Haunted Tree (The Magus Family Chronicles Book 1)

by Scott Robert Scheller

  “Do you like me, Marc?” she asked, softly.

  “Uh, yes.” Why did she act so strangely? She almost seemed—

  “I mean as a woman.”

  His heart raced at the heat in her voice. Could she possibly have those feelings for him? The same ones he felt for her over the last several years?

  Her lips drifted next to his ear, brushing ever so lightly against his flesh. “And by that I mean—”

  She did! “I know what you mean, Val,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. Excited and confused, his head spun. What should he to do? He placed his hands over hers. “I do like you... very much... and have feelings for you I don’t know how to describe.” Like? Why was love so difficult to say? The urge to speak that word—no, to shout it—raged inside of him, yet it would not come. “I’ve never felt this way before.”

  She moved around to face him. “I can’t help but feel we are supposed to be together.” She gazed deeply into his eyes.

  A lightning bolt blazed through his mind, a flash of pure magical force more powerful than he had ever felt. Cut off from his senses, he floated in a void, empty save for a magnificent radiance before him. Valeria. Their minds existed together in a place separate from their bodies. They knew what the other thought, felt what the other felt. No secrets could be concealed here, no hiding behind false modesty, no resisting the truth for fear of another discovering one’s weaknesses. They were truly one, and he knew with absolute certainty they would remain so for the rest of their days. Then, just as suddenly, his awareness returned to his body.

  “I love you,” they said simultaneously. Laughing, they shared a long, deep kiss, one more of love and familiarity than raw passion.

  Enraptured by the experience, neither of them said a word for a time, happy only to cling to one another. Wiping a tear from her cheek, Valeria spoke first. “You are a great wizard, Marc. What kind of magic was that?”

  “I do not know.”

  Valeria touched the side of his face with great tenderness. “I know things about you that I shouldn’t be able to. Like what you felt the first time you touched the Great Tree, how cruel Donald has been to you, and—” She giggled. “Your many visions of me swimming naked at the springs.” Leaning forward, she whispered in his ear. “You liked seeing me that way.”

  Those images returned stronger than ever and, for the first time, he felt no guilt over them. “You’ve loved me always and I was a fool to not see it before” He chuckled. “I also know you tried using magic without the master’s permission.”

  “True, but I like this magic much better. It still tingles all over me. I can feel you, too.” Sliding out of his embrace, she plucked his tunic off the table and held before her, gently kneading the fabric in her fingers. “Like on this. I feel you on it. I know this is yours.” Wonder filled her gaze. “How can that be?”

  Marc stood tall and did his best to imitate Oren’s you should know that answer stare. Valeria backed away several steps, a mischievous smile on her lips. By the way she held the garment, he knew she was about to throw it at him. Laughing, she swung her arm. He quickly blurted out the spell “Cōnsiste!” and the would-be weapon froze in mid-air.

  She snatched it back. “That’s cheating.” While he laughed, she showed him the sleeve. “Remember this?”

  “You sewed it up the night before I found the deer at the falls.”

  “Yes. Now I know why you acted so strange. You desired me but were embarrassed about it.”

  Why deny it? “Yes. And you wanted me as well.”

  Nodding, her moist eyes closed, freeing several tears to roll down her cheeks. “I followed you inside, hoping your mother and sisters were elsewhere.” She held him close, planting little kisses on his neck. “I still feel that way. I love you so much.”

  He caressed her back, his fingertips gliding down either side of her spine before coming to rest at the top of her hips. Again, he felt her surrender and knew he could have his way with her. But deep down he also knew that now was not the time. A strange, yet somehow familiar, power entered him, quenching his passions, calming his thoughts. Tenderly, he pushed her away.

  “It’s too soon,” he whispered, placing his forehead against hers. “We’re not married, Val. We’re not even betrothed.”

  An almost silent laugh bubbled out of her as she lazily trailed a hand over his chest. “I think we are now.” She met his gaze. “I have always felt your love for me even though you’ve never openly expressed it, and I have always wanted to be your wife.”

  Brushing a lock of hair from her face, he softly kissed her. “And I your husband.”

  “Then let us be wed as soon as Gildas returns.”

  Once more that strange power let its presence be felt. He shook his head. “No.”

  She looked at him, puzzled and a bit wounded. “Why not?”

  “I want to, but somehow I know, I just know, it’s not the right time. Maybe the magic is telling me that.” Closing his eyes, he took several deep, cleansing breaths. “Let’s try to put this aside for now.”

  “All right.” She stepped back and collected herself in much the same way. “Where were we?”

  He gave her a taunting grin . “You were seducing me while pretending to take my measurements.”

  Heat flashed in her eyes. “Marc! I take offense to that.” The indignation in her voice was belied by the sly smile on her lips. “I really did get your measurements.”

  Chapter 17

  Valeria placed the bolt of cloth on the workshop table and rolled out a length. Letting the tips of her fingers skate across its velvety surface, she marveled at the most luxurious fabric she had ever beheld, its beautiful deep-blue color fit for a king. Her king.

  Over an hour had passed since her magical encounter with Marc, and yet the sensation of being one with him had not abated. An unbreakable bond had been forged between them; knowing they would remain together for life thrilled and contented her. She wondered if the magic ordained their pairing early on. It must have, for she had always loved him, but until today did not understand its depth and completeness. On top of that, the incredible force of his mind amazed her. Having recently learned to command the magic herself allowed her to truly understand his power, tendrils of which even now flowed warmly in and around her. Would her own also grow as strong? She hoped so.

  With string and chalk, she quickly laid out the various parts of Marc’s robe, already knowing how to craft it, having seen it in her vision of him returning with the deer. That vivid memory filled her mind, rich in every detail, as if she had already sewn it. It fascinated her how the magic could reveal such things long before they happened. It could tell her other things, too. Closing her eyes, she let the magic rise and concentrated on knowing Marc’s location. An image of him and Oren sitting on rocks came to her. The area looked familiar, somewhere on the western path to the Forbidden Vale. As she focused more closely upon Marc, he looked up in her direction and smiled, a ripple of his comforting presence brushing over her.

  Her heart leapt with joy. He felt her.

  — o O o —

  “Marc?”

  Refocusing his thoughts, Marc returned his gaze to Oren. “Excuse me, Master. I felt Val watching us.”

  The wizard nodded slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “ I must show both of you how to Envision in a less obvious manner. Shall I continue?”

  His teacher had just begun to tell of things that lay in Marc’s future before Valeria intruded. Nervously wiping the dampness from his palms on his pants, he said, eagerly, “Please.”

  “In time you will be the master to many wizards for your gifts are quite strong.” Oren paused a dramatic moment before adding, “So, too, in the woman you will take as your wife.”

  Marc straightened in surprise. “You’ve had a vision about her?”.

  “Several. Together you will bring forth a magical family line that will continue for many centuries. I have been greatly blessed to foresee it.”


  Excited, Marc wished to know everything the master had seen. How many generations would there be? Where would they live? And would his heirs all be wizards? Before he could voice these thoughts, he caught himself. It would not do for him to chatter on like an inexperienced apprentice. He was more than that now. Wizards, even junior ones, were to carry themselves with a greater decorum. The answers would come in time. Relaxing, Marc gave his master a respectful nod.

  “Val will be pleased to hear that.”

  A large smile spread across Oren’s wrinkled face. “I thought you would know by now. Have you shared each other yet?”

  Fearing his master assumed the worst, Marc’s cheeks burned. “Oh, no, Sir! We have behaved most properly. I—”

  Oren laughed. “I did not mean in the carnal sense. No, have your minds joined, become one?”

  “Oh... uh, yes.” Greatly relieved, Marc explained what took place, leaving out the more embarrassing parts. “I’m glad her power is as strong as ours.”

  “Why do you think that?” Oren’s questioning gaze pierced him through.

  “I don’t think it. Somehow I know it,” Marc said, mystified as to how he could perceive such a thing.

  The old wizard gave him a satisfied smile. “Very good. Soon you will begin to see future events, not like the partial visions you had before, but true visions. When that happens, you will be my equal.”

  Marc’s heart nearly stopped. “Never, Master.”

  The elder’s brows rose. “You think I am mistaken?”

  “No, Sir, but—” At a loss for words, Marc communicated his confusion with a slow shrug.

  Oren gently laughed, putting a hand upon Marc’s shoulder. “It will happen, my young mage. Before the end of my days on this earth, you will be the master, and I the student.”

  Part of him believed Oren, knowing the statement to be true, but another part of him remained doubtful, for accepting the master’s words would mean he would be greater than the man before him. “How can that be? You have lived many years as a master wizard. I am still a novice and have much to learn. Surely you have learned all there is.”

  “One never stops learning, Marc. Even this morning I had a vision and discovered something I did not know before.” Oren’s expression held something Marc could not quite discern. Was it awe? Incredulity? “Many generations from now a great conflict will rise up between the forces of good and evil. Champions of good, your descendants will be in the thick of it.”

  Gladness swelled within Marc. “What about your descendants? Will they also not—” As soon as he spoke he deeply regretted it. “Forgive me, Master. I did not mean to—”

  Oren cut him off with a wave of his hand. “You did nothing wrong in asking that.” Composing himself, the wizard took and released a deep breath. “I have no descendants. My wife was unable—” An ancient pain furrowed the master’s brow as he looked away, focused on nothing. “Four times she became with child but lost it before it could be born. The fifth child lived, but she and my wife died of a sickness the following year. I still miss them after all these years.”

  Waves of sorrow washed over Marc, almost as if he could feel his Master’s emotions. But that could not be. He must be imagining it. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

  Oren shook his head. “In truth, it is good to share it with someone.” He gave Marc a sad, gentle smile. “Had she lived, my daughter would have been older than your grandmother Etta.”

  The woman’s face came to life in Marc’s mind. He had loved her so much, but those feelings could not have stopped the fever that took her only months after his father— her son—died. She lived to be fifty nine, the oldest person he ever knew. Until now. He looked his master over. While his hair was completely gray, he seemed pretty fit and healthy for an elderly man.

  “Master, may I ask how old you are?”

  “Of course, but rather than me telling you, why not find out for yourself. Examine the area around me with your magic and pull the information you want out of it.”

  “I can do that?” Oren nodded. With a shrug, Marc extended his senses much like he did when Envisioning, exploring the area directly around the master. At first he perceived nothing more than Oren’s clothing, but then tried touching upon the magic surrounding him. Suddenly, many bits of knowledge entered his mind as if they had always been there. Marc thought about wanting to know Oren’s age and a number immediately came to mind. He frowned. “I must be wrong. You can’t be eighty seven.”

  “I sometimes think so as well.”

  How could it be? That meant Oren was born about the same time as his great, great grandfather. “But anyone that old is weak and sick, laying on their deathbed.”

  The wizard laughed. “As you can see, I am doing much better than that.”

  “Have you lived this long because of the magic inside you?”

  “Not that I know of. I have always been healthy. Maybe I was destined to live this long in order to train you and Valeria.”

  Marc now saw his master in a new way. “When is Val to be told the truth about magic?”

  “Very soon. She already suspects it, but so far only in the back of her mind.” Leaning toward him, Oren met his gaze. “Both of you posses a strength of magic far greater than my own.”

  That disclosure astonished Marc. Oren’s magic seemed to come so easily, while his own efforts took much work and often resulted in less than perfect execution. “How do you know that?”

  “By the strength of your auras—that blue light you have seen about Valeria. Yours are the brightest I have ever seen.”

  Marc looked Oren up and down, both with his eyes and magic, then studied his own hands. “I see nothing.”

  “That is because our magic is at rest, making our auras faint.” The wizard stood. “You cannot smell the fragrance of a single flower held at arm’s length. You must bring it to your nose. So, too, with the faint magic about people and things.” Oren moved to another cluster of rocks that jutted into the path and gestured at them. “Find the magic that is here and pull it back into your mind.”

  Joining his teacher, Marc deeply probed the weak magic of the rocks and brought it back into himself. Suddenly, he felt a multitude of sensations, emotions and memories. “There are many things mixed together in the magic on these rocks.”

  “Choose one and follow it.”

  The jumble reminded him of a writhing mass of earthworms. Studying it, one stood out above the others, familiar in some way. He trailed after it until it was before him, large and accessible. With his mind he touched it. “Ow!” His toe suddenly hurt. Lifting his foot, he felt it with his hand but found no injury; the pain was in someone else’s toe. They had just stubbed it and hopped over to these rocks to sit down. Amazed at how real it felt, Marc understood it to be a memory of some kind.

  “This is... incredible. A man hurt his toe and sat here. It’s like it happened to me.”

  “Tell me his name,” Oren said, his voice low and serious.

  For a moment Marc wondered how to do that, but then it seemed obvious. He Envisioned seeing the injured toe, then moved his view up the body to the face. Nothing prepared him for what he saw. For a moment joy filled him only to be replaced with sadness. Breaking contact with the magic, he looked at the old wizard. “Davidus. My father.”

  “Correct. Now, tell me when and why he was here.”

  Marc hesitated. As much as he marveled at what his magic let him do, he also feared it might awaken other, less pleasant memories.

  “Marc,” Oren said reassuringly, “the Traces that remain here will not cause you pain. They are but the moment of that day, nothing more. Trust me.”

  “Yes, Master.” Oren deserved his trust. Marc reconnected with the—what did the wizard call it?—the Trace of his father. For several moments, he held back, steeling himself against what may be, then pulled it into his thoughts. Something had made his father happy and he ran to tell Oren the good news. Marc strained to uncover this deeper layer, then laug
hed. “He came to tell you his son had been born. To tell you about me.”

  A smile came to his master’s face. “Indeed. A most delightful day. Well done.” Oren stepped away from the rocks. “Practice this skill often. Master it, for it is by far the most useful form of magic.”

  “I will. Thank you for bringing me here, for letting me feel a moment from my father’s life.”

  The wizard answered him with a single nod. “Now, look at me as you did when you felt the Traces.”

  In seconds he sensed what he could not before; a faint blue glow surrounded his master. “I see it now.”

  “Very good. Practice that as well.”

  Briefly revisiting the Trace left upon the rocks, Marc relished how richly it filled part of the void left by his father’s absence. He wondered what other objects would have similar Traces on them. Surely the whistle would, his father’s tools and clothing—Clothing! “Val felt my Trace on my tunic today.”

  Oren’s eyebrows rose. “Interesting. Both of you continue to surprise—” The distant clanging of a bell caught their attention. “Someone is at our gate. Tell me who.”

  Marc Envisioned the gate. “Sean. He looks worried.”

  “The news he has is most urgent. Come.” Together they hurried for home.

  “You know why Sean is here, don’t you, Master.”

  “His thoughts are quite agitated.”

  “You know what’s in his mind?” Marc asked with surprise.

  “Only what is on the surface. I sense that much as I do when I receive a Link. Emotions are easier than actual thoughts. When we get close to him, try to feel his mind. Go past the emotions. Learn what worries him.”

  Marc would have been more excited about this new form of magic, but knowing Sean was troubled dampened much of the thrill. Had someone taken ill or died? If so, whom? His mother, one of his sisters, someone like Garrett? Soon they were within sight of the gate.