Wings of Renewal: A Solarpunk Dragon Anthology

by Claudie Arseneault

  “I'm from—”

  “The Synod will hear your lies, for nothing else could tumble from your lips. They're as blue as your cloak. Why aren't you dead?”

  “I—”

  “Save it for the Synod.” A fur-encased hand hauled her onto her feet. The human pushed her in front. “Follow the trail.”

  She obeyed, holding her tongue and concealing her quaking nerves under her cloak. If all humans were so barbaric, her mission would fail. How could she battle such violent natures?

  For an eternity, she climbed the steep slope. Up, up, and up. The heightened edges of the carved path shielded her from the buffeting winds. She was grateful for the protection, and more grateful when the passage ended at a doorway. It glowed with golden light promising warmth. Above it towered more cliffs and above those, a glass dome.

  The human's spear jabbed into a small recess beside the door. The entry swung open. More golden light and a lobby carved into the ice greeted Sita. Contouring waves made an artful design resembling the lines of Mother. Sita smiled at the surprise and stepped aside to allow the human to take the lead.

  He swept off his hood, revealing long, dark hair, skin the color of bronze, and a stern face framed by a dark beard and mustache. His facial hair had been well groomed and trimmed and didn't tumble as wildly as the hair on his head. His steep cheeks accentuated the lively spirit sparking in his dark eyes. With a surly gesture, he steered her to a wall and punched it to reveal another door as white as the snow. She never would have known it was there. It creaked open into a glorious structure of glass and light.

  Sita gasped at the unexpected patterns of trees and gardens on the glass panels above and basked in the heat they sent into her frozen bones. The man sat on a bench and removed his coat and leggings.

  The pleasant strands became more mixed with disharmony. Notes would clash and fall away, then blare for several minutes. Standing still, she tried to pick out the dominant song, but failed. The humans sang sour and sweet, inspiring and despairing.

  “You can leave your things here. No one will take them,” he said. Uplifting notes surrounded him, tones heard in the strands that had brought Mother here. How could he be both savage and tender?

  She nodded and flashed a meek smile. She wanted him to trust her. “Do you have a name?” On a peg next to his coat, she hung her hat and muff. She undid the buttons on her cloak, but left it draped over her shoulders, keeping the hatchlings concealed.

  Tall and of a wiry build, his muscles twitched when he shrugged. His cheeks tinged with pink. “Cero.”

  Her fingers played in the colors streaming from the glass ceiling. She smelled the warmth of earth and the freshness of thriving flora. These things harmonized. “You've learned to harness the power of the sun. You surprise me, Cero.”

  His lips tugged upwards, and he waved at her to follow. “Is that why you've come? For technology? The Synod will be thrilled to hear another pocket of civilization survives. Unless you mean to attack?” His eyes narrowed. “No.” He held up a hand to silence her. “Save it for the gathering.” He paused at the stairwell curving down into the city and used a horn carved into the smooth, shellacked wood. His words boomed through the dome. “Calling Synod to order.”

  The banister appeared to be an extension of a living tree, winding its way down stairs fluted like lily pads. Water gurgled below, and the humid warmth chased away the frigid vistas outside. The humans harnessing solar and geothermal energies contradicted the sour notes in the strands they sung. How could they be both barbaric and civilized?

  “I'm in trouble.” She spoke only to herself and reached for a hatchling's tail. The little dragon purred, and she recalled Mother's lessons. “Our hearts don't fail.” Sita clung to the advice and the fact the humans couldn't wish to die. Their pleas for salvation entwined into the solar strands were what had lured Mother here. Mother was never wrong. “Never.” Sita picked up the pace to keep up with Cero.

  Plants lined the walls of the seven levels, gardens of color and nourishment. Birds sang and flitted with butterflies amid crops and blooms. Humans tended to them dressed in hues of terra cotta and ivory. The bits of fabric had been artfully stitched together, mimicking vines and flowers, matching the curves of the staircase. Sita estimated a population of two thousand.

  “I've come to fulfill your wishes,” she dared to say to Cero. Her hand slid smoothly over the varnished wood. “A future not determined by the death throes of your star.”

  He stopped short and spun on his heels. He studied her thoroughly from foot to the top of her head. “My star? You mean the sun? Isn't it your sun too?” A taste of hope laced his words and was swept away as quickly as an unformed wish. Again he raised a hand to silence her. “Save it—”

  “For the Synod. What is the Synod?” The little glimmer in his tone could lead to success. She had to keep him talking.

  “A panel of citizens who make decisions for the survival of us all. They make rules, ration food, allot residences and resources.”

  “I'm glad you work together. My people do, and they accomplish such marvelous things.”

  He put his finger to his lips. “Wait for the others.”

  At the bottom of the dome, he held open a door to a glassed-in room. Each pane was designed as a tulip in pinks and blues, echoing the windows on Darlig. Easels held images of the human's dying sun and illustrations of it destroying the planet. Sita frowned at the fate with which the humans had been burdened.

  Cero pointed at a stool in the middle of a half moon-shaped table. An ornate chair on the other side faced Sita. Benches stretched down either side of the table, seating the Synod as they came in, seventeen of them.

  An older woman took the ornately carved chair. She had the same nose and complexion as Cero. He took the place on her right. Every line of her was long and lean. Her hair hung to her waist and was as dark as Sita's. Her eyes glinted in golden tones. She cleared her throat. “I'm Nithya, head of the Synod of New Chigopolis. Who you are and where are you from?” She stiffened her jaw creased with hardship and wisdom.

  The underlying sour notes in the city grew louder, keeping Sita's tongue still for a lengthy minute. However, she couldn't guide the humans to Accord through silence. She stood and moistened her lips. “I've been sent by my people to guide you to salvation. We invite—”

  “No fancy words. Answer my questions and nothing more.” Nithya wagged a finger at Sita's nose. “Who are your people?”

  Sita shrank. The cloak on her shoulders grew heavy, and the warm breaths of the hatchlings didn't bolster her mettle. “The dragons. We are sentries of this quadrant of the galaxy? We came to answer your cries of distress. You don't have to die with your star.” Her voice quivered and became high pitched at the end, as if she didn't know.

  “Are you asking me?” Nithya straightened her shoulders. “We have no need for hysteria and fairy stories.”

  Several members of the Synod laughed in short, loud outbursts.

  A man with a squatter build than Cero's smirked. “You're saying you're from outer space?” He pointed at the air and guffawed.

  The sour notes filled Sita's mouth and ears. Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away before they fell, and her gaze turned to Cero. He didn't join in the mocking. His strands tasted mournful, laced with melodies yearning to live. He smiled sadly, and she heard his encouragement.

  She found the strength to speak. “The dragons offer you life. You know your end comes. I see the depictions of your star's demise on the walls.”

  Nithya folded her hands on top of the table. “How will you save us? With magic?”

  Wincing, Sita wished she had never left Darlig's sanctuary. The hatchlings tightened on her arms, reminding her of her duty, yet Sita's gut quaked. “No, we have a ship to take you. We can convey you to a new home, all of you, together.”

  “You're lying. There's nowhere to go. The entire solar system will be obliterated.”

  Lying? Sita gripped a hatchling's ta
il, letting its coos calm her. Humans wouldn't fit in with the other people dragonkind had saved. However, Mother wouldn't condone Sita giving up. “Mother and I can take you off this world—”

  “No!” Nithya's palm slammed on the table. She sprang to her feet. “To live among your people and your rules?”

  Taking a step back, Sita tumbled into her chair. Inhaling slowly, she probed for the star song that had brought Mother here, and tasted the deepest grief.

  “Let her speak,” Cero said. “Give her the courtesy of a chance.”

  She glanced up, meeting his somber gaze. He and others like him could lead the humans to Accord. The construction of this city proved the humans could live by dragon standards.

  “I must save you.” Not even the hatchlings could hear her. They flapped their wings, pushing the cloak off Sita's shoulders, and maneuvered her onto her feet.

  The humans gawked and jostled in their seats. Many of them pointed.

  Sita listened more to the little dragons than to the humans and raised her voice. “The suns of the dragons are mellow. We live by the accords of charity and empathy.” Grabbing the ends of her cloak, Sita spread the garment out at her sides like wings. The hatchlings breathed on the material and an image of Mother appeared. She soared among worlds cared for by her brothers and sisters. Cities and people bustled, smiling, joyful, thriving.

  “Paradise,” Cero whispered. “And no snow.” His melodies lightened, soaring near to his earlier aria.

  A smile lit in Sita's heart. “There are cooler worlds if you so desire.” The scene on her cloak shifted to one of snow domes filled with greenery, much like the city the humans occupied. The harmonies in the strands increased to a crescendo.

  “What's the price?” Nithya said. “What happens if someone forgets their manners?”

  Touching her nose to one of the hatchling's, Sita strengthened her ability to communicate with Mother. Sita asked Nithya's questions then repeated the response. “It has never happened.”

  “Never? Because you kill them?” Nithya shook a fist.

  “Because they don't join Accord.”

  “Right. You leave them to die.”

  Knowing better than to say yes, Sita gripped the edge of the table and steadied her weakening knees. Part of her mission was to weed out those who would sour Accord. Her heart fluttered, and she tried once more. “I've been made for you and sent to care for you during the transition.”

  “To live as you say by your rules under the watch of your people. Serpents! We've been warned of your kind.”

  “What?” A chill shook Sita's frame. The strands gonged loudly then went silent. “You don't know what you're saying.”

  Cero smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, my mother does know. Tales handed down from generation to generation tell of murderous dragons and tricky serpents. We love those stories.” His fingers traced patterns on the desktop. The notes of his strands ebbed into less sweet melodies. “Because of those, many citizens will be unwilling to follow dragons into the stars. They'd rather die here on our terms.”

  Her greatest hope settled like a rock in her stomach. Cero sided with Nithya and those clinging to strands of fear. Rubbing at the ache in her chest, Sita struggled to speak louder than a whisper. “Hear me out before you decide. Please.”

  He blinked slowly. “Give me your message.”

  “You and your history can survive.” She spoke of how humans would live in peace among other gentle beings of the galaxy, of how they would flourish and continue to grow. “As you were meant to evolve if your planet hadn't fallen to ruin.” With every word, she felt the melodies of Accord grow stronger.

  “Let us discuss your generous offer in private. I'll let you know our decision.” Cero stood and bowed. “We're honored you've come.”

  Her heart thumped with the hope stirring in his, and Sita left the chamber. She found a bench by a bubbling stream. Fish swam in the water. They were so tranquil, gurgling in complete Accord, cocooning Sita in their murmurs. Three hours later, her respite shattered.

  Cero left the Synod chamber, his eyes frowning so deeply, his body sighed. He joined her at the brook.

  Sita slumped. “Your deliberation didn't go well?”

  “My mother won't leave. We'll live and die as humans under human laws. It's better than giving false hope. If we don't measure up, your people will abandon us to this same fate. We've already accepted we'll die. It'd be cruel to toy with everyone's emotions.”

  The pain of defeat settled in her core, and Cero's mournful notes infused her senses. Sita hugged herself. “What can I do to help sway Nithya?” she asked.

  “Nothing. You can rest until daylight,” he said, “then you must return from where you came.” He swept his hand over his temple. His hair had been brushed and pulled back into a ponytail. “I'll guide you down the path and over the glaciers.”

  Sita could taste his curiosity. “You can leave with me,” she said, folding her hands in her lap. “You and the others who think like you.”

  He shook his head slowly, sinking onto the bench beside her. “If not for my mother, I would say yes in a heartbeat. What you offer is incredible, Sita.” He dared to place a hand over hers.

  She felt his pulse race, and his sorrow became more palpable. “I don't want you to die. Humans have such promise. I see it in your city and the technology you use. You have much in common with dragonkind. You won't find it a difficult adjustment.”

  “I won't go without my family.” He squeezed her fingers then let go. “I'll find you again in the morning.” He left her alone with the brook and the fish.

  She touched her nose to a hatchling, establishing direct communication with Mother. “I need you. I've failed. Completely and utterly.” Her voice hitched, and her eyes filled. The hatchlings rubbed their wings over her back.

  “You only fail if you give up. Remember my example of the Uikeas.” Mother hummed as tranquilly as the fish.

  “You succeeded.” A tear trickled over Sita's cheek. Then another. “The humans refuse to join Accord.”

  “The Uikeas were once worse than the humans. There are ways to triumph other than guiding the humans to our worlds. Shut your eyes, I'll show you.”

  Once again, Darlig's past played in Sita's mind. She felt Mother's heartbreak at being unable to achieve Accord with the ancestors of the Uikeas, and she experienced the thrill of Mother's novel idea. Darlig had returned to her ship and had asked to take the Uikeas to a new home where they'd be the sole occupants. Mother would guide them until they were ready to join Accord.

  “That's when I was reborn into this spacecraft. Millennia later, I had victory,” Mother said.

  “I can do the same,” Sita whispered.

  “Yes.”

  * * *

  Sita revealed the new hope to Cero on the way to Mother. He wanted to accept.

  “I can't without consent from the others,” he said. “There are so few of us.” His breath crystallized into a thick frost on his hood.

  “This proposal takes out everything to which your mother objected.” She tucked her chin into the collar of her cloak. The hatchlings breathed rapidly to thwart the freezing chill.

  “Yes, but—”

  “But we're still dragons?” She studied his eyes, the only part of his face she could see. “There'll be none on your new home. Only the ship. You can hide it away.”

  He laughed, a pleasing rumble. “That's not it. I think they'll agree, but it's wrong to speak for them.”

  They reached the summit of the peak, gazing down on Darlig. Sunlight sparkled in rainbows off her windows, and the copper parts gleamed. She shone like a star. The sight of her warmed Sita.

  “Isn't Mother beautiful?”

  Cero gasped. “An actual dragon. Well, a dragon ship. Does she breathe fire?”

  “Dragons devour starshine and feast upon solar threads. It's how we travel. Perhaps it inspired the stories of dragonkind breathing fire.”

  “Maybe. To where do you travel?”
/>
  “Anywhere in need of saviors.”

  “Noble.”

  “My kin are very noble.” Sita started down the mountain. “Come meet Mother and the Uikeas. The Uikeas are eager to meet people from their originating world.”

  “What? They're from this planet?”

  “Mm-hmm. They took the same deal from Mother I'm offering you and thrived. They've achieved Accord.”

  The Uikeas greeted Sita and Cero at the door. They told him of their exodus from Earth. “Millions of years ago,” the taller one said. “You call us the dinosaurs. We've become grander than we were on Earth. Humans can have as bright of a future. Let Sita guide you.”

  * * *

  Cero returned to his people, and they accepted the new plan. Sita burst with the good news, racing to the Chamber of Darlig to tell Mother.

  “The answer is yes,” Sita said.

  “Then it's time you were remade.” Mother's glass heart beamed with a brighter red than usual.

  The Uikeas escorted Sita into another glass urn in the Chamber of Darlig. There she was remade into a dragonship. She could fully taste the solar strands and the songs of the humans. She no longer had a mouth, yet she smiled in every way, her hull shining as bright as seven stars, her tiny wings flexing toward the heavens.

  Several months passed as Sita matured beside Mother, growing, absorbing the energy of the sun. Her hull expanded until she was ready to house the humans. In a column led by Cero, they paraded into the valley. Pausing for a reverent moment, Cero bowed before her. The others followed suit and some left gifts at Sita's feet. Once they all boarded, the Uikeas brought the gifts inside and set them around the urn encasing Sita's mind and soul.

  “Onward to Accord, daughter,” Darlig said. “Are you ready to fly?”

  “Oh, yes!” Triumph did taste sweet, swelling Sita's heart with joy. Cero and the humans would live and plan their futures inside her walls. Nothing could feel better.

  Mother's mechanical talons clutched Sita, lifted her into the air, and flew her into orbit. “Get used to your wings, gain your strength, then finish your mission. Of all the guides I've produced, you've made me proudest.” She flicked her solar wings and zoomed away on the strands she devoured.