The bells hadn’t rung yet. That would come later. For now, Harbinth was quiet in the way only a city holding its breath could be. The dawn was pale, streaking the roofs and ramparts in gray light. Smoke from the night’s fires drifted thinly between the alleys, twisting around the towers before fading into the open sky.

  Lysa Renn and Narl Odrick stood near the north wall, watching the horizon from the battlements. Both wore the colors of the city watch, though the cloth was torn and patched from weeks of strain. Their armor didn’t match. Nothing did anymore. Whatever could hold a blade was counted as a soldier’s right.

  Lysa leaned forward on the stone, squinting toward the distant line of trees. “Still nothing,” she said. Her voice was rough from lack of sleep.

  Narl grunted softly beside her. “That’s the worst part. The waiting.”

  She nodded. “Always is.”

  Below them, the courtyards moved in slow, deliberate rhythm. Runners passed messages. Blacksmiths hammered out last-minute repairs. Clerics arranged bandages and ointments in careful rows. It all looked calm, almost ordinary, until you noticed how everyone avoided looking toward the hills.

  Lysa turned slightly, catching the faint smell of iron and oil as Narl adjusted his crossbow strap. “How many bolts left?” she asked.

  "Two quivers for the wall," he said. "Maybe half that for the lower towers. The dwarves have extra arrows, they’ve been making more all night. They said they’d give us some if we send someone to help carry their barrels."

  Lysa gave a tired smile. “Always a bargain, those lot.”

  “Better than nothing.”

  She watched the line of guards pacing along the wall. Many were barely more than boys. Some had taken oaths only days ago. The older ones tried to guide them with quiet instruction, how to brace for recoil, how to hold breath before loosing an arrow, but she could see the fear under their movements.

  “You ever think about leaving?” she asked suddenly.

  Narl frowned, turning toward her. “You mean deserting?”

  “Not like that,” she said quickly. “Just… leaving. Before all this. When we first got the warnings.”

  He thought for a moment. “No. The city’s home.”

  “Even now?”

  “Especially now.”

  Lysa looked down, tracing a finger along the stone edge. “My sister sent word from Arnathe. Said I should come north. There’s work, safety. She begged me to go.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  She shrugged, her eyes distant. “Because someone has to stay. I kept thinking, if everyone runs, who’s left to guard the rest? My mother’s buried here. My father too. Feels wrong to abandon them.”

  Narl nodded. “It does.”

  They stood in silence a while longer, the quiet broken only by the faint crackle of torches below.

  When the runner came, a slim girl with red braids and soot on her face, she carried orders from Commander Ennett herself.

  “All lieutenants to the main gate,” she said quickly. “Final assignment briefing. Bring your squads.”

  Narl gave Lysa a look. “That’s us.”

  Lysa exhaled slowly, pushing away from the parapet. “Then let’s make sure we’re worth the title.”

  They followed the runner down the narrow stairway, boots echoing against the stone. The main courtyard was busier now. Several dwarves had gathered near the lower gatehouse, stacking barrels and boxes into rough barricades.

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  They were miners, smiths, and guards from distant holds, working shoulder to shoulder beside the city folk. Their speech was rough, their laughter louder than it should have been, but that was how dwarves hid their nerves.

  A short, broad-shouldered dwarf with a soot-black beard barked instructions. “No gaps between casks! A spear can slip through easier than you think. And don’t waste nails, stone pins’ll hold just as well!”

  Lysa and Narl exchanged a look but said nothing. They respected the dwarves. Everyone did, even when they argued.

  Further along, two young dwarves were whispering over a lantern. One was sketching something on a strip of parchment, an outline of the wall, marked with strange runes.

  “What’s that?” Lysa asked, stopping beside them.

  The younger one blinked up. “Map of the gate’s base,” he said quickly. “Thora said to mark where we can set the flame jars. If they breach the first line, we’ll light it.”

  “Flame jars?” Narl asked.

  “Oil, resin, and a spark stone. Doesn’t burn long, but it burns hot. The dwarves call it thunderfire.”

  Narl frowned. “Sounds dangerous.”

  The boy grinned faintly. “It is.”

  They left the dwarves to their work and crossed the courtyard toward the command post. Ennett stood at the center, armored and steady, with First Captain Vane beside her. Guildkeeper Eborin and a few of the clerics listened as she pointed to a marked map on the table.

  “The outer gate will hold only as long as the trolls don’t reach it,” Ennett said. “If they do, we fall back to the plaza and set the traps. Dwarves will light the oil trenches on my signal. Watch lieutenants, you’ll hold the inner line until evacuation orders come through.”

  Lysa spoke up. “Evacuation? I thought we weren’t retreating.”

  Ennett looked at her for a long moment. “We don’t plan to. But we plan for everything.”

  Vane nodded, his expression unreadable. “Any further reinforcements are days away at best. This is it. We make them bleed for every stone they take.”

  The air around the table felt heavier after that.

  Narl cleared his throat. “Our squads are ready, Commander. We’ve placed crossbows along the southern wall and refilled the oil reserves.”

  “Good,” Ennett said. “Keep them calm. You’re their spine now. If they see you falter, they’ll fall apart.”

  She turned to Lysa next. “You’ll take the east barricade. If the line breaks, move your greenest men back to the streets to take up defensive positions. They might be slaughtered otherwise. There’s no shame in saving lives.”

  Lysa nodded firmly. “Understood.”

  Ennett paused, her tone softening for the first time. “You’ve both done well. Whatever happens, Harbinth owes you.”

  Neither replied. They didn’t know what to say to something that sounded so final.

  As the meeting broke, Narl lingered by the map. His eyes traced the marked lines of defense, the narrow streets leading to the heart of the city. “You think it’ll hold?” he asked quietly.

  Vane looked at him. “No wall holds forever. But sometimes, holding long enough is all that matters.”

  Outside, the sky was shifting. The pale gray of dawn had deepened into something colder. A wind rose from the north, carrying a faint tremor through the air.

  The dwarves felt it first. Their laughter dimmed. One looked up, beard twitching, and said something in his native tongue that no one else caught.

  Narl glanced at Lysa. “They sense it.”

  “So do I,” she said. “The ground’s changing.”

  Across the city, bells began to move, not in alarm yet, but in readiness. One long toll to signal the watch was in place. Another for the gates sealed.

  Lysa and Narl stood on the steps of the gatehouse, watching it all unfold.

  “It’s strange,” Lysa said softly. “You spend your life guarding a city, and you think it’ll always be here. That the walls mean something.”

  “They do,” Narl said. “They mean we stood for something worth keeping.”

  She gave a small smile. “You sound like Commander Ennett.”

  “She’s rubbed off on me.”

  They watched as the dwarves began loading the last of the barrels into place. Some joked as they worked, pretending not to notice the tremors beneath their boots. Others whispered prayers to the Maker or to the Stonefather.

  Lysa’s squad filed in behind her, carrying extra quivers and bundles of arrows. She greeted them each by name: Jarek, Anel, Mira, Tobin. Ordinary names for people about to do extraordinary things.

  The sun broke over the hills then, weak and red through the morning haze. It caught the steel of the city’s weapons, turning every blade to fire.

  And from far beyond the walls, faint but growing louder, came the first low rumble of marching feet.

  The sound rolled through the valley like thunder.

  The kobold army was on the move.

  Lysa met Narl’s eyes.

  “This is it,” she said.

  He nodded once. “Then let’s make it count.”

  Together, they turned toward the gate as the bells began to ring in full. The echoes spread through the city, through every tower and alley, calling the defenders to their posts.

  The dwarves raised their hammers. The watch lifted their crossbows. The priests whispered blessings.

  And somewhere deep beneath the ground, the roots began to stir.

  The waiting was over.