Wings of Renewal: A Solarpunk Dragon Anthology (16 page)

“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 general 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.

It was not surprising.

After all, Zachariah Lawrence always got the
Wow
prize.

About Jeanne LG

I've always loved reading. When I was small, I'd read anything, from the back of cereal boxes to the street signs. In high school, I was even known by the teachers as “the one who's always reading“. It was no surprise, then, when this love for literature brought me to do two programs in literature: one in French in College, and one—just started—in English in University.
Fantasy is definitely my first love, no questions asked, but Solarpunk and Street Magic have slowly started worming their way into my heart and tinting my writings with new shapes and colors.

Solarium

by Kimberly Kay and A. N. Gephart

I woke to a dragon nibbling my toes.

“Get
off,
Zon,” I muttered, and nudged him away. His snout was warm against my feet.

Ever since Zon had hatched, he'd slept at the foot of my bed—wherever that ended up being. Seaside huts, a spongy bit of moss, or currently, the cracked cement floor of an abandoned apartment complex.

No matter where we went, Zon didn't understand the concept of a full night's sleep.

Teeth sank into my ankle. “Ouch!” I jerked and rolled over, scattering my travel blanket. “Zon!”

He huffed a croaky laugh as he peered up at me with thin green eyes. He barely lifted his head. It was sort of pathetic, really, the way he got so weak at night. But then, that was what darkness did to a solar dragon.

A bird sang in the distance. Doubtless, it was what woke Zon. Though I couldn't see any hint of sunlight, the morning couldn't be far off.

“Oh, all right,” I muttered as I found my feet. “But just this time. After, we'll wake up at regular hours. Let a girl get some proper sleep, and all that.” It was the same lie I told him every morning. A Dawnlight Knight never slept in. Not if she wanted to protect her people.

I stood and stretched. The night before, I hadn't bothered changing out of my riding trousers and shift. Though danger wasn't exactly common since the turn of the century, I liked to be prepared when on scouting trips—especially in the older parts of New York where cement monstrosities still poked through the ground like broken teeth. To think, people once lived in these dank caverns on a regular basis. How had they survived without glass ceilings and walls granting them endless sunlight?

I pulled my armor over my clothes. My fingers ran along buckles and ridges, making sure everything was secure and comfortable. The leather armor was laced with green scales shed by Zon to make it extra durable. I clipped a small pouch of crystal light eggs around my waist—a peaceful weapon used for distracting threats, or providing a quick snack for Zon. The belt was a little loose, but I liked the way it hung at my hips.

As I picked up my helmet, I paused, examining the feathers. A green one—a gift from Zon—a red one, from my mother's dragon, and a blue one. My thumb ran along the soft fibers. That blue feather was why I was out here today.

Zon croaked at me, breaking my dark mood. I smirked as I circled over to him. He lifted his head and stood, but in the cramped space, he ended up tripping over his long, feathered tail. He stumbled and fell into a fluffy green knot at my feet.

“Poor, pathetic creature,” I teased, running a finger down his pointed snout.

He granted me a disgruntled look.

I lifted his scaly chin. “Come on then. Let's go get you some breakfast.”
 

Zon staggered back to his feet, and I draped an arm around his shoulders. It was the most I could do to help him stay balanced. When he was a hatchling, I'd carried him outside every morning. Now, I simply provided moral support as he heaved his way through a crumbling doorway and up a spiraling set of stairs. I'd thought ahead, and picked a room close to the roof.

The bird was joined by others, and the song grew louder. Zon's wings, bunched tightly against his back, twitched in anticipation. When Zon wagged his tail, he nearly knocked my legs out from under me. “Don't,” I warned him, but he paid little heed, pushing his thin snout against a door and shoving it open just as sunlight flooded over the horizon.

The light tumbled over shattered skyscrapers and danced through the leaves of trees growing from terraces and rooftops. A breeze washed over us, turning the grass blanketing the unused streets into rippling rivers of life.

Zon took a deep, gasping breath as if he could drink in the daylight. He spread his wings with a great
wa-thumf
that startled the birds into a breath of silence.

Golden light shimmered over his wings and glimmered on his feathers. Moments ago, he was a dull mossy green, but as he absorbed the sunlight, he brightened and shimmered like a perfectly cut emerald. Zon hummed appreciatively. Like the trees around him, he thrived on sunlight.

Smoke sprang from Zon's nostrils as the light within his core gained power. He lifted his head with a soft coo, rather like a dove.

“Nice dragon.” The voice came from a ledge above me. I started and looked up, my hand tightening on the hilt of my sword. I caught sight of a shaggy head of dark hair and laughing brown eyes. Inconspicuously, I released my hilt.

Shooting me a grin, the young man rose to his feet, hands in his pockets, and dropped from the overhang. “Looks happy to be out in the daylight.”

Zon turned sharply toward the man and snapped his teeth.