Haunted Tree (The Magus Family Chronicles Book 1)

by Scott Robert Scheller

  Her spirits soared in relief. —Marc and I are coming to help you.—

  —No. Return to the house. Thaddeus will be going there next.—

  —But your head is bleeding,— she said.

  —My injuries are not life threatening. I cut my head against the rocks as I fell but landed softly due to Floating. I feigned death to fool Thaddeus. Now go.—

  Marc took her hand and they reversed direction, hurrying toward home.

  “It is I who must go up against him,” Marc said, resignation coloring his voice. “Now I understand what Sean meant about Thaddeus and I. He said only one of us would live. Today is to be my test, not yesterday.”

  Valeria let out a panicked gasp. “No, Yesterday was. You nearly died twice. It’s not fair.”

  Marc squeezed her hand. “And yet it must be.”

  —Marc is correct.— Compassion flowed from the master. —You must face him alone, Marc. Valeria and I may not interfere. This is your time. Be the wizard you are, not only to yourself, but to all.

  —I’ll be ready,— Marc Linked, —and this time I’ll be more vigilant.—

  —I pray you will,— Oren said, breaking the Link.

  So do I, she thought to herself.

  On the way, she and Marc discussed how they might defend themselves. Jogging up the path to the house, they stopped before the door and Marc glanced back toward the gate, concerned.

  She reached for his cheek, brushing it with her palm while letting her love spill into him. “There is no need to worry, Marc. Your skill with the Blade is such you could kill him well beyond an arrow’s reach.”

  “Yes, but—” He pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “I somehow feel the need to do so differently. Make his death serve a larger purpose.”

  She hated the idea of Marc risking himself again, but she also felt taking the easy solution would be the wrong thing to do. “What kind of purpose?”

  Understanding grew on his face. “Oren said for me to be the wizard I am for all. He wants me to make a big show of it, to defeat Thaddeus face-to-face.” He drew in and released a heavy breath then met her gaze meaningfully. “Before witnesses.”

  She nodded, his intentions now clear. “Like he did at the graveyard. What are you going to do?” He told her. While good, the plan held much risk. “Facing him in the Vale is dangerous.”

  “I know, but that’s why it is a test of my skills with magic, my cunning and bravery.”

  He gazed into her eyes. Within him shone a steadfast resolve to do what needed to be done. Several months ago she heard him tell his mother he could never be a leader, could never shoulder the burdens of others. A leader now stood before her, having unquestioningly accepted that mantle. She couldn’t be more proud of him.

  He gently placed his forehead against hers and sighed. “I need to do this. I... I almost feel compelled to do so.” He gave her a tender hug, then pulled away. “We must leave now if I am to face him.”

  “But is not Thaddeus coming here?” Seeking him out, she found the three men halfway to Raven’s Gate, riding hard. They needed to be delayed to give Marc time enough to reach the Forbidden Vale. A means to do so quickly formed in her mind. She smiled and kissed him. “You are not the only one with a good plan. Thaddeus and his men are on horseback while you are on foot. I’ll stay here and keep him busy long enough for you to get to the Vale and prepare to welcome him.” She detailed her plan.

  “You are a devious one, my wife-to-be.” He tenderly placed his hand to her cheek.

  She kissed the proffered palm. “No more than you, my husband-to-be.”

  “But will not Thaddeus recognize you?”

  “No. I kept my hood up at the graveyard yesterday. Oren insisted on it.”

  Marc smiled. “He must have foreseen today. Good luck.” Giving her a hug and a quick kiss, he ran for the southern wall and bounded over it.

  Trying to calm her jangled nerves, Valeria set about putting her plan in motion. First of all, Marc needed witnesses when he confronted Thaddeus and Oak Creek had a ready supply of those. She wondered how to catch their attention, to tell them where to go. Yes, she could simply Push a message into a small number of them, but doing so alone might frighten them unnecessarily. No, she needed something to catch their attention first, some kind of show. She quickly settled upon making something move. Given her physical limitations with magic, it needed to be small, lightweight and able to be manipulated from her current location. As she thought on it, a gust of wind blew past her, stirring a thigh-high cone of dust to life as it flowed around the stone ring of the well. With a chortle of amusement, she said, “Perfect,” and turned her attention to the center of Oak Creek.

  Envisioning it from high overhead, she located the largest concentration of people and, gathering up her will, caused a whirlwind of dirt and leaves to grow into a tall column before them. At first the villagers hurriedly stepped away from the disturbance, apparently not wanting to have dirt blown in their faces. They did not realize it was artificial as such things were fairly common sights. So Valeria made it move in little circlets, copying the steps of a popular dance that everyone knew. Before long, over a score of people watched in fascination as her odd vortex playfully flitted about amongst them. Quickly doubling the whirlwind’s size, she Pushed a message into their minds:

  Listen all to magic’s words,

  Stand and hear it speak.

  Make haste you all and travel now,

  Go to Wiccan Creek.

  The witnesses jolted into an excited state; a few reacted with fear, but most seemed accepting, even delighted, at hearing the message. They hurried away and immediately began telling their neighbors. Pleased with their reaction, she released the whirlwind. Seeking out Gildas, she found him heading their way with many from the northern villages. She repeated the message for them, then Linked to Oren and told him what they were up to.

  —You and Marc have well learned what is means to be a wizard,— the master responded, not even trying to hide his pride. —I will be there, headache and all.—

  After unlatching the gate and leaving it slightly ajar, she went into the house and bolted the door. Running to the kitchen, she poured some distilled spirits into the round iron stew pot and Floated it back to the workshop. Opening the door to the cave, she quickly grabbed some skulls of bears, wolves and hawks and put them around the edges of the large table. Returning to the cave, she brought out the silver dagger and the oil lamp. Lighting the latter at the fire, she placed both items on the table as well. Securing the cave door, she hoisted the cook pot onto the table, placing the dagger and lamp on either side.

  By then the three intruders arrived and had began searching the compound outside, moving ever closer to the house. She had to hurry. In her room, she put on the ragged clothing she wore for the dirtiest of chores. Going to the fireplace, she lightly smeared her face and arms with ashes, then tousled her hair. She was now the perfect lowly servant.

  She knew Thaddeus wanted but one thing—to find and kill her Marc. The man would do anything to accomplish that and would likely leave no witnesses behind. So, in the next few minutes, she had to do two things. First, manipulate Thaddeus into thinking he discovered Marc’s whereabouts and, second, survive his attempt to kill her.

  Three loud thuds came from the front of the house. Just in time. Muttering a quick prayer of protection, she hurried to the front door and scanned the other side. No drawn weapons. Still, her heart thrummed madly in her chest. From fear? Excitement? Both? No matter. She had to be careful to conceal her true emotions—and magic—from Thaddeus.

  “Who is there?” she said, timidly. “What do you want?”

  “Send him out,” Thaddeus demanded.

  “The master has gone away. Come back later.”

  One of the other men chuckled and muttered, “He’s gone away, all right.”

  “We’re not here to see Oren,” Thaddeus said less forcefully. “We want to see the young wizard, Marc. Send him out
.”

  “He’s not here, either.”

  “Where might we find him, then?”

  “I don’t know where he went. They rarely tell me.”

  “I see.” His voice had become more friendly. “May I ask who you are?”

  “I am Oren’s housekeeper. May I ask who you are as well? I will tell Marc you came by when he returns.”

  “He and I have some unfinished business to take care of. Let us meet with him to settle our accounts so we can be on our way.”

  “I told you, he’s not here.”

  “Then let me give you the payment owed him and we will take our leave.”

  She easily felt the deception but it was no surprise. She counted on it. “Well, I’ll open the door only if you promise to stay outside.”

  “I promise,” Thaddeus lied reassuringly.

  Steeling her nerves, Valeria wiped the dampness from her palms, keenly feeling the men’s evil intentions. They wanted to get what information they could, then rape and kill her, partly because she “belonged” to Oren, the wizard who humbled them the day before, and partly because they enjoyed such things. Only her wits would let her survive this encounter. She unbolted the door and the three men burst in. She squealed in terror—convincingly, she hoped. The last of them, a taller, red-haired lout, roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her after him as he followed the others. They searched the whole house, upturning anything which might possibly conceal a young wizard, and ended up in the workshop.

  Thaddeus pointed to the cave door. “Open it.” The man holding her shoved her toward it.

  Pretending to stagger forward, she reached the wall to the right of the door and faced him, shaking her head earnestly. “I cannot. There’s no latch. Only the master knows the secret of that door.” She edged fearfully away from it and spoke in a tremulous near whisper. “There is some sort of great evil on the other side. I’ve heard breathing come from behind there, like a large beast in much pain. Let me leave this room, I beg of you. It’s bewitched. Things move on their own. Strange sounds, voices and smells spring up from nowhere. I do not like it in here.”

  Thaddeus gestured his men toward the door. “See if you can pry it open.”

  Both tried to wedge their blades between the door and the frame, but the gap proved too narrow. While they struggled, Valeria Pushed an illusion into the black-haired one and he jumped away from the door in fear.

  “Did you hear that?” Atellus said, nervously pointing his weapon at the door.

  “Hear what?” Rutilus asked.

  “A growl of some kind.”

  “I heard nothing. Let me see if I can hear it.” The man held his ear to the door and she put a different thought into him. Eyes widening, he scooted three steps back. “By Jove. There is something in there. I heard chains moving and great claws scraping upon stone.” He looked at Thaddeus, worried. “Should we still try to open it?”

  “No.” Thaddeus put a hand to the back of her neck and the cold steel of his sword to her throat, his eyes hard and demanding. “Is Marc in there?”

  She tried to look terrified at the thought. “No. He couldn’t be, for if he were, he’d be dead.” When he released her with a sideways shove, she deliberately stumbled back into the table, her hand striking the cook pot with a muted ring. Recoiling in horror, she scurried behind Thaddeus and, kneeling, clung to his leg, trembling.

  He peered down at her, half amused. “Why are you afraid?”

  Flicking her terrified gaze between him and the table, she whispered, “The demon. I may have roused the demon.”

  Shaking her off, he moved to the table and rapped his knuckles on the iron surface, eliciting another dull ring. “You mean this? It is only a cook pot. There is no demon there.”

  She vigorously shook her head. “It is enchanted. The master calls it his cauldron of knowledge.”

  Thaddeus’ brows arched and his lips pursed in surprise. “Cauldron of knowledge? What does that mean?”

  “It speaks to him, tells him things he wants to know.” Valeria felt a surge in Thaddeus’ emotions. Her plan was working.

  “How is it used?”

  Flinching as if struck, she backed away. “I must not say. The master will be furious if I do. I will be punished most severely.”

  Rutilus grabbed a fist full of her hair and yanked her head back, exposing her throat. The sudden pain made her gasp. Bringing a knife to her neck, he said, “Tell us, or die.”

  After several moments of frantically eyeing the man and Thaddeus, she closed her eyes, swallowed, then nodded in compliance. Releasing her, Rutilus propelled her toward the table. Rubbing her aching scalp, she faced Thaddeus while avoiding eye contact and spoke quietly.

  “I have seen the master use it several times. You must light the lamp, then wave the tip of the sacred knife through the flame three times. Use it to prick your finger and put a drop of blood in the cauldron. Next, cut off some of your hairs with the knife, light them with the lamp, and drop them in the cauldron. As long as the flame burns within, the demon can answer your question, but only one is allowed each day.”

  “So it can tell me where Marc is?”

  “It knows all that is knowable.”

  With a snort of pleasure, Thaddeus grinned smugly at his companions and began the ritual. Valeria hurriedly decided what the demon would say. It would not be her best poetry, but certainly the most quickly composed. By the time he lit the strands of hair, she was ready.

  Thaddeus stepped back as the cauldron burst into blue flame. The stench of burning hair made Valeria regret her choice of ingredients for a moment, but she had to put that concern out of her mind. Concentrating on making all three men hear her thoughts, she began her act.

  What ask you?

  growled a low, unfriendly voice from the depths of the pot.

  While Thaddeus’ men stiffened in alarm, he seemed quite pleased. “Where will I find the wizard Marc this day?”

  Valeria made the voice become louder, more authoritative.

  By Wiccan creek a Great Tree stands,

  None larger in all the lands.

  Standing on that curséd ground,

  Shall the wizard Marc be found.

  Thaddeus grinned wickedly. “I know that place.” He faced her, bringing the sword to her throat once more, just as she expected he would. “You have been quite helpful. Unfortunately, I have to kill—” He spun about as the cauldron spoke again, this time quite angrily.

  You are not my master, Oren

  But another, someone foreign.

  You have magic and a heart of ice,

  For this knowledge, you must pay the price.

  “Price? What price?” He glared at her, raw hatred in his eyes. “You did not say anything about a price!” He drew his blade back in preparation to strike her down.

  With a loud boom, the door to the cave flew open and a great roar, mightier than from the largest bear, erupted from the darkness beyond. Valeria made objects fly off the workbench and pelt against the men, who cowered against the onslaught behind raised arms, while the voice bellowed with seething rage:

  Pay me now in blood that’s fresh,

  Yield to me a gift of flesh.

  Thaddeus seized her arm and hurled her through the opening. Using her magic, she slammed and latched the door, then screamed as if being ripped limb from limb. Her death was quick. After a few moments of silence, she repeatedly slammed her shoulder against the door, making it shake violently, adding a few more roars to her illusion.

  Atellus cried out in fear, “The beast wants more!”

  The sacrifice’s soul is hexed.

  Be gone, be gone, or you’ll be next.

  A flood of pure terror poured off the men. They wasted no time in running from the house, mounting their horses and galloping away. Valeria sagged against the cave wall as the repressed fear and tension briefly surfaced. At the moment she couldn’t enjoy the thrill of fooling the men, her thoughts too fixed upon her close brush with death. Only her ma
gic and guile kept her alive.

  Her guile. She gave out a snort of amusement. The master was right. Deception could improve their magic. Did improve it. Thaddeus and the others reacted just as she had wanted them to. Firming up her wobbly knees, she cast off the rags she wore and moved into the workshop.

  —Marc?— she Linked.

  —Everything all right?—

  —Yes. They are heading your way. Are you ready?—

  —I will be by the time they get here. You feel excited and nervous.—

  —I scared them out of their skins. Not bad for a dead woman.—

  —Dead woman?—

  His sudden concern made her smile and she ached to tell him of her success, but knew he didn’t need the distraction right now. —I am fine. I’ll explain later.—

  —Hurry, Val. I want you to see it all.—

  —I’ll be there with many witnesses.— She told him about contacting the others. —Don’t begin until they arrive.—

  —As you wish, my mistress.—

  Valeria cleaned the ashes from her skin, then brushed out her hair. Donning her as yet unfinished wizard’s robe, she locked the front door and gate, and made her best speed for the Vale. She would not miss Marc’s show for anything.

  Chapter 31

  Sweat trickling down his back, Marc slowed to a walk as he approached the fallen tree that lay across Wiccan Creek. While catching his breath, he tried to determine the best way to move it—or if he could move it, even. No other way to cross the steep banks of the creek existed for at least a mile in either direction, and removing that bridge would delay Thaddeus and his men from entering the Vale until the witnesses arrived. Difficult or not, Marc had to do it.

  The task presented a difficult challenge. Never had he attempted to move anything as large, heavy or oddly shaped. Yet from deep within him came an instinctive feeling he should be able to manage it. In theory, if he could put a bubble around it, he could move it. Concentrating upon that thought, he pushed out his magic and carefully formed an elongated bubble, straining to encompass the tree’s entire length. Once enveloped, he attempted to Float it off the ground, but only the top of the tree moved, lifting less than a foot. Was the bubble formed wrong? No, it seemed properly made. Something kept the base of the tree from moving. Quickly Floating himself to the western side of the water, he Envisioned the part of the upturned root ball still in contact with the earth and found several roots remained intact. Wielding his magic Blade, Marc chipped away at the anchors, cutting through both wood and soil, casting up billowing clouds of debris.