Free Daemon of the Dark Wood by Randy Chandler Page A

hindquarters of a goat. So, Pan was part anthropomorphic god and part beast. He was raised by wood nymphs called dryads. Even as a youth, Pan was a horny little devil, and he often subjected the nymphs to his lustful passions. I suppose you could say the nymphs brought out the beast in him. Our horny hero went on to become the god of woodlands and pastures, king of woodland beasts and ruler of the Arcadian satyrs. Satyrs, you will recall, were those half-man half-goat dudes with relentless erections and a taste for wine and orgies. They were the original party animals.”
    Thorn let loose a boisterous laugh. “Oh, you’re good,” he said. “You would have even the untamed students eating out of your hand.”
    Sharyn nodded and smiled appreciatively, then continued. “Pan was often identified with Dionysus, the Greek god of wine and revelry. Now Dionysus, too, had his following of satyrs, but he also had a band of priestesses known as Maenads. Named after Maenalus, a holy Arcadian mountain where Dionysus shepherded his odd flock, the Maenads were ‘wild women’ whose drunken orgies usually ended with the killing and eating of male victims. Our hero had carte blanche carnal knowledge of these Dionysian Maenads. As far as I’m concerned—and more than a few scholars agree—Pan and Dionysus are virtually interchangeable, one and the same.
    “The legend of Pan has had quite an impact on our culture. Many words and phrases we use today can be traced back to the god Pan. The best example is the word
panic
. Pan was said to have had a dreadful cry that could strike such fear in those who heard it as to cause them to—”
    She fell silent with a shudder of cold revelation. The echo of the mysterious, animalistic cry that had so terrified her now reverberated along the paths of auditory memory.
    “Sharyn? What is it? Are you all right?” Thorn moved to the edge of the chair.
    She nodded, took a calming breath of air and forced herself to continue, though her own voice sounded hollow to her now as she recited from memory. “Caused them to panic and flee in terror. Uh, the Greek word for tragedy literally means
goat song,
after the horned and hoofed Pan. And then there’s
panoply
, from ceremonial processions in the ancient City of Pan or Panopolis. But perhaps the most telling legacy of Pan can be seen in the traditional view of the Devil. That’s right, boys and girls, Satan got his horns, hooves and wicked character from none other than Pan. Clearly, the medieval church used the pagan god as the prototype for their Ruler of Hell. And why do you think Satanists use the goat’s head in their black ceremonies? That’s right. Pan became the image of the Devil, and his satyrs became Satan’s demons, thanks to a few brooding monks with too much time on their hands.
    “As the centuries went by, Pan’s reputation lost much of its bite. You’ve seen him in cartoons as a cute, harmless little guy playing his hornpipe as he dances merrily through the woods. Thanks to Romantic poets like Byron and Shelley, and to America’s Disneyland mentality, Pan has been reduced to little more than a castrated cartoon. We should not forget that the
original
Pan was a dreadful god who inspired abject terror in the hearts of mere mortals. Any questions?”
    Thorn softly applauded.
    Sharyn stood and went to the window, trying to conceal her inner turmoil from her friend and colleague. Darkness was gathering outside, piling up like thunderheads before a storm.
    “Are you sure you’re all right?” Thorn asked.
    “Yes, I’m just feeling a little shaky, that’s all.”
    “Oh, shit!” He suddenly hammered his leg with his fist. “It was a panic attack that brought you here. I’m sorry, Sharyn. I’m a complete ass. I didn’t mean—”
    She rounded on him, startling him to silence with the swiftness of her move. “It’s all right, Alfred. Stop coddling me. I
hate
that.”
    “Sorry,” he said in a small voice.
    Sharyn’s sudden