Wings of Renewal: A Solarpunk Dragon Anthology

by Claudie Arseneault

  “What, what is it?”

  Quite happy with the reaction, the dragon went on caring for the plant with satisfied chirping. Its human, on the contrary, slumped down again. With a long, drawn out sigh, the man leaned his elbows on the table and let his chin rest in his left palm. He would probably have gone on staring at the wall for quite a while longer, had the door of the workroom not flown open. As it was, the sound of it hitting the wall startled him so much he pushed himself from the table on reflex and froze, half-bent over his worktable, his chair toppling to the ground behind him.

  “Hey Zaaaack!”

  As he unfolded his tall frame and turned around, said Zack glared at the intruder.

  “What, Alice? What was so important you had to barge in like that? Don't you know you have to knock, in polite society, before entering?”

  The petite blonde he now faced tossed her hair behind her shoulder with a disdainful hand. “What, like you would have answered my knocks? Here,” she dumped a basket in his arms, “repair him.”

  “Again?”

  Despite his unimpressed tone, Zachariah picked up his chair, sat down, and folded back the cloth covering the basket. A pitiful trill came out, and the man frowned.

  “Come on, Alice, can't you tell your girlfriend to take better care of her dragonling? I already have enough work to last the week, and now I have to repair Gabe's pet?”

  As he carefully pulled the mechanical dragon out of the basket, Alice guffawed next to him.

  “Come on, don't tell me you're still working on that crazy project of yours?”

  The dragon looked up at Zack, who shrugged before tapping it on the nose. The automaton tried to bat his finger away, but his paw stopped mid-swipe with a grating sound.

  “Ah,” said the man. “There you are. She stepped on your paw again, didn't she? You have to be more careful. Maybe I can upgrade your sensors somehow …”

  “Zack? You are, aren't you?”

  Alice's voice was suddenly much quieter, and Zack's shoulders tensed as he took a screwdriver and started removing the tiny screw on the dragon's shoulder. Not a word passed the mechanic's lips. The woman sighed.

  “You'll never finish in time for the festival. I mean, glide, sure, you can do that. But flying? And you want to make it pretty to boot? No chance. Maybe aim for next year's festival instead. And what's to say you won't win anyway without it? You always do.”

  Alice was being quite responsible, which was very unlike her. Zack's eyebrow knitted together with disbelief.

  “Did Gabe tell you to say that? Is she worrying about my health again?”

  The petite blonde shifted on her feet. “You did scare us—her. You scared her pretty bad last time.”

  There was a slight dusting of red on Alice's cheeks as she avoided Zack's gaze. The mechanic set down his tools and twisted on his chair to face her.

  “Alice. I know I'm somewhat obsessive over my projects, and I take failures … a bit extremely sometimes, but I will not go all green monster again. Once was bad enough.”

  “Tell her that when you're not throwing dragonling body parts at the wall.” At that, she gestured to the broken dragon head lying on the floor. There was a small scratch a few feet up the wall behind the mess.

  Zachariah sighed. “Yes, of course.”

  Thankfully, Alice dropped the subject without prompting and he was able to finish repairing Gabrielle's dragonling while making small talk, instead of while having his choices critiqued. As he gave the basket—complete with repaired automaton—to Alice and shooed her out, she put a hand on his forearm.

  “You know we think your idea's great, right? We just think the deadline you picked is terrible.”

  “Thanks,” he deadpanned. “That's real encouraging.” He then shifted to a softer tone. “'Gabe' doesn't have to worry, all right? I'm perfectly fine. The stakes are nowhere as high as last time. It's just a dragonling. I'm not going to crash if it doesn't work.”

  Alice briefly looked away before giving him a bashful smile. “Course. I … um, Gabe will be happy to know that.”

  Just as she turned to leave, her gaze went up and her lips twitched.

  “You may want to check on Cam.” And she closed the door of the workroom behind her.

  Through the door, Zack could hear her giggle. He looked up. His mouth opened in surprise and it took a few seconds before he found his voice.

  “Cam! Cambellotti! Get down from that! You'll break it!”

  Perched on a stained glass swallow tied to the ceiling, the mechanical dragon trilled triumphantly as its human finally paid attention to it.

  * * *

  The dragonling was a stained glass vision. It almost looked too delicate to move, with its multi-paneled wings and slim body. But it was demonstrably not, as the dragonling slowly rolled onto its belly and stood up. It seemed a little unbalanced at first, wings throwing shards of coloured light onto the table as they moved to help it stay standing. Zack held his breath. After a moment of hesitant wobbling, the dragonling finally seemed to get its bearings and folded its wings as much as it could—which wasn't much, but Zack was a mechanic, not a magician. The dragonling sat back on its haunches and trilled questioningly at Zack. The man smiled.

  “Hey, Gwyn. Look at you. You are gonna be the star of the show! Oh, you'll love the garden! Now, what d'you say we try flying?”

  * * *

  Zack was standing in the middle of his workshop. The absence of emotion on his face was eerily reminiscent of the expression on the face of dead fishes at the market. Light streamed from the glass ceiling and plant pots swayed lightly in the breeze coming from the open windows. Still, the mechanic went on being irresponsive. On the ground, Cam nosed at a blue glass piece. At the resulting clink, Zack's fingers twitched. His hands made an aborted movement towards forming a fist, but soon went on hanging limply.

  This time, the door slamming open didn't even get a reaction out of the mechanic. He simply went on staring stonily at nothing. Even Alice's joyous expression of greeting didn't faze him. Lost in her babble, it took a few seconds before the woman even realised something was wrong, but when she did, she stopped short in the middle of inviting him to dinner and rushed towards him.

  “Oh no, no no no … You promised, Zack, you promised! Snap out of it, please! Zack! Zachariah! Oh please, please, please …”

  Alice's voice trailed off in a litany of 'please' as she stood before the mechanic, her hand flitting around him, hovering next to his shoulders, arms, hands, yet never touching him, never daring. Her fingers came to rest on her own jaw for a second, feeling the phantom pain of a long-healed bruise. He had promised not to rage out again, right? It wouldn't happen again, right? Crouched on a hanging pot at eye level with the woman, Cam trilled questioningly. Alice barely spared him a glance.

  “Not now, Cam.” Her eyes flitted about and her voice trailed off. “Not now.”

  She swallowed visibly and shifted on her feet before extending a hesitant hand towards the man's shoulder. Alice's fingers paused a few centimeters from their goal. She swallowed again, started to step back … But shook her head and put her hand on Zack's shoulder.

  “Zack …?”

  Her voice was tentative, soft, quiet. Almost but not quite the tone one would use with a beloved pet gone feral. One that might, maybe, remember you, but who might lash out at you if you got too close. Alice had hoped she'd never have to use that tone again.

  “Zack, please snap out of it. You said you'd be all right. Please, you're scaring me … Don't make me call Gabe.”

  Zack finally had a reaction, small as it was. He blinked and turned his gaze, still unfocused, on Alice. She tried an encouraging smile that more closely resembled a grimace.

  “Hey, there you are. Think you can come back completely for me?”

  It took a few exhausting minutes of quiet encouragements and prodding from Alice before Zack's eyes seemed to focus again. By then, she had managed to guide him to his chair and Cam was peeking at th
em from between the piles of scrap on Zack's worktable. The mechanic's gaze latched on the broken metal and glass pieces on the ground for barely a second before Alice stepped in front of the mess with a forbidding look. She was, however, completely ignored as Zack looked frantically around.

  “Cam? Where's Cam?”

  The dragonling raised its head from its hiding place and chirped. The mechanic, in answer, extended a slightly trembling hand towards the automaton, who affectionately rubbed its snout on it. It then padded towards its maker and jumped on his knees. Zack automatically wrapped an arm under the dragonling while his free hand caressed a discrete line of glue on its front paw. Alice, eyes shut, rested her fingers on the back of her friend's neck.

  “Cam's perfectly all right, Zack. You didn't touch him.”

  This time didn't need to be said to be heard. The man raised scared, child-like eyes towards his friend, somehow appearing small despite his frame.

  “But the parts on the ground … The dragonling broke, and I—“

  “Shhh, it's all right, you just blanked out. You didn't go all green monster on us.”

  “Promise?”

  His voice shook and Alice's eyes softened. She softly ran her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck.

  “Promise. Do you want me to call Gabe?”

  The relief that had briefly appeared in Zack's eyes disappeared as he ducked his head. His whole body followed suit until he was hunched down, head inches from his desk and dragonling shielded behind slightly trembling arms. When he answered, his voice was but a choked whisper.

  “Please don't.”

  Alice bit her lips and looked away, fingers still running over Zack's neck.

  “Do you … Do you want me to leave you alone for a bit? Do you think you're good, now?”

  “Yeah. Please. I'm …” he swallowed. “I'm better. Not … good, but okay.”

  With obvious reluctance, Alice ran her fingers through his hair one last time before backing off.

  “All right. Okay. I can do that. But you have to promise to call me before 5. Or I'll sic Gabe on you. You won't like it!”

  The forced cheer in her voice brought a slight chuckle from the hunched mechanic and Alice smiled, eyes sad.

  “Call me, Zack. I mean it. And get some sleep. You're more important than your project. You don't need to win every year.”

  The door closed behind her and Zack nodded to the empty room. Held in trembling arms, a puzzled dragonling wondered why its human was watering him.

  * * *

  From the flowerpot it was perched on, Cam watched its human with wondering eyes. After the watering session, he was now staring at a big sheet of paper and not uttering a sound. The silence itself was odd, as its human tended to mutter when he worked. The constant touching was odd too. Normally, its human didn't pet it nearly that often. While the abnormal events held the automaton's attention for a good few minutes, its primary task soon called it back and it jumped from its perch to go water the plants of the public string garden.

  When Zack's hand reached for his dragonling and found nothing, his first reaction was disbelief. Then he looked frantically around, until he saw the end of Cam's tail disappearing into the attached room. Only then did he calm down. A slight smile even made its way on his face.

  “All right, Cam. Good idea. Going out would do me good.”

  That said, he got up and left, unconcerned by the crinkling of the plans under his hands. He did, however, take his cell phone from its base on the window ledge. He had promised to call Alice, after all.

  As he left his workroom and crossed the string garden, he couldn't resist checking on every plant on his way. This one was a bit too low and needed to be retied to the ceiling, that one was too close to the first one, those two clashed too much to stay next to each other … As much as he relied on Cam to take care of his garden, he wanted it to be perfect for the festival. His dragonlings may be the main attractions, but the plants were still an integral—and necessary—part of it. Finally satisfied about the state of his garden, Zack waved at Cam, bright spot among the green plants.

  “I'm going out, Cam. I'll be back later.”

  A chirp answered him and Zack left the room, almost back to his normal countenance.

  * * *

  Zack ducked through the garden's archway and looked around until he spotted the person he'd been looking for. The mechanic grinned widely. “Hey gorgeous! Mind if I steal a bit of your time?”

  The lean man squatting next to a beautiful flowerbed of Impatiens in full bloom groaned.

  “Zack. What do you want?”

  “What, can't I visit my dearest friend when I want to?” His hand came up to his chest in mock outrage. “You wound me, Phil. Really, you do.”

  As he stood, Philipp shook his head, making his hair tumble down his shoulders. He pushed it behind his ear.

  “First of all, Alice is the one who has the dubious honour of bearing the title 'best and dearest friend of Zachariah Lawrence'. Second, no, you can't come visit me whenever. You don't. Not in my garden. Not less than a week before the festival. You say it's unfair for the competition if you know what you're going against. So what do you want?”

  Zack snapped his fingers as he leaned against the archway.

  “Aah, busted. What a pity. I had worked so hard on my excuse, too.”

  Phil raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, right. You might wanna stop now before you dissolve into a puddle of sarcasm. I don't think the plants would like it.”

  “All right, all right. I need help. My flying dragonling doesn't work. Didn't. Anyway.”

  There was silence as Phil's eyebrow climbed into his hairline.

  “Wait, wait, let me get this straight. You want ME to help YOU build yet another automaton, and for a contest we're both participating in? How would that be fair?”

  “Aw, come on, gorgeous! We never get gold in the same category anyway.”

  Phil's gaze was all but impressed. “Yeah, I get the Work prize, you get the Wow prize. So?”

  “Don't be like that! There's no way I could compete with you botanically, so I have to spice up my garden with decorations and accessories. And dragons. So, what do you say? Will you help? Pretty please?”

  “Why don't you go ask your mother, Zack? She's a pretty good mechanic.”

  There was an embarrassed silence and Philipp sighed.

  “She wouldn't approve of your … intensity in this project, would she? Doesn't that mean I shouldn't help you?”

  “I'm not as … uh … invested as last time. Promise! I'm not working on someone's arm, Phil!”

  “But you are invested, Zack. And pretty heavily so, if you've resorted to asking me.”

  “Aw, come on, it's only a dragonling … Please?”

  Phil tugged on a lock of his hair and sighed.

  “All right. If only to keep an eye on you. Have you tried hollowing the structure to make it lighter?”

  “Course I have, who do you take me for?”

  As they talked back and forth about possible ameliorations, Phil went back to taking care of his garden. He did not have dragonlings to do it for him, after all.

  * * *

  During the following days, Zack's workshop was illuminated almost constantly as he worked on the second prototype of his stained glass dragonling. Even Cam had started to avoid the room, entering it only when he needed to do a quick check on the plants hanging there. Zack, even as he diligently slept at least five hours per day—Alice's condition for letting him work in peace—worked tirelessly on the dragonling that was slowly coming back together under his hands. Five days later, palms sweaty and heart hammering wildly in his chest, he finally sat in his garden and waited.

  * * *

  At 10 AM, the first group of judges entered Zack's glass-walled garden. The awaited comments were heard about the lightness of the room, the cleverness of the plant disposition, and there were exclamations of delight when Cam appeared between the plants. There were some gener
al comments about the dragonling and the life he brought to the garden. But then …

  As the judges reached the far wall of the greenhouse, there were more cries of surprise and awe. There, perched on a tiny ledge, was another dragonling. Leaner than the other, but no less impressive. In fact, it was anything but. Its stained glass wings were extended, refracting the sunlight in tiny shards of beauty. It did not waver, did not stir, did not tremble. It was perfectly still, a beautifully detailed statue.

  Just as the judges were taking their eyes off it, done with their praises, a slight movement of the wings brought their gazes to it again. In baited silence, the dragonling folded its wings a bit, crouched, and took off.

  Zack crossed his fingers.

  The dragonling, as if carried by naught but the mechanic's hopes, flew across the length of the greenhouse to perch on the biggest flowerpot. The judges left the garden with loud exclamations of incredulity and delight, and with many glances behind.