A guard stationed at the side of the room strode toward the fireplace, his hand outstretched for the poker, but Caspian launched to his feet and stretched forth his hand. “No more branding! That tradition is inhumane and insensible, and I will not stand for it.” The guard glanced at the ugly scar marring the prince’s features and, bowing his head, returned to his post. “You will provide him with food for a week and a change of clothes.” Caspian swallowed, not voicing what everyone else was thinking: Ryland probably wouldn’t last another day.
All Ryland could do was laugh a slow, building, maniacal laugh. Everyone in the room turned in his direction.
“You’ll be sorry!” he finally said. “All you are doing is giving me another chance to pay you back. One day you’ll get what’s coming to you: a slow and painful death by my own hand.”
Two guards grabbed him and started to drag the chained man out of the room. Ryland had no strength to stop them, but he continued to yell at the prince. “Just you wait, Caspian. I will be back, stronger than before, and I will kill you.” He laughed again, sounding deranged, and everyone in the room took a step back, except for the guards, who exchanged a glance but continued to drag the man unceremoniously out of the room. “Death is coming for you, Caspian. Death is coming!”
The men dragged Ryland through the waiting door, which the guards on either side had already opened. Ryland continued shouting threats and releasing maniacal bouts of laughter until the door slid closed with a bang, cutting off his voice.
Caspian swallowed, the abrupt silencing of Ryland’s threats reminding him of how quickly a life could be ended. He found himself hoping Charwin was right that Ryland wouldn’t survive the nasty disease. Otherwise, there would be more trouble for Algar in the future.
Caspian shook himself free of those thoughts. If Ryland or Devin ever did come back, Algar would be ready. Under his rule, the kingdom would become a fortress of freedom. No one would ever hurt his people again.
Charwin chuckled uncomfortably in the silence. “Well, Caspian. All that’s left is to find you a woman to wed.”
Caspian couldn’t help himself, and he laughed. “With this face? Not likely, Char.” He rolled his shoulders, trying to get rid of the tension resting there. His expression turned serious, and he looked Charwin straight in the eyes. “We must prepare,” Caspian said simply. While he didn’t know if Ryland would survive his sickness, he did know Devin was still out there, and he would not give up the kingdom easily.
Charwin nodded silently in agreement.
Caspian turned back to his guards. “I want hundreds of messengers sent out with food rations from the castle storage. Give the people this message from their king . . .”
He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, resting a hand on his sword hilt. “I am King Caspian of Algar, and from now on, all Algarians shall live in peace and prosperity.”
Epilogue
Ryland’s whole body shook with anger and pain, but he hardly felt the pain anymore. The one image that encompassed his mind was the marvelous day when Caspian would die. It didn’t matter that a strange disease was eating away at his body. Ryland would survive it, and he would find a way to kill Caspian as slowly and painfully as possible.
He heard a crunch of boots against the leaves and twigs that littered the ground. The guards had dumped him on the forest floor, and he couldn’t find the energy to move. He could feel that his anger was both weakening and strengthening him, though he didn’t understand how such a thing was possible.
Rallying his strength, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, looking in the direction of the approaching footsteps. When he saw who approached, a new round of anger and hurt welled up, but he crushed the hurt with his hate.
“Devin,” he snarled at the man as he came closer. Devin was a little worse for wear. His hair was messy, which was a first, and his cloak appeared lifeless on his back, not alive and robust as it normally seemed.
“Ryland, my cousin,” Devin replied, stopping in front of Ryland’s prone form. “I am pleasantly surprised to find you still alive.”
“You left me to die,” Ryland growled back, his speech labored. “I will kill you!” Lunging forward, Ryland attempted to strike the man but only managed to throw himself onto the ground in front of him.
Devin didn’t move an inch, instead watching Ryland weakly bring himself to his hands and knees again, his arms quaking furiously.
“Now, my friend, that is no way to treat your only ally,” Devin remarked, his voice unconcerned and sickeningly friendly. It made Ryland want to see the look on his face when someday he would plunge a dagger through the man’s heart. His fist curled, but he didn’t have the strength to hold them together for long, and they almost immediately relaxed again. He wanted to scream in frustration, but he didn’t have the strength for that either.
“Ryland, please forgive me. I was weak from casting such a powerful spell, as I’m sure you well know, and our armies were scattered. I simply could not save you without endangering myself. I knew the prince would spare your life anyway.” Devin crouched down, and Ryland hated how helpless the action made him feel, though it did mean they could now look each other in the eyes.
“Then why . . . were you surprised . . . to see me alive?” His breathing was rapidly growing faster, and his chest rattled with every breath.
“I was surprised the spell hasn’t killed you yet, though it seems it’s about to.”
Ryland glared at him with all the hostility he could muster, and to his surprise, Devin grinned widely.
“The fact that you are still alive can only mean two things.” Devin straightened and began to pace in front of Ryland, and all he could see was his dark boots passing in and out of his field of vision.
“You have magic somewhere deep inside you, and you are brimming with hatred. Both of which I can use.” Devin’s voice trailed off into a mumble, and Ryland’s world went fuzzy for a bit, everything growing darker and darker until suddenly he was staring into Devin’s face. He became aware of his cold hand clutching Ryland’s chin, forcing, or helping, him to look up at his cousin.
“Hate?” Ryland wished he could shrug Devin off, but he felt very close to blacking out already, and he knew that if he fell unconscious, he would never wake up again.
“Yes, Ryland, hate,” Devin whispered, his voice intense. “Hate so strong it consumes and yet sustains. As long as you hold on to hate, Ryland, you will always endure. Hate is even stronger than so called ‘love.’ Hate is the key to every success, every great deed, every single moment that is worth mentioning. Hate makes us strong, and their inability—no, their refusal—to hate is their weakness.” Devin’s face grew animated, and his lips stretched into a grin so wide it sent a chill through Ryland’s core.
“I hate,” Ryland intoned numbly, starting to feel a ray of hope. Maybe he would live after all, or at least long enough to kill Caspian.
“You do, and you will survive because of it. Hate and magic are the keys to life. Magic is another thing you need to do anything truly important. And you have it!”
“I do?” Ryland’s whole body shook, and he knew he didn’t have much time.
“You do. I knew it when you saw through my spell disguising the tunnel into my lair. And you felt the dark magic. One can only learn magic if they have a natural inclination to it.”
So that meant Devin had been the person who murdered the king. The thought would have startled Ryland previously, but now he didn’t care. He was glad Devin had done it, in fact. Killing the king had caused Caspian grief, and that was all Ryland wanted to do.
“Get to the point, Devin,” Ryland growled.
“This spell is dark magic. There is only one way to survive it. You must become a dark wizard.”
Ryland’s breath left his body in one burst. “It will eventually kill Caspian then?”
“Yes, of course, but it will take a while. He didn’t get as much of the blast as you did.” Devin sounded impatient. He
rose, standing once more in front of Ryland. “Tick, tock, Ryland, what will it be? You don’t have a lot of time.”
As if to enunciate his point, Ryland’s arms gave out, and he sprawled onto the forest floor, twigs scratching his face. Shaking off the dull pain that echoed throughout his body from the fall, he looked up at Devin and saw his hand in front of his face, waiting for his reply. Looking past it, Ryland saw Devin’s expression. He wore a bright grin, and his eyes were full of greed, pain, and hate.
Ryland raked in a deep breath before weakly raising his hand to rest in Devin’s. A thrill of energy—magic—dark magic—spread through his hand and into his arm, making him feel stronger, if only for a moment. That power—that wellness—he could have it for himself. He could use it to cause so much pain and grief that everyone would feel as he did inside. Everyone would suffer from his wrath.
And Caspian would suffer most of all.
“I’m in.”
NOTE FROM SALANDRA WOLFE: Thank you for downloading this book and for spending a little time with me in my world! If you enjoyed Mark of the Banished, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated. Thanks again!
THE END
About the Author
Salandra Wolfe is a crazy woman with big dreams of the future and a secret wish that life was like a musical. Her full name is Salandra, but everyone calls her Sally, as most people can’t pronounce her full name. She loves reading and writing, singing, and binging TV. She’s been writing since she was an energetic eight year old who had no idea it would end up being her career. She has a big family of six other siblings (five of which are older) and two (highly sarcastic) parents. She has a hectic schedule and loves procrastinating everything as long as she possibly can. Her lifelong dream has been to own and tame a wolf, but she’ll settle for a Siberian Husky. Her controversial opinion that cats are better than dogs (Huskies being the exception) might earn her some hate, but she’s prepared for that possibility. She loves to connect with readers and would love to hear from you!.
Please visit her website here.
BOOKS BY SALANDRA WOLFE
Heroes of Algar
Mark of the Banished
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