Haunted Tree (The Magus Family Chronicles Book 1)

by Scott Robert Scheller

  “I didn’t sense Thaddeus approach. Sean’s dead because I was distracted,” he snapped, bitter regret in each word. He closed his eyes and tried unsuccessfully to will away the pain flooding his soul. “Because I was a fool,” he added, just above a whisper.

  Valeria stepped back and held his face tenderly. “No, that’s not the reason. It was his destiny to save you. Sean knew that. I know it, too.” She gripped his bloody tunic in her right hand and shook it. “I feel it in his blood. Open your mind and let the truth in, Marc. If you weren’t destined to have your magic, he would have died months ago. He lived then so that you would not die today.”

  Relenting, Marc allowed the Traces almost boiling up out of the remains of Sean’s life to enter into his mind, the knowledge piercing his doubt like the sharpest of blades. All of what happened was meant to happen. While true, it did nothing to ease the pain of losing his friend. He held her closer. “I know.”

  Bathed in her love, he shed his agony and grief onto her shoulder. At that moment, he needed her more than anything.

  Chapter 27

  Marc held Valeria close as they stood deep in the forest south of their village. Lifting his head from her shoulder, he looked into her eyes. Her gaze, as well as her magic, held a deep, abiding love for him. While still sad over Sean’s death, the worst of the grief had passed. She healed the wound to his spirit much as he had done to her when she had the vision of him dying. “I love you,” he said softly.

  “And I, you.” The truth of her words resonated to the very center of his being. She stepped back, looking him up and down with curious interest. “Your glow—it’s stronger.”

  “It is?” He felt no stronger. If anything, maybe a bit weaker. “I wonder why?”

  Looking him over once more, she shrugged. “Let’s figure it out later. For now we need to return to the village.” She took his hand and took a step in the direction of the path.

  “One moment.” Standing fast, he sought out Thaddeus and found him examining the area where Sean had breathed his last. Seeing the remote image of that evil man made Marc’s anger rise. The fervor of it seethed within his soul like a great fire, growing ever more toward out-and-out hate. It was easy to let that hate come, to want it to come. After all, who deserved to be hated more than Thaddeus? Then, with what felt like a sudden, cool breeze, his inner voice pushed those dark emotions away, clearing his thoughts, calming him.

  Again he Envisioned Thaddeus, this time keeping his passions in check. The man squatted where Sean had fallen and studied the ground with a smile, apparently pleased at taking another’s life. Pushing out with his magic, Marc easily knocked him off his feet, even from over half a mile away, dropping him face-first onto the blood-saturated soil. With a curse, Thaddeus sprang to his feet and searched about, brushing the tainted dirt from him.

  “Damn you, Oren.”

  Without thinking about it first, Marc reflexively Pushed the illusion of his voice into his distant cousin, concentrating hard on making it sound powerful. —Not Oren. Marcus.— Clearly shocked, Thaddeus drew his sword and pivoted in place, trying to locate Marc’s position. Marc, too, felt surprise. Never had he Pushed a sound so well, so easily. On a hunch, he recalled the image of one of the demons Oren had frightened Portaeus with and tried Pushing it into Thaddeus’ mind. At first he only accomplished a wispy and vague version of that form. Focusing harder, he managed to firm the illusion enough to be recognizable. Thaddeus gasped upon seeing the wavering, somewhat transparent demon before him. Holding the image steady in his mind, Marc had it speak to him, its voice deep and ominous.

  —Come, Thaddeus. We await you in Hell.—

  Fearfully backing away from the perceived threat, Thaddeus blanched and ran southward, crashing through the underbrush with abandon.

  Valeria smiled slightly, her gaze alight with approval. “Very good. Why didn’t you tell me your skill with illusions had improved?”

  Releasing the Push, Marc looked at her, feeling a bit stunned. “I- I had no idea I could.” He momentarily inspected his fingertips as if they might hold the answer. “Somehow my magic has changed.” He shook his head, wondering how this came to be. After a moment, he returned his attention to the here-and-now. “Let’s get to Oak Creek.”

  As they hurried toward the village, Valeria squeezed his hand. “When I felt Sean’s death, I tried to Link to you. Did you not hear me?”

  “No. I also tried to Link to you and Oren but couldn’t.”

  “Try him now,” she said.

  With more than a little trepidation, he guided his thoughts toward Oren, half expecting the effort to fail. —Master, are you there?—

  —I am.— The elder’s mind came through as clearly as it ever had.

  Relief shot through Marc. —Sean... Sean has died. He saved my life. Thaddeus attacked and Sean sacrificed himself. He— Marc couldn’t bear to finish it.

  —I know, my friend. I foresaw it all.—

  His master’s sorrow rushed forth over the Link, both for Sean’s loss and for having withheld the truth. At first, Marc wanted to rail against Oren for doing nothing to save Sean. Surely some way could have been found to change things, to prevent his death. If Marc had known ahead of time when and where Thaddeus would attack, he would have been prepared to do battle, and Sean would have—

  The amulet about his neck suddenly felt hot as Marc recalled seeing Sean’s pale body lying upon the ground, saying, “I did what I was destined to do.” Letting out a deep sigh of resignation, Marc hung his head as the anger and frustration he harbored crumbled away. He understood why Oren had to conceal that knowledge. Any interference would have surely changed things for the worse. To know that future and yet do nothing to alter how it would play out took courage, faith and wisdom. It took someone like Oren.

  —I am sorry you bore that burden, Master.—

  A flicker of gratitude came across their Link. —Better me than you. Tell me what happened.—

  Marc detailed his encounter with Thaddeus. —Then Sean told me to tell you these exact words: Your plum tree blooms so beautifully.— A sudden, powerful sense of alarm, then joy, exploded from within his master, leaving the hair on Marc’s arms standing on end. —What is it? What does it mean?—

  —Praise God.— A moment passed before Oren calmed enough to continue, happiness effusing his every thought. —It is a message. From my wife. Just before she died, she said she would try to communicate those words to me if she and our daughter made it to Heaven. For years I ached to hear her thoughts, to feel her mind, but I never did. This news gladdens my heart more than I can say.—

  Valeria warmly embraced Marc as the magnitude of the message amazed and humbled him into silence. After he recovered, Marc told the rest of the story including being struck by the powerful force that knocked him out. —That might explain the changes in my magic.—

  —Changes? What kind?—

  Marc told of tripping up Thaddeus and Pushing the two illusions into him. —It seems I can do more now than I could yesterday.—

  —Try the Blade on something,— the Master urged.

  Marc knew that meant something too difficult for him to cut before today. Looking about for a suitable item, he found a small, dead tree with a trunk as thick as the width of his palm. With the skill he had developed so far, he figured it should take him two or three tries to cut it down. But now? Aware that Oren Envisioned his actions, Marc firmly struck the tree with the best Blade he could craft, cleanly slicing it through. It crashed to the ground with a heavy thud, faint curls of smoke rising from the edges of the cut. He turned to Valeria with eyebrows raised, doubting what he had just done.

  Oren’s emotions rushed through him. —Incredible. The strength of your magic has increased greatly.—

  Realizing what it cost for him to gain that strength, Marc’s elation sagged. —I would gladly give it up, give all my magic up, to have Sean alive again.—

  The master’s thoughts turned serious. —Would you, Marc? Would Sean
agree with that? You are a powerful wizard for a reason. You can save many lives in the years to come.—

  — But only if I remain a wizard.— Marc, as did Sean, understood that necessitated something else. —And only if I survive the test. I gather Thaddeus’ attack was not it.—

  —No, your test is yet to come.—

  A claustrophobic sense of dread closed in around him. What he just went through was horrible. What could be worse than almost dying and losing a friend? In all likelihood it would be his test.

  —When will it come?—

  —I do not know the hour or day, only that it is soon. Do not let Sean’s sacrifice be in vain. Fulfill your destiny as he fulfilled his.—

  The strength of Oren’s words took hold of Marc’s mind, stripping away his negative thoughts. He started toward the village once more. —I shall.—

  Taking his hand, Valeria walked with him and addressed the wizard. —How are we going to fight Crowe’s men? They are skilled, seasoned soldiers.—

  Marc knew she had a valid point. While brave and strong, the men of Oak Creek were no match for Crowe’s forces. Add in three wizards and the odds improved a lot, but even if they prevailed, he knew many in the village would die. Memories of the horrific images from Fox Glen surfaced and he quickly pushed them aside, but not fast enough to quell the barely suppressed rage he felt over that unforgivable massacre. Somehow they had to find a way to prevent that.

  —I have a plan,— Oren Linked. —When you both learned the Great Secret, I also told you about something that made our magic more powerful. Do you remember?—

  Marc and Valeria glanced knowingly at each other. —We do,— Marc said. —What do you have in mind?—

  — o O o —

  Entering the village, Marc and Valeria found most of the people gathered within the common house, mourning Sean, who lay upon the table nearest the fire pit. Marc found it difficult to look at the remains of his friend. Seeing them, Garrett and Donald approached, their faces long and pale with grief.

  “Thank you for bringing Donald safely home,” Garrett said quietly, embracing Marc then Valeria. He gestured toward Sean. “It’s regrettable we cannot celebrate it at this time.” Guiding them to a quiet space, he asked, “Do you have any ideas to help us fight Crowe?”

  Marc nodded. “Yes. Oren has a brilliant plan.” He felt a gentle and familiar warmth brush against his senses. Glancing at Valeria, he saw she sensed it too. “The Master has returned to the village.”

  Entering the common house moments later, the old wizard joined them, and motioned for Ethan and several other men to come over as well. Once everyone had seated themselves, Oren addressed them with a quiet yet authoritative voice, “I fear that if we fight Crowe’s men directly, many of us will be lost. I have an idea that may defeat Crowe while avoiding a full-out battle. It involves some risk, but I believe it will work. While in Crowe’s camp this morning, Marc and I learned many of his men have no desire to die for him. That we will use to our advantage.”

  Garrett’s face brightened. “Valuable information to have. Go on.”

  Oren displayed a thin, somewhat sad smile. “It is no secret I am getting old. I am not as strong as I used to be, both in body and my command of magic.” The master’s admission of weakness surprised Marc. “Even with the able assistance of Marc and Valeria, the task before us is daunting. We will need some help.”

  Garrett gave him a reassuring nod. “I trust in your judgment, Oren. Tell us what we need do.”

  Oren detailed the plan. The men smiled and Garrett clasped Oren on the shoulder. “You are indeed a crafty wizard, my friend. We will start on it at once.”

  As the men left to see to their tasks, Oren turned to Marc, concern in his features. “Are you ready for this?”

  Marc fought down his fear. He had to do his part perfectly, otherwise he, and many of his friends, would die. “Yes.”

  Oren leaned closer and lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “Am I correct in sensing the men from Crowe’s eastern camp are all moving toward the western camp?”

  Marc carefully Envisioned the entire area around Oak Creek, then concentrated more closely on the space between them and the two camps. “Yes, and they are all heavily armed. I believe that after reaching the western camp, they will all head our way.” He met the wizard’s gaze. “I think we have at most two hours before they are here.”

  Oren grimaced. “That is what I saw, too. What of their emotions, Valeria?”

  Marc watched as she centered herself and concentrated on the distant group of men. Half a dozen breaths passed before she spoke. “Anger and hatred from some, many others hold fear, desperation. But from all—” She opened her eyes and cast them a disheartened look. “I feel readiness for war.”

  Oren nodded in acceptance. “Indeed. Let us change into our wizard’s robes and prepare to meet the enemy.”

  — o O o —

  Valeria stood at the edge of a flat stone outcropping high on the southern end of Rocky Hill. The brisk wind whipping against her robe had a cool bite to it. She hoped that chill would not usher in bad luck for her village. Below, and directly to the east, she saw Oak Creek’s graveyard, where many of her former neighbors hurried to finish their preparations. Shifting her gaze southward, she made out the dust stirred up by the column of Crowe’s men. And directly in their path lay Marc.

  Her insides knotted with dread. Would this be his test? To confront Crowe was to confront death itself. For what must have been the hundredth time she said a quick prayer for the safety of Marc and the village.

  To her right stood Donald. With a hand shielding his eyes from the sun, he searched the woods below. “Do you see him?”

  “Yes, but with my magic, not my eyes. He waits at the wide meadow. Crowe’s forces are about a thousand paces from him.”

  Donald’s discomfort at being near her assailed her spirit much like a fire’s heat would warm exposed skin. When Oren put both of them at this lookout, she suspected that action served a purpose greater than watching the movement of Crowe’s men, something she could do just as well from the ground. Probing Donald’s thoughts, she found he wanted to apologize for his treatment of her and Marc, but hesitated to do so from more than just embarrassment. He feared her. Saddened, she hoped he could someday find a way past that fear.

  She turned to him. “You are troubled. Please, talk to me about it.”

  Averting his gaze, he kept silent for nearly a minute. “It’s difficult to speak of. You command magic’s power and I have wronged you... and Marc.”

  “You think I would harm you over your past actions? Do you not know me?”

  “The Val I grew up with would not, but—” He shrugged apologetically. “You have changed.”

  Almost denying his observation out of reflex, she realized the truth of it and gently touched his back. “Some, but you have changed, too. I am much the same person I was before hearing magic’s call. I would never hurt you for any reason.” She looked south to the approaching dust cloud. “Now, Thaddeus—I’d gladly rip the heart from his chest.”

  His fear strengthened. “You could do that?”

  “Easily,” she said without emotion. Facing him, she took both of his hands in hers. “I bear no ill will against you. We are, and shall always remain, friends.”

  “We will?” he asked, his expression uncertain.

  She gave him a smile and subtle nod in answer, much like those Oren had given to her and Marc many times. She suddenly wanted to laugh at herself for mimicking her master’s mien of appearing all-knowing and mysterious. The mighty wizard Valeria. Ha!

  “We’ve known each other all our lives, Donald, and care deeply for each other, as if we were brother and sister. Your feelings for me became... misdirected for a time. Clouded by your desires.” Seeing the crimson flush blooming upon his face made her want to tease her friend, but doing so would be unkind at this moment. “And while you experienced intense feelings toward me, they were not love in the romantic s
ense. Not true love.”

  Letting go of her hands, Donald hung his head in acknowledgement. “But you feel such love for Marc.”

  A swell of warm emotion welled up inside her, threatening to burst forth from her skin in a shower of incandescent joy, and she fought not to let it show. “All my life.”

  Donald looked up in surprise, his thoughts pouring into her, clear and undiluted, but she answered before he could voice them.

  “Yes, all my life. I didn’t understand or question my attraction to Marc early on, just accepting it as normal. But several years ago, long before I started my training with Oren, I began having visions. Mostly of Marc. I knew then I would marry him some day.”

  Donald nodded. “Marc said the magic had predetermined your choosing each other.”

  Valeria shrugged. “Possibly, or God did. Either way, Marc is the only man for me. We not only love each other, we are in love with each other. There’s a difference there I cannot explain very well, and I doubt can be truly understood until you experience it for yourself. Don’t worry, you’ll find someone.”

  She looked deep into his eyes and had a flash of a vision; Donald and Barbara sat together in the common house, each holding a child while a very pleased Garrett squatted before them, tickling the tummy of the eldest tot. A chortle of amusement erupted from her as she realized its meaning. “Well, that didn’t take long,” she muttered.

  His eyebrows rose as he cocked his head to the side. “What didn’t take long?”

  She gave him a toothy grin. “The magic just revealed to me some of your future. I know who you will fall in true love with, who you will marry.”

  Donald’s spirit brightened. “You do? Who is it?”

  Valeria laughed softly. “I’m not telling. It’s better you find out on your own. But I will tell you she’s a strong woman. A beautiful woman,” she added with a wink. “Your life together will not be easy at times, but it will be rich and filled with love.” Turning toward the meadow, she checked on her own love, her humor quickly ebbing away. If only she could have a vision of today’s outcome as easily as she’d done for Donald. Again and again she tried to no avail. Marc’s future was blank to her, as was her own. When she Envisioned Crowe and Thaddeus on their horses, she set her teeth together in anger toward the men who wished harm upon her husband-to-be and the village. Taking Donald’s hand, she began forming the bubble about the two of them so they could Float back to the ground.