Chapter Thirty-Four (continued): The Hollow in Motion
The council adjourned in silence, but the Hollow did not rest. Word of the humans' deaths and the looming threat of reprisal spread quickly. Fear was there, yes—but alongside it grew something else: resolve.
Kael stood at the heart of it, watching as the Hollow came alive with preparation. Each faction moved with a kind of unity that only hardship could forge.
The Dwarves: Forging for War
The clang of hammers rang out before dawn. The dwarves turned their forges into living furnaces, sparks lighting the cavern mouths like fireflies. Master Brogan, the one Kael had pulled from the gutter months ago, barked orders with a steady hand and sharper tongue.
"More iron to the bellows! Shields first, blades second—we can fight without swords, but no man holds back arrows with his skin!"
Apprentices pumped the forges until their arms shook, while older smiths shaped steel into weapons of war. Armor was mended, arrowheads sharpened, and siege-breaking hammers reforged. Even the goblins carried buckets of water, eager to earn their keep.
Kael walked among them, crimson eyes reflecting the forge light. The dwarves stiffened under his gaze, but also nodded—acknowledging their leader, their protector.
The Wolfkin: Sentinels of the Borders
At the village's edge, Fenrik and his wolfkin drilled their patrols. Their voices echoed through the clearing as spears thrust in unison, shields locking into defensive walls.
"Again! You think humans will fall at your first bark? No! They will drive steel into your bellies if you falter!" Fenrik roared, voice as wild as the forest itself.
Pairs of wolfkin ran the perimeter trails, their senses sharper than any human's. They built hunting blinds high in the trees, strung alarm bells along hidden tripwires, and dug shallow traps lined with sharpened stakes.
When Kael arrived to inspect, Fenrik met him with a grin that showed too many teeth. "If men come, they'll bleed before they even see our walls."
Kael nodded, approving. "Make them cautious. Fear is the first battle, and we'll win it before steel is drawn."
The Goblins: Architects of Shadows
The goblin elder led his kin in weaving the Hollow into something more than a settlement—it became a maze. With ropes, branches, and camouflaged nets, they turned pathways into traps and blind corners.
Small hands dug pits, filled them with thorned branches, and covered them with loose earth. Hidden tunnels opened beneath roots, allowing goblin scouts to vanish into the dark and reappear behind an enemy.
Kael crouched beside the elder as the old goblin tested one of the concealed entrances. "If humans come, they won't see what kills them," the elder croaked.
Kael's lips curved faintly. "Good. Let the forest itself turn against them."
The Elves: Masters of the Bow
On the western ridge, the elves strung bowstrings until they sang. Arrows were fletched in bundles, quivers stacked like firewood. Children too young for battle carried supplies, their hands careful not to smudge the fletching oil.
Lyria moved among them, adjusting stances, correcting grips, her silver hair catching the dawn. She had them fire at moving targets—cloth dummies swung on ropes, meant to mimic charging foes.
When she saw Kael watching, she gave him a rare smile. "They'll strike true when it matters."
Kael returned her gaze, quietly noting how her calm presence steadied the others. Where Fenrik barked and the dwarves hammered, Lyria brought focus.
The Humans: Finding Their Place
The two human strays—Elria and her younger brother Dain—watched the preparations with wide eyes. Though shunned at first, Kael made certain they had tasks.
Elria was placed with the healers, grinding herbs under the dwarf master's wife. She learned quickly, her hands steady, her eyes determined not to waste the chance Kael had given her.
Dain trained with wooden blades among goblin youths. His swings were clumsy, but his spirit was unbroken. Fenrik snarled at him once for hesitating, but Kael stepped in.
"Strength will come," Kael told the boy. "What matters now is will. Never let it waver."
Dain nodded fiercely, as if the words carved themselves into him.
Kael's Oversight
From dawn to dusk, Kael moved among them all. He walked the walls as they rose, spoke with the hunters as they prepared stockpiles of dried meat, and stood watch as the dwarves poured molten iron into molds. He offered guidance, a steadying word, or simply his presence.
Yet at night, when shadows deepened, he trained. In the far clearing he conjured fire and shadow in tandem, testing combinations, forcing control. Every failure left sweat on his brow, but also refinement. He knew the battle ahead was not just steel against steel, but power against armies.
By the week's end, the Hollow no longer felt like a hidden village. It felt like a fortress in the making—a place where every race, once scattered and broken, now bound themselves together for survival.
And Kael, standing at the heart of it, could not help but feel the weight of what they were building: not merely walls, but a nation.