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I turned the corner, and the stalls turned into cultural tents. Various races gathered to share their art, music, and other cultural practices with the city. I spotted a Halfling painting a mural, his muscles rippling as he worked. A group of Dryads played music on flutes and drums, the sound carrying through the market. An Elvish poet read his work to a group of rapt listeners.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see a Naga woman smiling at me. She held out a basket of fruit, and I took one, thanking her. I bit into the sweet flesh of the peach and smiled.
At one of the larger tents, a group of Elves gathered clothing, food, and other necessary supplies, stuffing them into large sacks. They looked tired, but determined. The sign on the stall said it was a fundraiser for the troops.
I stopped in front of the stall, looking at the various things on display. There was something for everyone, from books to clothes. I picked up a book and leafedthrough it, admiring the sweeping calligraphy of the Caelish language.
I placed the book back on the table and looked up, meeting the eyes of an Elvish woman with a circlet of leaves in her hair.
“Do you like it?”
Her accent revealed to me that she was from Carthem. It was more guttural.
“Yes, it’s beautiful,” I replied, admiring the handiwork.
“It’s a shame that such beauty is needed for such atrocities,” she said, her voice heavy with sadness.
I nodded in agreement, my heart heavy. The thought of all those people fighting far from their homes, risking their lives while their families waited for them, was hard to bear. I was one of them, after all. The ones waiting home.
“What is going on in the borders?” I asked, hoping to glean some insight from her.
“The same as always.” She sighed. “The wards are failing and the beasts are getting through. The destruction is high, but we try to stay hopeful.”
Beasts? Was she referring to an enemy force or magical creatures?
“What beasts?” I pressed, curiosity getting the better of me.
“You haven’t heard?” she asked, surprised. “The rumors say that it’s a magical species. One never seen before. It’s not local in the region. That’s why the wards are failing because they were created to keep the known out.”
The Great Dragons couldn’t breach the wards so whatever was coming in had to be powerful. And unknown. Most had been hunted down to extinction. What was left were the stories and legends.
My heart pounded in my chest. “Do you think it’s true?”
She paused, thoughtful. “I don’t know. I hope not. I don’t want to think that there’s something out there that we can’t fight.”
“Me neither,” I agreed.
The thought of an unknown species, one that was strong enough to break through wards, was daunting. I didn’t want to think about it.
“But we must do what we can to help them.” the woman said, her voice now firmer with resolve.
“If we don’t fight, who will?” I said, trying to sound more positive than I felt.
The woman smiled, her sad eyes brightening a little. “That’s true. We have to do what we can to protect our homes and our families. And they need our help. If not for them, then for our peace of mind. Do you have familymembers at the border?”
“Yes.” I swallowed hard. “My father and older brothers are there.”
“Then you know how it feels.” Her hand rested on my arm in a gesture of comfort. “In Elvish culture, like in Midar, family and social connections are what we value the most. It’s hard when they’re so far away.”
I nodded. I looked at the woman, really seeing her for the first time. She was tired, her eyes red-rimmed and her shoulders stooped with fatigue.
“How about you?” I smiled gently at her. “Do you have family at the border?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “My husband and my daughter. I worry about them every day.”
My brow furrowed. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
“I hope so,” she replied. “But I can’t help but worry. How can we call ourselves a community when we don’t even help our own?”
