Haunted Tree (The Magus Family Chronicles Book 1)

by Scott Robert Scheller

  “I will.” Rising, Marc started to move away, then paused and faced his master once more. “Yesterday, I wondered why Crowe kept two camps instead of one. It made no sense to me. After feeling his thoughts and emotions earlier, I believe I know the reason for that.”

  Oren looked up at him, interested. “Do tell.”

  “He—” Marc shrugged. “I don’t know for certain, but I believe he thinks little of many of the men who follow him. Despises them, actually. But those closer to his own nature—the soulless, heartless ones—he prefers their company. Most of the men in his camp are unrepentantly evil.”

  Oren dipped his head respectfully. “I concur, my young wizard.” The master then smiled and winked. “Excellent use of insight.”

  Trying not to be too pleased with himself, Marc turned and hurried after his friends. Linking to Valeria, he told her the good news. As they walked home, Donald had many questions about magic and what could be done with it. Marc patiently explained what he could. Donald also found Sean’s amulet fascinating.

  “And you say it speaks to you?”

  Donald’s doubtful tone brought the beginnings of a smile to Sean’s lips, but he quickly suppressed it, then reverently lifted the stone from his chest and rolled its length in his fingertips. “Not the amulet. The magic does. It speaks to my mind in rhyme.”

  “A wonder, it is.” Donald peered closely at it. “Does Valeria have one of these?”

  Marc shook his head. “No. She hears magic’s voice as I do.”

  “What magic does she command?”

  “Much the same as I except she sometimes sees the future.”

  “You jest,” Donald said in disbelief.

  “She foresaw me returning with the buck I found at the waterfall. She knew years ago that we were destined for each other.” Marc felt a pang of guilt come from Donald. “Do not be troubled, for magic willed it so.” After a pause, Marc added, “I, too, have foreseen a few future events.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “All things are possible to magic,” Sean said with a sly grin.

  Marc put his hand on Sean’s shoulder. “Ah, my new apprentice.”

  Sean laughed. “I wish that were true. Still, I have been blessed by magic. Because it talked to Marc, I was not killed by that wolf. And hearing magic speak though the amulet is a true honor.”

  They came to the place where the eastern path to Oak Creek crossed a small stream. Its gentle gurgling filled the quiet of the forest. Donald bent and scooped up a handful of water. “This is as sweet as my freedom. Again, my thanks to you and Valeria for watching over me last night. I pray you have many healthy children together.”

  Marc immediately recalled the night she tried to seduce him. The powerful memory of her touch and breath upon him made his spirit ache for her. The sudden clatter of rapid hoof beats and shouting roused him from his thoughts. Pivoting, he saw Thaddeus on horseback, a mere twenty paces away, drawing back his bow.

  “Die, wizard.” With a wicked smile, Thaddeus loosed his arrow.

  Marc’s mind snapped to attention and his magic leapt from him, deflecting the missile while he voiced the unneeded command.

  “You failed, Thaddeus.” Marc carefully approached him. “You cannot harm me.”

  Reaching for another bolt, Thaddeus swiftly placed it to the cord and pulled it taut. “But I can kill your friends.” The arrow flew straight at Sean’s chest.

  Heartbeat pounding in his ears, Marc ignored the shouts of his friends and repeated the incantation, stopping the arrow in mid-air. But Thaddeus readied another, targeting Donald this time. Again, magic halted the missile before it struck. Going on the offensive, Marc prepared to injure Thaddeus with the magic Blade, but concentration it required caused him to stumble over a stone and fall backwards.

  “Now you can be harmed!” With a scowl of pure hatred, Thaddeus released his fourth shaft.

  Too disoriented to find the arrow with his magic, Marc definitely saw it with his eyes. It seemed to float slowly toward him, like the time the wolves attacked months before. He braced for the coming pain but suddenly found himself jolted sideways. In horror he watched as the arrow meant for him plunged deeply into Sean’s back. With a cry of rage, Marc blindly hurled a Blade in Thaddeus’ direction. Missing the man, it instead slashed deeply into the horse’s flank. Releasing a shrill neigh of pain, the animal streaked into the forest with Thaddeus atop.

  “Sean!” Marc cried out. His friend lay over him, his face wracked with pain.

  “Oh, God,” Donald said with a gasp, bending to lift Sean off.

  “Wait, Don,” Marc said forcefully, quickly casting the spell, “Volitā!” Sean Floated upward and Marc stood. Envisioning the injury, he went all cold inside; the arrow had pierced the corner of Sean’s heart. “Easy, Sean.”

  “Where’s Thaddeus?” Sean gasped, his bulging eyes flicking around to look everywhere.

  Marc searched outward with his mind and found the enemy still galloping away on the panicked horse. “Gone.” Seeing the crimson stain spreading over his friend’s tunic, Marc swallowed hard. “Why did you do that? That arrow was meant for me.”

  Sean fixed him with an unyielding gaze. “I had to save you. You saved me.”

  Bowing his head, Marc yielded to the truth of his words; Sean had kept their village’s code of honor. “Let me try and heal you.” He lowered Sean to the ground, placing him on his right side. “Don, hold him so he doesn’t roll over.” Donald knelt and supported him while Marc quietly said, “Dīscinde,” severing the arrow at the skin. From the Traces found on the shaft, he knew Thaddeus learned of their ruse because Rutilus later remembered him. Disgusted at his failings, Marc hurled the shaft away.

  Sean looked up at him, teeth clenched in pain. “I had to protect you because you’re the next wizard... and my friend.”

  Near tears, Marc knew the wound was probably fatal, and more likely so because he had too little experience with healing. “Quiet, now. Let me work the magic.”

  Donald wept softly. “This is my fault. If I had not gone to spy on Crowe, there would have been no need of a rescue, and no one coming to kill me and my rescuers.”

  Marc pushed his magic into Sean’s chest and held the wound closed as best he could. “No. Thaddeus came to kill me only. The magic has spoken to me of it.”

  Donald looked at him, a mixture of relief and puzzlement. “Why?”

  Marc shook his head. “On that it remains silent.” Though he put much pressure on the wounds to Sean’s heart, Marc could not stop all of the bleeding. He tried using the spark to hold the flesh of the wound together, but it immediately tore apart. A cold terror crept within Marc’s core, coiling about his own heart and squeezing it mercilessly as the truth of the situation could no longer be denied. Sean could not be mended. Death would soon claim his dear friend.

  “I think I know,” Sean said, his face paler than before. “Oren will die soon, and if there is no wizard to protect our land, men like Crowe and Thaddeus will have free run of it.” Wincing, he grabbed fiercely at Marc’s tunic, pulling him closer. “You will have to face him soon and only one of you will live. Please make sure it’s you.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He hated that his best was not enough for Sean.

  “Can you not heal him?” Donald asked.

  Marc prepared to admit failure when Sean’s expression silenced him.

  “No, he cannot. Death’s shadow is already upon me.” Sean smiled, breathing heavily. “Strange thing, dying. You learn many things.” His gaze locked hard onto Marc’s. “I know the secret of magic. You are wise to keep it hidden.” Sean closed his eyes as a ripple of pain coursed over his body.

  Had it not been for his friend’s sacrifice, Marc knew he would be the one lying there, pouring his life into the dirt. He wanted to thank him, but trying to form the words proved difficult. “Sean, I—”

  “Do not speak it.” Sean opened his eyes. “I know your thoughts just as you knew mine the day I rang the
bell. There is no need to thank me. I did what I was destined to do. Serve our people instead.” He looked at Donald. “And you. Be the leader you were meant to be. Seek Marc’s counsel as your father sought Oren’s.”

  His face wet with tears, Donald’s voice shook. “I will, my good friend.”

  Sean’s breathing quickened, becoming more labored. “Marc, you will have need of my body once I’m gone. Do so with my blessing.” He tried to chuckle, but winced and coughed, releasing a trickle of blood out of the corner of his mouth. “I have a message for Oren: Your plum tree blooms so beautifully.”

  Marc did not understand.

  “He will know its meaning.” His smile fading, Sean swallowed, his voice much weaker now. “Your father is here, Marc. He’s very proud of you.” A spasm of pain shot through him. Sean gasped for air and seized the amulet in his fist. “We’ll always be close by.” Another, more intense, pain wracked his body which Marc felt as well. When it passed, Sean’s eyes fluttered open. “That’s better. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” Then his gaze slowly went empty as his body slumped.

  Marc was about to cry, but then, with a sense of amazement, saw Sean’s spirit rise out of his flesh and stand next to his body. It paused and joyfully Linked to him.

  —I am at peace, my friend. I can linger but a moment. There are many here from the other side who love you. Goodbye and give my love to Val. You both honor me greatly.—

  Suddenly, Marc became aware of a magical force of such spectacular power that it seemed to go on forever. It enveloped Sean’s essence and Marc felt him no more. Reaching out with his magic, he touched this power and an awesome jolt of white energy exploded through him, quickly followed by oblivion.

  Chapter 26

  Valeria made another slow Envisioning sweep around the village out to about a mile, finding no spies, soldiers, or anyone else not belonging in the area. Taking a deep breath, she let it out along with the tension she felt over the precarious position they were in with Thaddeus, Crowe and the lot. She glanced at her father, Ethan, and nodded. “Still all clear.”

  He beamed with pride. “Thank you, Daughter. If you ever tire of being a witch, you could be one of the best hunters in the land. With your ability to find game with magic...” He raised both hands in a gesture used to cede victory to another. “Fine skill, that.”

  Taking up her knife to sharpen another hastily made spear, she smiled back at him. “I was already a fair hunter before apprenticing to Oren. Who’s to say I cannot remain so and be a witch as well?”

  Ethan chuckled.

  “A fair hunter, you say?” Domas’ basso voice rumbled from behind her. “Ah, dear child, there’s no need for modesty. I dare say you’re better than most of the men hereabouts. You may not be able to shoot arrows as far and throw spears as hard, but you more than make up for it with better aim and stealth.”

  She felt her cheeks redden and knew the others saw it when they laughed good naturedly. Ducking her head, she let her hair fall over her face, hiding her grin. She liked the positive mood of the villagers. Ever since she passed on the message that Marc and Oren had freed Donald, spirits soared, none more so that Garrett’s. Knowing that Donald had seen the error of his ways made her even more happy. For some time she’d prayed he would come to his senses, and now that he did, she felt she had witnessed nothing short of a minor miracle. Finally, the four of them—Marc, Sean, Donald and herself—could return to the tight group of friends they had once been.

  Suddenly, a hot, then cold, sensation, flashed through her chest, filling her with an intense dread. Glancing wildly around for a threat that wasn’t there, she opened her thoughts and suddenly knew Sean had been hurt. Dropping her knife and the unfinished spear, she raced out of the common house as fast as her feet would take her.

  “What is it?” her father called after her, concern in his voice.

  “It’s Sean,” she yelled over her shoulder. “He’s been hurt.”

  — o O o —

  Confusion filled Marc. Everything was dark—no, not dark, exactly. More like missing. He had no real sense of his body. No light came to his eyes or sound to his ears. His skin detected neither warm nor cold. It was as if he lay in the deepest of sleeps or—could he be dead? Disturbed by the idea, he fought to collect his thoughts. If he were dead, then only his spirit would remain, and spirits had no need of a body and the senses they contained. Or maybe his spirit had left his flesh for some other reason, like the time he and Valeria first connected magically. No, somehow he knew that was not it, either. During that experience he still retained a sense of place, of being, of Valeria’s presence.

  Valeria’s presence! Yes! He immediately tried to Link to her—and failed. Then he tried to Envision her but couldn’t. With a growing sense of alarm, he tried using other kinds of magic only to find he had none to command. That which he resisted and feared for so long was gone. Only in its passing did he come to realize how significant a part of him his magic had become. As he began to reflect on the irony of that fact, he felt a shift slide over his being.

  Muffled sounds came to him. Were they voices? His face hurt as well. More sounds again, this time seeming more distinct, followed by a sharp sting on his left cheek.

  “Marc, Marc. Wake up,” Donald said, his tone worried and urgent. He slapped Marc’s cheek again.

  Opening his eyes, Marc looked around, disoriented. His pulse drummed painfully in his temples and his eyes couldn’t quite focus. He lay flat on his back with Donald bending over him, his face fearful.

  “Are you injured?” Donald asked.

  Was he? The lack of any significant pain let him know nothing was broken or deeply cut. “I’m all right, I believe.” Blinking several times, Marc sat up and saw Sean’s corpse a good ten paces from him. Odd. Only moments before he knelt next to Sean. “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure. After Sean... died, you flew back as if, well, struck by something unseen. It took over a minute to wake you, and for a short time you didn’t breathe. I feared you dead as well. And for a moment a bright light surrounded you as if you were within a great fire.”

  The fog addling Marc’s mind suddenly cleared, allowing his memory to return. He stood, put his hands on Donald’s shoulders and met his gaze. “The magic let me witness Sean’s spirit as it left him. It- it was wonderful. I know that sounds like a strange thing to say right now, but it was. He said goodbye and that he was at peace.” Marc’s voice softened, taking on a reverent tone. “I think... I think I felt him go into Heaven.” Marc paused at hearing his own words, for they came to his lips at the same instant they came into his mind. The significance of that understanding rocked Marc to his core. “Then a powerful force touched me. That must be when I ended up here.” Returning his thoughts to the present, he Envisioned for Thaddeus and found him on foot, running their way. “We must go. Thaddeus returns.”

  Donald stooped and lifted their friend’s body onto his shoulder. “I’ll carry him home,” he said, his voice breaking.

  Marc keenly felt Donald’s sadness and grief. His own remained trapped deep inside, not yet willing to face the truth. “Thank you. I must find Oren and Val. Go to your father. Tell him Crowe will move upon us very soon.” Seeing the amulet swinging from Sean’s neck, Marc took it and put it about his own, then picked up Sean’s staff and one of Thaddeus’ arrows. He handed the staff to Donald. “Go with God.” Donald left quickly.

  Marc tried Linking to Oren but, strangely, just like in his dream, or whatever it was, he could not. Trying Valeria, he encountered the same difficulty, as if that part of his magic slept. Unlike his dream, he easily Envisioned both and found her closer and to the west, running through the trees in his direction, so he headed toward her.

  Marc ran full-out, ducking tree limbs and jumping over rocks and roots, until his lungs ached, his legs heavy as stone. Many thoughts tumbled through his mind, all centered on what led up to Sean’s death. With each passing moment he became more aware the fault was his. Had he taken great
er care, constantly watching Thaddeus and his men, none of this would have happened.

  Instead, he childishly ignored the wisdom taught to him by Oren, his mind wholly on other things. Talking with Sean and Donald. Rejoicing at not only saving Donald’s life, but reclaiming their friendship. And the very moment Thaddeus attacked, vigilance lay abandoned, his mind instead occupied by matters of lust. If only he—

  “Marc!” Valeria called out.

  Clearing his thoughts, he watched her emerge from the trees. Her face showed the grief he had yet to permit himself to embrace. They ran into each other’s arms, clinging tight, reaffirming the other was still there, alive and well. When they separated, he looked down at Sean’s blood on his hands and clothing. It seemed so unreal, like a nightmare. “It’s Sean. He’s—”

  “Dead. I know.” Tears streamed down her face.

  Marc looked up and caressed her cheek to clear away the dampness, leaving a faint trace of crimson behind. “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head then wiped at her eyes. “I’ve had visions. I... I saw his death several times before. The first time when he overheard you telling me about being in the Vale and finding the buck. Another time when he came to tell us of the king’s death. It wasn’t clear to me then, but now—” She put her hand to her mouth, fighting back a sob. “And a short while ago I felt his spirit cry out. Who killed him?”

  An overwhelming pang of guilt hit Marc, making him turn away from her. “I did.”

  “You did?” She arced around him and lifted his face to meet hers. Confusion filled her hazel gaze as she softly repeated, “You did?”

  “Thaddeus’ arrow killed him, but it was meant for me. I should of been the one shot, not Sean.” Marc told her what happened. As he finished, the anger and sorrow exploded out of him in a bellow of pure anguish. “His death is my fault, Val! He didn’t need to die.”

  Valeria leapt forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him once more. “But then you would have.”