Page 25 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
“The King of Brhadir and the King of Quinndohs rely heavily on each other. All freshwater in Quinndohs today is imported from Brhadir.”
“How?” The quiet question slips past my lips. The notion of water being imported from such a distance to sustain the population of an entire Kingdom seems insurmountable.
“From the alliance built between two kings shortly after the Original War ended,” Locane gives as an empty clarification.
“That doesn’t explain how all that water is transported.” My hand runs absentmindedly over the soft satin of the couch, waiting for his response.
Locane heaves a deep exasperated exhale through his nose. “The first Kings of Brhadir and Quinndohs conceptualized a system of pipes running between the Kingdoms, up the coast of the Vhelisean Sea. The King of Brhadir used his power to create an infinite fresh water spring feeding straight into the system. It has beenmaintained and powered by common water wielders since. A very lucrative career.”
My mouth pops open to continue to question; but Locane swiftly cuts me off with a slightly raised voice, emphasizing his desire to move on.
“And you might think the King of Brhadir has more power—being that he holds the leverage to deny Quinndohs the water they desperately need—but the King of Quinndohs truly has the upper hand.”
A noticeable sneer grows across Locane’s face as he speaks of the two kings.
“Traders from the Territories of the Mother Continent will only sail from the Ruby Shore to the Bay of Quinndohs—through the Great Trench. The King of Quinndohs orchestrates and vastly controls all trade between the Kingdoms and the Territories, bringing in essentials that won’t grow anywhere on these lands: wheat, sugar, cotton, etcetera. The Capital of Quinndohs is the only portion of that Kingdom that anyone can comfortably survive, given the progress of the city due to the trading ports. Are you following?”
I gape at him, trying to take in the glut of information he is presenting to me. Apparently my understanding of both the Kingdoms of the Continent and the Territories of the Mother Continent is limited to the bare basics.
“I think so,” I say weakly.
“I have a well-kept journal containing all of this information. You can brush up later. You had a vision about the banishment, so you are aware of how our Continent andthe Great Trench came to be, yes?”
“Yes. Ellhora broke off a small portion of land trying to banish the gods who forced their way into our world,” I tell him, the memory of the vision taking form in my head.
“Correct. Did you know that on the Mother Continent, the northern portions of the Territories are the ones that have colder weather patterns and intense winters, while the southern portion has warmer, wetter climates? The opposite of how it is here. Although Quinndohs certainly does not see much rain, and Brhadir is quite humid in the summer months.”
My brain hurts trying to keep up. I say nothing, afraid that if I do, Locane will not make it to whatever explanation comes with this lesson.
“In the Kingdoms, the farther south you get, you see more frigid, snow filled autumns and winters, while northern Quinndohs stays stiflingly hot nearly year-round. On the Mother Continent, water sources flow from north to south and here… Here it flows south to north. Strange, is it not?” Locane looks at me quizzically.
“I did not know about any of this,” I tell him, my cheeks heating with embarrassment.
Needing something to do with my hands, I stand to get my tea, lukewarm and over-steeped by now. Not wanting Locane to lose momentum and shut down the conversation, I say, “That is odd. Were the opposite temperaments like that before Ellhora banished the other gods?”
I add honey to his tea as well and hand it to him after giving both mugs a good stir, the spoon clinking against the ceramic.
“No. I don’t believe they were.”
Locane takes a drink of his tea, grimacing slightly, and sets it down. He sinks in further to the couch, leaning in towards me and knocking my knee softly with his. He searches my expressionand continues. “I believe that when Ellhora separated the lands she shifted some kind of balance, and that this land has been slowly dying ever since that fateful day.”
Mulling over his words, I remember Nana’s skepticism about widely accepted histories and stories about the Mother. Even as a child, Nana’s doubt was apparent to me. Recalling the memory as an adult, it’s obvious that she didn’t believe all the stories and wanted me to know about her doubts.
Head cocked, I watch Locane closely. “Do you think Ellhora did that on purpose? Perhaps with the intention of eventually deterring the gods from wanting to stay?”
“That is a good theory,” Locane tells me approvingly.
“This is all very interesting, but what does it have to do with me?”
My heart rate increases, and anxiety creeps in. The notion of learning some portion of why I have very few of my memories, why I was in a dungeon, is starting to be as terrifying as him not telling me anything at all. The realities of perhaps getting my answers and not at all liking them are hitting me like a hammer to the gut.
Either way, I am terrified.
Locane rubs his hands together, barely biting the inside of his full lip. As I watch him, his demeanor changes ever so slightly. His eyes shine with a new gleam I have not seen yet, alive with an emotion I can’t place.
“Have you ever heard of the gems of the gods?” he asks me in a fanatical whisper, drinking me in with an intense gaze.
The words hit me hard, and I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. Although those particular words aren’t ringing any recognition, the image of a large emerald pulsing in a cave wall comes to me.
