Diversity Is Coming
Page 3
***
Even with her eyes closed, Elonia recognized the approach of the mainland. The salty, fresh sting of ocean spray changed into the murky scent of stagnant water and stale smoke. A smell from her childhood she thought she had escaped. She opened her eyes thinking the current view had to be better than her memories. She was wrong.
Decrepit stone buildings towered over the rapidly approaching shoreline. Battered flags, red fabric designed with the same entwined snake emblem the sailors wore, hung limp atop the damaged structures. Shards of broken glass clung to the edges of the windows like ragged teeth. Time had not been kind to Logarth. Neglect and war had left their mark—a tainted stain where commerce and luxury once shone. She doubted she’d fare any better.
Elonia looked away, only to see General Leonard coming up from the lower cabins.
“Ah, there’s nothing quite like the smell of modern living.” He breathed deep and ran his hand through the blonde mop atop his head, the boards creaking under his weight as he approached. “I hope this trip hasn’t been too tedious for you. You’ll find this was the pleasant part of your journey. I cannot vouch for the quarters here in Logarth. While the conditions in Leistros are holistic and unsoiled, these quaint shipping towns have declined over time.” He sighed and leaned against the mast.
“I guess it’s not as civilized as you thought,” she said.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. The facades may be broken, but the people are still forward-thinking. We rely on science, not magic or fairytales.”
“You think they’re different?” Elonia chuckled. “They’re just different names for the same principles.”
“You speak lies. Nothing we believe is so barbaric. We know the facts behind our beliefs. We don’t live in the woods like some animal.”
Elonia opened her mouth to speak, but stopped as the ship lurched to a stop. The mast swayed with the change of momentum, tossing her forward. She glanced around the shore at the broken buildings, rotten docks, and half-starved children hiding in the shadows.
“At least on the island, we recognize the truth. Call it barbaric, but we know who we are. We take care of our people, our children.”
“Tell that to the first mate,” he snapped.
“That was the Marblooms. I already told you that,” she stressed, tightening her palms into fists.
“Another fairytale of little substance. You may want to think of a better response when put on trial. No, on second thought, I don’t think it matters.” He turned his back to her and motioned to the sailors. “Take her to the village center. She’ll stand before my father in the square. I’m done listening to her nonsense.”
“It’s only nonsense to the one who doesn’t understand,” she mumbled.
He spun back around. “What would you have me believe, that the bedtime stories of my childhood are real?”
“There’s more truth to those than the other gibberish you blindly accept. There are ways, things that simple science and fact cannot explain. They don’t even scratch the surface to the true meaning.”
“You know nothing, witch.”
“I know enough to pity you.”
“We’ll see who pities who in a moment. Men, take her away.”
He snapped his fingers and stomped down the ramp leading into the shipping village. The sailors didn’t meet her gaze as they unwound her chains from the mast, handing it over to the general’s men.
She followed behind, only stumbling once over the broken cobblestones and rotten decking the led from the shore into town. The buildings deteriorated the closer to the town’s center. Stones crumbled along the edges of dark alleys, holes opened where there weren’t windows, doorways tilted at threatening angles. Through the fragmented buildings, she saw people, equally as broken, stop and stare at their procession.
A butcher grunted, clever poised overhead, blood dripping down his leather apron. Ladies crowded together hiding behind an array of colorful fans sharing a flurry of whispers. Children mimed a hanging noose and pretended to cut the old woman with their stick swords.
Elonia kept her head high, pretending that none of their stares or shots struck her, but they did. Over the years she had second-guessed her decision to leave and the extreme nature of the isolation she craved. Time had dulled the pain, but now it returned full force. She hadn’t swum far enough.
“She’ll rest here until my father arrives,” General Leonard announced, parading around the raised stage, resting against the gallows. Frayed rope swayed effortlessly back and forth over the stage. Metal restraints rattled when they swung into the post. “It seems they’re already prepared for you. Hopefully the beams don’t give out. I hear death can be more painful when it’s slow. But what do I know? Everyone I’ve killed falls at the sword. What about you witch? Do you remember when they killed your kind before? Was it quick, or slow? Did they scream or hiss as they melted?” He chuckled and patted the wood appraisingly.
Elonia pursed her lips and swallowed the curse that rested on her tongue. She remembered. And he would know how a slow death felt sooner than he thought.
“Ah, no bother. It’s just idle chatter anyway.” He waved to the men dragging her forward. “Tie her here, secure the beams, and stand watch. I don’t want anyone finishing the job before my father’s made judgment.”
“As you wish, General,” the man securing the ropes replied.
Elonia’s face rested against the wooden pole. If she closed her eyes she could pretend it was the trunk of a tree from the forest. She dragged her toes across the dusty ground, almost like the hardened ground in the summer. But she could not ignore the obscenities thrown at her. Those weren’t from the islands. She opened her eyes and looked down at her wrists. The mainland shackled her in more ways that just the silver and copper chains.