Wings of Renewal: A Solarpunk Dragon Anthology Page 11

  The irrigation dragon took me deeper into the forest. I could sense others following parallel paths, all as nervous as the one I rode. What could scare an entire pod of wild dragons? Maybe I shouldn't have agreed to help. What were the odds it would be something I could do anything about? Judging by the snarls, it was more likely something that would get me killed.

  The air grew denser, moister, as we drew closer. The scent changed, too, some sort of pheromone the dragons released when they were under high stress. I'd only smelled it a handful of times before, but it wasn't a smell you forgot—pungent and abrasive, it set my nerves on fire and made my hackles rise.

  My dragon burst into a clearing. A small river wound through the middle of it, forcing a gap between the trees and vines. Several dragons, of varying types, stood around the perimeter of the clearing. A single irrigation dragon stood in the center, circling to face each one in turn, the snarls and growls growing louder as she caught sight of us.

  No. It couldn't be.

  Rain?

  My eyes must be playing tricks on me. Rain couldn't be all the way up here. But that distinctive pattern on her scales, like raindrops sliding down a window, was unmistakable.

  Even among a gentle species, Rain was the gentlest of them all. I'd never seen her so much as take a playful bite at another dragon. She cared for the others in the pod like a mother hen. Even the larger male dragons were kind and affectionate toward her. Everyone adored Rain, human and dragon alike.

  This was not like Rain at all. Hell, this wasn't like dragons at all.

  I slid off the dragon. “Hey, Rain,” I said, using my softest don't-get-angry tone. I projected calm and concern through my emotions, the closest I could get to dragon-speak. I stretched out my hand and took a small step forward. “What's wrong, girl?”

  Rain looked at me. I felt like an antelope trying to pacify a hungry lion. It took everything I had not to panic and run away.

  She hesitated for a heartbeat, then snarled and snapped at my hand. I pulled away just in time to save my fingers.

  “I won't hurt you. It's me, David. I'm here to help.”

  Rain backed away, limping. She turned just enough I could see several gashes shredding her flank, pinkish-tinged blood weeping from the cuts. They looked deep. Really deep.

  As I tried to examine the wound, something else caught my eye. A flash of silvery-blue, reflective like sunlight off a puddle. Rain growled as I leaned forward for a better look. My heart raced. It couldn't be …

  I had to blink several times before I could be sure. But I wasn't seeing things: Rain crouched above a silvery-blue sphere. An egg.

  Of course Rain would have left Shad Riaz to lay her egg here—the ample moisture meant she didn't have to work at extracting it. The moist air would allow her to rest and care for the egg. And all the other dragons in the area had come for the same reasons I had. Support, concern, excitement. It wasn't every day—or even every decade—you got to see a dragon egg. Even I'd never seen one, and these dragons were like my children.

  “Amazing,” I said. “Who's the daddy, Rain? Is it Cyclone?” The big male had always stayed close to Rain, even as pups.

  Rain snapped at me again, and I jumped to the side. I caught another glimpse of the egg, and several deep gouges that marred its surface. Not dragon claws. A wildcat, maybe, some kind of jaguar or panther. We'd introduced several species once the rainforest had become self-sufficient.

  So that's why Rain had apparently gone mad. Maternal instinct. Some predator had threatened her egg, and it had kicked her into hardcore defensive mode.

  “Now I see,” I said. “It's okay, Rain. We'll get you some help.”

  I pulled out my radio and turned to Ruwa Imran's frequency. Mateo, a botanist I'd worked with a few years before, answered. I didn't waste any time getting to the point. “I need you to send out your best dragon team, ready to treat a pretty serious injury. Bring plenty of food and enough equipment to set up shop in the forest for the next few weeks, at least. Oh—and weapons. We need to defend against some predators. Jaguar, most likely.”

  “What's going on, David? You know we can't pull supplies of that quantity for a side project.”

  “This isn't just a side project, Mateo. I've found my lost irrigation dragon. And her egg.”

  A long moment passed before he came back on the line. “Her egg? Very funny. For a second you almost had me.”

  “Mateo, if you know me, you'll know the one thing I never joke about is dragons.”

  Now there was an even longer pause. “You're serious? You've got an honest-to-god dragon egg out there?”

  I nodded, even though he couldn't see it. “I'm staring right at it.”

  “Damn. I'll get you your supplies. But David, it'll take hours to get it all together. By the time we'll be ready to leave it'll be dark. We won't be able to reach you until first thing in the morning.”

  In the morning? That wouldn't work. Jaguars were nocturnal, and Rain was already wounded. That cat might come back to finish the job and get at Rain's egg. “My dragon needs help, Mateo, not another night in the forest where she and her baby will be in danger.”

  “I'll do everything I can, but morning's about the best we can do.”

  “What the hell am I supposed to do until then?” I asked.

  “Keep yourselves safe.”

  Right. Lot of help that was. Here I sat, a single man with an injured dragon, an all-too-rare dragon egg, and at least one hungry predator who'd already thought a baby dragon would be an excellent snack. What did I have to keep ourselves safe with? One ten-inch bowie knife.

  The other dragons started slinking off, in pairs or small groups. They seemed reluctant to go, their emotions overflowing with such a mixture I could hardly read them. Fear, but also happiness. Because I'd come to help Rain? If they knew how lost I felt right now, I doubt they'd have been relieved.

  Finally all the other dragons had left. Rain's growls had subsided until there was just a faint trace of warning in her emotions, a clear threat to keep my distance. I didn't try to get closer. I just sat quietly, watching the forest grow dark, and tried to stay calm.

  I pulled out my fire kit and set up the clean-burning pit in the middle of the clearing. It could burn for hours with just a handful of fuel, so at least I didn't have to worry about my light dying in the middle of the night. Once that burned steadily I settled down with my back to it. As much as I hated sitting away from the light, I had to maintain my night vision. Being fire-blinded wouldn't help if that jaguar decided to return.

  I listened to the rustle of wind in the leaves, the sound of the river, letting them wash away some of my anxiety. The occasional whoop of a monkey or singing of a bird kept me on edge, though the sounds were far from threatening.

  The darkness was almost complete when my radio chirped. Rain, who'd been almost relaxed, bolted up and resumed her growling.

  I closed my eyes and breathed for a minute before answering the radio. “Hey, Israa.”

  “How's it going, David?”

  “I found Rain.”

  “Really? That's wonderful!”

  I looked at my beautiful, snarling, bleeding dragon. “Things aren't good, Israa. Rain came up here to lay an egg. But some jaguar tried to get to it. Scored the shell and took a few swipes at Rain. It got her pretty good.”

  It took Israa a moment to reply. “An egg?”

  “Yeah.”

  Silence again, heavy this time. I could almost hear Israa's thoughts in it. Even the dragon was having a baby.

  “Israa, I …”

  “Don't, David. Not now. Not like this. We'll talk when you get home.”

  Fair enough. I didn't want to fight over the radio, either.

  “Are you back at Ruwa Imran yet?”

  I took another deep breath. My wife was not going to like this. “No. I'm not going back tonight.”

  A long pause. When Israa came back on the radio, she sounded near panic. “David, you can't stay in the fores
t overnight. There are predators …”

  “I know. That's why I can't leave. Rain's hurt. She can't defend herself or her egg against another attack.”

  “And you can? David, you don't know anything about self-defense, let alone fighting wild animals.”

  I met Rain's eyes again. “I can't leave her alone like this.”

  “You won't be helping her if you get yourself killed.”

  I could hear the tears in her voice. I hated to do this to her, but if I left, neither Rain nor her baby would survive to morning. “I've got a fire, and I've got my knife. Cats are shy. My presence alone might be enough to keep it away.”

  Another long, excruciating pause. Then Israa came back on the line. “You'd better come home to me, David. I'll never forgive you if you die out there.”

  “Fair enough. I love you, treasure.”

  “I love you too.”

  She tried to cut the line before I could hear her weeping. She didn't make it in time.

  I stared at the silent radio for a long time. Why did I keep breaking my wife's heart like this? It's not that I didn't love her—I did, desperately. I wanted to give her everything. Undying love. A family. The world, if I could. So what kept stopping me?

  Rain finally conceded I wasn't a threat, whether from my continued presence or pain or sheer exhaustion. She settled down beside me, her egg between us. Low growls—different from the ones before, more pained and less menacing—escaped from her. The cuts on her flank were oozing and had to hurt.

  She watched me, a deep, grating sound rumbling from her chest. VEEEEED …

  I froze. Veed. Da-VEED. My dragon was saying my name.

  Tears clouded my vision. “I'm here,” I whispered, placing my hand on the side of her neck.

  A storm of emotions roiled from Rain. Fear, exhaustion, gratitude, tentative hope. Pain. My poor dragon would have broken into sobs by now if she were human.

  I rummaged through my pack and pulled out my first aid kit. It hadn't been designed with dragons in mind, but at least I could try to help. I used most of the bottle of antibiotic spray and an entire can of wound sealant. It was a shoddy patch job if I'd ever seen one, but under the circumstances I couldn't expect much.

  Rain seemed to settle more comfortably once I'd finished. Concern and fear radiated from her each time she looked at her egg. I tried to send encouragement and confidence back to her. “I'll protect it, Rain. You know that. I'd protect you and your baby with my life.”

  These dragons were family—like my children. A dragon egg? I'd never dreamed of such a treasure.

  That thought stopped me cold. A dragon egg was indeed valuable. But a treasure? My treasure was Israa. She'd always been, from the first time she let me buy her a cup of coffee back on Nottingham. Before New Persia, before the dragons, I'd had Israa. I'd sworn to always protect her, to always treasure her above all else.

  “Ah, hell,” I muttered, rubbing my face in my hands. “What am I doing, Rain?”

  Rain's growl returned, stronger and more menacing than ever. Electric fear raced down my spine and pushed away all else. I followed my dragon's gaze into the darkened rainforest and caught the flash of green light. Reflections of our firelight, from a cat's eyes.

  Shit. I'd hoped the fire would keep the damn thing away tonight.

  I lost sight of the jaguar as soon as it turned its head, but Rain's eyes followed it like a bloodhound. I got to my feet, bowie knife in hand. Every so often I caught a hint of the cat moving through the forest, sometimes on the ground, sometimes up in the trees. It might not attack. It might deem us too difficult of a kill and leave us alone.

  My heart hammered, my nerves afire with fight-or-flight adrenaline. I'd never been so scared in my entire life. If something did happen to me here, what would it do to Israa? I'd have left her with no family at all. That would do more than break her heart. It would destroy her.

  I couldn't let that happen. No matter what, I had to get home to my treasure.

  It felt like hours before the jaguar showed itself, but it couldn't have been more than a fraction of that. Rain growled and hovered over her egg as the cat's head emerged from the canopy and into the firelight.

  The jaguar might not be huge like a tiger, but it was still almost as large as me. It snarled, and my eyes locked on teeth made for breaking necks and tearing apart carcasses. Primal fear raced through me, echoed by Rain. I couldn't help it—I whimpered like a cornered puppy. Terror, a cry for help, shot from Rain.

  And something answered.

  The jaguar leapt straight at Rain. It landed on her back, and my dragon roared—I'd never heard a dragon cry out before, but it was as terrifying and primal as any sound I'd ever heard. It belonged to those fire-breathing monsters of legend.

  I lunged toward the jaguar's flank, scoring a hit with my knife to match the claw marks on Rain. The jaguar hissed and yowled, jerking wildly enough to tear the blade from my hand and snap my wrist backward. I cried out, cradling it to my chest. Rain spun, trying to dislodge the cat, but it clung tenaciously to her. My dragon would be eviscerated if she didn't get help.

  I knelt and scooped up the egg with my good hand. I might not be much help in a fight, but at least I could keep the precious baby from being trampled.

  A jet of fire, white-hot, erupted into our clearing. It singed the jaguar's fur and the cat leapt off Rain's back. Water coalesced around it, and a shock of electricity jolted through the forming puddles and made it yowl again.

  Help had arrived.

  I glanced around. Several dragons lined the clearing, rage and reluctance wafting from them. Avatars of nature they might be, but no amount of peacefulness or synergy could allow them to let a dragon egg be destroyed. They might not like it, but they'd come to protect their kin.

  Cats weren't inherently brave creatures, and this one had been burned, shocked, and surrounded by a half-dozen creatures larger than it. The jaguar leapt above our heads and into the canopy, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

  I shook so badly I had to sit before I fell down. I pulled some gauze from the first aid kit and wrapped my wrist in it, stars appearing before my eyes. Rain had several new cuts on her hide, but none looked as deep or dangerous as the first. Surrounded by the other dragons—green and brown and beautifully varied, dragons of all different kinds—she lay beside me again. I put the egg between us and she cradled it with her tail.

  I watched Rain and the other dragons for a long time. They had put everything aside to protect and care for their own.

  It was time I did the same.

  * * *

  When I woke the next morning, I was drenched. Water had soaked all the way through my clothes and left me shivering. I tried to stretch, but something hard and unyielding—dragon skin—prevented me from moving too far.

  I opened my eyes to see the half-dozen dragons curled around me and each other. Rain had stretched beside me, a lightning dragon atop her, a brownish-green moss dragon beside that one. Dragons were creatures of community. They slept piled atop each other like a mountain of kittens. This wasn't the first time I'd fallen asleep to find myself covered in scales and bathed in dragon breath.

  True to his word, Mateo and the first of Ruwa Imran's supply scooters arrived less than an hour after sunrise. Several men and women began setting up tents, while two approached Rain with suitcase-sized medical kits. She didn't fight them, and the other dragons stayed close enough to offer support and keep an eye on the egg.

  The dragons struck up a complex exchange in dragon-speak even I couldn't follow. I could sense Rain communicating with the others, and their excitement skyrocketed. I felt like I'd just told a bus full of children we were ditching school to get ice cream.

  I looked to Rain. “You told them about the nurture, didn't you?”

  Elation raced through the pod as a dozen or more dragons took to the air, heading south. Shad Riaz was in for a surprise. With that many dragons, we could accelerate the nurture by weeks.

  Once
I knew Rain and her egg would be well taken care of, I hitched a ride back to Ruwa Imran and collected the solar buggy. I pushed it as fast as it would go across the salt flats.

  The moment I arrived back in Shad Riaz, Israa tackled me. She squeezed me so tightly my ribs ached, but I didn't care. I held her, breathing in the scent of her hair and perfume and feeling this beautiful woman who allowed me to call her mine.

  “Hey treasure,” I said, reaching behind me and grabbing a burlap bag from Ruwa Imran with my good hand. “How about we go home and make some coffee?”

  “That sounds wonderful,” she said.

  I pulled her in close, holding this priceless treasure to me, and kissed her until she broke away, breathless. “And then,” I said, “let's make a baby.”

  About Brenda J. Pierson

  Brenda J. Pierson is just a nerd living her dream. She's the author of epic fantasy novels Soul of the Blade and No Hill Without Treasure, as well as the senior editor for Incandescent Phoenix Books. Writer, bookworm, avid gamer, lover of tacos, and crazy cat lady, she's living the good life with her husband in kitties in her hometown of Tucson, Arizona.

  The Stained Glass Dragon

  by Jeanne LG

  “Dammit!”

  A small dragon head hit the nearest wall and shattered, falling to the ground in a heap of metal pieces. A tiny silver screw rolled away from the mess until its course was stopped by a curious snout. As a paw gently poked the piece, it rolled farther away before stopping again, this time against the leg of a table. A few seconds of baited silence later, there was a flurry of movement as a small, baby-blue mechanical dragon rushed to pursue the screw. The game took it from one end of the workroom to the other, bumping into the door to the greenhouse on its way. The creature playing with the metal piece was largely ignored by the human in the room: his head down on the only empty spot on the table, arms hanging limply, he was muttering angrily under his breath. Undisturbed by its human's behaviour, the small dragon finally abandoned the screw to turn to a more daunting task: climbing to the highest of the few plants in the room. With its human providing a soundtrack of constant muttering peppered with swears, the creature made its first jump. It was surprisingly graceful for a mechanical animal, and it easily reached the lowest of the hanging plants. Said plant was not done swaying at the end of the string connecting it to the ceiling before the dragon had jumped to another one. Tiny claws delicately gripped the string-tied pots to avoid damaging the structure as the automaton went from plant to plant. Once in a while, the creature stopped to observe a plant or smooth a leaf or two between its paws before moving on. When it reached the highest plant, the dragon trilled proudly, before chirping with an undeniably irked tone at the lack of praise its achievement gathered. When it chirped again, this time loudly to signify its discontentment, its human jumped from his slump.