the dragon

Far beyond reaches of our galaxy on a planet with a sun so hot the gasses, that would one day – in five hundred million years – turn to fluids, still enveloped it; a son was born.

There was no recording of time to say when it happened because it was before time itself. His reptilian race called him Cipactli; the trembling sound.

Out of a brood of forty-two he wasn’t the strongest, but to his people strength wasn’t the deciding factor. Physically they were stronger than any other race among the stars, yet they measured their worth by the art of their music. Its soothing quality was stronger than any drug and its hypnotic powers – if correctly applied – stronger than many a spell.

Of all that had gone before him Cipactli was the greatest soundmage. The beauty and harmony of his whistling and piping grew more perfect with every day added to his lengthy life. The Dracens were known to reach an age of ten thousand years attaining their prime when a thousand of these had passed.

As and adult, Cipactli was summoned by the Great Spirit to attend a banquet in honour of the Lord of the Mages on the planet of wisdom. It was a great honor to represent his race in this way and he sang in his trembling siren like voice, as he had never done before. Notes rang higher than any mage had ever heard and they swooped lower than any of them could ever have dreamed possible, then they resounded off the great crystal walls of the hall and struck the listeners into a state of dumbfounded wonder.

When he had done with his song of praise to the lord of wisdom the applause in the hall was ceaseless and he was bidden to repeat the performance. He sang through sunrises and sunsets and the entire league praised him for the wonderful use he made of his talents.

On his lonely journey home he met the Eternal Spirit again who asked him his wish for compensation of his loyal service. Cipactli asked that the power of his gift be increased tenfold and this was granted him.

When at last he reached his planet, he found a freak occurrence in space had wiped out all of its inhabitants. A meteorite of phenomenal proportions had hit their planet leaving it devastated. His home was a mass of burning desolation – his kind annihilated.

Wandering through space, singing a dirge to his family and friends he alone was left as a memory of this great race. He mourned, solitary in the darkness for a long time before retuning to the hall of wisdom.

There he was given a position as bard to the great lord. At times he felt like a freak and couldn’t help but let the resentment show. The mages’ pity and attempts at consolation drove him to hatred; he despised what he had come to think of as feigned affection. Gradually he came to realize the increase in his powers had given him almost limitless control over certain species of the league, when properly disguised. By subversion he then set about conquering their hearts and ultimately wrestled their will of independence from them. Conquering them without bloodshed. He won seven worlds in this way.

With their technology he planned to over-throw the other mages. He succeeded in capturing three more worlds but the other twenty proved to be too powerful for him. He then concentrated his power on winning the Eternal One over to his side, but he, being of none-matter didn’t have the weakness of others.

Cipactli saw the Eternal Spirits preference to protect the mages as an act of treason and vowed to find a way of destroying him, together with his accursed charges.

After countless unsuccessful attempts at seizing another planet, Cipactli set out to search for a race that didn’t exist. He looked everywhere to find a race that resembled his own in any way but his search was in vain.

When, after dozens of executions for failed enterprises by his fleet-commanders to fulfill his wish, he abandoned this dream for the time being and resumed his plans to overthrow the league.

He decided to use an evolving race – long forgotten and on the brink of civilization – to help him achieve his goal of domination. He flexed his great muscles, sang a song of farewell and rounded-up ten fine specimens of each of the races of his alliance. They boarded one of his most advanced spaceships and propelled themselves earthward where time did exist – in the minds of men; and they perceived it to be somewhere in the twenty-fourth century.

Once there the Archmage of Sound made use of his inborn capability of flight – another gift of his extinct race – and flew, without wings, his predatory instincts leading him to find his prey.