Jairen’s Tale
Jairen stumbled out of the portal his eyes
were immediately blistered by freezing rain and cold sub arctic winds that
howled through the vortex created around Kai’ Sabadoom also called the “The Temple
in the Light of Darkness”. He clutched to the ground grasping and clawing at
the frozen tundra that surrounds Sabadoom in vain attempts at retaining his
balance. His soft leather boots and elegant dress intended for the courts were
utterly useless in the insane environment that Jairen now found himself in. Loose
strings and fittings designed for elegance in the Jen-Kai court systems not for
the twisted and broken wreckage that surrounded the city of light. In the
darkness of blindness Jairen lost his ability to differentiate between pain and
numbness, his mind reeled as his body wracked with spasms; Then he fell, from
the highest point of Kai’ Sabadoom into the cavern of light and just as he
succumbed to darkness he heard a voice as if from afar; the words were unclear
as if spoken in a language that Jairen did not know; yet they rang true as if
he had heard them before; or heard so many times it was nearly dismissed.
When Jairen’s eyes opened again he knew he
was blind.
He couldn’t see, hear, smell,
taste or feel anything of any kind for a short time; then the first thing he
felt was a mind-numbing cold, then the cold taste of blood filled his mouth,
the smell of it permeated his entire aura, then slowly the cold touched his
fingertips and he could see.
With the cold comes the clear
of night and he saw more then he ever cared to see and he saw it so quickly
when he awoke he felt no pain or hurt at all.
He stood slowly almost
intangibly as blood began to flow within his veins. Pain and hurt returned to his
left arm, broken and shattered by the fall. His eyes no longer blinded by the
light of the cavern; took in his environment quickly adapting to it all; better
then the finest chameleon mages ever trained at Sabadoom or at “Kehra’t Dzee”;
loosely translated: “The halls traveled through time and space; forged in gold
and wrought with iron who and also that wields the magic of an age old dying
sun, the power enabled within the loss of any star; shall forever be etched in
the fabric of tapestry that makes and -maintains all worlds.” Also
shortened to the Arch Magi se’ Te’ Jen-Kai; traveler of faiths through time’
remembered in lore as in faith our and this savior of souls.”
Then he heard the remembrance again; the soft
quiet calm voice of reason and sanity that permeates all those caught in the
vice of life; real or imagined. Then the sound screaming like the shattering of
all life’s dreams in his ears stopped, and a quiet bliss overtook Jairen.
Slowly an old and forgotten smile crept across his soul; overwhelming and
empowering him; once again Jairen saw the world renewed and the vigor of life
restored to his broken and battered body. His renewed hearing was torn asunder
as the howling song of wolves echoed through the chasm around him. After tense
moments of gripping fear his wits returned to him, the training; that had
passed genetically from one generation of Jen-Kai to the next was literally
bred to be born within him. The fires of Kealik’s rage; or literally “Howl of
the Lion”, blazed through Jairen’s veins and ten millions years of instinct and
training that had been coded into his makeup erupted like a volcano that could
no longer take the pressure generated from the lava within. In a flurry of rage
the predator lashed out horribly at the would-be hunters and in a scourge of
fur, flesh, and blood Jairen razed the first wolf to its’ inevitable demise.
Instantly Jairen’s mane brissled along his spine giving an early warning to the
alpha wolfs’ presence just before its jaws came crashing down upon his spine.
Speed, symmetry, and seamless motion cut through the alphas windpipe using just
a small ornamental dagger that Jairen thought went well with the gold and elice
stitched kimone he had chosen for his meeting with the courts; now he wished he
had chosen one of the wickedly barbed and cruel defiler blades used by the
Sikam Jhaw, or preferably a set of Scarsdriltch butterfly swords that had been
used so effectively in the Shadows-Bane and Draconian wars; instead he was
slashing and hacking away at a coarse and brazened hide, with a blade never intended
to pierce the softest of flesh.
Pain suddenly ripped through his left arm
followed quickly by spasms. His eyes turned quickly before his body could
react. The vision that encompassed his mind was like a cold dreadnought. His
arm was torn and bent; twisted in an abnormal direction, and locked on to the
mangled bone was the true alpha wolves locked jaws. Jairen had miscalculated he
had interpreted the packs true form incorrectly and was now paying for it; in
blood. In a haze Jairen yanked the twisted remains of his ornamental dagger
from his last victim and stabbed viciously at the beasts’ eyes suddenly the
clench on his arm was released and darkness overtook him.
Jairen fell into the night into agelessness.
He dreamt there in the darkness neither cold nor warm. He saw things long
forgotten and rarely remembered.
His mind meandered into the
wilds of his forgotten past and he found himself in a practice duel with an age
old friend and mentor. The voice that followed each stroke was soft and forgiving;
explaining each error and complimenting each success in Jairens’ fighting
technique. Then his mind flashed again to another time in his life.
Words unspoken for hundreds of years rang in
his ears and he remembered the truths of his past. He was Jairen sa’ Kerath of
the Kai-Jen and he had been empowered with the future of his people. He knew
now that he had failed them; not just his viceroys and guards or his soldiers
that bled for him on the fields of war; he had failed his countrymen, his
brothers and brethren.
The voice rang in his ears loud
and undeniable“… and if you would just lead them!”
Jairen awoke with a start and quickly wished
he had not awoken from the tortures of his sleep. His arm shattered and useless
hung limply at his side amidst a now frozen and clotted river of blood. The
head of the beast lay atop the remains of Jairens’ hand its’ eyes sunken and
shallow eyed him with a lifeless gaze.
Jairen stood slowly he couldn’t feel his
arm, his hands or his feet which caused a disorienting affect on his mind and
vision. With the skill associated with ions of training he beheaded and skinned
the wolf. Using just one arm he efficiently quartered the animals’ carcass
disregarding the entrails and organs that would normally be used as well; he
continued cutting the sinews and tendons of the animal breaking it down further
until the now useless blade of his ornamental dagger could simply do no more.
He wrapped the meat in the skin from the animals’ haunches, wrapped the rest of
the carcass around his body like a coat and fell back into the darkness
surrounded by the cold blue light of the cave.
When he awoke he realized he had fallen from
the shadow of grace straight into the stench of death.
Truth is told when it was said “Hell or Heaven
is only what thou would make it!” In the comforting light unparalleled in a
cold and unforgiving existence Jairen found solace in the horrible stench that
encompassed his senses. He forced himself upright once more and the knowing
infused him; He would lead his people to the forgotten lands and he would make
right the wrongs of this world; and if he would just lead them, he knew they
would follow; and the light of their belief would illuminate the cosmos.
It is dedicated to a lifelong
friend Robert Lee, who originally inspired the idea of the Kai-Jen when we were
but youths; He told me of a race of beings that he had created called the
“Jen-Kai”. He was so elaborate and detailed in his vision of these people that
I was immediately enthralled and immersed in a society and truly a world unto
itself. The token Jen-Kai was reworked into its’ own ideology called the
Kai-Jen." - G. L. Newcom