The Blade Mage

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  Praise for the Blade Mage…

  “The Blade Mage delivers big-muscled magic and high-octane thrills.”

  — Gary Phillips, Matthew Henson and

  the Ice temple of Harlem

  “Phillip Drayer Duncan has done it again. First with the Assassins, Inc. series and now with The Blade Mage. His characters and the situations they get themselves into and out of have me laughing out loud—and I don’t often, even on the inside. I read two comic writers, Duncan and Robert Asprin’s Myth series.”

  — JC Crumpton, Silence in the Garden

  “Witty, action-packed, and never one to shy away from the unexpected. Phillip Drayer Duncan is not to be missed.”

  — J.H. Fleming, The Queen of Moon and Shadow

  …And for Phillip Drayer Duncan’s other novels

  “Not since the feud between the Hatfields and Mccoys, has anyone made a bunch of hillbillies interesting, and that’s just what Phillip Duncan did with Moonshine Wizard.”

  — Jason Fedora, The Truth of Betrayal

  “ASSASSINS INCORPORATED boasts the sort of writing that avid readers crave to come across between the covers of a book.”

  — Kristofer Upjohn, Horror is Art

  Sign up for the Phillip Drayer Duncan Newsletter to receive a FREE digital copy of Catalysts, a collection of 3 stories from the Blade Mage & Moonshine Wizard series. Nearly as much content as a full novel, this collection includes:

  The Generic Mage (The Blade Mage Series)

  The Last Great Blade Mage (The Blade Mage Series)

  The Hunt for the Dark Wizard (The Moonshine Wizard Series)

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  Also by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  The Blade Mage:

  The Blade Mage

  Of Song and Shadow

  The Memphis Knights

  Rebels and Outlaws

  Swords and Dust

  The Moonshine Wizard:

  Moonshine Wizard

  The Distilled Shorts Collection:

  First Job

  The Ogre & The Primates

  A Sword Named Sharp

  Hunting one Like Us

  The Monster Beneath the Bed

  The Hunt for the Dark Wizard

  Assassins Incorporated:

  Assassins Incorporated

  Assassins Incorporated: Rehired

  Copyright © 2019 Phillip Drayer Duncan

  Publisher: Happy Omega Publishing, LLC

  Cover Art By: German Creative

  Interior Art By: Phillip Drayer Duncan

  Edited By: J.H. Fleming

  All Rights Reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without prior written consent of the copyright holder, except for the use of brief quotes in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living, dead, or otherwise, or resemblance to the names of people, places, or organizations, are the either product of the author's messed up imagination, or coincidental. While the copyright for this work of fiction remains with the author, Happy Omega Publishing, LLC assumes all legal responsibility for this publication and the literary work of fiction it contains.

  A Note from the Author:

  If you wish to support your favorite authors, the best way is to buy their books brand-spanking-new when you can afford to. If you can’t afford to, then this author supports you buying used books. In which case, you can still help your favorite authors by raving about their books to your friends and family. If you can't afford to purchase at all, feel free to stop by PhillipDrayerDuncan.com, where I usually have some FREE content available. And if there's a title of mine you really want to read, but just can't afford it, feel free to reach out through my Contact page and we'll see if there's something we can do.

  PhillipDrayerDuncan.com

  Happy Omega Publishing

  Chapter 1

  There was a wizard on my property.

  I knew this because I am also a wizard, and because whoever it was, they triggered my magical alarm system when they breached the perimeter. My wards were screaming. The only question was whether they intended me harm.

  I thought about it for a few seconds and decided they didn’t pose an immediate threat. They’d been considerate thus far, intentionally crossing the threshold to alert me of their presence. Chances were they just wanted to talk.

  So, new question… Did I want to talk to them?

  Doubtful.

  I went back to work on my wood pile, tracking the trespasser’s location through the magical fencing network laced across my property. If I was a more powerful sorcerer, I could’ve developed my wards to identify intruders, but I wasn’t, so it’d have to be a surprise. Yay.

  It would’ve been smarter to move back into the cabin, just in case. That whole thing about thresholds is true. A wizard is stronger in their own home, while a trespassing mage is weakened. Don’t ask me why. I don’t make the rules. Furthermore, my strongest wards were set in and around my little forest home.

  I brushed the idea away. That was just my paranoia talking.

  Still, my heart beat quickened. It’d been a while since I’d interacted with another wizard. I lived in the hills outside of Eureka Springs, Arkansas, so it wasn’t like I avoided the supernatural. That town was a paranormal orgy. In fact, I made my meager living doing the occasional odd job for its patrons. There was always a lost object or person to find, an occasional little mystery to solve, or some bullies to put in check. There were a few minor mages about the area, and of course the locally assigned constabulary, but they tended to give me my space. It’d been a long time since I’d been in the presence of a truly powerful sorcerer.

  And that’s what my guest was. As they drew nearer, I could feel the magical energy swirling around their aura, dwarfing my own. Someone from the Cabal, then. Damn.

  But who?

  I’d find out soon enough. No point in worrying. I stood another log, picked up my ax, and swung. There was a satisfying crack as the wood split into two pieces. Call me crazy, but I always found chopping wood to be a peaceful, meditative act.

  A few logs later, I heard the stranger’s footsteps approaching from behind.

  Doing my best to seem disinterested, I stood up one last log and chopped it before turning to greet my guest.

  He was taller than me and broad shouldered. It looked like he’d packed on some muscle since the last time I’d seen him, too. His style hadn’t changed, however, and he looked very out of place standing in the woods in a charcoal business suit with a crimson tie.

  We held each other’s gaze for a few moments before I finally said, “Parker Grimm.”

  “Wyatt Draven,” he replied, his manner professional. “It’s been a long time.”

  “It has,” I said, picking up another log. “You don’t look any more like Michael Jordan now than you did five years ago.”

  Parker chuckled. “I don’t use the Jordan thing anymore. Too many of these young kids don’t know who he is. They’re all hung up on Lebron. Now days, I like to tell people I look like Idris Elba.”

  I glanced back at him. “You don’t.”

  He shrugged. “How have you been?”

  “Good,” I said, then swung my ax again. When the log split, I turned back to him. “So, what do you want?”

  “The Archmage sent me.”

  I paused, considering his words. Finally, I asked, “Are you here to kill me?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Damn, Wyatt. Paranoid much? You’ve been out here in the woods by yourself too long.”

  “This is the first time anyone from the Cabal has reached out to me in five years.” I shrugged, then stood another log. “I thought you guys might want your swor
d back.”

  “In a manner of speaking. We need the Blade Mage.”

  I laughed then chopped my log.

  “It’s been five years,” I repeated. “In all this time, no one has said a damned thing about needing the Blade Mage. No one has asked me to come back and assume my role.”

  “You’re the one who left,” he said with a shrug. “But you stayed within the Cabal’s territory, so that must mean something. As far as the Archmage is concerned, you’re still our Blade Mage, whether anyone likes it or not.”

  “No one was happy when I was chosen, Parker. Myeslf included. I sure as hell didn’t want the damned thing.” Chuckling to myself, I added, “I called the druid customer service line. Turns out they have a very strict ‘no returns’ policy.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Look,” I said, shrugging. “No one wanted me to be the Blade Mage. So, I did us all a favor and left. Sorry I wasn’t considerate enough to step in front of a bus, so you could get the Blade Mage you wanted.”

  “What do you want me to say, Wyatt? Your father was a hero to us all. He was everything a Blade Mage should be. You were a twenty-five-year-old slacker with very little experience in the field. And what experience you did have was a bit rocky, if I recall.”

  “I always got the job done.”

  “Like a wrecking ball,” he said, crossing his thick arms over his chest. “Have you forgotten about the Tulsa airport? Had the whole place shut down for hours.”

  “Those occultists had a bomb. And the whole place was packed with innocent civilians. What was I supposed to do?”

  Instead of answering me he said, “Or the train you derailed in Missouri?”

  “I was supposed to let those little red hat bastards get away?”

  “You were supposed to wait for backup.”

  “They were trafficking children, Parker. Children. The lucky ones were eaten. The unlucky ones… Well, you know what they did to them.”

  “It was vile, no question. Had to be stopped. But you must wonder how many more could’ve been saved if you hadn’t acted.”

  “I do,” I admitted, feeling my temper flare. “And I also have to wonder how many more would’ve died if I hadn’t acted when I did. But that’s for me to live with.”

  “Indeed,” he replied. “And let’s not forget the little Arkansas town that was without power for over a month when you toasted the substation.”

  “The troll did most of the damage.”

  “My point, Wyatt, is that while you were effective in your own way, you also had a reputation for being a wrecking ball. I guess most of us just didn’t think you were ready for the responsibility that comes with being the Blade Mage.”

  “That’s putting it very kindly,” I replied with a bitter laugh. “The truth is that someone else should’ve been chosen. The druids didn’t shuffle the deck right or something.”

  “The blade chooses. You know this.”

  I didn’t reply.

  “You do still have it?”

  “For a Shamus, you aren’t very observant,” I said, feeling a mischievous grin spread across my cheeks. “Parker, how do you think I’m chopping each log in a single swing? I’m not bad with an ax, but I’m no lumberjack.”

  Parker’s eyes widened as he noticed the perfect cuts for the first time. I wasn’t merely splitting the logs, I was slashing them in half. The ‘ax’ in my hand wasn’t an ax, at all. That’s just what it was pretending to be at that moment. It was actually an ancient druidic sword.

  I was a little disappointed I had to point it out to him. As a Shamus, his job was to investigate and resolve sensitive matters on behalf of the Archmage. Or rather, to stick his nose into whatever business caught the big man’s attention. My favorite way to describe the Shamuses is as follows… Imagine the FBI and the Secret Service had a love child together who was raised by the CIA and U.S. Marshals, and this love child just happened to also be a badass sorcerer. That would be the Shamuses. Part special detective, part secret agent, they stood aside from the rest of the Cabal’s hierarchy. While the special forces, strike teams, constables, and every other battle-ready mage reported up to the Archmage through a normalized leadership chain, the Shamuses were his personal force, and they were supposed to be the best of the best.

  I gave the sword a little mental nudge and it revealed its true form. Or rather, the form it had chosen for itself at that particular moment. The form it usually took for me. It appeared as a long katana, it’s silver blade blazing with white flame.

  “You’re using it…” Parker’s voice trailed off. His eyes shifted from surprised to outraged. “…to chop firewood.”

  “Yup,” I replied, standing another log.

  “Drynwyn is a legendary druidic sword, Wyatt. That blade is a symbol of hope for our people. It is one of the most important arcane artifacts in the whole world. It is utterly unreplaceable.”

  “Yup,” I repeated, and sliced the log in half. “And it’s as good at chopping firewood as it is at chopping the heads off of witches and warlocks.”

  “How dare you,” he said, his voice trembling. “You have defiled your position. You’ve made a mockery of the Blade Mage.”

  “No, I haven’t,” I said, nodding toward the sword. “I’m the Blade Mage, Parker. I know what that means better than anyone. It’s part of the deal. The sword imparted that knowledge in my brain. Trust me. It doesn’t mind being used for firewood.”

  Amazingly, he didn’t seem any less upset. To his credit, however, he didn’t smack me in the face with a fireball. Instead, he took a calming breath and said, “I need you to come with me to Branson.”

  “Branson,” I repeated in the hickest hick voice I could manage. “You asking me out to a country show? We goin’ to the Dixie Stampede? Oh! You taking me to Silver Dollar City? That gonna be fun!”

  “I’m sure glad your sense of humor hasn’t matured these past few years,” he said, still glaring. “We’re going to the compound just outside of the city.”

  “Oh, goodie,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could summon. “That sounds like way more fun than Silver Dollar City. Unfortunately, I have a pretty full schedule today.”

  He made a show of studying my cabin and the lonely woods surrounding it. “Yeah, you look real busy.”

  “Hey, I can’t just drop everything any time some random Shamus shows up.”

  “Senior Shamus,” he corrected me with a rather poignant look.

  “Senior?” I asked. “You’ve been promoted.”

  “I still report to Master Shamus Yazzie on paper, but she assigned me to the Archmage directly.”

  “Wow. One of the big man’s personal lap dogs. Very impressive, Parker. I’m still not going with you.”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “The Cabal needs its Blade Mage.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” I replied, deciding right then and there I didn’t give a shit what they thought they needed me for. I wasn’t going. They could all go to hell. “Whatever is going on, I’m sure you can handle it.”

  I sheathed my sword in the veiled scabbard I always wore on my back. Then I bent down and began scooping up an armful of cut wood. Glancing back up at him I said, “Congratulations on the promotion. Seriously. You always worked your ass off for the Cabal. I’m sure you earned it. Take care.”

  I started toward the nearby woodpile, neatly stacking the new additions. When I turned around, Parker was still standing there staring at me. Shock and awe. He always was a stubborn ass. Yeah, I know. So am I.

  “There’s been a murder,” he said simply. “One of our people has been killed.”

  “That happens,” I said, shrugging. “Not to seem indifferent, but it goes with the territory, Shamus. You know that.”

  “The killer is one of our own.”

  I paused. “You mean to say that one of our wizards killed another of our wizards?”

  “And now you see why we need the Blade Mage.”<
br />
  I thought about it for a second before I responded. This type of incident was unprecedented. A wizard of the Cabal murdering one of their own? That just didn’t happen. It was no wonder the Archmage had sent him. As the Blade Mage, it was technically my responsibility to deal with any members of my house who broke the rules of the Solemn Covenant. When such an offense occurred, I was to be the arbitrator and if need be, the executioner.

  “It sounds like you already have the killer. So, what do you need me for?”

  It was Parker’s turn to be silent as he thought over his response. Finally, he said, “Things haven’t been good these past few years, Wyatt. Even before you left, our numbers were dwindling. Since your father passed, it’s been even worse. Supernatural attacks are on the rise. New gangs are popping up all over our territory. The other guilds are laughing at us. A lot of folks think we’re a joke.”

  “Okay?”

  “The Archmage wants people to know we still have a Blade Mage,” he replied, shrugging. “He believes if you help us resolve this situation, it might put some of the bad guys back in check. It might help people take us more seriously.”

  I stared at him dumbly for a second before I responded, “He wants me to be the executioner, doesn’t he?

  Parker nodded. “The crime is already solved. There’s no question who did it and we already have him in custody. You just have to come do your part.”

  I choked out a laugh. It was either that or scream. In the end, I did a bit of both. “You expect me to just show up and hack someone’s head off for you? Piss off, Parker. I’m not going to kill someone for a publicity stunt. The Archmage can find another way to make his political statement.”

  “This is what the sword chose you for.”

  “What the hell do you know about why the sword chose me?”

  “It’s your duty.”

  I started for the house, ignoring him.

  Calling after me, he said, “You didn’t ask who the victim was.”