one of his grenades. Vivian couldn't see anything but saw Pim disappear among the fleeing soldiers. She was then herself dragged along by the rude man, Faramir. He tried shouting orders but only the unnatural shrieks from beyond the gardens could be heard and Vivian could see the unashamed panic in the eyes of the people around her. The same one she felt.
They were not even halfway across the bridge when it happened. Vivian couldn't see but noticed the people stopping and their screaming change pitch. Then the bridge disappeared under her feet and before she could even react, she was submerged.
The water was cold and night black. Vivian focused on what she hoped was the direction of the surface and kicked up while releasing the clasps of the stupid mantle. A practiced swimmer, she quickly reached the surface. The idiots had razed the bridge while she was still on it. Around her soldiers tried to survive. They tried getting out of their armour, some tried clinging to each other or the remnants of the bridge fundaments, many had already sunk. At least the unnatural shrieks had stopped.
Vivian took sight on the western shore but noticed the brown curls of the prince in the moon light. He was floating unconscious not far from her, his head down, saved by his lighter armour. A prince they said, probably related to the old steward. Clearly an asset she thought as she reached and turned him around, face up. She ignored the common soldiery as she started swim kick her way westwards, dragging the prince after her.
§§§
The hobbit Muldam Burrows sat with his homemade pipe, blowing angry clouds at the half dead man standing in front of him. It had clearly come with the men who had searched the fields earlier because it was equally strange, off putting and with unclear purpose.
The half dead one stood in front of some kind of rolling contraption that it drove here without any animals involved. Clearly unnatural and bad in all kinds of ways, Muldam thought. The other families in the valley had listened to the dead men's drooling warnings about some unclear threat coming their way. Typical Brundisbarn, Salismunds and the other annoying families to trust these strangers, taking their belonging and just go without a sliver of believable proof.
The man really was a strange one, just as his colleagues that had come earlier, clearly humans. But with dead pale flesh and metal bits bolted on to the head in a way that clearly wasn't healthy in the least. It continued drooling on in its strange accent, something about a 'last chance' and 'certain death'. It sounded like mindless repetition, as it didn't understood its own words.
Clearly hogwash, Muldam was sure of it and answered the man by spitting on the ground between them. Muldam wasn't born yesterday and wouldn't leave his home because some lunatic sect came yelling fire. Or drooling about fire as in this case. The man actually seemed to understand Muldams clear answer and stopped trying to convince him to load his stuff and follow him to 'safety'. Without even a word of acknowledgement or a goodbye wave the half dead one turned on his heal and limped back to his contraption. There were no manners in some people, Muldam mused and sat back in his lawn chair. He looked at the thing leaving him and the valley behind. Muldam felt like he was the last one left in the valley now. The only one with sense with other words, he thought, puffing his pipe.
A bit later in the evening Muldam was suddenly awakened in his chair. Something was glowing in the sky. Odd. It looked like a small brightly shining square. It looked like it was growing but Muldam didn't hear any sound. What could it be? It was clearly visible in the clear night sky. When it was becoming a bit too big for Muldam's taste, it looked like the squares sides were moving as if they were… burning? Then the rain came, from nowhere, it was as the clear sky was pouring all its moisture down at the valley at the same time. But the still growing square vas still visible through the pouring rain, too bright to be hidden. Muldam stood up from his chair, eyes wide. His pipe dropping to the ground, forgotten. He didn't understand what was happening. The falling thing intercepted land beyond the valley far too fast.
Muldam's last thought was that he hadn't even heard the thing yet as he and the valley flash burned in the blink of a second by the energies released by the Mechanichum Terrafrom-Digger's landing.
§§§
Sorry for a long hiatus. An heir was born, had to read him the LOTR, took some months. Now I'm thrilled to continue this story.