Page 21 of Light Locked #1

Insednians

“ I KNOW 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 eyes and 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 a certain 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. ”

Hatred of Veilin. That fit.

“Their Kaletik name for the Warlord is Alkerrai al Shambelin. Shambelin means land of light. He is the warlord of light, the warlord of illusion. To them, life is noise and torture. Veilin are only agents prolonging that torture.”

“And you think my companion could be an Insednian?” Clea asked.

“Real Insednians have eyes that hide in the light,” Althala explained.

“Perhaps your friend was once a part of their cult. Or perhaps he was born into it and left. Insednians were once the closest things to royalty in the forest. Imagine the cruelty and power necessary to subdue a world such as this, and you’ll perhaps get a figment of what they were capable of.

The Decline, however, seems to have struck them the hardest. They’ve all but disappeared. ” She tapped her lip, still squinting.

Clea almost wondered if Althala had forgotten she had an audience, her words filling the room in a speculative monologue .

“Rumors claim that in large numbers they can level mountains or open volcanic chasms.” Althala leaned forward, tapping Clea on the knee.

“If your friend is an Insednian, he would wish that no one know. His people have no allies, and if he left his people, he would have no allies. At the peak of their power, they would never have associated with humans, much less Veilin. Perhaps The Decline has in some ways humbled us all. To be honest, I’m a bit jealous of you.

I’ve always wanted to talk to one. I never would have imagined a Lodain Veilin and Insednian traveling together.

In fact, I dare say, it makes me like you even more that you’re unaware of just how bizarre this is. ”

Clea thought hard on the subject, and nodded as she attempted to understand how the facts fit.

She remembered that Ryson’s bandages were stained with ashes, and she remembered how he always covered his eyes.

Traders charging more for Kalex could have been an excuse to wear the bandage in Virday.

He didn’t seem to feel welcome among Kalex either.

Had she finally found the reasons why? Despite her uncertainty, a certain fear built within her.

She recalled the moment she’d grabbed his hand.

How he’d flinched at her touch. She tried to use the memory to combat her fear.

Regardless of his past, she’d seen vulnerability, and in that moment, her own hesitations had faded. He wouldn’t harm her. Would he?

“Ah yes, and I almost forgot about this.” Althala stood up and approached a large bag shoved into a corner of the room.

She untied it and rummaged through it. “I actually have one of the Insednians’ religious talismans.

I saw it in the ashes and snuck off with it.

Luckily, no one saw me.” She pushed a few things aside within the bag, mumbling before she exclaimed, “Here it is!” She removed something about the size of her palm, wrapped within tattered cloth.

Approaching Clea, she unraveled the object as she handed it over. “This is it.”

Clea took it in her hands and turned it.

She inspected the designs laden in silver. The circular talisman depicted a silver eye, and chains spilled like tears over people who appeared to have silver eyes as well. They wore robes and the chains bound their hands.

“Eyes crowned by the moon,” Althala continued on. “It has birthed many rumors regarding the relationship between the Insednians and the warlord. Some claim the warlord’s bloodline lies within the Insednians.”

“His bloodline?” Clea replied. “The bloodline of the moon,” she repeated, putting the pieces together.

It was all connected, different symbols telling the same thing.

If that were true, and the Warlord of Shambelin was a symbol of The Decline, then it could be said that the Insednians were too.

She wondered what Ryson might think of an idea like that.

“Yes, some believe they are his actual descendants. Of course, they are rumors, few of many. I would have been more likely to believe them, but the Insednians generate so much fear that rumors are often rampant.” Althala tapped the talisman with her fingers.

“If he is one, a civil one, I’m jealous of you, Clea.

He may know secrets most passionate learners like me would die for, secrets lost to history.

History, as told by the Insednians, has never been recorded. ”

“I see.” Clea sighed, flipping the talisman over to find more of the writing.

She returned to the picture again. “You have helped me in a way that you don’t even understand.

It’s just, you said if he is civil then you’re jealous, but what if he’s not?

” Clea asked as she folded the cloth over the talisman and attempted to return it to Althala.

The old woman stared at it thoughtfully for a while, and with a kind smile, she said, “Please take it with you as a token of my gratitude.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please.” She nudged it back toward her. “It’s been lying around here for a while. It’s not like I can do anything with it.”

Clea thanked her and stored the talisman in her bag.