Haunted Tree (The Magus Family Chronicles Book 1)

by Scott Robert Scheller

“What?” He stared at his dripping fingers. “How did that happen.”

  “See the fish with your magic, not your eyes. The surface of the water plays tricks on you.”

  Doing as he was told, Marc soon had a fish in hand. “I see what you mean.”

  Oren handed over his fish. “Prepare both while I make the fire.”

  Squatting by the stream, Marc cleaned, then skewered each on a long stick for roasting. By this time the fire was ready. He held out the stick containing his master’s fish, but the wizard waved him back.

  “You cook for I am about to begin a lesson.”

  The elder’s tone revealed a certain tension. Had something upset him? Marc saw nothing in Oren’s face to indicate that. Kneeling, he suspended both fish over the flames. “What will the lesson be about?”

  “You will see shortly. For now, remain silent.”

  Again, Marc sensed that tension. And why was he to keep silent? Perhaps the lesson used a difficult spell and the master needed to concentrate. No matter, he would do as he was told and returned his full attention to the meal.

  Then, in one sickening instant, Marc understood the reason for the edge in Oren’s voice. The sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard was unmistakable.

  “I will take those fish,” commanded a deep voice behind them.

  Panicked, Marc froze momentarily but Oren smoothly faced the intruder. “They are not yours.”

  “Now they are.” The man sounded quite confident of that.

  Turning, Marc saw the man and fear filled him. Heavily muscled and tall—at least a full head higher than himself—he held the broad point of a gladius inches from his master’s chest. The man’s eyes narrowed to dark slits, his malevolent smile showing many missing teeth. With an icy stab of terror, Marc suddenly recalled the night of his father’s death. Why had that memory come to mind just now?

  Oren calmly crossed his arms. “What kind of man would attack another who is unarmed?”

  “A hungry one.”

  Looking the man over, Oren frowned in disgust. “You appear to be a soldier, not a common robber. Have you no honor? Permit me to arm myself and I will do battle with you.”

  A hearty, rolling guffaw burst out of the man. “What will you fight me with, old man? Your gray hair? You have no weapons.”

  Oren selected a feeble stick from the woodpile, one no bigger around than his little finger. “I have this.”

  The man laughed again, his heavily-scarred hand wielding his weapon with a practiced flourish. “My sword against your stick? Ha! I’ll fight you, but I’ll give you one more chance. Yield the fish and live, fight me and die.”

  Marc almost handed over their meal, but Oren’s hard glance instructed him otherwise. “So you say, but we are keeping them. I must warn you there is more to me than meets the eye.”

  For the first time the robber looked at Marc. “Is he mad?”

  Somehow, Marc found the courage to respond. “No, but you are if you fight him.”

  “You’re both mad,” he snorted, holding his sword at the ready. “Very well. Defend yourself, ancient one.”

  Oren whispered a spell, ceremoniously tapped the stick with two fingers and held it before him in a defensive posture. The man lunged with a stabbing thrust but the wizard deftly stepped aside, swatting the attacker on the thigh with the stick. A howl of pain erupted from the brute as a six-inch gash appeared on the spot. All humor left the man who swung again with a vengeance, making a wide, horizontal sweep directed at the master’s midsection. Once more, Oren avoided the blade, this time tapping his opponent on the arm. Another wound appeared. Purple-faced with rage, the soldier raised his sword high and, with gritted teeth, slashed downward at Oren’s head. Spinning to the side, Oren struck the gladius near the hilt. With a loud ring, the blade broke off and fell clattering to the ground.

  The assailant halted his attack and stared in bewilderment at the remainder of his weapon. “What... ?” Glancing at his wounds, anger flared anew in his eyes and he started toward Oren.

  “Hold, there,” the wizard ordered, brandishing the stick before him. “The next stroke will remove your arm, Portaeus.”

  The light of reason awoke within the man, who stopped and took a step back, looking once more at the stub of his broken sword. “Who are you? How did you do this and... how do you know my name?”

  Marc came along side his master. “He is the powerful wizard, Oren. You should be more careful whom you choose to rob.” Hearing the conviction in his own voice surprised Marc, for it held none of the anxiety he felt.

  The man drew in a sharp breath as his eyes widened. “Forgive me. I did not know.” Dropping to one knee, he hung his head.

  Oren gazed sternly upon him. “Why should I forgive you? Had I not been a wizard, you would have done as you said. You are able to hunt and fish for your own needs, but you choose instead to take from others. Tell me why I should not kill you now?”

  “I will never steal again, I promise.” Portaeus quaked with fear.

  The master’s voice took on a cold hardness Marc had never heard him use before. “Know this: I am the protector of all who live within a five-days walk. If I hear that you have been so much as impolite to one of my people, I will send my demons after you. Behold!” Oren pointed up the slope behind Marc.

  Looking in that direction, the robber unleashed an agonizing shriek and cowered at Oren’s feet. “Spare me, mighty wizard!”

  Marc turned and, with a start, saw two man-like creatures with blood-red skin and black, leathery wings. Within seconds they vanished. Filled with more astonishment than fear, Marc faced Oren and gasped, “Master?”

  Holding up a silencing hand, Oren ignored him and addressed Portaeus with authority. “Always remember that I spared your life so you may warn others to leave my people be. Go, and depart from my land.”

  Without a word, their former attacker jumped to his feet and fled south.

  “Why didn’t you kill him?” Marc asked, glancing nervously at the spot where the demons had stood.

  “He will serve our needs at a future time.” Casually breaking the stick in two, Oren dropped the pieces in the fire. “How are the fish?”

  After all that had taken place, Marc was amazed how his master remained so composed. “Uh, not quite ready.” He put the fish back over the flames, eating the last thing on his mind. “How did you make the stick so powerful? It cut through leather and flesh like a finely honed blade. And breaking his sword. And the—” His voice softened to express a quiet sense of wonder. “—the demons. Incredible.”

  The wizard chuckled. “So you found the lesson interesting. Good. I did not fear him because I Envisioned him stalking us. Remember, young Marcus, few men are a threat to a fully trained wizard. However, the most important part of the lesson had little to do with magic. It had to do with guile.”

  Marc looked up at his master, head cocked in interest. “Guile?”

  “Yes. A bit of deception can greatly enhance our abilities. The stick had no power of its own for I could have inflicted the same damage to him without it. When you learn the more advanced skills, I will explain this further. The stick acted as a distraction, something for that wretch to pay attention to. In his world there was no way a mere twig could do that. The impossible became possible, confusing and frightening him. That changed his offensive attitude to a defensive one, giving me influence over his will.”

  “And the demons?”

  Oren perched on a nearby rock. “The illusions you both saw did not actually exist. I do not have the power to command demons.”

  “Illusions? But I saw—”

  “I know. It involves more advanced magic. Some day you will be able to do that, too.”

  Marc did not understand all his master had told him, but looked forward to learning those mysteries. Soon, he hoped.

  Chapter 15

  Marc awoke to the sound of someone moving about nearby, whispering. Opening his eyes, he found the only light entering his sleepi
ng chamber came from a flickering candle in the kitchen. Obviously, the sun had not risen, yet he heard grain being ground for bread. He rose and exited his alcove. Standing at the large table, Gildas energetically wielded a pestle while reciting scripture to himself. Even though the man was still quite thin, he had gained much in both weight and strength over the past month. As of late, he insisted on earning his keep by tending the gardens and preparing meals so Marc and Valeria could concentrate on their studies.

  “Good morning, Brother Gildas,” Marc said, breaking into a yawn.

  The monk turned toward him and smiled, the rhythm of his work unchanging. “A good morning to you, also, Marcus. I trust you slept well?”

  Marc nodded. “You’re up early.”

  “This is a special day.”

  “How so?”

  “Today I will resume my journey.”

  The man’s statement caught Marc unawares for until now there had been no mention of Gildas’ departure. He realized with disappointment that the person he had come to think of as a friend would soon be gone.

  “You are leaving? Why?”

  “I am in good health and do not desire to be a further burden on your master. He—” Gildas paused, then gave him a grateful smile. “All of you have been most generous to share your home and food with me.”

  Oren entered the kitchen and nodded a greeting toward Marc. “You are not a burden, Brother. You chose a life of service to others as have I. Therefore, it is an honor for me to serve you.”

  “And I thank you, but I must be moving on.”

  “You came to us very near death. In the time since you have recovered enough to feel better, but not enough to endure the elements. Stay. Let your recovery be complete.”

  Gildas halted in his task and studied the old wizard. “It seems there is another reason you wish me to remain.”

  A twinkle flashed in Oren’s eyes. “Correct. It is not time for you to go. The magic is quite clear on that.”

  “The magic, you say? Explain.”

  “If you left now your life would be at risk. I cannot say more than that.”

  “Cannot, or will not?” The monk raised a questioning eyebrow.

  Quelling a laugh, Marc found it refreshing to see someone other than himself frustrated by Oren’s incomplete explanations.

  Oren smiled. “Both. Will you stay, then?”

  “Yes.” Gildas returned to grinding. “I trust you will tell me when it is time to leave.”

  “Without fail.”

  “Very well. Go teach Marc something and leave me to my work and verses.”

  With a chuckle, Oren left, motioning for Marc to follow him to the workshop. Once there, Marc started to ask him what the magic had revealed about Gildas, but Oren sidestepped the issue and engaged him in some cleaning up. As they worked, his master glanced at him several times and smiled, but said nothing. Marc suspected he had something to tell him, but knew it was best to remain patient.

  After breakfast, Oren had Valeria escort Gildas to the hot springs so he could bathe and enjoy the heat. Marc wondered why his teacher did that, for the monk could easily journey there and back and already knew the location of the springs. Clearly the master wanted them out of the way.

  Once they were alone, Oren took Marc into the workshop and closed the door. He pointed to a stool by the large table. “Be seated.” His master stood before him, nervously pulling at the cuffs of the robe Valeria had recently completed. “I have something to tell you. It is important that you listen carefully for I will now reveal the great truth of magic.”

  Gasping aloud, Marc quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.

  With a slight smile, Oren pulled up a stool and sat opposite him. “I dare say you will most likely be shocked. I was when my master told me.”

  Marc’s heart raced as a hundred thoughts reeled within him. The Great Secret. What could it be? The spell of all spells? The power to call down lightning bolts or make the earth quake? It had to be something fantastic. Why else would it be so carefully kept? Fighting to keep his composure, he bowed his head reverently. “I’m honored, Master Oren.”

  “You have surprised me, Marc, for although I knew your powers were strong, I did not expect you to develop so quickly and so well. Normally, you would serve several years as an apprentice before—” Oren sighed, clearly concerned about something. “I think it is better you learn this truth before we encounter... certain future events.”

  A sense of dread overcame Marc. What could be serious enough to bother his teacher this much? Unless— “Are you saying you might die soon?”

  Oren grinned briefly. “Heavens. I hope not.”

  “Then what worries you so?” The master avoided his gaze, causing Marc to wonder if he should be worried as well. “Does it concern my test?”

  The wizard released a silent sigh. “I have foreseen things that indicate your training needs to be hastened.” Picking up the book of spells, Oren gave it to him. “Have you learned everything within this?”

  “No, Master.”

  “True. Now, tell me, have I ever lied to you?”

  “No.”

  Oren’s steeled gaze locked with his. “I have.”

  Again Marc gasped, this time too astounded to cover it up. Oren’s admission must be a prank or a test of some kind. He had no reason to lie because a powerful wizard feared nothing. Or did he? What were these future events he just mentioned? “Master—”

  Oren silenced him with a gentle wave of a hand. “Concealing the great truth necessitated I misdirect you. For all time wizards initially had to withhold the full truth from their apprentices. But what I tell you now is no lie. This secret of secrets must never be told to anyone except those so chosen by the magic. Do you promise to keep this secret to your grave?”

  Seeing the resolute edge in Oren’s eyes, Marc swallowed hard, fearing himself unworthy of such terrible knowledge. Taking care to keep his voice firm and clear, he spoke the three words that would forever change his life. “I so promise.”

  “Good. I will first ask you a question. Think very carefully before answering it.” Oren watched him closely. “When you do magic, where do you feel the power come from? Outside you... or from within?”

  For Marc, the answer was obvious. “From within.”

  A wide, satisfied smile broke upon the man’s face. “Excellent! When Arturius asked me that question so very long ago, I answered incorrectly at first.”

  Marc’s stomach dropped to somewhere around his ankles. “That’s the secret? How is that so shocking?”

  Oren leaned close and quietly said, “Because there is no such thing as magic.”

  Stunned, Marc rocked back so far he nearly fell off his stool. Scrabbling for balance, he righted himself, then stared blankly at his teacher. What Oren said made no sense. Of course there was magic. Just what had he been learning, and doing, if not magic? “What?”

  “You heard me. There is no such thing as magic—at least as you know it.”

  “But—” Marc’s pulse hammered in his ears. Had the old wizard gone insane?

  “I know you feel otherwise, but believe me, every spell you have learned is a lie.”

  Deeply confused, Marc looked upon the book in his hands. For months it had been the center of his world, and now to be told it was false seemed almost too much to comprehend. “How... how can that be so? I do magic every day.”

  “You said it yourself, Marc. The power comes from inside you.” His elder nodded meaningfully toward the book. “The spells you cast, the incantations you speak—they are but shadows. Those words do nothing, for if they did, then any man or woman could do magic. You and I were born different than most other people.” Oren pointed at the workbench. “Bring that ball of string to me without speaking or thinking a spell.”

  Certain it could not be done, Marc visualized the string with his magic and willed it to move. The object immediately sailed across the room to Oren’s waiting hand. Marc jumped to his feet in astonishment. He
immediately remembered how he learned his first spell—unlocking the cave door. Even though he spoke the command correctly, it did nothing until he pictured the bolt moving within his mind. His master spoke the truth! Suddenly annoyed, Marc roughly thrust the book into Oren’s hands. “Then why did you make me learn these spells?”

  Carefully placing the book upon the table, Oren opened the cover and idly leafed through the pages. “They are for show. To impress the people you perform magic for.”

  Marc took and released a deep breath, suppressing a seed of rising anger. “Why would I want to do that?”

  Closing the book, Oren thoughtfully stroked his beard, eyes closed momentarily in thought. “That requires a fair bit of explaining, so please bear with me.”

  Trusting his feelings toward his teacher, as well as becoming more curious by the second, Marc nodded his assent.

  “People with our abilities are quite rare, yet we have always been part of mankind. Unfortunately, humans often fear things they do not understand. Long ago our kind were either banished or killed, our powers considered evil.” The wizard winked at him. “At one time you also thought that way.”

  Marc felt shame over his past prejudice. “Until you showed me otherwise. I can see how people would fear—should we still call it magic?”

  “We might as well since we do not truly understand how our abilities manifest themselves.”

  “If everyone fears it so, then why call attention to ourselves?” He tapped the book to reinforce his point.

  “Many years past some very clever wizards invented the concept of magic. They told everyone it was a powerful, living force that existed everywhere, and that no one could harm it or escape its power. They said if someone hurt or killed one of its servants—” Oren gave him a sly wink. “That’s us—the magic would take a terrible revenge on them. Since this perception by others protects us so well, we have had little reason to change things. It allows us to use our gifts to help others while making a living at it.

  “This false magic also allows us to hide our limitations. We cannot conjure up a pile of gold, raise the dead, change the weather, or make a person fall in love.” A wry smile flickered across the old man’s face. “Many have asked me to do such things. All we can do is influence items around us and learn things from people and objects. If we are asked to do what we know we cannot, or should not do, we simply say the magic will not allow it. Magic sets the rules, and we, as its servants, cannot change them.”