Wings of Renewal: A Solarpunk Dragon Anthology

by Claudie Arseneault

  WINGS OF RENEWAL

  A Solarpunk Dragon Anthology

  Edited by CLAUDIE ARSENEAULT and BRENDA J. PIERSON

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 Claudie Arseneault and Brenda J. Pierson

  “Summer Project” © 2015 by C.B. Carr

  “In the Hearts of Dragons” © 2015 by Stephanie Wagner

  “The Shape of the Sun” © 2015 by Marianne L. D. Drolet

  “Petrichor” © 2015 by Megan Reynolds

  “Glow” © 2015 by Caitlin Nicoll

  “Lost and Found” © 2015 by Brenda J. Pierson

  “The Stained Glass Dragon” © 2015 by Jeanne LG

  “Solarium” © 2015 by Kimberly Kay and A. N. Gephart

  “The Quantum Dragon” © 2015 by Tobias Wade

  “Fighting Fire with Fire” © 2015 by Gemini Pond

  “Refuge” © 2015 by Mindi Briar

  “The Dragon of Kou” © 2015 by Caroline Bigaiski

  “Deep Within the Corners of My Mind” © 2015 by Cj Lehi

  “The Witch's Son” © 2015 by Diane Dubas

  “Dragon's Oath” © 2015 by Danny Mitchell

  “Morelle and Vina” © 2015 by Sam Martin

  “Wings of the Guiding Suns” © 2015 by M. Pax

  “Seven Years Among Dragons” © 2015 by Lyssa Chiavari

  “One Last Sweet” © 2015 by Claudie Arseneault

  “Community Outreach with Reluctant Neighbors” © 2015 by Kat Lerner

  “Wanderer's Dream” © 2015 by Maura Lydon

  “The Last Guardians” © 2015 by J. Lee Ellorris

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Agata Jędrychowska

  Design and Layout by Matt Larkin

  Published by Incandescent Phoenix Books

  incandescentphoenix.com

  FOREWORD

  Hope.

  Through every step of this anthology, we've always come back to hope. Neither of us had attempted such a project before and we didn't know what to expect. So we hoped. We hoped it would be approved, that we would get good stories, that it would charm the solarpunk community and draw new readers to it. Now that we're at the end of the road, what's most apparent to us is that our hope was more than a driving factor of this anthology—it's the very heart of it.

  From the start, we were drawn to the defiant hope solarpunk carries in its premise. This genre refuses the idea that the big fish will always eat the small one. Instead it looks at existing technologies—from colored glass solar panels to 3D printing, vertical farming to permaculture—and projects them into a world where humanity overcame eco disasters, mega corporations, and dystopian governments.

  Solarpunk stories are about banding together, dismantling oppressive structures, and leaving no one behind. They are about worlds where we've succeeded: climate change no longer threatens the planet, most of today's inequalities have been flattened, and people have learned to share and support each other.

  So what happens when you add dragons?

  First, you get dragons as avatars of nature, drawing strength from the sun and providing wisdom and guidance. Whether they live with humans or are a part of the fauna, these dragons aren't just a part of nature, they are the embodiment of it.

  Not all dragons are flesh, however—not when solarpunk comes into play. Sometimes they are tiny automatons, or giant cyborgs of flesh and wires. At others they are living spaceships, protecting humans from outer space. These dragons exist at the very limit of human ingenuity and engineering.

  The stories within span countless worlds. They go from damp rainforests to icy landscapes, from dry deserts to flourishing cities. They mix ancient kingdoms and outer space, nostalgic ends with new beginnings. But through all of them, the hope at solarpunk's heart remains.

  And this, ultimately, is what we hope to bring to you. We hope you'll believe in this better future—one of vibrant communities, of solidarity and sustainability—even if, sadly, the dragons must remain in our imagination.

  Summer Project

  by C.B. Carr

  On the first day of her summer vacation, fifteen-year-old Jaci met a dragon.

  “She’ll be calmer if she sees you with me,” said Bright, holding out her hand. Her hair hung in blonde sheets around her face, the dark bags under her eyes telling Jaci how much sleep she had missed. Something moved in the dark spaces of the garage; the heavy smell of sulfur filled the air, mixed with the musty odor of animals. Jaci felt like the room was holding its breath, like her. Watching. Waiting.

  Jaci gave Bright her right hand, the green veins in the prosthetic providing a bit of light in the gloom. Bright led her forward a few steps. More movement in the shadows. A faint glimmer of gold, the click of claws against stone. A deep growl, followed by a wary hiss. Jaci started shaking, sweat blooming on her brow. If she wanted to turn and run, this was definitely the time to do it, but something kept her clinging to Bright’s hand.

  Bright held out her other hand, reaching into the darkness and cooing like she was trying to coax a baby out of hiding.

  “It’s okay, Roshanak,” she whispered. Her hand touched something lightly in the shadows. “It’s okay, she’s a friend. She’s going to help us.”

  Jaci swallowed past the lump in her throat. This all felt like a bizarre dream, and if she pinched herself, she would wake up in her bed. Bright nudged her backwards when the dragon emerged from the comfort of the dark.

  She was smaller than the monsters in Jaci’s imagination, only the size of a horse and just as lean. Her scales, as golden and brilliant as the sun, shone even in the gloom of the old garage. Her white antlers curved up from the crown of her head, strung with small jewels and golden and silver chains. She reared onto her back legs, spreading her wings to their full span (at least six feet), looking down at Jaci with sapphire eyes, as though telling her she was not to be trifled with—message received. Her front right leg ended in a smooth stump at the elbow. She was just like Jaci, missing things from the right side of her body.

  Bright spoke, but Jaci couldn’t hear her. There was a dragon in front of her, something that was supposed to have been dead for 90 years. The calamity and the revolutions supposedly saw to their extinction. Were there other dragons where Roshanak came from? Where had she been hiding this whole time? Jaci didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. She wanted to do a strange mixture of the two.

  “Jaci?”

  Bright touched her shoulder, bringing Jaci out of her awe.

  “Can you help her?”

  Jaci ran her fingers through her thick, curly hair. None of this felt real. Just an hour ago, she was sleeping in her workshop in the Umbrella Market, and now she was facing a dragon. A dragon!

  “Give me a minute to process this,” she said, running her hands from her hair over her dark face and glasses. “Ugh, Bright, you can’t just disappear for three years and suddenly come back with a dragon!”

  She spread her fingers and looked at Roshanak through them. Yep, she was definitely real, and staring at her with those eyes. There was something human in them. It scared Jaci, but she had never turned down a customer before, and she wouldn’t let her first one be a dragon. Plus, Bright was still her friend, even if she did disappear to travel th
e world with her parents, never bothering to write or even make a phone call until two days ago.

  “You’re the only person in this city I trust with her,” Bright said quietly. “When I found her, you were the first person I thought about. Please, Jaci.”

  Roshanak leaned forward, balancing carefully on her remaining legs. She sniffed at Jaci’s silver right arm. Jaci lowered it to let her get a better look. Roshanak tilted her head from side to side as if to observe it from all angles. She bent her head and sniffed at Jaci’s right leg, a smooth chrome prosthetic stuffed into a leather boot. She prodded it gently with her nose. Hand shaking, Jaci reached out and touched Roshanak’s head in the soft spot between her antlers. She froze, and Jaci froze, sweat blooming over every part of her. After a long moment, Roshanak purred, closing her eyes and shaking her head slightly. Jaci let out a heavy breath, trying to hold herself steady on her shaking knees.

  “I’ll do it,” said Jaci. Her heart hammered against her ribs. “I’ll give her a leg.” She laughed, snorting a little in the silent garage. “Who would turn down a chance like this anyways?”

  * * *

  Bright had called Jaci two days before with a vague request: “I need a dragon’s leg.” It wasn’t a bizarre situation for Jaci; she didn’t even blink when she’d said it. Customers asked for stranger things, like carbon-fiber claws affixed to their prosthetic fingers, legs ending in sharp points, shoulders armored like armadillo hides. A dragon leg just seemed par for the course. Jaci wasn’t expecting Bright to bring a real dragon into New Argent City. They were supposed to be dead, wiped out by the wars and pollution of the old age. Things were better now. Giant ships powered by algae and hydroelectric power cleaned the oceans, the air and energy was purer, endangered species were nursed back to sufficient numbers in conservation parks. The last war was 50 years ago. How did a dragon find her place in this world when they were all supposed to be gone?

  “She was caught in a poacher’s trap in the Berite Conservation Park,” Bright said, watching Jaci take measurements of Roshanak with a tape ruler. Roshanak stood nearly still, only turning her head to watch Jaci. Jaci moved slower than she usually would, always aware of Roshanak’s eyes on her.

  “Took her leg right off.” Bright sliced the air with her hand to make her point. “It’s a good thing I got there first, right?”

  Roshanak growled, shaking her head like a dog getting out of the water.

  “Any body part of a dragon is worth a fortune,” Bright continued. “But the scales are the most valuable.”

  Jaci tapped Roshanak’s measurements into her phone. “Why is that?”

  “Here, I’ll show you.”

  Bright hopped off the crates she was sitting on, hurrying over to the windows on the left wall of the garage. She pressed a button and the windows opened to the late morning sunlight. From her spot, Jaci could see the towering green and silver spires of New Argent City, rooftops decorated with thick gardens and solar panels colored like jewels. At the sight of the sun flooding over the stone floor of the garage, Roshanak moved as quickly as she could on her two back legs, using her tail for balance. She lowered herself onto all three legs when she reached the sunlight, unfolding her wings. Every vein was visible in the translucent skin. The scales on the crown of her head, neck, and back vibrated as the light hit them. They sounded like wind chimes. They rose from her skin, glowing as they soaked in the sun. Roshanak raised her head and closed her eyes.

  “That’s why,” Bright whispered. “My grandma, she used to say dragons’ scales glowed like that because they were taking in blessings from the gods. Poachers just want to sell them for a quick profit, and they’ll do anything to get them.”

  Any words Jaci had fell off her tongue as her mouth hung open in awe. Her fear of Roshanak dissipated. She understood exactly why Bright wanted to protect her so much.

  Now that she had the measurements she needed, Jaci could start work on the leg.

  “Give me the afternoon,” Jaci told Bright before she left the garage. “If the shop isn’t too busy, I can have it ready by like, sundown? Yeah, sundown, maybe.”

  Bright gave Jaci a rare smile. “Thank you,” she said, taking her wrists and squeezing them tightly. “Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver.”

  The room got hotter, and Jaci couldn’t keep eye contact with Bright. She looked away, suddenly interested in a spot on the floor.

  “Uh, it’s not a problem.”

  Roshanak limped towards Jaci, her scales still vibrating and tingling softly. She lowered her head, nuzzling Jaci’s cheek. Her nose was warm and surprisingly soft. She licked Jaci’s face, leaving a trail of drool up her cheek and forehead.

  “Ahhhh, thank you!” Jaci pulled away, wiping the hot slobber from her face. “R-Really, I-I’m just doing my job! So, uh … I … I’ll see you?”

  Jaci dashed out the garage door, thankful that Bright didn’t see the faint blush underneath her skin.

  * * *

  Ren Yee’s Sundries was easily one of the most popular shops in New Argent City’s Umbrella Market. Shelves creaked under the weight of kaleidoscopes filled with shards of broken stained glass; glass carvings of horses, birds, bees, and dragonflies; jewelry made from circuit boards from old computers; headpieces and even parasols with solar panels for charging small electronics. They sold clothes that could transform between hoods, bags, and shirts; shoes that glowed in the dark when you tapped the heel on the ground twice. Jaci not only took custom orders on prosthetics, but she and Mx. Yee did custom orders on sculptures, head ornaments, bikes, and personal music players in the shapes of birds and insects that hovered around their owners’ heads, transmitting music into wireless headphones. Mx. Yee had taught Jaci just about everything she knew. She could not have asked for a better mentor or to work in a better shop.

  Mx. Yee didn’t ask her where she had spent that morning (Jaci was glad they didn’t, because she could never bring herself to lie to Mx. Yee); they just set her to work on the latest round of orders. Jaci worked in a room in the back of the shop, the door open so she could watch the customers browse the shelves. Her own music player, shaped like a golden dragonfly, hovered over her head as she constructed a floral headpiece for a customer. Of course, her mind was on Roshanak and Bright. She wanted to do everything she could to help them. The situation had a ring of adventure to it she couldn’t resist. Her fingers trembled. She wanted to get started on the leg so badly, but she had other work to take care of. She wanted Roshanak to move like a dragon could move, free from poachers and danger.

  Between orders, Jaci sketched designs for Roshanak’s leg in her notebook. She finished a round of headpieces and music players, then took her lunch break in the basement. The shop’s 3D printer sat in the corner, amid an array of computers, rolls of blueprints, and prototypes of prosthetic limbs. Jaci uploaded her design and the measurements into the program, the 3D printer booting up with the new knowledge. It would print the leg in pieces, which she would have to assemble. She ran through the process and mechanics in her head as she watched the leg print. If she couldn’t have it done by sundown, she would definitely have it done by morning.

  * * *

  On the second day of her summer vacation, Jaci ran from poachers.

  She awoke at 6am in a silent shop, her face sticking to her worktable with drool. The finished leg sat in front of her, ready to be attached to Roshanak’s stump. She knew it would never be as beautiful as Roshanak’s real scales, but she’d tried to capture their brilliance all the same. The claws would open and close when Roshanak flexed the muscles in what remained of her leg. Prosthetics made at Ren Yee’s Sundries were the sturdiest in New Argent City; they would last a while. She just needed to get it to Roshanak.

  Jaci remembered how ragged and tired Bright looked yesterday. She wondered, when was the last time Bright had eaten? When was the last time Roshanak had? What did dragons even eat? Jaci picked up her phone, dialing Bright’s number. It rang a few times, but Bright didn’t pick
up. She tried again, jiggling her feet underneath the table. Still no reply. She was probably just asleep.

  Jaci needed to do something. She was too anxious to start work early, and she didn’t want to go by the garages without letting Bright know. Jaci left the shop, bringing her dragonfly music player with her to fill the morning silence. Outside, sunlight filtering through the fog crawling over the Umbrella Market’s glass dome gave the market a dreamy, hazy look. When Jaci looked up, she saw a thick trail of black smoke snaking through the sky outside the dome. It was coming from the direction of the garages in Old Town. She took a deep, steadying breath.

  The mechanical dragonfly sat obediently on Jaci’s shoulder as she hurried up the boulevard to Sweet Bee’s 24-Hour Diner, a honey-colored building on the corner of Delight Avenue. Like most buildings in the market, it looked to be carved from soft, curving wood. Words cut into the stained-glass window said “SWEET BEE’S: SERVING THE COMMUNITY FOR 50 YEARS” in bold white letters.

  Jaci ordered three boxes of almond suncakes with maple syrup, and one pitcher of pineapple juice from the black-clad waitress, who clogged about the café in terrarium platform shoes. The morning news played from speakers mounted on the café walls.

  “Investigators are ruling out arson as a cause for the fire,” said the anchor. “In other news, Varteres’ largest algae-powered airship, The Hyacinthus, will land in Lotus Harbor today—”

  Jaci took her cartons of suncakes out to the café tables. She picked at her food, trying to find her appetite. It wasn’t going to come, not as long as she thought about Bright and Roshanak. She looked up again, only to see that the pillar of smoke was thicker and darker than before.