Song of the Dragon

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We all stand on the shoulders of giants and all are worthy of thanks but to two women especially I owe public acknowledgment: Laura, my wife and partner without whose muse I would have no tale to tell nor song to sing; and the brilliant Sheila Gilbert, who showed us where to find the fire beyond the smoke.

The song would not leave him.

Nine notes. . Seven notes. . Nine notes. . Seven notes. . Five notes. . Five notes. .

Circles in circles, endlessly spinning through his mind, filling its space with an endless melodic wheel. It pulls at him, calls to him, drawing him into a whirling vortex of music that engulfs his thoughts, his actions. .

“Drakis! Wake up!”

Drakis, Impress Warrior of the House of Timuran and Leader of the First Octian, shook his head and tried frantically to focus his eyes in the stark light.

The enormous, broad face of ChuKang, Captain of the Timuran Warriors, swam in front of him. ChuKang was a manticore-a lion-man from the Chaenandrian Steppes-and was therefore forced to bend his towering, eight-foot tall form down to face the human. ChuKang’s lips curled back on his flat, fur-covered face as he spoke, exposing his sharp fangs. “Drakis! Do you have the count or not?”

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