Haunted Tree (The Magus Family Chronicles Book 1)

by Scott Robert Scheller

  —I’ll Push a voice into him.—

  —No, wait. He may react poorly to it, alerting the guards.—

  —Then how else are we to communicate with him?—

  Marc pondered on that. Writing messages in the dirt would not work; Donald could not read well enough. Thinking back over the years he remembered when they used to… —The acorn game.—

  Her mood perked up. —Perfect.—

  He, Valeria, Sean and Donald used to play the acorn game in their younger days, years before the darkness came. They developed a simple language made up of acorns arranged in various patterns to represent things and actions. By using these symbols, they left messages for each other and played hide-and-seek type games. Marc hoped Donald would remember.

  A nearby oak tree provided a handful of immature acorns. When the guards looked elsewhere, Marc lowered several dozen seeds in a vertical stream into the space between a support pole and the fabric. Taking care to avoid the gaze of the guard inside, he moved them along the roof and down the back wall to the ground. Startled at first, Donald remained silent, watching the procession of seeds with wide eyes. Marc arranged some of the acorns into his own symbol, a pyramid, followed by the sign for watches, an image of an eye. After several seconds, Donald must have realized Marc’s intent for he rolled on his side, shielding the acorns from the interior guard’s view. Removing the second symbol, Donald added two more. It read, Marc help Donald.

  Marc wished he could. Not safe many men, he wrote, followed by help later.

  Yes, Donald responded.

  Marc formed, Marc Valeria watch Donald.

  Donald repeated the sign for yes, then, with a look of determined hope, brushed the acorns into disorder.

  — o O o —

  By the time Oren arrived, Donald slept. Pleased they rescued the girls without being discovered, the master sent them back to Oak Creek while he kept watch over Donald. They were about a quarter mile from the village when Marc suddenly felt the presence of others nearby. Holding out his arm, he stopped the two girls and motioned for them to keep silent. Envisioning ahead he immediately felt pain and fear, but soon understood the small group of people posed no threat. He smiled at the girls. “I believe some of your neighbors are on this path.”

  Overjoyed, Barbara grabbed his arm. “How many?”

  “Twelve.”

  She darted a short way down the path, then stopped and asked, “Is it safe?”

  “Yes.” Needing no further encouragement, she ran off. Rufa took a few timid steps, then looked expectantly at him. “Go.” He chuckled as she also vanished.

  Valeria started after them. “The older one is strong willed.”

  “Just like someone else I know,” Marc said, giving her a warm smile.

  Putting his arm around her, they followed the path until reaching the others: one man, four women, six children and a baby. Three were wounded—the man had a gash along the right side of his head, a woman had a serious injury to her left thigh, and a boy had an arrow lodged in his arm. Barbara introduced Marc and Valeria to her villagers, explaining how they rescued her and her sister.

  Valeria examined the injuries. “Our master may be able to heal these.”

  The man bowed his head. “It would be appreciated, but see to her first.” He pointed at the injured woman seated on a large rock. A hastily made bandage, sodden with blood, bound the wound. “Every time we move her she bleeds more.”

  Because of the dim light, Marc could not see her color, but he felt her weakness and pain. “I will carry her safely to Oak Creek. All of you are welcome there.”

  “Praise God,” one of the women said. “We feared Crowe had attacked them as well.”

  Marc addressed the man. “What happened at Fox Glen?”

  A spike of hate erupted from the man’s aura. “Crowe’s man came to us yesterday. Said we must accept Crowe as our new king. When he returned this morning, we could not give him an answer. Angry, he left. A short while later he, Crowe and about twenty men approached. We thought we could fight them, but we didn’t know twice that number hid on the other side of the village. When our men left to fight Crowe, his other men moved in. Hearing the cries of our families, we rushed back to defend them, but—” The man’s jaw muscles tightened as he shook his head with several quick jerks. “We got there too late. I only survived because I was knocked out and taken for dead. Others fled into the forest and evaded capture.”

  The woman with the baby pulled two other children to her side. “We were picking berries. If we had been home....”

  Valeria touched the woman’s shoulder reassuringly. “Be grateful you were spared. All of you should be.” Gently, she moved her along the path. “Come, warm food and beds await.”

  Casting the spell, Marc Floated the injured woman before him. Several of the others gasped and backed away. “There is no need to fear,” he said. “She is safe in magic’s hands.”

  Heading for the village, Marc felt Oren’s Link.

  —Good news. A messenger arrived to tell Thaddeus of Oak Creek’s support for Crowe. Donald will live until tomorrow.—

  Relief flowed through Marc. —I am glad. We found twelve more survivors of Fox Glen.— Marc told of them, especially the injured ones.

  —I will be there when I am able. Then you both will practice what you learned about healing wounds.—

  They reached Oak Creek without further incident. While the villagers saw to the other survivors, Marc and Valeria tended to the wounded in the common house. The boy and man gratefully accepted the porridge offered them, but the woman refused to eat. Remembering Oren had him pack a small container of honey, Marc dissolved a large dollop in a cup of warm water and had her drink it. He made a second batch which she swallowed then fell asleep.

  Marc turned his attention to the boy while Valeria cleansed the man’s wounds. Gently grasping the boy’s elbow, he read the magic around him. “How are you feeling—James, isn’t it?”

  “I’m well enough, sir.”

  The arrow had pierced the outside flesh of the young man’s arm a hand’s width below the shoulder. “Did you bleed very much?”

  “Some at first, but no more since then.” He glanced over at the woman. “Will my mother live?”

  His mother? Marc read the boy’s magic more deeply and saw how she blocked a sword meant for him with her own body. “I do not know. My master, Oren the Wise, will use his skill with magic to heal her.” The boy looked downward. “Your mother is very brave.” Putting his fingers under the boy’s chin, Marc raised it to meet his gaze. “We will do all we can to save her.”

  James gave him a sad but hopeful smile. “Thank you.”

  “Now, let’s get this arrow out. Hold still.” Waving his hand, Marc said, “Dīscinde!” and cleanly severed the shaft next to the boy’s skin. James’ eyes opened wide with awe and then even wider as the arrow slid from the wound.

  “Ow.” His eyes teared up but he cried out no more.

  “Well done, James. Let’s clean up your arm.”

  — o O o —

  When Oren returned, Marc immediately brought him to the injured woman, who lay upon a table in the common house. After a brief examination, the master took him and Valeria aside and quietly said, “Her wound is deep and serious. I do not know if she will live for she has lost much blood. You did good, Marc, in giving her honey water. It will give her strength for what she must endure.”

  “What can we to do to help?” Valeria asked.

  “Go to the village garden and bring me two large onions. Wash them well.” She left. “Marc, from your pack get the mortar, celery seed, lavender, feverfew and morpheus root.”

  As he dug for the items, Marc found himself excited about finally applying his knowledge of medicinal herbs. Oren also taught them about the makeup of the body and how their magic might be used to treat wounds and illnesses. While learning about herbs interested him, he found peering inside someone’s body most unsettling.

  “Here they are, M
aster.” He held them out to Oren who waved him back.

  “You prepare them. Tell me why I selected those herbs.”

  “The first three are good for easing pain, especially the feverfew, and the lavender also helps reduce swelling. The morpheus root is to help her sleep.”

  “Good, now prepare them quickly.”

  Under the watchful eye of his master, Marc took a small mound of the celery seed, ground it to a powder and poured it into the cup he used earlier. Next, he placed three pinches of powdered morpheus root in the vessel. Two would normally be enough, but because of her pain, she needed a stronger dose. Adding a handful each of dried lavender and feverfew, he filled the cup halfway with hot water and stirred the mixture without stopping. After a few minutes, he strained the liquid into another cup and handed it to his master.

  Oren smelled and tasted it. “Good work. Give it to her.”

  Taking back the cup, Marc approached the woman and touched her shoulder. When her eyes fluttered open, she appeared more alert. “I have medicine for the pain.”

  With Marc’s help, she lifted her head and drank all from the cup. Her gaze shifted questioningly to Oren, then back to him.

  “Oren is a master healer and I am his student,” Marc said reassuringly. She smiled weakly which pleased him, for now she had hope. “I removed the arrow from James’ arm. He will heal.”

  She smiled again, this time more with her eyes. While he made no attempt to probe her thoughts, he felt them as clearly as if he did. Deep gratitude and relief flowed from... Merga.

  He gently patted her hand. “Now rest, Merga, and keep very still.”

  Returning with the onions, Valeria handed them to Oren.

  Seeing the woman look toward Valeria, Marc said, “And you remember Valeria. She is my master’s other student.”

  With a gentle smile, Valeria lightly touched Merga’s upper arm in a show of concern.

  “Thank you all,” the woman said weakly before closing her eyes once more.

  Hearing the rustling of clothing, Marc glanced around and saw that some of the villagers gathered to watch. The master noticed them as well but, unfazed, motioned at Merga’s leg. —Look carefully into the wound.—

  Marc reluctantly Envisioned the savage injury, causing a woozy feeling to snake through his innards. Knowing that he soon had to apply what he previously learned only in theory did little to calm those feelings.

  Oren continued. —See how the large vena has been nearly cut in two. This must be healed now or she will die. I trust you both remember what we learned about healing flesh?—

  Marc nodded, wishing his first opportunity to apply that knowledge could have been on something less serious—or bloody.

  —Marc, squeeze the appropriate pressure point for her leg.—

  Taking care to locate the precise spot on the woman’s hip, Marc pressed the underlying nerve firmly with his thumb. Groaning, Merga tensed then relaxed as the pain ebbed.

  “Bless you,” she whispered.

  Looking from their patient and back to him, Oren gave Marc an approving nod. —We must work quickly lest she moves. First, remove the set blood and air from the vena.—

  Oren’s magic expelled several clumps of clotted blood from out of the vessel, the gore of which brought a swell of nausea rising through Marc’s core. He quickly looked away, swallowing to ease the acrid taste at the back of his throat, not wanting to throw up before the villagers. Taking several deep breaths quelled enough of the urge. Why did this bother him? He had seen injuries before and never reacted this strongly. Whatever the reason, he had to get past this for healing was an important part of being a wizard.

  —Now, to repair the blood vessel.—

  Oren brought the severed edges together, then began making many tiny sparks along the joint, causing the flesh on each side to stick together. Marc found that if he very closely Envisioned the area Oren worked on, making it appear many times larger than normal, his discomfort was all but nonexistent. Thankful for that mercy, he focused all his attention on the master’s work.

  —Next, the wound must be washed out or it will fester greatly. What must we remember about using the juice of the onion? Valeria?—

  —Only fresh juice will properly cleanse the injury.—

  —Correct. Now for the difficult part of the task.—

  Casting an impressive, longwinded spell, Oren Floated the onions before him and crushed them in mid-air, separating their juice into what looked to be a giant, milky raindrop. Even though Marc knew how the master did it, he found himself nearly as taken in by the show as the awestruck villagers around them. When the rippling blob neared the injury, the flesh opened up to receive it. Oren gently massaged the area, working the juice into every crevice, then released his hold, allowing the wound to close and expel the fluid.

  —Valeria, hold the edges of the muscles together while Marc and I Spark them.

  Slowly chanting, “Coalescite,” Oren waved his hand over the wound, sparking together the muscles nearest the woman’s hip. Starting on the other side, Marc did the same. Difficult at first, he carefully took his time and soon became more adept at it. Understanding the good he did this woman greatly lessened his discomfort at viewing her injuries. After several minutes, all the severed muscles were mended.

  Oren examined their work and nodded appreciatively. —Very good for your first time, Marc.—

  Thrilled, he tried not to smile too much, but failed after Valeria Linked, —Yes, excellent.—

  Seeing the eagerness in Valeria’s eyes, Marc asked, —Master, why not let Val try healing the skin? She can only make tiny Sparks so far, but are those not best for thin tissue?—

  With a warm smile, Oren nodded his consent. Beaming, Valeria came up next to Marc and took over chanting, “Coalescere.” Jointly, they held the skin together and sparked the juncture closed.

  “Good work, both of you,” Oren said as a number of villagers applauded. The pride in his master’s tone meant more to Marc than the appreciation of the onlookers. “Wrap the leg with a clean bandage, Valeria, and keep it in this position for the next few hours. If she wakes in pain, you or Marc will need to use the pressure point once more. Tomorrow we will drain what pus has formed.”

  Next, Marc and Valeria healed the wounds of the man and James under Oren’s watchful eye. After the healing was completed to his satisfaction, the master left to sleep. Marc got two skins and unrolled them on the earthen floor of the common house next to the table holding Merga. One skin was for James, who refused to leave his mother’s side. In less than a minute after laying down, the boy was asleep.

  Marc knelt on the other skin. “Why don’t you sleep, too, Val? I’ll take first watch.” He stretched out on his side so he could rest yet keep an eye on their patient. Valeria gratefully accepted, cuddling up next to him, her head upon his arm. As she slept, he thought on what might happen come morning. Would Merga live? And what of Donald’s fate? Could he be rescued without Oak Creek incurring the wrath of Crowe? Marc did not know any of those answers. He did know his test would be soon. If it happened to take place tomorrow, would his magic be sufficient for victory?

  He looked upon Valeria’s beautiful face. The peace he saw there did not reside within him, only doubt and fear. He wanted more than anything to pass the test. Not just to live another day, which was only natural, but also to give her joy. His spirit yearned for an eternity with her. Gently caressing her hair, he pledged to make it so.

  Chapter 25

  Marc awoke to a pleasant warmth upon his lips. Opening his eyes, he saw Valeria kneeling by him, her face inches away. She kissed him again.

  “Good morning.” Her voice was as soft as her lips.

  Smiling, he caressed her cheek. “Good morning to you as well.” Then last night’s memories returned, tempering his mood. Rising to one elbow, he looked up at their patient. “How is Merga?”

  “Much better. No bleeding and her pain has eased.” Valeria’s eyes positively shone. “Our magic
saved her life.” Her joy flowed through him.

  “That’s wonderful. And the other two?”

  “Healing well.” She gave him a small loaf of bread, still warm from the oven.

  “Thanks.” Tearing off a bite, he stood and stretched. The heavenly taste stimulated his appetite and he let out a little moan of appreciation. “I feel like I haven’t eaten for days.” He knew his greater-than-normal hunger was due to yesterdays magic use.

  Valeria handed him the monk’s robe. “Oren said to meet him south of the village.”

  Marc quickly exchanged robes, filling the pockets and secret places of the new one with wizardly things he might need, then embraced her. “Wish me luck.”

  She clung to him. “Be safe, my love. Bring Donald back to us.”

  “I promise.”

  Kissing her, Marc collected his staff and left the common house, passing a villager who, after pausing a moment at noticing his change of attire, bid him well. The faint pink in the eastern sky meant dawn would soon arrive. Envisioning ahead, he found Oren walking south and briskly strode after him. Just before entering the trees, he heard softly running feet approach him from behind. “Hello, Sean.”

  With a snort of amused irritation, his best friend slowed to walk next to him. “How do you do that?” Raising his hand, Marc was about to speak, but Sean answered his own question. “I know, it’s magic, but how do you know?”

  Suppressing a chuckle, Marc remembered asking his master that very question not long ago. “The simplest answer is the magic puts the knowledge in my mind much like how the amulet speaks to you.”

  Sean pursed his lips in thought for several moments. “Good enough. Oren allowed me to come with you. If Don needs to be carried, I can help.”

  “Not that your help, and company, isn’t welcome, but I could Float him home in that event.”

  “I mentioned that to Oren but he said you needed to save your magic for later.” Sean studied him briefly. “What did he mean by that?”

  Marc’s emotions threatened to rise, but he held them back. “Remember the test I am to face?”