Haunted Tree (The Magus Family Chronicles Book 1)

by Scott Robert Scheller

  His mouth agape, Sean remained silent, too stunned to say anything.

  Marc joined her. “Sean, you’re not going to tell what I did, are you?”

  He slowly shook his head. “No. Who would believe me? I wouldn’t believe me,” he said with a weak grin. “We’ve always heard that no one makes it out alive, or at least unharmed. So how did you escape?”

  “I ran like my life depended on it.” The nervous smile on Marc’s face melted away. “To be honest, I don’t know. Good fortune, I guess. Maybe the demons, or whatever lives in there, were elsewhere.”

  “Swear it, Sean,” Valeria insisted.

  Sean grasped Marc by both forearms. “I swear. God looked after you today, my friend.”

  Marc nodded. “Indeed.”

  Sean glanced outside the hut to see if they were still alone. “So, you said there were thousands of nuts in that tree?”

  “Forget it. I’m not going back there, ever.”

  “Just jesting. Still, this would make a great story to tell around the fire for years to come—”

  “—but it’s too bad that it never happened,” Valeria said firmly.

  Sean chuckled and met her gaze. “Don’t worry. I’ll take the secret to my grave.”

  A sudden, chilly lightheadedness overcame her as Sean’s features darkened. She staggered back a step before Marc caught her.

  Sean looked concerned. “You all right?”

  The sensation quickly passed. “Yes. Hungry, I guess.” What had she just experienced? It certainly was not hunger, but something deep inside her mind made her use that excuse. The sensation reminded her somewhat of how she felt when she saw a vision come true, but those felt good. This did not. Whatever it might be, the feeling was new to her.

  Sean backed toward the door. As his gaze momentarily fell upon Marc’s supporting arms about her waist, he flushed and looked elsewhere, trying to hide a smile. “Well, I better let you finish tending to Marc. See you at dinner.”

  “Bye,” she said.

  Letting go of her, Marc waved lazily after his friend and yawned. How she enjoyed the brief comfort of his closeness. If only he would hold her that way more often. She had him sit. “You need some sleep.”

  “I’ll be all right. I don’t want to miss dinner.” He yawned again.

  None of his remaining injuries were in need of further attention so she gently pushed him over, covering him with a skin. “I’ll wake you when it’s ready. Now, sleep.”

  “Very well.” He closed his eyes then put his hand on her arm. “Thanks for caring for me.”

  She placed her hand atop his. “Anytime.”

  As he drifted off, she wondered what it was like to feel this tree he spoke of. That he trusted her enough to share his terrible secret meant a lot to her. How might he react if she told him about her own secret—her dreams, her visions? Would he even believe her?

  Valeria decided to worry about that another day. For now, all she wanted to do was watch him sleep.

  Chapter 4

  “Are you certain?” Sean stared upward at the giant tree in the distance, his eyes wide in fascination. “It looks powerful enough, but I don’t feel a thing.”

  “Well, I do.” Not wanting to talk about it further, Marc approached the creek and led the way over the fallen tree.

  Unease filled him at being so near the haunted tree and Forbidden Vale. He hoped he would not regret letting Sean talk him into coming all this way to hunt rabbits. Yes, the village badly needed fresh meat, and if any place could give them the chance to find some, this one would. Only his duty as a hunter brought him back this way so soon. It had been six days since he found that buck. Six days since his life changed in many ways, leaving him feeling somehow different.

  Back on solid ground, Sean once again gazed at the tree, this time with a thoughtful expression. “I think I’ve seen this before, years ago with my father when I was little. If I remember correctly, you and your father were with us.”

  The memory jumped to the forefront of Marc's mind, as clear as if it had been yesterday. “We were.” Tapping his friend on the shoulder, he pointed south. “The hares, if we can find any, are that way.” He nodded to his right. “And that’s the bush where I found them.”

  With a pleased grin, Sean handed him his staff, strode over to the bush, and dropped to all fours to peer underneath it. “There are rabbit tracks here, good-sized ones, too. I can see where they ate at the bark.” Standing, he studied some of the limbs. “They didn’t kill it, though. Plenty of leaves are budding out.”

  Marc looked around at the other bushes and trees, noting with relief that they, too, appeared to be waking from their long slumbers. “Everything is. I hope spring will come this time.”

  “Amen, my friend.” Sean took back his staff and gestured forward with a wry grin. “Now, let’s see if you can repeat your luck from last week.”

  “I’m afraid there’s little chance of me coming across another injured deer,” Marc said dryly, starting to walk. “I’d be happy to find a hare.”

  “A nice plump one, perhaps?” Sean asked teasingly.

  Marc chuckled. “I’d settle for a tough, scrawny one.”

  “As would I. No matter what we may or may not catch, we are better off than digging birds out of the cliffs with the others. So, where should we start?”

  Marc looked ahead at the ever-widening wood, then pointed at an area heavy with brush. “How about in there? Bound to be some rabbit trails that could use a well-made snare or two.”

  “Spoken like a true hunter,” Sean said with conviction. After several steps he spoke again, his tone subdued, “I don’t know why Don thinks otherwise.”

  Marc frowned, his mood souring. “Why did you have to mention him?”

  “Don’t let Don bother you when he’s not even here. Besides, I know a few things about him that will cheer you up.”

  Marc pushed aside a low hanging branch with his staff. “Like what?”

  “Yesterday Don spoke ill of you to some of the others, saying you just got lucky and found a deer that died from the cold. He claimed you made up the story about falling in the water.”

  “This is supposed to cheer me up?” Marc cast him a half-hearted glare.

  Sean’s face lit up with a mischievous glee. “Garrett caught him telling those lies and scolded him.”

  “In front of everybody?” Surprised and pleased, Marc did not try to hide his grin.

  “Everybody. Then he reminded Don how you fed us for several days and—”

  Suddenly, feeling an odd sensation not unlike the one he knew from the haunted tree, Marc reached out with lightning speed and clasped a hand over Sean’s mouth. “Shh,” he whispered into his friend’s ear, “something’s ahead of us.”

  Peeling off Marc’s hand, Sean looked about apprehensively. “What is it?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

  “I don’t know.”

  Marc did not doubt something was there, and that puzzled him. He scrutinized the heavy shadows ahead and detected the dim image of a man who spun in place, then struck at something with a staff. Marc quickly pointed at him.

  “There.”

  Sean scanned the spot Marc indicated. “Where?”

  “There’s a man, eighty paces away, just left of the tall tree.”

  “I see the tree, but no man.”

  “He’s—” The figure suddenly vanished leaving Marc feeling lightheaded. “He’s gone now.”

  “What was he doing?”

  “Fighting something, I think, but I didn’t see what. It’s too dark over there.”

  Sean trotted in that direction. “Let’s see if he needs help.”

  Together they searched for the man but found no indication that anyone had been there.

  Marc shook his head. “That’s strange. I clearly saw him. I felt something, too.” He let out a ragged breath. “I felt it to my bones.”

  Sean’s eyes widened. “Like how you feel the tree?”

  Marc nodded.<
br />
  “That might explain why I didn’t see anything and we didn’t find anything. Maybe the tree is fooling you somehow.”

  “No. It’s not the tree’s doing. I’m sure of that.”

  Sean looked at him a moment, eyebrows arched, then gazed around warily. “Maybe we’re too close to the Forbidden Vale.”

  Marc shook his head. “The Vale, the tree—both feel... strange. This seemed more... friendly.”

  “Maybe you saw a fairy. They’re supposed to be friendly.”

  “Fairy? They’re not real.”

  “Says the man who just one week ago doubted the stories told about the Vale.” Sean leaned on his staff, an amused glint in his eyes. “Who told you that?”

  “My father. The summer before the darkness came, he told me there were no fairies, elves, things like that.”

  The humor in Sean’s eyes advanced to his lips. “What would he have said about haunted trees?”

  Marc frowned, no longer in the mood for Sean’s teasing. “I saw a man—tall, wearing a brown robe, holding a long staff—not a fairy. Maybe I mistook where he stood and we’ve been searching in the wrong spot.” Sighing, he unslung his pack and opened the flap. “Let’s forget all this and set our traps.”

  “Agreed.”

  While they worked, Marc pondered what he just experienced. For the last six days, he could not keep the awareness of that curséd tree from his mind for long. It crept into his thoughts during the day, his dreams at night—a constant reminder his life had changed in some way. He felt unsettled, as if he did not fit into his own skin.

  Sean stood and admired his handiwork. “That makes seven snares. I think we can place another two before we need to return.” He started toward a large group of bushes. “Let’s try over here next.”

  Marc hurried to catch up, only to collide with him. “Why are you backing up?” As soon as the words left his lips, he understood the reason: two wolves advanced on them, growling, with teeth bared.

  “God help us!” Sean said in near panic, holding out his staff in a shielding stance.

  Marc’s heart leapt into his throat as every muscle in his body clenched in fear. His breath came fast and shallow. These wolves were not defending their territory, they were hunting. “They want to eat us!” He and Sean slowly backed away, the beasts keeping about ten paces distant.

  “Go hunt something else,” Sean said shakily to the wolves. “You don’t want us. We’re tough and scrawny.”

  “Sean. This is no time to jest. We have to think of what to do.”

  Sean circled the bottom of his staff before him. “There’s only two of them. Why don’t you take the left one; I’ll get the right.”

  “Good enough.” Marc desperately wished he had a spear for it would be a far more effective defense than his staff alone. He never was that proficient in using a staff as a weapon, even though his father and Ethan had worked with him many hours to improve his skill. Too bad Ethan was not here. He could dispatch both wolves in mere seconds. Valeria, too, would be at little risk for her skill with weapons equaled her father’s.

  The wolves crept another pace closer.

  “Why aren’t they charging?” Sean asked, then quickly added, “Not that I want them to.”

  “They’re herding us, trying to make us run.” Feeling a prickly warmth on the back of his neck, Marc glanced behind and his fear surged, making him let out a cry of alarm. A dark gray female with a torn right ear slunk toward them, savage violence and hunger evident in her amber gaze. “There’s another one behind us!” Marc turned to protect their rear.

  Sean cursed. “We could possibly fight two, but three—”

  “HELP,” Marc shouted. “HEEELLLLP.”

  “What good will that do?” Sean asked, his voice tight with fear. “There’s no one—oh, the man you saw. HELP.”

  Marc’s mind raced wildly. He had seen the damage wolves could inflict on an animal. How could they escape? Climb a tree? No, bad idea. Maybe they could fend them off long enough to make it back to the creek. He would rather take his chances with the frigid water again than be ripped open by those snapping jaws.

  While he attempted to figure out a way to escape, a thought desperately tried to surface. Something his father once told him about wolves and how they hunt. How they used diversions and ambush. Then, a sudden sense of alarm shot through Marc’s body and everything went strange, moving too slow to be normal. He whirled around to see a fourth wolf, a male, larger than the rest, drifting through the air in mid leap, at the halfway point between the ground and Sean’s throat. Without need of thought, Marc swung his staff hard, easily hitting the wolf’s head at the back of the skull. With a crunch of bone and a momentary yelp, the creature fell hard against Sean and dropped to the ground, lifeless. The world around Marc returned to normal leaving him a bit dazed.

  Sean glanced down and gasped. “Oh, God bless me. Thanks, Marc.”

  “It tried to ambush us from the side,” Marc said, unsure of what just happened. Even so, his gaze remained on the female behind them. She looked from the body of her pack mate to him, her eyes filled with loss and hate. The dead wolf mattered to her. So clear were her emotions to him that Marc felt as if she had spoken aloud.

  “You see any more?” Sean asked, bringing Marc out of his thoughts.

  He quickly checked around for others. “No. One down, three left.”

  Now that first blood had been spilled, the remaining wolves became even more vicious, their hackles raised and muscles tensing, primed for attack. Jaws open they advanced, sharp fangs exposed, ready to tear flesh from bone. As Marc’s fear reached a height he had never known, a warmth flooded over him with a calm power, the same sensation he felt when he climbed out of the icy waters of the creek.

  The female began to charge.

  “STOP!” he commanded, holding out his staff. Obviously startled, the animal slid to a halt, casting out a shallow wake of rotted leaves. The other two animals were equally surprised. Marc stared in disbelief.

  “How did you do that?” Sean whispered in surprise.

  “I—I don’t know.” He watched the female skitter around to join the others. The wolves looked at each other for several moments, then turned as one, sat on their haunches and regarded Marc while clearly ignoring Sean.

  Seeing that, Sean grunted. “Well, that was—keep telling them what to do. Maybe they used to be tame once and learned to obey people.”

  “I’ll try.” Marc addressed the wolves in his most authoritative voice. “Do not hunt us for we do not hunt you. If you hunt us, we will kill you.” He emphasized the point by kicking the body at his feet. “Now, GO, and hunt people no more!” To Marc’s utter bewilderment, the wolves stood, turned and vanished into the woods.

  Slack-jawed, Sean stared at Marc, equally mystified. “What the... How... ?”

  Marc tried to speak but no words would form, so he shook his head and shrugged.

  Gripping his shoulders, Sean looked at him with concern. “Are you all right?”

  Marc nodded. He felt disconnected, as if abruptly roused from a deep sleep. Concentrating on clearing his mind, he said, “The wolves—”

  “Are they coming back?” Suddenly alert, Sean carefully inspected the nearby woods, tightly gripping his staff.

  “No.” Marc pointed in the distance. “There.”

  Sean looked that way. “I see nothing.”

  Marc saw nothing, either, but knew the wolves would be visible at any second.

  “Keep watching.” As he spoke, the wolves crossed their line of sight several hundred paces away.

  “Thank Heaven. They are gone,” Sean said, releasing a heavy sigh of relief. After a moment, he looked down at the carcass of the dead wolf, then up at Marc. “Thanks for saving my life.” Grasping his forearm firmly, Sean shook it while meeting his gaze. “I owe you a debt I cannot repay.”

  Marc saw a fleeting image of his friend laying down, pale and sickly. Shaking his head, the illusion disappeared along with the
strange feeling. “Don’t worry over it. Maybe you can return the favor one day.”

  “Glad to.” Sean slung the dead wolf onto his shoulder. “We came for food and here it is.”

  Marc grimaced. “Not my idea of a tasty meal.”

  “No, but food is food. Maybe we should head back now before our luck changes.”

  “Agreed.” Taking in a deep, cleansing breath, Marc let it out along with all the tension he could release. “Twice I’ve come to this area and twice death has drawn near. Too near.”

  “But you made it out safely each time,” Sean said with a grin, “and with a good amount to eat.”

  He sighed. “There must be a safer way of finding food.”

  Sean laughed. “If I think of it, my friend, I’ll let you know.”

  — o O o —

  As he and Sean neared their village, Marc heard a number of agitated voices carrying to them through the woods. Something about the nature of the sound made him cautious. Picking up the pace, they soon neared the edge of the forest and, while remaining hidden, saw the cause—three men on horseback occupied the area south of the common house. Unsure of the strangers’ intentions, he motioned for Sean to follow him further back into the trees. This wouldn’t be the first time others came by wanting some of their food—most would ask, but some tried to take.

  Upon reaching a safe distance, Marc uncoiled a rope. “Who do you think they are?”

  Sean shrugged. “Thieves?”

  Marc echoed the gesture. “Could be. Whoever they are, they’re not getting this.” He threw one end of the rope over a moderately high limb, tied the other around the wolf’s rear legs and hoisted it into the air, tying the free end off on a broken snag.

  Returning, they approached the men from behind. The leader, clearly of Roman blood, stood out; the manner of his dress and posture indicated he was in charge. Dark brown hair flowed well past his shoulders and over his burnished leather armor. Worn strips of blue and white cloth tied near the end of his spear let it be known he represented the king. Of the two other men, one was Marc’s size with black hair and deep brown skin, the other tall and thin, with pale skin, long hair and a close-cropped beard, both fiery red. All three were well armed and none seemed to have suffered much from the famine. Before the leader’s horse stood Marc’s mother and, flanking her on either side, his two sisters, their hands tightly gripping the folds of her dress. Crowded around them were the other women and children of the village. All looked upon the men with fear. Marc’s gut tightened.