Wings of Renewal: A Solarpunk Dragon Anthology

by Claudie Arseneault

  “No!” She said instinctively. “Don't go!”

  One dived towards them, only to crash through the water. It popped up on the other side, spraying them with a fine mist. Chataya lunged towards it, trying to catch it, but it was too swift. She went after another, but it maneuvered away from her too.

  “Look,” Luan said, pointing.

  Chataya stopped and followed his gaze. The island tree was twisting, shifting upwards. Flowers bloomed from the branches, red and purple in shades she'd never seen before. Then it opened its eyes, two great, silver orbs in the largest branch. It stretched its neck, and shook off its lethargy in a great rustle of leaves, then let out a deafening roar, sending the smaller dragons into a frenzy. One by one, they disappeared into the trees to watch them from the safety of their nests. The glowing dimmed, so the dragons looked like nothing more than distant stars.

  “Merciful gods,” Luan said.

  “What do we do?” Chataya asked, but Luan didn't answer. He stared at the great dragon, mouth agape.

  Will that one eat us? It was certainly large enough. She remembered the tales from her books of the Great One, and knew they stood before something ancient. It watched them curiously. It had probably never seen a human before.

  It craned its neck forward, reaching towards Chataya. She sat absolutely still, praying to all the forest gods that it would let them live, and if it must eat someone, let it be Luan. It ignored her though, and nudged the lamp behind her. The lamp swayed, creaking loudly in the silence. It then turned its attention to Luan, and despite her earlier prayer, she feared for him. The dragon sniffed him, then made a noise that sounded suspiciously like Sol.

  “I think it smells Sol on you,” Chataya whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

  The dragon pulled back to sit on its haunches and regarded them with those silver eyes. Chataya and Luan sat there, not knowing if they should leave, if the dragons would even let them leave.

  After a while, the glow dragons emerged from the trees, in ones and twos at first, until they were all streaming out of their nests to circle the boat. One dragon broke away from the rest and flew down to them, landing near Chataya. It trumpeted and flapped its wings.

  She reached out her hand to let it sniff her, and when it gave its approval, she pet it. The feathers on its head were soft and warm. It nipped playfully at her hand, and she giggled.

  “I think that one has claimed you,” Luan said.

  “Really?” She was too stunned to think. Could it really have been that easy?

  They remained overnight, and slept under the safe cover of the Great One's branches, surrounded by dozens of warm, purring bodies. The ground was soft, and the air filled with the sweet fragrance of the massive flowers. A part of Chataya wished they could stay there forever, living among the glow dragons. But they had families waiting for them.

  They played with the dragons until midday, then reluctantly left. They sailed down the small channel, their newest companion flying over their heads. It swooped down and landed on Chataya's shoulder.

  She still hadn't a clue what she wanted to name him. The romantic side of her was too busy imagining a dragon romance between her dragon and Sol. She wondered if they were long lost mates, and her head filled with pictures of their reunion.

  “We can build a new tribe of glow dragons,” Chataya said, unable to keep the glee out of her voice. She imagined whole flocks of glow dragons swooping over the river by their town, and how fantastic the solstice festival would be with so many of them to light the night sky. “But this one is mine.” She hugged the dragon close, and glared at Luan. The dragon nuzzled her hair in response, purring. She was happier than she'd been in a long time. Happier even than when she'd finally punched Luan for being such a jerk.

  Luan smiled. “I wouldn't dare think otherwise.”

  About Caitlin Nicoll

  Caitlin spends an unhealthy amount of time at creative pursuits, owns more books than she could possibly ever read, and is a serial word maker-upper. When not writing, you can usually find her painting, reading, hiking, or practicing the fine art of procrastination.

  She currently resides in Western Massachusetts, where it is very pretty, but nothing ever happens.

  Lost and Found

  by Brenda J. Pierson

  “This is an emergency. I repeat: this is an emergency. Any personnel within the Amirmorez Basin, please respond.”

  I rolled over and fumbled for the transmitter. In the dim light all I managed to do was knock it off my nightstand.

  “David?” She pronounced it the Arabian way, da-VEED. It was one of the first things that made me fall in love with her.

  I finally got my hand around the transmitter and pressed the button. “Yeah. I'm here,” I said, yawning halfway through. “You're there early, Israa. I didn't even realize you'd left.”

  “Yes, well …” She didn't need to say more. We hadn't exactly ended the night on a high note. Same fight, same result. Israa in tears, me feeling like scum. It's not like we had a troubled marriage or anything. Love abounded and all that jazz. But whenever the subject of starting a family came up …

  I slumped onto the empty bed. It's not that I didn't want to have children with Israa. I did—just not right now. New Persia was a relatively new planet to humans, and we were isolated from the rest of humanity until we could get established. We had a lot of work to do before it could sustain more than the handful of us terraforming and organizing oasis nurtures. Not an ideal situation to raise a child in.

  I shook my head. No use reliving the argument again. Besides, Israa had said something about an emergency? “What's going on, Israa?”

  “David, we lost a dragon at the Shad Riaz settlement.”

  Lost dragon. The two worst words on the planet. I sat up, any remnants of sleep gone in a nanosecond. “Which one?”

  “Rain.”

  I clenched my fist around the transmitter. Not Rain. She was one of my original pod. She'd been with me for over a decade—almost as long as I'd been with Israa. “What happened?”

  “We don't know. They were all healthy and accounted for last night. When we got here this morning Rain was gone.”

  A tiny bit of pressure in my chest lifted. Gone. Not dead.

  I opened a window to let in the bright sun, my eyes squinting and watering. I'd spent half my life on this desert planet, but I swear I'll never get used to how blinding that sunshine could be. Especially first thing in the morning. Unlike my solar panels, I did not recharge when exposed to it.

  Static from the transmitter pulled my attention back to the situation. “We barely had enough dragons to cover Shad Riaz.” I rubbed my brow as I spoke, thinking aloud. “The nurture isn't stable enough to survive with only twelve irrigation dragons. It needs thirteen, minimum, to condense enough water from this atmosphere. More, if I had them.”

  “What should I tell the others?” Israa asked.

  “I'm on my way. Hopefully by the time I get there I'll have thought of something.”

  I was already strapping on gear and heading out the door. Shad Riaz was in the most sensitive stage for an oasis nurture—it had just begun to adapt to the moisture and vegetation we'd cultivated, but couldn't sustain itself without constant, delicate care. To lose an irrigation dragon now could set us back months.

  And Rain … I could hardly even consider it.

  I left our rooms and made my way through Jabal Aeesh, our first successful nurture on New Persia. A flourishing oasis, full of palms and water and cool breezes, where fifteen years ago it had been another patch of lifeless desert. Most people say we'd done that with the help of my irrigation dragons. I say the irrigation dragons did it with some help from us. Sure, we brought in seeds and plants to grow, even a wide variety of animals to promote a complete ecosystem—everything from predators and prey to birds and insects—but we'd never have been able to cultivate such life without the dragons' water.

  It had taken a while to get humanity used to the idea t
hese giant lizards, straight from Earth's mythology, weren't the fire-breathing avatars of destruction we'd always fantasized about. Avatars of nature would be more appropriate—big but docile, so in sync with the planet some scientists claim they don't qualify as animals. They worked to create an environment conducive to everyone and everything, maintaining the synergy of life and death in perfect balance. And there were more than just irrigation dragons. Scientists discovered new species every year. Water dragons, plant dragons, and yes, some fire dragons also. Just recently they'd even found microbial dragons, working the same kind of synergy on a cellular level. They'd shown us how to work with the planet to benefit everyone. Humanity has never looked back, and never been more prosperous.

  All because of the dragons.

  And now one of those dragons was missing. It hurt like a punch to the gut.

  I took an overly cheerful transportation dragon—large and speedy, with an affinity for humanity and the treats we offered as payment—to Shad Riaz and met Israa at our base. Tall and curvaceous, with the luscious black hair and sultry eyes of Persian princesses and sultans' daughters of legend, I'll never figure out why she agreed to marry an oaf like me.

  “Morning, treasure,” I said, hoping her pet name might bring a smile to her face.

  “Good morning, David.”

  I leaned in for a kiss, which she returned perfunctorily. No smile.

  I hated seeing her in pain, especially because of me. But what could I do about it? If I could speed up the nurtures, get New Persia up and running as a society rather than a science experiment, I would. But I was already doing the best I could.

  I smiled at her, trying to mend things between us. She finally returned it, albeit weakly, and handed me some paperwork. I got the point. This was neither the time nor place to work on our relationship. We had a dragon to find.

  I skimmed the papers as she summarized. No clue what had happened to Rain. No evidence of sickness, kidnapping, or desertion. She was just gone. Very unlike my dragons. Once they understood our intent, most irrigation dragons were overjoyed to contribute to a nurture. In fact, once a nurture was established, the dragons urged me to find a new site to start working on. They couldn't wait to start again. They wouldn't just run away—especially Rain.

  “We don't have a choice, David. We need another irrigation dragon.”

  I nodded. Shad Riaz would wither without enough water. The twelve dragons remaining couldn't pull enough moisture from this air to give it what it required. Either I had to find Rain, or I had to find another dragon.

  I didn't know where Rain had gone and didn't have the faintest clue where to start looking. It could be weeks before I even had an idea where she may have gone. Shad Riaz didn't have that long. As much as I wanted to find my lost dragon, I couldn't afford to search for her right now.

  My gaze traveled north, toward the mountains and forests bordering the distant sea. It had been a long time since I'd had to recruit, but I knew there would be wild dragons up there. Lush rainforest, plenty of winding rivers, with significant natural precipitation. Irrigation dragons would flock to a place like that. I'd met most of my pod up there years ago. I could find one willing to help and be back in a matter of days. Though since I was replacing Rain, I might need to recruit two.

  Then I could go looking for Rain. If it wasn't too late by then.

  Israa put her hand on my arm. Her eyes had softened, some of the pain from our argument bleeding away. “We'll do everything we can to find Rain, David. But you're the only one who can find us a new dragon.”

  A deep, melodramatic sigh burst from my chest. No one understood how I could communicate with the dragons, me least of all. When I first arrived on New Persia I'd thought everyone could do it. Understanding their emotions, if not their exact thoughts, came as easily to me as telling what kind of dragon they were. The fact everyone else on the planet was deaf to that … I might as well be the only one who could see the color red.

  As much as I valued this gift, it meant I had to go. Agreeing to head north and find a new dragon felt like abandoning my child.

  Israa got me a solar buggy to make the trip. It was sleek and insectoid, like a giant, aerodynamic beetle. Bicycle pedals on the floor allowed for manual power, but with the strength of New Persia's sun and the hardness of the salt flats these babies were the epitome of speed.

  Israa packed supplies and plenty of fresh water for me. “If you stop by Ruwa Imran, bring back some of their coffee,” she said. “It's supposedly better than anything Earth has ever produced.”

  “I will.” I wanted to say something else, something that would fix things between us. Something that would erase her sadness. But all I could do was stay focused on the nurture. The sooner we got it completed, the sooner I could give Israa what she wanted most.

  * * *

  I stayed the night at Ruwa Imran, catching up with the rainforest nurture and stocking up on breathtaking coffee. Smooth, rich, and sinful, it was every bit as good as the rumors. One sip and Israa would die.

  The next morning I left the solar buggy behind and trudged into the trees on foot. I had to get deep into the heart of the forest before I'd find the wild dragons. I couldn't even risk taking one of scooters designed for this kind of terrain. Wild dragons were exceptionally shy—another thing I hadn't learned until I'd been here for over a year.

  I had to dodge around trees, duck under vines, and bushwhack through the undergrowth at times. At least we hadn't imported any mosquitos to this place, though plenty of more essential bugs swarmed through the trees. I was exhausted within moments. Rainforests weren't exactly made for cross-country trekking.

  I stumbled over a giant root and nearly sprawled onto my face. I looked back and glared at the tree. One of these days I'd have to learn the names of these plants. I worked on nurtures, for goodness' sake, spreading this kind of vegetation across one of the driest and most inhospitable planets man has ever found. Most people thought that made me an expert. But the dragons were my purview, that's all. Ask me anything about dragons and I'm your man. What kind of tree is this? A green one.

  Midday came and went. My legs and back ached, my entire body drenched in sweat like I'd gone swimming in my clothes. I was just starting to think of heading back to Ruwa Imran for the night when I caught a trace of dragons. A hint of scintillating blue-and-white scales, a scent of reptile and condensed moisture. They wouldn't show themselves, but emotions wafted through the air in that peculiar, inaudible dragon-speak. I sensed curiosity and anxiety, mixed with a hint of fear. Odd. In all my years working with dragons, I'd never actually felt one be afraid.

  Most dragons were wary around humanity, but not afraid. Machinery made them skittish and nervous. But honest-to-god fear? Only the biggest or bravest predators would consider attacking a dragon, and even then only out of desperation or with a clear opportunistic advantage. Dragons had so little to fear on this planet. If it wasn't for their exceptionally low reproduction rate they'd have taken over by now.

  I projected my own emotions back to them, trying to send calm, helpful thoughts their way. “I'm not a threat,” I said, more to clarify and amplify my emotions than hoping they could understand the words. “I just need your help.”

  I felt the dragons' interest pique as I described Shad Riaz, focusing on images and the joy and satisfaction of cultivating a nurture. Movement in the trees hinted at half a dozen dragons or more, and I had their attention. The more I projected my emotions, the more they responded. I could sense at least a few wanted to come with me. Wouldn't that be lucky? We could head back first thing in the morning. Shad Riaz wouldn't have enough time to notice the smaller water supply before Rain's replacement arrived, and I could get back to Israa and finding my lost dragon.

  Deep growls, like an avalanche or earthquake, rumbled through the forest—but no natural disaster followed. Just the echoes of a very large, very pissed off creature. Shudders ran down my spine as ice spread through my veins. You couldn't just ignore a sou
nd like that. It was imprinted in our genetic memory to send us scurrying for cover. Bravery? Impossible. You could only pray the creature would pass you by and let you live another day.

  The dragons immediately backed away, their excitement and interest extinguished by a sudden rush of fear and concern. The drastic shift left me reeling. I was all nervous energy now, trembling and eyeing the trees around me. It took everything in my power not to draw the bowie knife in my belt just to give me a sense of security. I didn't want the dragons to think of me as a source of fear, too.

  One of the dragons, barely older than a pup but still over five feet tall at the shoulder, crept out of the surrounding trees. Beautiful, sky-blue hide with patches of white and grey like a gathering storm. Her eyes were bright opalescent blue. The air around her was thick with moisture, cascading around her and pooling at her feet. A very powerful irrigation dragon. Her huge eyes locked on mine, her emotions so clear I had no trouble interpreting them. You have to help.

  I had no clue what she hoped I could accomplish. I was just a man, not a warrior, alone and virtually unarmed. But if I couldn't help them, who could?

  Another growl echoed through the trees, followed by another surge of dragon fear. I couldn't walk away from this. Shad Riaz would have to wait.

  “I'll do what I can,” I said, projecting tentative hope and reassurance as best as I could. Somehow I think it was less than convincing, but the dragons seemed relieved.

  The pup lowered her head in an invitation to climb aboard. Her scales were slick with moisture, but after years of working with irrigation dragons I'd long ago gotten used to being damp. I clung to her neck as she snaked through the trees. For such a large creature, she left almost no hint of her passage behind. Most people expect dragons to be large and destructive like an elephant, but they were sinuous and light-footed like deer. It was almost miraculous.