Haunted Tree (The Magus Family Chronicles Book 1)

by Scott Robert Scheller

  — o O o —

  Marc and Valeria settled the soldiers into the east end of the common house before dark, charging the more able-bodied among them to care for those less so. True to his word, the rider Oren sent out returned, reporting to Marc that both villages now knew of Crowe’s defeat.

  “And what of Gildas?” Marc asked.

  “I found him on the road north of Bitter Well. He said he will come this way with morning’s first light along with many from the villages.”

  Their gaze met causing Marc to see a flash of the man’s future. He would be a good man, a leader. Reaching up, Marc grasped Petros’ forearm in a warriors grip. “Well done, Petros. See to the horse’s needs, then tie it up with the others and take your supper.”

  The man hesitated, eyes downcast, clearly wanting to say something else but afraid to.

  “Is there more?” Marc asked, giving him an opportunity to speak.

  “I... we...” Petros paused, swallowed nervously, then gathered his resolve. “Many of us who rebelled against Crowe did not know who he really was at first. We and our families were starving and he offered a fair wage. We all knew he held a high and honored position with our late king—” He fully bowed his head, quietly adding, “—may the merciful Lord bless his soul.” Straightening, he continued. “Crowe told us that together we would keep the peace and protect the land. Not knowing his true nature, we swore allegiance to him. But all too soon—” Shaking his head, Petros looked away in shame. “Madness... cruelty... and....”

  “Evil?” Marc finished for him. Petros nodded. “Then why did you not leave?”

  Rubbing a hand over his face, Petros closed his eyes and slumped forward, regret ebbing from him. “A few did at first. Crowe had Thaddeus, Tomar and others like them hunt down and bring back the deserters who would then be killed slowly while we were forced to watch. One of the deserters had a family. He was kept alive until—” Petros took a ragged breath as his hands balled into tightly clenched fists. “Until riders returned with the heads of his wife and children.”

  While his outward expression remained impassive, Marc’s gut quailed at the horror of the thought. Dear God, if that were to happen to him, if someone brought him the heads of his mother and sisters—of Valeria!—he would surely go insane. Careful to keep his voice calm and even, Marc said, “So you and the others were little more than conscripts; serve or die.”

  “Yes. I wish I could have found the courage to flee. If it were only me, I would have chanced it, but—”

  “—you have a family,” Marc finished for him. Pulling thoughts off the surface of Petros’ mind, Marc said, “You’d rather keep your wife, Cana and your sons, Silus and Ocella, safe.”

  Petros suddenly straightened in surprise, then bowed his head once more, deeper this time, and said with a shaky voice, “You are indeed a mighty wizard. Please forgive my sins against you and your people.”

  A pang of discomfort squirmed inside Marc. He hated this part of being a wizard. “Look at me,” he said, gently. The man complied to a degree, not quite meeting Marc’s gaze. Marc continued, “Only the Almighty may judge you and forgive your sins. The Word says that those who truly repent and change their ways will be forgiven. As for me, I have seen your change of heart and any trespass you may have made against me is forgiven. Go in peace.” Marc stepped away from the horse and gave Petros a little bow.

  A small, tentative smile developed on the man’s face. With a nod to Marc, the man lightly kicked his mount into a trot and left. After clearing away the emotions generated from his talk, Marc sought out Thaddeus and, after a couple minutes of Envisioning down several of the southbound roads, found him and his two friends making camp more than a day’s walk away. It appeared they heeded his warning. Turning, Marc headed around the common house and for the home of Valeria’s parents. As he approached the doorway, Valeria stepped out to greet him, a knowing smile on her lips. Taking her into his arms, he drank in her essence. Holding her felt so right, as if only then was he fully whole.

  They were betrothed, yet not in the traditional manner; the parents were not consulted, no permissions given. He worried that Ethan might feel insulted. Taking her hand, he entered the hut. Her mother, Aula, looked up from her sewing and smiled; something in her gaze made him take notice. Valeria gave him such looks at times, too.

  Aula stepped over and hugged him. “It’s good to see you, Marc.”

  Ethan stood and shook his hand. “Welcome.” The man studied him then grinned slightly, putting his arm around his wife. “It appears you wish to ask something.”

  Marc swallowed and nodded, gripping Valeria’s hand a little more firmly. “I do. I suppose by now it’s no secret I love Val and she loves me.” He kissed her hand. “I seek your blessing. I wish—we wish to marry.”

  Aula looked at them warmly. “When Sean returned from Oren’s home, he told us of your love for each other. Valeria, do you know what your father said when he heard that?”

  “It’s about time,” Ethan said, smiling.

  Marc and Valeria looked at each other in mild surprise. He turned back to Ethan. “Then you approve? I have your permission to marry her?”

  Ethan let out a hearty laugh. “Of course. Magic aside, I cannot think of a better man for her than you.”

  Marc’s heart leapt. “Thank you. I will always love and care for her.”

  Valeria threw her arms around her parents, kissing each. After chatting for several minutes, Marc and Valeria took their leave and headed for the common house. They surveyed the room. A multitude of snores greeted their ears like a giant swarm of bees about their hive.

  “It’s too full,” she said. “And loud. I’m bone tired and need a quiet place to sleep.”

  He felt the same fatigue weighing him down. “Well, we can’t sleep in our beds. Barbara and Rufa are using them.”

  “Wherever I sleep,” her gaze settled softly on his, “I’d prefer it be next to you.”

  He smiled. “I have the perfect place in mind.”

  Leading her out the southern door, they made their way to the piles of goods brought back from Crowe’s camp. Sifting through the items, he found two large skins. “These should do nicely.” He rolled them up and hefted their weight onto his shoulder. “Follow me.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “The tanning shed. There we will find plenty of quiet.”

  “And privacy.” She squeezed his hand. “No unpleasant thoughts of others to invade our rest.”

  They walked north out of the village under a sky streaked with the vibrant pinks and violets of sunset. A lone cloud blazed overhead with a deep orange glow along its western edge, the last embers of a dying sun. Reaching the pens holding Ethan’s pigs and sheep, they turned east and continued several hundred paces into the oak grove until they reached the shed. When they were younger, they used to play here with Sean and Donald. Marc opened the door and half a dozen mice scattered for cover.

  Unused for over two years, the odor of flesh, oak leaves and leather was absent. The tanning barrels, once filled with a potent brew of leaves and bark, stood empty. The drying racks leaned against the far wall, barren, mute skeletons of wood and rope. To the eye and nose, little remained to give voice to the many hours spent working and playing here. But his magic found it to be richly populated with Traces of his father and friends. After the day’s events, these good memories were most welcome.

  Valeria stepped inside and looked around the dim interior. “I haven’t been here since the darkness came.” She closed her eyes and smiled. “I feel such comfort here. It is filled with love and friendship.” She hugged him. “This is perfect.”

  He cleared off the large table his father used in his leather work and spread out the skins. Picking her up, he gently laid her on them. “Would you like a fire?”

  “No, the skins and my robe will be warm enough.” Shimmying away from the edge, she made room for him.

  He climbed onto the table and pulled the other skin ov
er them. Slowly drawing her near, Marc kissed her, lightly rubbing her back. She sighed and closed her eyes, saying, “Your touch is heaven itself and your love for me is like a bright light.”

  “As is yours for me.” He continued to rub her back for a while, feeling her body relax. “Gildas will be here tomorrow,” he said, breaking the silence.

  “I know,” she mumbled, snuggling closer.

  “Sleep,” he whispered, lightly kissing her forehead. Marc realized that for the rest of their lives they would be together like this, sharing everything, everyday. He could barely believe his good fortune.

  As she drifted off, he silently offered up his usual nightly prayer, adding to it his gratitude at surviving his test and asking for guidance to ensure his friend’s sacrifice would not be wasted. When that final thought entered his mind, the immense power he felt at Sean’s death moved upon him once more. It did not come with force or dominance, but the most delicate gentleness. Although awestruck, Marc felt no need for fear. Apparently Valeria agreed for she sighed happily in her sleep. He wondered if she also knew whom the power represented.

  —Thank you,— he Linked into it. —Please take care of Sean.—

  As if in answer, peace filled him. Not an ordinary kind of peace, like falling asleep in the warm sunshine with a full belly, but a complete and total peace. Marc knew no words to describe it. Then he realized he’d been told that Sean knew this peace as well. Gladness surged within him and it echoed back from the power a thousand-fold stronger. His skin felt strange, as if ants crawled over him. Opening his eyes, he saw that a vibrant rainbow of colors buzzed around him, akin to the blue glow of magic only far more intense. Valeria giggled, but did not wake, equally covered in the beautiful light.

  Amazed, he held up a hand and wiggled his fingers, causing the colors to swirl and flicker like flames. A thought entered his mind—no, not a thought, actually, more of an understanding. No words were heard or Linked to him, yet he comprehended the meaning just as clearly. They were being blessed, as individuals and as a couple. Valeria lay still, a wide smile on her lips, tears leaking from her eyes. Marc hesitantly reached out to the power with his mind, very heedful of what happened when he did the same thing that morning. This time he had better results. The nature of the power made him gasp in astonishment. Earlier, it overwhelmed him because he did not expect or understand it. Now he did. It was love. No, Love. Immense, complete, eternal Love.

  Humbled beyond measure, he withdrew his mind and clung to Valeria. Moments later, the colors around them faded and, as the presence departed, he felt a sensation similar to a caress move over him. Now alone, he trembled as if very cold or frightened, yet neither applied. Why did the Almighty have reason to visit them? What made him and Valeria so special? Dozens of similar questions jumped around in his mind, each equally unanswerable. Doubting any explanations would come forth tonight, he believed it best to think on it for a while.

  And what of Valeria? Wake her, or not? While he desperately wanted her to know what happened, he wondered if he should tell her. If she were supposed to know about it, would she not have awoken during the visit? Telling her now might also result in them staying up all night talking and that would not be good. They very much needed to sleep, to regain their strength, magically and otherwise. Tomorrow, then, he decided. Tomorrow.

  Chapter 30

  Valeria couldn’t be happier. The love of her life was safe now that Crowe had been defeated, leaving them free to be wed. She thrilled that Gildas would be in the village before nightfall and able to perform the ceremony the next day. When she woke earlier that morning, she still lay beside Marc in the tanning shed, his arm protectively about her. Safe, warm, loved. She wanted to stay there forever. But just after Marc woke, the master Linked to them and asked them to return home to take care of things; Oren had not rested enough to make the trip there and back in the same day. And so they made their way home first thing.

  During the journey, she told Marc of the fascinating dream—or vision—she had last night. It was so unusual, different than any before. While much of her memory of it seemed muddled and indistinct, parts of it remained clear. She remembered seeing many colors, rich and intense, some of which seemed strange yet wondrous, as if they were new to the world and could not be viewed with eyes alone. She also saw an unbelievably bright light, far, far stronger than the midday sun. It blazed so bright that putting a hand before her eyes did nothing to lessen its power. Within its radiance she felt love, especially love for her—Marc’s love, her parents’, her friends’, love from everyone she’d known and would ever come to know, and much more. She didn’t try to make sense of it, but meekly accepted its presence, and gladly, too.

  Marc laughed and put his arm about her shoulder. “You had no dream, my love.”

  As he told what he experienced the night before, she found herself more and more amazed and, if she were to be honest, slightly anxious. “So you truly think the Holy Father actually came—” The final words fought to remain unsaid for fear they might be thought of as blasphemous.

  “To us?” he said softly, tightening his grip ever so gently.

  She nodded, welcoming the assurance he projected.

  “I am certain of it. On the day I learned the Great Secret, Oren said he believed our abilities came from God.”

  She blinked as his words practically chimed deep within her, their truth undeniable. Her anxiety waned to be replaced with acceptance tempered with a bit of incredulity. After a long moment she said, “And he was right.”

  — o O o —

  Humming to herself, Valeria headed out the door to draw water from the well, her chores almost finished. What a beautiful day. Soon she could return to the village and prepare for her wedding. Dropping the bucket, she watched it land squarely on its bottom. Not waiting for it to tip to the side and slowly fill, she used her magic to quickly submerge it and raise it back to her hands. She liked having magic. It made everyday life easier. To not use it felt unnatural.

  Setting the bucket on the edge of the well, she looked upon Marc as he inspected the fruit growing on Oren’s trees. Each movement of his handsome body awakened a multitude of desires deep within her. And magic’s glow shone brightly about him, part of it proclaiming his love for her. And to think she almost lost him yesterday.

  Her thoughts turned back to the day when Sean brought them the news of the king’s death, to her vision of a dagger killing Marc. The weapon’s image seemed so clear at the time, detailed as to the length and shape of the blade and the scrollwork on the antler-bone handle. But somehow she must have misread the image, it being an arrow instead. The master had said that objects in visions sometimes were not as they appeared, instead only representing an idea. As she once more recalled seeing the blade fly toward Marc, a cold terror shot through her, instantly snapping her back to the present, her attention now fully upon Oren. With a grave sense of dread, she saw him standing upon a ledge on Rocky Hill, not far from where she stood yesterday. Far below him, sharp, jagged rocks bordered the stream that flowed by Oak Creek.

  Why did she feel such alarm over seeing this? Envisioning about the master, she immediately understood. About forty paces behind him, halfway up the slope of the hill, Thaddeus hid amongst some holly bushes. Slowly drawing back his bowstring, he aimed carefully at Oren. Naked fear seized her gut and squeezed hard.

  —Master! Behind you!— she screamed in her mind.

  Thaddeus let the arrow fly just as Oren spun about and arched his back. With perfect clarity she observed the bolt speed past her master’s chest, a hair’s breadth away. Wheeling his arms in large circles, Oren unsuccessfully tried to right himself. Horrified, she watched as he fell backwards over the edge.

  “Marc!” she cried out, hastily Pushing the image into his mind. He quickly understood and joined her in Envisioning the scene. Oren lay sprawled face up on the rocks, a red stain creeping outward from beneath his head. He did not move. —Master?— she Linked to him. No reply came. Thaddeu
s stood and gazed down upon Oren’s still form. With an arrogant smirk of satisfaction, he turned and headed down the hill.

  “He’s dead,” Valeria said with a sob, her heart breaking.

  “I think not.” Marc held her hand reassuringly. “I did not feel his spirit move from him. But he is injured. We must hurry to help him.” Pivoting in place, Marc reached toward the house as the door swung open. His small pack of medicinal supplies swiftly flew out of the doorway and into his arms. “Let’s go.”

  Together they ran toward the gate. She repeatedly tried to rouse Oren with a Link, but he remained unresponsive.

  “Val, Thaddeus is meeting up with his companions, Rutilus and Atellus,” Marc said. “Try to find out why they have returned.” He hesitated, then added, “Besides attacking Oren.”

  Companions? How many enemies had returned? Hastily Envisioning them, she watched Thaddeus boastfully inform his friends of killing Oren. Her ire spiked. If only she had Marc’s command of the Blade. Forcing her emotions aside, she strained her magic to the limit, Pulling what she could from Thaddeus over the distance. What she got sickened her. “He’s filled with hate and revenge. The lust for murder consumes him. A lust—” A stab of fear struck deep into her soul. “—directed at you.”

  No fear came from Marc, only a heavy sadness. “We must stop him for good. Today.”

  Yes. Thaddeus had to be stopped for he would never change his ways, remaining a deadly threat to anyone who crossed his path. Now that he had attacked the master, he would soon move upon Marc. Valeria desperately hoped Oren had survived his fall for they needed his help, his wisdom. Once more she tried a Link, pleading, —Master, wake up.—

  —I am, Valeria.— His pain coursed heavily through the Link. —My thanks for your warning.—