Haunted Tree (The Magus Family Chronicles Book 1)

by Scott Robert Scheller

  Fascinated and mildly amused, her mind joined his. —Seeing you Floating before the flame that way made me remember the vision I had when I passed out at the Tree. I heard those words when I saw you draw near with fire behind you. Was it wrong to make that part of the vision come true?—

  —No. I suspect you were to do so all along.— Marc landed beside Thaddeus’ writhing form and gazed upon the people. The eyes of many were filled with gratitude, others held fear, and a few showed naked hatred toward Thaddeus. Most of the latter were the survivors of Fox Glen who clumped together as if uncertain their oppressor was truly vanquished. Recalling how Oren had behaved before Crowe, the soldiers and the people of Oak Creek the day before, Marc knew he should act accordingly. Gesturing toward Thaddeus with his staff , he addressed the survivors, his voice peaceful, comforting.

  “He is the last of those who did violence against you and did not earnestly repent. Let go of your anger and pain, for justice has been served. Do not let the likes of this ruin anymore of your lives. Instead, look forward to better days ahead.”

  As Valeria moved his way, Barbara hurried forward and, kneeling before him with head bowed, softly said, “Thank you for our lives and avenging our people, mighty one.”

  A ripple of shame moved through him. “Please, stand and face me.” The girl did so, taking several moments before allowing herself to shyly meet his gaze. Taking her hands in his, he felt her tense up. “Call me by my name or my title, and never kneel before me. No one should kneel for I am here only to serve.” Hearing that, Thaddeus moaned louder, but Marc ignored him.

  Cocking her head to the side, she looked genuinely surprised. “Serve? Serve whom?”

  He gave Barbara’s hands a gentle squeeze. “Why you and all these people here. The magic that lives all around us compels wizards to offer aid, wisdom and protection to all who need it. And more importantly, so does the Almighty.”

  Barbara smiled radiantly and hugged him tight. “Then thank you, Marc.”

  “You are most welcome,” he said with a chuckle, lightly patting her back.

  No sooner had the girl released him than Valeria took her place, holding him tight while giving him a deep, soulful kiss. The warmth and comfort of her embrace enfolded them both within the aura of her love, her remaining anxiety over his test slipping away to leave a grateful joy in its stead. Bathed in that calming peace, neither wanted it to end, but he had duties to finish. With an angelic smile, she separated from him, moving several paces away. Turning toward the flame, he raised his hands and, after moving the slab to quench the vapors, commanded in a great voice, “Claudite, inferni portae!”

  The crowd gaped in wonderment as the flame died down, pointing after it while murmuring excitedly to one other. Afterward, Gildas caught Marc’s eye, nodding first to Thaddeus, then the crowd. Marc dipped his head slightly in affirmation and the monk moved to Thaddeus, then turned toward the people.

  “Behold the wages of sin,” he said loudly over the man’s cries. “Let he who fears the Lord remember this day.”

  “Kill me,” Thaddeus begged, quivering with pain. “Please.”

  One of soldiers stepped up and tentatively looked at Marc. “May I have a sword? We should show him mercy.”

  Marc motioned him back. “Grant him the same mercy he showed to the people of Fox Glen.” A heavy wave of guilt and regret rolled off the man as he glanced down at his former leader. Marc met the soldier’s gaze. “If you are truly sorry for your actions and change your ways to serve what is good and right, you will be forgiven and find peace.”

  A flicker of hope glimmered in the soldier’s eyes. With a slight bow, he returned to his place.

  Turning to Gildas, Marc put a hand on his shoulder. “Those who once served Crowe need to know the error of their ways. When everyone returns to Oak Creek, talk to them, preach to them the Word.”

  The monk gave him a respectful nod. “I will. They need not end up as this one.” Gildas gave Thaddeus an uncharitable glare. “Chaff to be cast into the furnace.”

  Marc looked sternly upon the soldiers. Many had fear in their eyes—fear of him. These emotions disturbed him but he knew that fear was necessary for they would not change their ways lightly. Only an external influence could do that, a figure of power and strength compelling them to move their lives in a new direction. He had to be that figure. Their fate, their reclamation, lay partly in his hands. Such was being a wizard.

  “Heed this holy man’s words. He speaks truth and has my favor.” He gestured at Thaddeus with a slow sweep of his staff. “When this wretch dies, let him join Crowe in the bellies of Ethan’s swine.”

  “Damn you!” Thaddeus choked out through gritted teeth.

  Marc shook his head sadly, feeling the cold Nothingness lingering near once more. It feared him. “Arrogant to the end.” Squatting, he spoke so only Thaddeus could hear his words. “Can you feel your fate approaching, cousin? Can you sense the cold, empty despair that wants you for its own? I do. When Sean died, I felt his spirit enter paradise, his payment for how he led his life. But your two friends did not make that journey. They went... elsewhere. As soon shall you. You’re a clever man, Thaddeus. I’m certain you can figure out where that might be.” Marc stood, looking upon him with genuine sadness. “And for whatever it might be worth, I am sorry for you.”

  “You—” Thaddeus lunged at him, but just as quickly curled up in a ball from the pain the action caused.

  Paying no mind to the man’s string of vile, near breathless curses, Marc lifted his gaze to the crowd, raising his voice so all could hear. “Remember this day to your children and grandchildren. Teach them well to live a peaceful life. Tell them not to trespass into the Forbidden Vale for only those chosen by the magic can survive it.”

  Garrett bowed his head slightly. “It will be done by those in Oak Creek.”

  Leahenfehr, a slender giant of a man with sandy blonde hair, moved out of the crowd and stood next to Garrett. “So, too, in Bitter Well, Wizard Marc.”

  Marc looked at both of them and inclined his head. “You serve your people well.” Moving next to Valeria, he put his arm around her side and addressed the people once more. “Peace to all of you.”

  A voice came from their midst. “Thank you, Marc.” It was Willie. Others echoed their thanks and soon the crowd came about him. Their gratitude and acceptance deeply moved him, reminding him of the day he and Sean gained their manhood. That day would always remain a happy memory.

  This one would not.

  For this was a day of profound changes. He had killed two men—three if he counted maneuvering Thaddeus into silencing Atellus. He had accepted the responsibility of protecting those of the villages nearby and overseeing the soldiers. But the greatest change of all was becoming a Wizard. Not the kind of wizard he felt himself to be on the inside, but the external one seen by others—powerful, wise, someone to be respected. To be feared, or if not feared, to at least be kept at arm’s length for few would allow themselves to consider him a friend or equal. Certainly some would see Marc the man—his family, Valeria’s family, Garrett, Donald and a few others. But many would only see the wizard. The one who was different. Dangerous.

  Just like how he used to feel about Oren.

  “Peace, my love,” Valeria gently told him, shaking him loose from his thoughts as their teacher came over to them.

  Oren put a hand on his shoulder. “I could not be prouder of you, Marc.” Unshed tears pooled in the elder’s eyes. He put his other hand on Valeria’s shoulder. “I am equally proud of you, Valeria. In a way I feel as if you were the children I was meant to have.”

  Weeping, Valeria threw her arms around her master. Fighting off his own tears, Marc hugged him as well, more than proud Oren felt that way about them. For some time he had thought of the old wizard as a surrogate grandfather, as family. Family! With a start, Marc let go, suddenly remembering his sister’s situation.

  “Gwen! I have to go to her.”

  “Take ease,
Marc, she’s already free of the well,” Valeria said, sniffing back her tears. “Donald and two of the prisoners took the horses tied up by the tree bridge and got there quickly. Gwen and James are safe.” She gave him a questioning look. “When, and how, did she learn to Link?”

  Joy filled him. Lifting Valeria into his arms, he kissed her and said, “I’ll tell you later.” He called out to the monk. “Gildas, I need to speak with you.”

  Chapter 32

  “Of course I will marry you,” Gildas said as he approached them, a warm smile spreading on his face.

  Marc smiled back, surprised. “How did you know?”

  “How could I not? I need no magic to see your love for each other. When do you wish to be wed?”

  “Soon.” Valeria squirmed free of Marc’s grasp and briefly hugged the monk. Letting go, she looked upon him and compassion filled her gaze. “I would ask you to do so immediately, but you have more important duties to attend to.”

  “What duties?” Marc asked.

  A gentle sadness emanated from within Gildas. “To pray over the dead. Valeria told me of the past few days. I need to bless those killed at Fox Glen, the graveyard and—” Pain filled the monk’s eyes as he tenderly gripped Marc’s forearm. “Your good and faithful friend.”

  For a moment grief overcame Marc, but the touch of Valeria’s hand in his dispelled it as swiftly as it had arrived. The love within her spirit was life itself to him.

  “Would tomorrow be too soon, Brother?” Valeria asked, her voice soft, yet hopeful.

  The monk’s mood brightened. “No. While yesterday and today have been filled with death and loss, let tomorrow be a day of life, joy and most of all, love.” He took their joined hands and held them to his chest. “The day we met I could tell you were married already, not yet by spoken vows, but by the love that bound you to each other.” Letting go, he stepped away. “I best be on my way for the journey there and back will take the remainder of the day. I will try to return in time to preach to the soldiers.”

  “One moment, Brother. I can help with that.” Marc sought out the soldier who served them the day before. “Petros, come here.”

  Running to him, the man dropped to one knee. “Yes, Wizard Marc?”

  Marc gestured at Gildas. “Accompany him on his duties. My friend Donald will meet you with two horses so you may travel to Fox Glen and back. Arm yourself. See that no harm comes to him.”

  “With my life, Great One.” After bowing his head, he looked toward Gildas. “Command me.”

  The monk extended his hand. “Rise. I am but a servant myself.”

  Petros took it and stood. “My thanks, sir.”

  “Call me Brother Gildas.” Gesturing in the direction of Broken Rock, the monk led him away.

  Marc looked toward his friend and once master. Despite the dried blood matted in his hair, a vital spark shone within the wizard’s eyes, belying his earlier brush with death. “Thank you for teaching me well. I could not have passed my test otherwise.”

  Oren gave him a subtle nod of agreement. “And what did you learn today?”

  “I expected to confront my enemies in battle, testing my skill with magic. What I did not expect—the Nothingness, the evil within them—surprised me. I found it to be a foe far greater than Thaddeus and his men. It tried to... cloud my mind, to alter my thoughts, to weaken me. Resisting it, and my own shortcomings, proved to be my true test.”

  A satisfied smile widened upon Oren’s face. “You are indeed wise. God chose well upon whom to bestow His gifts.”

  Humbled, Marc momentarily bowed his head. “Again, I have you to thank. While I should be pleased about today’s events, I must confess my heart feels otherwise. I killed two men and even though their deaths were justified, my actions weigh heavily upon me.” He met Oren’s gaze. “Does it become easier?”

  Momentarily closing his eyes, the elder slowly shook his head, then sighed. “No. But in time you learn to accept its necessity.”

  Valeria rubbed Marc’s back. “Share the burden with me.”

  Marc did not wish to. Why make her feel bad as well? His concerns ebbed as her love flowed into him.

  “You cannot hide your feelings from me,” she said. “Even if that were not so, I would still want to share all with you, good and bad.”

  Gathering her into his arms he kissed her tenderly. “I promise there will be more of the good.” He paused, then pivoting to face the elder wizard, said, “Oren, I experienced two odd occurrences during my battle with Thaddeus.” He told them about the strange Envisionings. “Is there another wizard in the area?”

  “No. The closest lives about nine days travel away.”

  “Well, someone with strong magic watched me. I felt their hate, their evil. This person wants me dead. If Thaddeus wasn’t bad enough, now I have someone else after me.”

  “No, us,” Valeria said, giving him an affectionate squeeze.

  Shaking his head, he smiled. “I suppose so. Together we are stronger, right?”

  “God have mercy upon those who oppose the wizards of Raven’s Gate.”

  Oren chuckled. “Amen.”

  Marc was about to add his own quip when Gwen’s thoughts interrupted his own.

  —Marc? Can you hear me, brother?— Uneasiness tainted her Link.

  He reached over and held onto Oren’s arm so the three of them could share in the conversation. —I hear you, sister.—

  —Val told me you were fighting the men that took us. It worried her. Did you win?—

  —YES.—

  A rush of joyous relief came across the Link. —I’m glad. Thanks for telling the magic to let us talk this way. I like it.—

  He laughed. —You are welcome. I see you are nearing the village. You and James must rest until we arrive. Do nothing, including talking this way.—

  —Yes, Marc,— she answered reluctantly.

  —When you get home, tell Don to meet Gildas on the path to Broken Rock with two horses.—

  —I will.—

  —And speak to no one else about us talking like this.—

  —Does that mean Valeria and Oren, too? I... I can tell they are with you. I’m not sure why.—

  Marc laughed again. —You can talk with them.—

  —I promise, not a word. Or thought,— she added merrily.

  Breaking the Link, Marc heard Oren chuckle. “What amuses you?”

  “Gwen. I underestimated her gift. She quickly learned to Link, which by itself is impressive. But when I consider how young she is—” Oren eyes twinkled. “While her power is less than yours and Valeria’s, it is strong enough that one day she must also be told the Great Secret.”

  Intense pride for his sister burned within Marc. Two wizards in the family. His father would have been greatly pleased. And what of Stella? She, too, has a faint aura. Would her gifts also grow stronger with age? Part of him hoped so.

  Valeria clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful. Who will train her, Master? You, or us?”

  “Soon I will pass my responsibilities to both of you. Therefore, as the official wizards of the land, you will train her.”

  A sly smile popped up on her face. “Ah, but since you will then have much free time, you would be the better choice for that honor.”

  Oren laughed. “You argue well, Valeria. Perhaps we should share the task?”

  She gave him a wink. “Agreed.”

  Epilog

  Marc looked around his village, pleased at all the activity. Oak Creek buzzed with excitement as everyone prepared for a grand celebration. Villager and visitor alike worked side by side, joyful in knowing they were safe for now. The women harvested carrots, onions, turnips and other vegetables from the village garden. They ground much grain to make many loaves of bread. The children gathered baskets of wild berries. Marc accompanied some of the men on the hunt, using his magic to locate a magnificent stag and several geese which they brought home singing spiritedly. The other men gathered firewood, hastily built tables and benches t
o hold the extra number, plus did other tasks.

  Marc spent the remainder of the afternoon tending to the wounded. For a while Valeria worked alongside him, then left to help the women with some preparations for their wedding. While he worked, the breeze often wafted the wondrous fragrance of the roasting meat and baking bread his way, intensifying his hunger. Today was the first time he had seen this many people gathered in one place—well over two hundred. Soon they all would feast like he had never known.

  As the sun sank deep into the western sky, Garrett climbed atop the talking stone in the common house and addressed the throng crowded within. “Welcome, everyone. Tonight we celebrate life and freedom, thankful for our deliverance from the hands of evil men. Let us all thank the wizards Oren, Marc and Valeria, whose bravery and skill with magic kept us safe. We owe them a great debt.” The crowd cheered loudly and Marc tried hard not to let his embarrassment show.

  Leahenfehr moved up next to Garrett. “My village also owes these servants of magic our thanks, and not just for defeating Crowe and Thaddeus. For as long as I can remember Oren has been there during our times of need, sharing his wisdom. Let us never forget how he saved us all from starvation. Now there are two more wizards to watch over us. We are indeed fortunate.” After the cheers and applause died down, he placed the palm of his hand on his chest and faced Oren. “And I must confess, Valeria is far more pleasant to look upon than you are, my friend.” Everyone laughed, especially Oren. Marc loved the way Valeria blushed.

  “Indeed,” Garrett said, lightly punching Leahenfehr in the shoulder. “Now Brother Gildas will bless us and our meal.” Both men stepped off the rock to make way for him.

  The monk, who had returned only minutes before, ascended the stone and looked out over the crowd before him. “We should all be grateful to be here this day.” His gaze stopped upon Marc and Valeria, the warmth in his eyes reflected also in his spirit. Gildas looked forward to marrying them.

  Turning his head, Marc regarded Valeria’s angelic face. Magic suddenly engulfed him and he found himself elsewhere. Glancing about, he saw he stood on the grounds outside of Oren’s house, with everything bathed in a faint blue hue. The sun shone too brightly to be real. A cool breeze carried the herb garden’s heady scent to his nose, striking it more strongly than he had ever known. Clearly a vision had come upon him.