Blog of Author J Lenni Dorner: Dead #AtoZChallenge 2025 fantasy

Dead

[Story scene post]

Dead bodies surround me. How did we get to such death? Am I the last of my people? I touch the glowing brown jewel at my suprasternal notch. Brown, marking me as a master of the mountains, and still lit, meaning I'm alive. I think back to how this may have started.

I was a young lad, no higher than a boulder, when Jaildarn came to my village. He was the first person I met around my age with a different jewel. A glow of bright gold lit under his jaw, illuminating his neck and brightening his shoulders. Mountain masters like myself wore shirts, vests, and coats when outside, so seeing someone shirtless was incredibly confusing. Rather than approach him, I turned to our village Red, our spiritual leader, Luthais.

"Why is that Gold wearing so little?" I whispered my question. I wasn't sure why I didn't want to draw attention to the matter, or the fact that I noticed, but a flutter in my stomach warned me against inquiring loudly.

Luthais knelt beside me. "Golds have different customs and ways. He likely has no more than the tattered cloth you see."

I scratched my head. "He is with a level four Gold, the one speaking with Molingor. Is that elder not charged with his care? Who is keeping him alive? Why isn't someone doing something?"

Jaildarn was shivering, his hands rubbing his scrawny arms as his fingers changed to a sickly color. My whispering had grown louder. He turned toward me, his dark blue eyes wide and pleading.

"Aren't you someone?" Luthais tilts his head as he proposes the question.

I break eye contact with Jaildarn to stare at Luthais. "Is that allowed? Will a Purple question me about disrupting the peace by disrespecting the Gold customs? I'm not a level four."

Luthais nods and touches his Red jewel. "The Golds allow no Reds among them, so the spirits offer no knowledge or guidance on customs. Have you ever witnessed the Opals go to the birth place?"

I nod.

"Do you recall the joy in the village? How the Browns held a qualification contest and a lottery among the winners to determine who would have the honor and privilege to be a primary caregiver for a level one, should the Opals bring us one?"

I glance at Jaindarn again. He has dropped to his knees by the level four Gold. Dirt shakes from his sandy hair as his head bobs. Molingor, one of our level four Browns who excavated the latest area, waves his hand near his nose and cringes as he steps away from the boy.

"Yeah, sure. It was a big deal. The five new babies meant my generation moved up to level two."

"The culture of the Golds is not like that. The Opals bring a level one to their village, and they fight over who will be stuck with it. Babies sometimes die waiting for one to accept the responsibility."

"What? That's horrible."

Luthais rubs his chin. "Worse, their leader is known to assign level twos or threes to a level four as a punishment. The elder is then sent on a mission and must take the younger individual along. Very likely, that is what we see here."

"But the level four is charged with the care of the younger one? So that man should be doing something!"

Several villagers glance my way. They're level four Browns on their way up the mountain, pickaxes slung over their shoulders. I bow my head to them before looking again at Luthais.

"The boy is his punishment, not his charge. You have grown up with love; you are valued and adored. This is not the way of the Golds. So few of their kind remain, yet they do little to support or care for each other."

I shake my head as I march toward our level two village boys dwelling. Inside, I tear open a wardrobe and grab a coat. Then I yank open a drawer to take a pair of gloves. I slam it all shut before storming outside.

"Here!" I shove the items at the boy. The level four Gold looks at me and snarls.

"I am Belp of the Browns. This is my village. I will not stand by while someone my age freezes to death."

Several people pause to glance at the interaction. The Gold level four looks at them, crosses his arms, and resumes his conversation with Molingor.

The level two cuddles into the jacket, struggling with the sleeves. He stares at the gloves.

I grab one and force his dirty hand into it. "These are gloves. It's how we keep our fingers from freezing off. Only Blues can be in this weather without protection. Do you have a name?"

"Jaildarn. I think it means something bad. My people don't like me very much. I was told to go on this mission with him and not to return." He curls into a ball.

"That's settled then. You'll stay here, in our village." The Gold level four turns and glares at me. "Jaildarn was told not to return. Go about your mission; I am taking him for a hot meal. The Colorless prepared a delicious stew."

Molingor looks at me. "What a good boy you are! Yes, feed our young guest. I thought I smelled potatoes and onions roasting earlier. And mouth-watering mushrooms as well."

I grab Jaildarn by the elbow and haul him to his feet. His odor reminds me of sulfur deposits. "You weigh less than two pick axes. How about a bath before we eat?"

Not even the best rosemary and garlic bread could cover his stink.

He shrugs.

"Release the Gold, level two Belp." Like snow rolling down my back, the voice of the Purple freezes me. I release Jaildarn, bow my head, kneel, and raise my arms with my palms open toward the sky.

Key dramatic question that will take whole story to answer:

Could Belp have prevented all this death, how, and if so-- why didn't he?

And what led Jaildarn to become the cause of such annihilation?

QUESTION -- Does this opening intrigue you?

My A to Z 2025 theme is a fantasy story. (And some of the process of writing it as well.) 🕮

- J (he/him 👨🏽 or 🧑🏽 they/them) ~ Speculative Fiction & Reference Author and Co-host of the April Blogging #AtoZchallenge

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