Page 32 of Light Locked
“Many are searching to end The Decline, but not all of them are heroes,” Althala rushed on, “other Kalex legends tell of items so disruptive, they may be capable of changing the world all over again.”
“The Deadlock,” Clea said thoughtfully. Her hand drifted up to her chest to confirm the medallion was still hidden under her shirt. She resisted the urge to look around, the eerie timeliness of the tale making her feel like someone had orchestrated it.
“The Deadlock Medallion,” Althala nodded. “You’refamiliar with it.”
“And you think many are looking for it?” Clea asked.
Althala nodded seemingly with little understanding of how her answer impacted Clea. “Absolutely, yes. The worst of those in the woods would pursue even the whisper of such an object, and as The Decline continues, rumors of such things will abound. The Veilin have destroyed most of the recorded objects though, and in all my reading, I haven’t encountered any evidence it isn’t just another symbol too.”
“Just another symbol,” Clea said wistfully, staring at the ground with the added weight of Althala’s revelations, “wouldn’t that be nice.”
Chapter 11
Insednians
“IKNOW IT sounds mad,” Althala replied. “There is some madness to it, to be sure. Sometimes I make leaps in my own thinking and am not completely able to understand how I got there, but I know I’m closer than the Lodain historians. I know it.” Althala lifted the folder from her desk. Her hands slid over its cover once before her fingers clamped onto its sides. “These are my findings and my supporting research. It could be that in the face of The Decline, they are more important than ever. I don’t know if any of my answers are right, dear Clea. I only know that the answers we have now are wrong.”
Clea stirred the stew in her bowl, nodding thoughtfully before glancing back at the folder. “Eyes crowned by the moon,” she whispered. “You don’t think they mean silver eyes, do you?”
“Oh, certainly,” Althala replied as she started flipping through the folder.
Clea caught glimpses of the contents, a mixture of scribbling and pictures. It looked like chaos.
“The warlord and his soldiers are never depicted in any plays with silver eyes,” Clea noted.
“Nope.” Althala kept flipping through the folder. “Silver eyesand their representation are considered a bad omen. Even the Kalex refuse to depict silver eyes in their art.”
“The one traveling with me said Kalex born with silver eyes are killed because the moon is in them. Is it because they’re thought to be related to the Warlord of Shambelin?” Clea continued.
“The moon is sometimes called the Mother’s Eye of the forest, so any silver-eyed creatures, the warlord included, are said to have been born from her,” Althala said almost absentmindedly as she leaned down over a page to inspect some small detail.
“The one I am traveling with has silver eyes,” Clea said.
Althala stopped mid-page and looked up so quickly that she almost threw the spectacles off of her face. “I’m sorry?”
“The one I’m traveling with,” Clea said. “He wanted to stay in the woods. He’s a Kalex with silver eyes.”
“A Kalex?” Althala eased almost cautiously back against her chair. “How did you both meet?”
“Rather…pressing and unusual circumstances. He’s agreed to take me back to Loda,” Clea said, nervously eating another spoon of soup under Althala’s focused gaze. She hadn’t expected such a prompt and intense reaction.
Althala was completely still again, all feet, fingers, and toes free of any fidgeting.
“What characteristics, beyond his eyes, identify him as a Kalex?” Althala asked.
“His strength and his senses seem better than a humans,” Clea said. “He only sleeps when he needs extra energy. His canines have only the slightest point to them. There’s another quality about him, though, that I can’t place. I wish I had words for it,” she said, and then elaborated on the more notable points of their journey. When she was done, Althala had a single question left.
“His eyes,” Althala said. “Are they silver all the time or only in the dark?”
“Only in the dark,” Clea replied, “but you can see them some in the shade too. He bandaged them in Virday so he wouldn’t risk anyone noticing.”
Althala digested the answer but seemed done with her questions. She closed the folder slowly in her lap and set it aside.
“That’s not a Kalex, my dear girl,” she said as she adjusted her glasses and leaned back in her chair. Her tone held an unnerving gravity. “It seems you’ve stumbled across an Insednian.”
“An Insednian?” Clea asked.
Althala nodded. “In my years in the woods, I had a brush with them once. We traveled by one of their encampments out of sheer necessity. The Kalex warned me to stay hidden.” In sharp contrast to her bustling about the tent in her discussion of the warlord, Althala delivered these details with a somber thoughtfulness. “The people were very striking in their beauty, women especially, but soot stuck to their skin like an animal’s pelt, and it stained their bodies and faces. They burned acertain plant that filled the air with thick smoke, and they dwelled in it. I asked a Kalex I was traveling with why they did such things, and I remember him telling me that they did it to ensure that no creatures that breathed fresh air would trespass on their land. They called their land the land of the dead. At the first full moon of every year, they are said to offer a Veilin as a sacrifice to the Warlord of Shambelin, hoping he will return and end the great illusion they call life. In their religion, Veilin continue to perpetuate the illusion, extending the suffering of all who are trapped in it.”
