Malak Warhammer's Arc

Chapter 4 of 6

Malak stood in the armory doorway and watched rain hammer the courtyard. Water pooled around the war table outside, dripping off its etched metal edges. His officers would need shelter for planning sessions. He turned and walked toward the construction site near the barracks. Workers had finished the walls yesterday. Now they mounted the final harpoon launcher on the roof. This new structure would give his commanders a place to meet when weather turned foul. Inside, they could spread maps and argue strategy without getting soaked. The brownish burgundy stone matched every other building in camp. His army was taking shape, one structure at a time. The next morning, Malak led a patrol beyond the camp walls to survey the lowland borders. The terrain had changed since his last patrol. Dense moss covered the ground in thick carpets that glowed faintly burgundy in the dim light. The stuff grew in layered sheets, each one thin as paper but packed together in masses. He crouched and pressed his hand against the surface. It felt damp and spongy. The glow pulsed softly under his palm. This alien growth spread across entire hillsides now, marking the edge of safe territory. His patrols would need to recognize these boundaries. Any recruit who wandered past the glowing moss would face threats the lowlands couldn't afford to lose soldiers to. Malak stood and studied the landscape. The moss made the borders clear. His army would know exactly where their watch ended and danger began. The patrol continued toward the settlement paths that connected villages. Malak noticed stone markers rising from the ground at regular intervals. Their surfaces were crystalline and green, pulsing with soft light. He stopped beside one and ran his fingers across the smooth face. The pulse matched a slow heartbeat. These markers hadn't been here last month. They lined the main road like guards, their glow bright enough to see by after dark. His soldiers wouldn't need torches anymore when moving between outposts. The settlements were spreading these markers across their territories. Malak counted seven more along the next mile of path. The lowlands were changing, filling with alien growth that served the people living here. His army would learn to use every advantage this strange land offered. He turned back toward camp, satisfied that the borders were now clear and the paths were lit. Three days later, Malak climbed the guard tower on the western edge of lowland territory. The brownish burgundy stone walls rose thick beneath his boots. He reached the caged observation platform and gripped the railing. Harpoon launchers sat ready on both sides, their mechanisms oiled and waiting. From this height, he could see across miles of moss-covered ground. Villages clustered in the valleys below, small but visible. The tower stood as a warning to anything that came from the wilds. His soldiers manned posts like this one at every border now. They watched the glowing moss line and reported anything that crossed it. Malak scanned the horizon once more, then descended the ladder. The lowlands had defenses now. His army knew where to stand, what to watch for, and how to protect the people depending on them.