Of Song and Shadow

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  “Just get it over with already,” Paeter said, face still in the dirt. “I’m unworthy.”

  “Uh…” I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Oh, Mary Beth,” he said, pausing to blubber out a few more cries. “I was unworthy of your love.”

  We stared at the donkey half of Paeter, unsure what to say or do.

  “Uh, listen, Paeter,” I said, taking a step forward. “If we can talk—”

  “Oh, just kill me already. Put an end to this misery. Mary Beth. Oh, Mary Beth!”

  “Hey dummy!” Axel said. “Shut up for a minute and listen! Sheesh!”

  I glared daggers at Axel but he shrugged in reply.

  Paeter turned and glared at us. “Can’t you see my misery, Blade Mage? Just end it. I can’t live without her.”

  “Well, if you’d listen, you’d know you don’t have to, you big oaf,” Axel said. “What kind of onocentaur are you?”

  “Axel,” I said, pushing him back. “That’ll do.”

  I turned back to Paeter, who was just staring at us.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Paeter,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Who do you think hired us to come find you?”

  “You mean?”

  “I mean your wife, Mary Beth, hired a private investigator, who in turn hired us, to come find you and bring you home.”

  “Mary Beth wants me to come home?” he asked, looking between the two of us.

  “Yes,” I said, nodding. “Your wife wants you to come home.”

  “But…what about Samson?”

  I risked a glance and Axel but he didn’t seem to know who Samson was either. “Paeter, I don’t know who Samson is.”

  Anger flashed across his features. “Some slick-talking, big dicked, beefcake centaur. A proper centaur, he is. Has the tenacity to tell my wife she ought to be with a real centaur. Not some donkey man.”

  And then things started to click.

  “So, was Mary Beth seeing this Samson?”

  “No,” he said, then after a brief pause, added, “Well, yes, but no. It’s complicated.”

  He started sobbing again.

  “Is Samson a former boyfriend?” Axel asked. “Like someone she used to date?”

  “Yes, a long time ago,” Paeter said.

  “And is Mary Beth a centaur or onocentaur?”

  “Does it matter?” he asked, glaring again.

  “Not to me,” Axel replied.

  After a moment, Paeter sighed and said, “She’s a centaur. Her whole family hated her for marrying me. Wanted her to marry that long swinging dick Samson instead. He doesn’t know her. He doesn’t understand her like I do. He doesn’t love her.”

  “Okay,” I said, still unclear on what the hell was actually going on. “But she did marry you, Paeter.”

  “I know.” It came out as more of a pout than actual words. Like a ten-year-old who’s been told to go sit in the corner.

  “So, what’s the problem?” I asked.

  “What’s the problem? What’s the problem?” Paeter replied, rearing back up to his hooves and spreading his arms as though it were obvious. “He sent her a friend request on Face Hugger!”

  “Face Hugger?” I repeated, glancing at Axel.

  Axel shrugged. “Uh, what’s Face Hugger?”

  “Aren’t those the aliens from the movie Alien?” I asked.

  “Oh, right,” Axel said, then turned his attention back to Paeter. “What do they have to do with this?”

  Paeter sighed. “Don’t you guys use the Internet? Face Hugger is a social media platform for the supernatural. It’s a place us weirdos can connect. The developers thought the name was appropriate.”

  “I did not…know that,” I replied, letting the concept sink in. “Most wizards aren’t big on computers. They don’t tend to last too long around us.”

  “Oh,” Paeter said, his eyes widening. “You’re missing out. Everyone is on there. Well, a lot of people. You can only join by invitation and it’s monitored closely to keep Normans out.”

  “Okay,” I said, trying to get us back on topic. “So, Samson sent Mary Beth a friend request on Face Hugger. And then what happened?”

  “She accepted it,” he said, looking away as the tears flowed once more. “And now he’s going to swoop in and steal her away.”

  “Because of…Face Hugger,” I said.

  “That’s rough, buddy,” Axel said, patting Paeter on his donkey half.

  “I don’t understand,” I said, glancing between them. “It was just a friend request?”

  “Don’t be insensitive, Wyatt!” Axel said, glaring at me.

  “Okay,” I replied, still really confused about this whole situation.

  Axel gave Paeter another pat and said, “I’m sorry, man. That’s rough. But being friends on Face Hugger with an ex doesn’t mean she still loves him. Maybe she was just trying to be nice.”

  “So, wait,” I said, butting in again. “Is that the whole story?”

  “What do you mean?” Paeter asked.

  “I mean, that’s it? She accepted a friend request from an ex, and what, you ran away?”

  “Wyatt!” Axel said, shaking his head at me. “It’s a big deal!”

  “No, it isn’t,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “You got jealous, and instead of talking to your wife about it, you loaded up a bunch of booze, and ran out into the forest to do what exactly?”

  “To get drunk,” Paeter said, as though it were obvious. “And to become a hermit. Live off the land. Die alone…”

  “Because of a friend request?” I asked.

  “Well, no, not exactly,” he said, looking to Axel for support.

  “Wyatt—”

  “Shut up, Axel,” I said, glaring at him. “Paeter can speak for himself.”

  “I just want Mary Beth to be happy!” he said. “I just want her to be happy.”

  “Then take your ass home,” I said. “Right now.”

  Beside me, Axel began to chuckle.

  Both Paeter and I turned to look at him.

  “You said ‘take your ass home’,” Axel said, still chuckling. “He’s half donkey. So, ass means—”

  “We get it, Axel,” I said, then turned back to Paeter. “Go home, Paeter.”

  “She really wants me back? She really hired you to find me?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Oh, okay,” he said, his face lighting up. “Then I’ll go home!”

  “Great!” I said, just hoping to be done with this particular bit of ridiculousness.

  “There’s only one problem.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know my way home from here.”

  Chapter 2

  An hour and a half later, after stomping through the forest, we finally stumbled onto a landmark Paeter recognized. It was a giant rock, shaped like a rainbow, that started on one side of a hill and ended on the other, a natural land bridge of sorts. Just up the hill from it was an old gray stone chapel. Oddly enough, it wasn’t all that far from my own house.

  With a sense of direction, we continued forward, walking at least another mile while Paeter rambled on and on, and on and on, about Mary Beth and what a fool he’d been. At some point, I couldn’t tell if he was just drunk, or a bit slow. It could’ve been a bit of both.

  Finally, we came into a clearing and I could see the lights from a small cottage head. From the moonlight, I couldn’t make out much of their farm, but it didn’t look big. I also noted that there weren’t any roads, which it made it easier to understand how they managed to avoid Normans, short for normal humans. Without a road, no one could get to them. Though I did wonder at how they got groceries and had Internet for Face Hugger.

  As far as I was concerned, Axel and I could leave right then. Our part was done. All that was left was to get paid. Unfortunately, Paeter didn’t seem to agree.

  “This is it,” he said, staring at his home just ahead. He was hesitant. I couldn’t say I blamed him there. In a jealous stu
por, he’d made an ass out of himself, and now he was going to have to try to make amends. Finally he asked, “What should I say to her?”

  “I have no idea,” I replied, shrugging. When I noticed Axel was about to speak, I cut him off. “Just tell her you’re sorry and that you love her.”

  “You think?” he asked. “Just that?”

  “I was going to suggest telling her you were captured by ninjas,” Axel said. “Then you could skip the whole apology portion.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t do that. Look, Axel and I are probably the last people you want relationship advice from. We’re both single.”

  “But I’m single by choice,” Axel said. “So, don’t lump me in with you.”

  “Can you guys go with me?” Paeter asked. “Up to the house, I mean?”

  “No,” I replied.

  Unfortunately, Axel spoke at the same time and he was louder. “Of course, we will, Paeter. I’m great at counseling couples. We’ll have you back in her good graces in no time.”

  “Paeter,” I said, ensuring I had his attention. “Listen to me. This is very important. Do not let Axel speak to your wife on your behalf.”

  ***

  Thirty minutes later we were still at Paeter’s house. Fortunately, Mary Beth was just relieved to see him and things worked out, despite Axel’s story about ninjas and dragons. I’m not sure where the dragons came from.

  I had to hand it to the big bumbling idiot, Mary Beth was a looker. Well, her human half, anyway. She had an almost regal way about her and I couldn’t quite understand what she saw in Paeter, but I started to understand why he’d been so distraught. Clearly he was nuts about her, and she was way out of his league.

  In the end, it was clear Mary Beth was just happy her idiot of a husband was home. In fact, it was immediately clear that the two were blissfully in love and oddly, it seemed that his minor exile had only managed to strengthen their relationship. As far as I was concerned, our work was more than done.

  Yet, as I tried to excuse us to leave, Paeter insisted on showing me his forge while Axel continued to make up stories about monsters Paeter may, or may not, have had to face while he was in the forest drinking.

  The onocentaur walked me back outside and into an old workshop beside the house, explaining over his shoulder that this was where he did his metal work. I was immediately surprised by the sigils and glyphs scrawled around the room, and for a moment, felt as though I might’ve just walked into a sorcerer’s trap.

  Seeing the look on my face, Paeter said, “Don’t worry. They’re just protective wards.”

  I walked closer to one wall and studied the ancient symbols. The language was unrecognizable, but I could sense the power slithering just beneath the surface.

  “They’re to keep us hidden,” Paeter explained. “I’m good at crafting with a bit of magic, but Mary Beth is the real conjurer. Together, we can make minor ward stones and other neat little trinkets.”

  “These don’t look minor,” I said, allowing my gaze to scan the writings. They were on the walls, the floors, the ceilings. Nearly every smooth surface in the room held one kind of ward or other. There were more I didn’t recognize than ones I did. “I’ve never even seen some of these.”

  “Ah, yes,” Paeter said, nodding proudly. “Some of these are rare. Wards passed down through Mary Beth’s family. We like our privacy, and they help keep us hidden. I have more in here because Mary Beth doesn’t like them all over the house.”

  “Do you know the language?” I asked. Despite the fact both of them were members of the supernatural community, I’d not expected them to know magic. Yet, here were signs of elder magic that were well beyond my knowledge. That wasn’t saying much, but still, I wondered what the scholars of the Cabal would say about them. Surely, the Curator would recognize them.

  A concerned look crossed Paeter’s features. “It’s okay, isn’t it? I mean, it’s not like we’re practicing magic…”

  I held up a hand. “It’s fine, Paeter. It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone. I’m not the Cabal’s favorite son anyway, and they allow nomad mages in their lands. At worst, if they found out they may just bug you to let them study them.”

  He nodded briefly. “I’d heard rumors…about the new Blade Mage.”

  I didn’t bother with a reply.

  “We don’t get many visitors, as you can imagine. Occasionally, a friend may come for a visit, so we hear a little gossip, but… Well, I guess I just figured it was business as usual for the Cabal. I hadn’t thought the current Blade Mage--”

  “Was in exile?” I asked, forcing a smile. “It’s all right, Paeter. I didn’t choose this role, it chose me, and clearly, it chose wrong. Any mage of the Cabal would tell you that.”

  He didn’t reply immediately, as though he wasn’t sure if it was okay to finish his next thought out loud. Finally, he found the courage and asked, “But shouldn’t you be out fighting dark wizards, and demons, and the like? Rather than hunting down some drunken idiot who ran away from home on a foolish whim?”

  I shrugged. “Depends who you ask.”

  “I’m asking you,” he said. “You’re the Blade Mage, no?”

  “Only in title. The Cabal doesn’t want me involved in their business. The last time I was it wasn’t pretty, so here I am, hiding in the mountains, just like you.”

  He nodded slowly, then glanced around his room, as though he were looking for something. After a few moments, he moved to a shelf and pulled down an old box. He rummaged around inside it for a few moments until he found whatever the hell it was he was looking for. He moved back over to me and stuck out his hand.

  I glanced at his meaty mitt and realized he was holding a small bronze coin. “I want you to have this.”

  “Oh, um, you don’t have to give me anything, Paeter.”

  “I insist,” he said, taking my hand and setting the coin in my palm. “I want you to have it, Blade Mage.”

  “You really don’t have to do that,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m getting paid for finding you.”

  “I know,” he said, nodding. “Still, I want you to have it.”

  I glanced at the coin in my hand. It didn’t appear to be any form of money I was familiar with, and it didn’t look as though it had been made in a press, but rather, crafted by hand. In fact, it looked really old. Ancient, even.

  There was a symbol carved into the metal on both sides. It looked like a heart that had been started, but one side hadn’t been wrapped all the way around.

  I looked up at the onocentaur and asked, “What is it?”

  “I don’t rightly know,” Paeter said. “An old friend gave it to me once for an act of kindness. Said it was for good luck… No, that’s not quite right. He said it offered protection of a sort… Eh… Think of it as a good luck charm.”

  “Where’s it from?” I asked.

  “Best I can tell, Sumeria. Near the beginning of the Bronze Age.” He shrugged. “I like to study the history of metal.”

  “Thank you, Paeter,” I said, offering it back to him. “But you should keep it.”

  “You need it,” he said. “I have all the protection and wards I need here. Its magic is not for me.”

  “You think it’s magic?” I asked.

  “You think it’s not?”

  I glanced down at the coin in my hand once more. It felt warm against my palm, but I sensed nothing stirring in the ancient metal. No energy bound within its bronze flesh. Not even a whisper.

  I shook my head.

  “I don’t either,” Paeter said. “But perhaps that doesn’t mean anything. Perhaps the coin just isn’t for me. Maybe it is for you, though. You must keep it, Blade Mage. I insist.”

  “Why?” I asked. I was genuinely confused. Paeter was a nice enough chap, if not a bit bull-headed, but we’d only just met. There was no reason he should give me this ancient coin. The damn thing was probably worth a small fortune.

  “I haven’t many friends,” he admitted.
“You showed me a great kindness tonight while I was being a fool. That isn’t lost on me. You could have used magic against me. You could have used your sword. Instead you chose mercy. Perhaps that was why the sword chose you. Perhaps the naysayers are wrong. If the others of the Cabal choose not to accept you as Blade Mage, that’s their business. I, on the other hand, do. And that is also why it is right for you to have it.”

  “That means a lot, Paeter,” I said, meeting his gaze. “But I still don’t understand why that means I should have it?”

  “That symbol,” he said, pointing toward the coin. “Is the symbol of the Sumerian God, Asaruludu. A great protector in their religion.”

  “I see,” I said, nodding slowly. “Thank you, Paeter.”

  “It’s not just that,” he said, shaking his head. “Asaruludu is the wielder of the flaming sword.”

  Chapter 3

  I rolled the coin between my fingers, studying the symbol. The wielder of the flaming sword, Paeter had said. Some kind of god of protection. Sounded like everything a Blade Mage was supposed to be and everything I wasn’t.

  I shoved the coin back in my pocket and looked up as Valerie strode toward the table with three cold beers.

  After getting Paeter settled in at home, she’d agreed to give Axel and me a lift back into town. We just had to march a mile or so back through the forest again until we hit a dirt road. I couldn’t complain too much, though. We’d gotten a ride, we’d gotten paid, and Valerie had offered to buy us a beer at one of the many watering holes in Eureka Springs, Arkansas.

  This particular bar was called the Healing Spring, a play on the town’s namesake. It was a bit ritzy for my taste, but then again, I was more inclined to Irish pubs, redneck bars, or biker joints. Or, on occasion, the well kept secret underground bar, which served the supernatural community. A town like Eureka Springs had a lot of appeal to the weirdos like me. There were more of us supernatural types around than in the average small town.

  Valerie slid one of the glasses toward me and studied my face. After a few moments, she raised her voice so I could hear her over the crowd. “You seem down.”