Wings of Renewal: A Solarpunk Dragon Anthology

by Claudie Arseneault

  Morelle and Vina hurried around her, their bare feet scraping up the shimmering, crocodilian scales of the dragon's neck. They stood on its back and looked around. There were at least fifty children in all, a good percentage of the entire youth population of both their own community and the neighboring one. Almost all of them were standing back slightly, looking up. They quieted, pinching their friends who failed to do the same, until the noise fell to a buzz.

  Red tanks lined the back wall, from which snaked dozens of tubes. They spread out across the floor in ragged scribbles, ending at various points along the dragon's hide. Their design from above seemed to mimic the network of arteries and veins they would soon flood at, Morelle realized, her signal.

  Vina grabbed Morelle's hand and squeezed it. Morelle nodded at the tanks.

  Attached to the side of each of the tanks were large levers, which a few younger kids grabbed like monkey bars. They reached high to grip the metal with both hands, swinging their legs up off the ground behind them, slowly dragging the levers down with their whole weight. Dark red began to flow through the tubes, reaching the tail and haunches first, which began to twitch. When the liquid reached the wings, they fluttered and the kids nearby hurried back, the wind whipping their hair and clothes.

  The neck shuddered. Vina fell from her perch, landing with a slight wince on the ground. Morelle put a hand on one of the turbine holsters above the shoulders to hold herself steady.

  The neck stretched upward, and the dragon turned its head. Morelle watched its eyelids flutter open, revealing in spurts, like a flip book, the diagonal, snake-like slit of a pupil. It curled its neck back towards her until its nose was inches from hers. Its amber eyes narrowed. Morelle couldn't move.

  A long tongue darted out and slurped across Morelle's cheek. Morelle pulled back and swiped her arm across her face to wipe away the saliva. The dragon drew its head back and closed its jaw, but forgot to pull its tongue in. It smacked its mouth like a cow and crossed its eyes, confused, before it managed to slowly reel the tongue back in.

  Morelle reached out and brushed her fingers across its nose. It felt warm. The dragon nuzzled against her touch and she almost lost her balance. “I guess I got the domesticated bit of its behavior pretty—”

  The sound projectors began to screech out a warning. The university caravan hadn't found the entrance, but they had found the wall of the room that ran along the side of the cliff. They were mere feet away from where the dragon stood, and had released tiny erosion bugs to eat away at the rock in between.

  Morelle slid down the dragon's neck, stumbling slightly as she hit the ground. The dragon lowered its head beside her, panting like a dog. She put a hand on its neck to soothe it.

  The wall began to crumble, and the dragon shuffled its feet nervously.

  “It's okay,” Morelle said, but it whipped its head as the children surrounding it began to panic.

  Sunlight flooded in through tiny holes in the wall and the dragon tried to back away. The kids behind it began to scream, and, frightened by the noise, the dragon rammed forward, bursting through the perforated wall.

  Morelle and Vina ran after it, tearing through the stunned crowd of university faculty, none more so than Morelle's father. The dragon lumbered to the edge of the water, past the bird-shaped rock.

  It took flight.

  The rest of the kids stumbled out from the ruins, holding their arms up to block the red sunlight. They began to cheer.

  The dragon pumped its wings, rising higher and higher. Morelle and Vina ran into the ocean, laughing and shouting wordlessly, and sometimes soundlessly, through straining vocal cords.

  The spines along the dragon's back straightened and curled as it twisted its body towards a current. It stretched its wings out to their full size, preparing to glide.

  But it couldn't. The metal skeleton was too heavy for the feeble flesh of its wings to support. The crowd below grew silent and still as it hung in the air for a few sickening seconds, flapping with quickly-fatiguing muscles. Morelle and Vina and Rhone and Aziza and the other fifty-some kids, along with the university faculty and Morelle's father, all watched on as the dragon twisted into a nose-dive and disappeared beneath the waves.

  About Sam Martin

  Sam Martin is a recent repatriate living in Philadelphia after two years in Seoul, South Korea. She studied writing and revolutions at Brown University. Unfortunately, this means she would not be one to call if you want to build a dragon.

  Wings of the Guiding Suns

  by M. Pax

  Sita's bare skin—sans scales, sans feathers or fur, sans protective secretions—missed the warmth of the sun globes that had kept her snug since the day she'd hatched. Yet the chill gripping her couldn't numb the thrill of being summoned to her mother. Aching to stand in her presence, Sita wanted nothing more than to do her proud.

  Sita strolled deeper into the starship, traveling an acre-long hallway, ignoring doorways to glowing rooms. She didn't need to view her reflection in the transparent section of the hull to know she didn't resemble her mother. Since sprung from her egg six months ago, Sita had known. She had grown some, but still barely stood five and a half feet tall. She had brown flesh and dark hair cascading to her waist. Missing were a set of glorious white wings, horns, a tail, talons, and the full telepathic abilities of dragonkind. Yet she had been born to carry out a noble mission—to save a race of beings about to be erased from existence.

  Blushing porcelain gladioli chimed as she navigated the gardens, their notes exciting the musical strings swirling among the swooping designs etched into the window panes of the hull. The flowery motifs had been tinted in greens, blues, and golds. Through their soft pigments, the stars beckoned, buoying Sita in a sea she couldn't fully sense with the body given to her. Her mother could taste the rhythms of the solar strands. The desperate sorrow upon them had lured Mother and prompted the hatching of Sita.

  The gardens emptied into the Chamber of Darlig, a massive room of crystal and light. An enormous glass vessel shaped like a heart took up the center. Etched wings draped over the sides of the urn, and red light emanated from inside. Above it, making up the support structure of the chamber, was the carving of Mother—a sitting dragon with four powerful legs, wings the breadth of a house, and a graceful head larger than Sita. The twisting horns and strong jaw gave Mother an air of wisdom. Her tail and the tips of her wings were edged with tufts of fur. Sculpted in alabaster, it was a true likeness of Darlig, Sita's mother.

  Shutting her gaping mouth, Sita approached the radiant vessel and pressed her forehead to the smooth glass. “Your splendor is astounding,” she whispered.

  “As is yours.” Her mother spoke in the tones of a rhapsody, bass notes mingling with soaring sopranos.

  “I'm nothing like you.”

  “Your appearance is the same as those you've been created to guide, and you're exactly like me where it counts, daughter.”

  “I don't resemble dragonkind in the least.”

  “I've been remade into a ship. My appearance isn't true to dragonkind either.”

  “But you have every ability of a dragon and the shape of your hull is dragon.” Sita's fingers brushed over the glass urn containing the essence of her mother. “Why did you decide to reincarnate into a ship?”

  “Embrace me, and I'll show you.”

  Wrapping her arms tight around the red glass chamber, Sita pressed her cheek against her mother's heart. Sita's head filled with images from Mother's life. They shuffled into order and Sita experienced Darlig's earliest days as if she had lived them.

  Mother had first been hatched as a different being. Not a dragon or a ship, she was bioengineered to save a race of beings from becoming extinct. “Like me,” Sita whispered, caressing the glass urn.

  More of Darlig's past unspooled in Sita's mind. Mother's first body had a shape similar to a dragon's—leathery wings with claws, a long beak, and serrated teeth. A dangerous edge glinted in her eye. Mother soared over towering
trees and a thick swamp. Smoke smothered the sky, and ash fell like rain. Flames roared on the horizon, racing closer to the last refuge. Beings of a reptilian nature gathered, wailing at the heavens for salvation.

  “Who are they?” Sita clasped at the sorrow building in her throat. “What happened to them?”

  “The planet below us was once theirs. Millennia ago, it had been hit by an asteroid and all life upon it floundered, about to be extinguished.”

  The roars of the dying beings filled Sita's ears. She clasped her hands over them, steeling herself against the pain blistering her skin as if she stood among the searing blazes. “You saved them. Why do they again need rescue?”

  “They don't. Different beings ask for assistance. The ones under my mission had heeded my guidance and evolved into the Uikeas classes. I wanted you to know it's possible to guide beings not yet ready to embrace Accord.”

  Formed by the dragons, Accord was a unity of beings living in harmony among worlds settled by dragonkind. Peace, kindness, respect of the planet, and selflessness were expected by all who joined. Some species could conform. Some couldn't. Mother avoided answering the calls of those who sang utter discord.

  Several types of Uikeas assisted on the ship. It had taken millennia for them to establish Accord. Their devotion to Mother became more clear. If not for Darlig, they would have been forgotten by the universe long ago.

  “A lesson I cherish. Thank you, I feel less afraid.” Sita examined the brown flesh covering her frail limbs. “I don't have scales or charming horns on my head. I'm not Uikeas.”

  “Uikeas left this world eons ago with me. The dominant species of this epoch calls themselves humans.”

  Sita glanced out the transparent hull. A planet of soul-coddling blue spun outside the ship. Vaporous wisps spread from vortexes over large areas of frozen ground and icy seas. “Are you sure life remains?”

  “Mm-hmm. Their pleas resonate through the solar strands. Our telepathic link will enable you to hear the strands sung by the humans, and the Uikeas will give you a way to speak directly to me.”

  “Good.” Still, Sita remained uncertain she could accomplish such an enormous task as saving an entire people. Perhaps if she met the humans in a more temperate season, her chances of succeeding would rise. “Is this planet always so cold?”

  “The world below is experiencing an ice age it will never recover from. Not until their sun's core collapses and the heat expands the star into a red giant. Then this world will be vaporized. Soon.”

  Sita shuddered at the idea of destruction and darkness. “What are the humans like?”

  “I will tell you as you dress.” A path lit on the floor, snaking out of the Chamber of Darlig and deeper into the ship. Sita followed it.

  The great solar wings of the starcraft spread marvelously on either side of the hull just outside the chamber. Instead of white, they were blue sparking with gold, billowing with the solar winds. They and the hull absorbed starshine, enabling the ship to hook into the solar strands to travel the galaxy. The spacecraft's systems were powered by suns and planets rich in hydrogen. Air and biological matter were recycled. Mother could fly forever among nebulae and moons.

  “The rhythmic strands sent out by most humans will welcome you, but not all,” Mother said, serenading Sita's every step. “I sense only one barrow, one remaining center of civilization. Dreamers live among them, and savages unable to imagine a future any better than the life they have. Their notes on the strands mingle and merge.”

  “The savages are my challenge?” Sita stepped into an alcove with copper walls. The metal conducted heat and a buzz traveled up through her feet. She giggled at the way the energy tickled and pranced to a bit of carpet shaped like a lily pad.

  “Determining who will accept your guidance and what to do with those who won't is the challenge.”

  “How will I know? What if I choose wrong?”

  “At your core, you are dragon. Our hearts do not fail if we keep them attuned to the star songs.”

  “I'll do my best, Mother.”

  “You're not alone. The Uikeas and I will help you. When you succeed, you'll be reborn as a dragon and join our kin on the homeworld.”

  Sita wanted nothing more. To be trapped on the cold world below and share the fate of its residents would break her heart. Dragons were meant to soar.

  Two Uikeas entered from a doorway on the far side, garments draped over their reptilian arms. Like Sita, they had two arms and two legs. One had three stunted horns and a tough, leathery frill around its face. Another had bony plates trailing down the center of its skull. A third sported a rounded crest over its nose.

  Their amber eyes blinked in faces resembling dragonkind, and scales as white as the icy planet graced their bodies with pockets of gray shading their features in steep angles. No beaks or naked wings, yet the shape of the Uikeas suggested they had descended from the beasts Mother had rescued long ago.

  The dark suits the Uikeas wore glowed with energy from distant stars. Conduits throughout the spacecraft fed power to the suits, which linked the Uikeas to Darlig. They knew what needed to be done on the ship without being asked.

  The Uikeas handed Sita a pair of pants. The slinky material glided on and warmed her as well as the sun lamps in the nursery. The legs ballooned out and tapered at the ankles. Then came a matching top in the same shade of steely blue. Fur lined her boots, muff, and hat. The dark amethyst cloak took Sita's breath away. Stars had been embroidered on it in gold. They pulsed with starshine, but the Uikeas didn't drape it over her shoulders yet.

  They called and whistled into the corridor. Two dragon hatchlings flew in and wrapped themselves around Sita's arms like sleeves, a dragon sweater, and laid their heads on her shoulders, puffing their heated breaths on her neck.

  “The hatchlings will strengthen your telepathic link with Darlig and allow you to speak directly to her and us. Just touch your nose to one of theirs,” the taller Uikeas said.

  The stunning cloak was placed onto her shoulders over the two little dragons. They snuggled in tight and tucked in their wings. Sita fastened the buttons. The zing of energy from the hatchlings and the technology in the cloak buoyed her confidence enough to leave the room.

  The Uikeas attended her to the hatch. Out the diamond-shaped view panel, the solar wings above shifted, shielding Mother from the brunt of the heat of reentry. The starcraft alighted into a valley as gently as a petal on the wind.

  “The sensors in the cloak will lead you to the barrow where you'll find the humans. It will feed you, keep you from freezing, and allow you to show the humans their new home. When you lift the sides up like wings, the cloak connects to the ship's data systems.”

  The door slid upward, ushering in a biting wind and a squall of snow. For a moment, Sita's foot hovered over the threshold. Her breaths came rapidly, and she found it hard to swallow.

  With the softest of pushes, the Uikeas sent her out. A quiet click announced the shutting of the hatch. Sita gripped the frame of the copper-hued entry, and her gaze followed the lines of the ship upward, taking in the breadth of transparent and copper hull. She felt so tiny. The head of the vessel at the top, thirty stories high, was where she had been born. The hatch where she stood was a toe on the great dragon ship.

  The Uikeas waved at Sita from the window in the doorway. She didn't want to go, but couldn't disappoint her mother, and she did want the chance to be reborn as a dragon. Tucking her hands inside the warm muff, she faced the horizon and set out.

  The air smelled sharp and damp. A plain of ice ridged by the constant wind led to menacing cliffs. She would have to climb those to find the human barrow. Slipping and stumbling, it took all of her concentration to ascend to the summit where she stopped for the night.

  A shallow cave provided shelter from the wind, but not from her worries. What if the humans didn't want to be guided to safety? What if they were incapable of reaching Accord?

  She strained to sense their strands and failed
. “What am I doing wrong?” The hatchlings touched her nose, connecting her with Darlig.

  “You'll taste the human song when you're closer to their barrow. Hush and sleep, daughter. You need your strength.”

  “Thank you, Mother.”

  Sita did her best to obey, but slept little, tossing and turning. She rose before the sun and made the descent to the other side. Out on the ice sheet that appeared to never end, she held her breath, listening for a note, only hearing wind and drifting snow. Her steps grew heavy.

  The cloak and hatchlings nudged her east. Sita trod through a desolate terrain of glaciers. If she veered in the wrong direction, the hatchlings squeezed her arms and one section of her cloak burst with a pop of energy. It took her a few tries to figure out the surging section meant to not go that way. “Thank you,” she whispered to the little dragons. Their warm exhales bolstered her spirits. They believed in her.

  Carefully navigating over a crevasse, Sita found a trail. At last she heard a hum, a song of sorrow. Some of the notes soared to bittersweet hope. Others gonged in anger and resignation. Guiding the humans wouldn't be easy.

  The trail led up an imposing wall of snow. Sita couldn't see beyond the first twist of the path. She started on it, concentrating on how she placed her boots on the treacherous footing. The strands of song grew louder. She rushed around the first curve to greet them and met a spear tip. Startled, she fell.

  A hulk lumbered over her, a formidable tower. The furs matched the hues of ice and snow perfectly and encased every inch of his or her body. Through a small slit in the hood, one glaring eye scoured Sita's vulnerable form. “Who are you?” The voice was low, feral, and gruff, contradicting the vibrating aria emanating from the soul.

  “Sita. I come from—”

  “There are no other cities. You're not from this one. I've never seen you.” The spear jabbed at her cloak. “How can you be from nowhere?”